Page 67 of Cry Havoc

Tom looked at Quinn and raised an eyebrow.

“I won’t be shy. You are the CIA after all.”

“What is it?”

“The little Browning .25s they give us don’t pack much of a punch. Do you have something a little bigger we can borrow?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

CHAPTER 20

SERRANO LED THE WAYdown a musty stone stairwell.

Tom felt the temperature drop.

“The previous occupants used to store their wine down here,” Serrano explained.

At the base of the stairs was a hallway, damp and dark, dimly illuminated by three bulbs hanging on wires spaced out above them.

Serrano walked down the narrow hall. It was constructed with the same stones as the stairway. He stopped at a door affixed with a Kaba Ilco Unican 1800 mechanical cipher lock and punched in a code. He turned the handle, stepped inside, and flipped a switch illuminating two rows of overhead lighting.

“Ask and you shall receive,” he said.

The spacious wine cellar had been converted into an armory. German MP-40s, Swedish Ks, Beretta M12s, suppressed Israeli Uzis, Walther MPLs, and Thompson submachine guns lined the walls next to M1 Garands, scoped M14s, and even a Harrington & Richardson T223. Assorted filing cabinets and drawer systems occupied the lower half of the walls. Red numbers stenciled onto the drawers seemed to correspond with tags hanging with the weapons.

Tom opened a drawer with a number matching a tag on the BerettaM12. Inside were twenty, thirty-two, and forty-round 9mm magazines for the compact Italian sub gun.

“I think we’ve found our home,” Tom said.

“Stay as long as you’d like.”

A sturdy table dominated the center of the room.

“Table was for tastings,” Serrano explained. “They must have built the cellar around it.”

Tom examined a rack of wines occupying one short section of wall.

“Comes in handy,” Serrano said. “Good gifts in these diplomatic circles for potential assets.”

“They look expensive,” Tom observed.

“Probably more so than the weapons, though I prefer the Italian vintages. Unfortunately, the French colonized Indochina instead of the Italians.”

“What’s this?” Tom asked, reaching for a unique Browning Hi-Power on the wall.

“A Mini-Browning,” Serrano said. “Built by a gunsmith named Austin Behlert. We commissioned him to do some work for us. It’s a modified Hi-Power with about an inch off the front, five-eighths off the grip. Beveled mag well to aid in reloads. It still holds ten rounds in the magazine.”

“Not bad,” Tom said as he confirmed the pistol was unloaded. He rotated the modified Browning in his hands, noting the extended safety lever and Smith & Wesson K sights with red front insert. Testing the action and slide to frame fitment, he saw that someone had put a lot of effort into both, taking Tom’s pistol of choice to the next level.

“Magazine disconnect?” he asked.

“Removed.”

“Hallelujah.”

“Nineteen elevens?” Quinn asked.

“Right over there,” Serrano said, pointing to a drawer.