Night Passage (A Jesse Stone Novel)

stopped thinking about it. He sat straight upright on the other straight chair. He would have liked to cross his legs, but they were too thick. He probably ought to do more stretching, loosen everything up a little. Gino Fish came into the room, nodded at Vinnie, walked past Jo Jo, and got behind his desk.
    “Sorry I’m late,” Fish said.
    But he said it in a way that sounded to Jo Jo like he didn’t care if he was late or not. He could use a little shaking up too, Jo Jo thought. Involuntarily he glanced at Vinnie, as if Vinnie could know what he was thinking. Vinnie looked blankly at him or past him or through him. Jo Jo could never be sure.
    “No problem, Gino. Been talking with Vinnie.”
    Fish smiled without amusement.
    “So what have you got for me, Jo Jo?” Fish said.
    “Guy I know is looking for guns.”
    Fish was quiet for a moment, his gaze heavy on Jo Jo.
    “Who is this guy?” Fish said finally.
    “He’d like to remain anonymous,” Jo Jo said.
    “Wouldn’t everyone,” Fish said. “Is he IRA?”
    “No, nothing like that.”
    “Zealots are not good people to do business with,” Fish said.
    Jo Jo wasn’t exactly sure what a zealot was. But he knew Hathaway wasn’t IRA.
    “Can you do something for us?” Jo Jo said.
    “What are you after?” Fish said.
    “Automatic weapons, machine guns, mortars, handheld rocket launchers, grenades.”
    There had been other things on the list, but Jo Jo hadn’t wanted to carry the list. It would be bad if he got caught with it, and he wanted Gino and Vinnie to think he knew more about guns than he did.
    “In what quantities?” Fish said.
    “Enough to outfit a regiment,” Jo Jo said. It was what he had been told to answer.
    Fish smiled again without warmth.
    “When I was of an age for the military,” he said, “I was in a different kind of government service.”
    “I didn’t know you did government work, Gino.”
    “I was in jail,” Fish said.
    Jo Jo felt hot. He hated to look stupid in front of Vinnie.
    “I knew that, Gino,” he said. “I was kidding you.”
    “Well, don’t,” Fish said. “Vinnie, do you know what kind of weapons order you’d need to outfit a regiment?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Do we know anyone who could supply that amount?”
    “Sure.”
    Fish looked at Jo Jo.
    “There,” he said. “Now what?”
    “Can you get me a price?”
    “Supplier will set the price,” Fish said. “I’ll add my commission.”
    “Sure, Gino, of course. These are just, ah, whaddycallit, preliminary talks, you know.”
    “So tell your principals it’ll be a few days, and I’ll be in touch with you. Before we go too much further, though, I will want to meet the principals.”
    “They won’t like that, Gino.”
    “I don’t care, Jo Jo. That’s the way it will have to be. I don’t do this kind of business with people I don’t know.” He smiled his joyless smile again. “I have had all the government service I care for.”
    Jo Jo flushed again, feeling foolish about misunderstanding government service. He glanced sideways at Vinnie. Vinnie seemed oblivious.
    “I’ll talk to them,” Jo Jo said.
    “Fine. Now if you’ll excuse us …”
    Jo Jo stood up, too quickly. He wished he had reacted slower.
    “I’ll wait to hear from you,” he said to Fish.
    He made a little punching gesture at Vinnie with his clenched fist, and went out of the office. When he was gone, Fish turned to Vinnie Morris.
    “What do you think?” he said.
    “Some homemade patriot group,” Morris said.
    “Why do you think that?”
    “Because the only contact they got is a jerk like Jo Jo.”
    Fish nodded.
    “And the only contact he has is us,” Fish said. “Do you have any idea how to arm a regiment?”
    “Not a clue,” Morris said.
    “Do you have any contact with international arms dealers?”
    “Piece I’m carrying I bought from a guy named Ralph,” Morris said. “On Dorchester Ave.”
    “Do you suppose he could arm a regiment?”
    “Ralph works out of his car.”
    “Yes, of course,” Fish said. “Very efficient.”
    “I could ask around,” Morris said.
    “Um hmm.”
    Fish seemed to be thinking of something else. Morris looked at him and came as close to smiling as he ever got.
    “Or you could figure out a way to skin them,” he said.
    Fish didn’t answer for a time, as if he had to finish a thought and return to the subject at hand.
    “If they wish to give us their money,” he said finally, “I see no reason why we shouldn’t