Page 68 of Cry Havoc
Quinn slid the drawer open to find five 1911 pistols.
The Special Forces sergeant smiled, recognizing the craftsmanship of custom 1911 gunsmith Armand Swenson on one of them. He pulled it from the lineup, inspecting the slide and frame in the yellow artificial light.
“A steel Commander-size 1911. I’ve never seen one like this before. I like the weight.”
“Swenson built a few Bobcats like this for the Agency,” Serrano said. “It’s what I carry.”
“Smart man.”
Quinn tested the trigger and whistled.
“Holsters, ammo, belts are in those drawers over there,” Serrano said.
Tom rummaged through a drawer and pulled out an Andy Anderson Sidewinder leather holster. He looked at it, puzzled.
“It goes inside the waistband,” Serrano said.
“Ah, clever,” Tom said.
He removed dual leather magazine holders from the drawer and set about arranging them on his belt.
Quinn found a brown leather 1911 holster and mag holders made by Arvo Ojala in North Hollywood.
“We have a few companies out of California making us concealable rigs,” Serrano said, clearly proud of the offerings.
“The Golden State is where it’s all happening these days,” Quinn said. “Fifth Group sent my team out there to train with Jeff Cooper, Ray Chapman, Thell Reed, Jack Weaver, and Elden Carl a few years back.”
“Agency has had some of those guys out to the Farm. They are fast.”
“They wiped the floor with us, but we learned a lot. Colonel Cooper converted me to the 1911.”
“I’ll take the additional rounds in the Hi-Power,” Tom said.
“If you hit what you aim at, you don’t need all those rounds,” Quinn joked, as he arranged the new rig on his belt. “And that’s why we carry extra magazines.”
“Say what you will, but look at this,” Tom said, holding the Hi-Power up to the light. “Now, that’s a good-looking pistol. Check out those elegant lines.”
“Did you just use ‘elegant’ to describe a handgun? Now I see why you don’t have a girlfriend. Fucking SEALs.”
Tom laughed. He loaded his three magazines, put two in his new pouches, and inserted the last one into the Hi-Power. He racked the slide, flipped up the manual safety, and inserted it into his holster, pulling his T-shirt over the top.
Quinn did the same with the .45.
“Blades?” Quinn asked.
“That drawer there,” Serrano said, pointing to his far right.
Quinn opened the drawer and pulled out a butterfly knife with a red handle.
“Interesting,” he said as he flipped open the blade.
“A Hackman Puukko. Made for us out of Sorsakoski, Finland. They call it a latch-knife. I carry one myself.”
Quinn refolded the blade and slid it into his pocket.
“Tom, you want one?”
“Can’t have too many knives.”
