Fat Jack had spent tens if not hundreds of thousands of dollars fighting them in the courts, paying fines, being sued, countersuing, and he had even spent time in jail for contempt of court. The authorities disapproved of his garish neon displays, especially now that the area around Disneyland was slated for urban renewal. Though his restaurant was a madhouse, his arsenal was stored with fetishistic neatness: cartons upon cartons of handguns and automatic weapons were stacked on metal shelves, arranged according to caliber and also according to price he kept at least a thousand guns in the basement of the Pizza Party Palace.įat Jack had been embroiled in a decade-long legal battle with the Anaheim Zoning Commission and the city council. Now, after she gave Fat Jack her new shopping list, after he quoted a price and counted her money, he led her and Chris through the hidden door in the back of his office closet, down a narrow stairwell-he seemed in danger of becoming wedged tight-to the basement where he kept his illegal stock. In the distance children's voices, insulated by soundproofing, rose in a dull roar, and as if talking to that unseen multitude, the fat man said, "Ah, choke on it, you little trolls."ĭominick had learned to project his voice clearly through the cacophony without shouting. O'Leary was just an old lady with a clumsy cow, but she burned down Chicago," Fat Jack said sourly. Besides, I'd destroy all my pretty neon too."
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I got a restaurant full of shrieking, snot-faced kids upstairs, and I can't risk blowing them to bits, even if that'd bring more peace to the world. Look, I don't believe in authority, but I'm not totally irresponsible. Got the silencers, too, plenty of 'em." She already knew that he wasn't able to provide her with ammunition, but as he finished his Mars bar, he explained anyway: "Don't stock ammunition or explosives. 38 Super, which has a nine-round magazine, and I've got two of those machined for silencers.
"Don't have it," Fat Jack said, "but I can let you have a Colt Commander Mark IV in. Stefan had hoped to obtain a Colt Commander 9mm Parabellum with a nine-round magazine and the barrel machined for a silencer. He was able to provide her with two modified Uzis-"An immensely popular gun since the attempt to kill Reagan," he said-and another. "All right," Laura said, putting one arm around Chris to keep him at her side, "what about the gas on my list?"
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