I, Spy? by Kate Johnson Page A

track and pulled up at a big converted barn with a sign outside reading “Smith’s Guns”, I was surprised.
    “How long has there been a gun shop in my village?”
    Luke shrugged. “Years. Why?”
    “I—I just never knew about it.”
    “Mostly they sell shotguns to game shooters,” Luke said, unfastening his seat belt, “but they do a few decent extras.”
    “Such as…?”
    “You’ll see.”
    “Do I get a gun?” I asked hopefully. Okay, so they scare me, but I’d look pretty cool with one.
    “Do you have a gun licence?”
    “No—”
    “Then you don’t get a gun.” He flashed me a smile.
    “Well, how do I get a gun?”
    “Be very nice to your local constabulary. Join a gun club. Of course, to join most gun clubs you have to have a licence…”
    “That’s just stupid.”
    “No, that’s very clever. That’s why we don’t have a gun control problem.” He held the door open, and I went in.
    The walls were covered with every kind of shotgun, and there were rifles too. All of them were locked down with alarms and things. But there were no small guns. I looked at Luke, puzzled, and he smiled and went straight over to the counter.
    “Mr. Sharpe,” the man there greeted him. “Haven’t seen you in a while. How’re you getting on with your SIG?”
    Luke grinned. “Perfect partners,” he said. “Got any more bullets for me?”
    The man reached under the counter for a key and unlocked a door behind him. “It was the .40 Smith & Wesson rounds, right?”
    “Right,” Luke nodded. “And, Joe? Need to have a look in your special cabinet.”
    Joe flicked his eyes at me as he dumped a box on the counter. “This is all on the level?”
    “Totally above board. She’s with me.”
    Joe gave a doubtful nod. “Right, then,” he said, and disappeared into the back room. Luke beckoned for me to follow, and I walked through cautiously, right into Wonderland.
    Well, maybe Macbeth’s idea of Wonderland. The room was filled with guns of every size and calibre, ammunition, knives, defence sprays, bullet-proof vests.
    “Jesus Christ,” I muttered. “Is all of this legal?”
    “Depends on who you are,” Luke said thoughtfully. “Everything’s legal for me.”
    “What do I get?”
    He took something that looked like an electric hair tong off the rack and handed it to me. “Stun gun.”
    “You are kidding me.”
    “Defence spray.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Kevlar.”
    I stared at the vest. “A bullet-proof vest? What for?”
    Luke and Joe both looked at me as if I’d just landed. “Erm, to stop the bullets?” Luke said.
    “What bullets?” My voice was rising, I was panicking a little. “You never said there’d be bullets.”
    Luke stared. “Joe,” he said, “can you give us a minute?”
    Joe left, closing the door behind him, and Luke gave me a serious look.
    “I told you there’d be bullets,” he said.
    “No, you did not.” Did he?
    “I said it’d be dangerous! Did you think people would be coming after you with sucker-dart guns?”
    Chalker has one of those. He used to fire it at Tammy. And then I used to hit him.
    “Well, no,” I said, feeling foolish, “but…”
    “But?”
    “But if they get guns, why don’t I?”
    “You need to prove to me you’re not going to shoot yourself in the foot,” Luke said dryly. “Start off with the basics. You probably won’t need them.”
    I trudged out of the room with him. Only probably?
    Luke paid Joe by credit card, and I took my stash out to the car. He’d added handcuffs and a couple of Velcro braces for all my stuff, but there still wasn’t any gun.
    I made a face.
    “What?” Luke said patiently.
    “Stephanie Plum gets a gun.”
    “Who?”
    I shook my head. Philistine. “What now?”
    Luke glanced at my feet. I was wearing my cool trainers—the pretty ones, not my muddy, dog-walking trainers that my mother keeps trying to wash.
    “How fit are you?” he said, leaning over and pinching my waist.
    “Hey!” I recoiled in