I knew what was wrapped in the canvas before Ty unfolded the last layer, but on this occasion being right gave me no gratification.

The sun had melted across the treetops, casting a golden glow on the dull metal before me while the anxious sweat on my brow was beginning to cool.

"What we have here, Satchmo, is two semi-automatic pistols and a submachine gun," Ty said matter-of-factly.

"Have you ever fired a weapon before?" he asked.

"Of course I haven't!" I snapped. "I'm not some homicidal fucking maniac who goes around kidnapping and killing people."

"OK, then we'll have a crash course in firearm use. Come and sit down."

Reluctantly, I sat beside him in the long grass, eyeing the guns before me with the utmost suspicion.

"Why do we need them at all? What happened to the one you took to Michaels'?" I asked.

I hated guns, gun crime and even target sports. During my father's time on the police force, he had been shot at several times and his experiences had ingrained a vicarious loathing that I had never shaken.

"That was well past its sell-by date. Besides, it doesn't pay to hang on to such things once they have been seen by someone who can use that information to harm you. In any case, Dexter sells the real deal," he explained in a tone that he might have thought was reassuring, while straightening the three weapons on the canvas wrapping.

"Where the hell does he get this stuff from?" I was looking at some serious military hardware.

"He has friends who can make this gear vanish from quartermaster's stores across the world. Plus, he confiscates a lot from the kids on his patch, but that is all crap."

"I'd really rather not have one," I pleaded.

"Better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it," Ty smirked. "Don't forget that Sharp has killed. The two men he brought today were both armed and one held a gun on us while we talked. With luck, when he returns with Martha we will have to do little more than threaten them," he continued in vain to sound reassuring.

"And if we're out of luck?" I said, knowing the answer.

"You'll know what to do, Satchmo. This will be yours," he handed me a dull black, blocky looking pistol with an ergonomic grip and large square trigger guard. I took it from him and cradled it in both hands as if it were a tangled ball of baby vipers.

"What you have there is a Glock 20 10 mm semi-automatic, manufactured in Austria. The casing is principally synthetic, you see how light it is?" Ty explained.

I nodded; it was a lot lighter than I expected.

"I chose this for you because it is easy to handle. The 10 mm cartridge gives good stopping power and the clip holds fifteen rounds. It is unloaded, but this is how you check." He took the pistol from me and held it out, so I could see what he was doing.

"Are these legal?" I took the gun back and began to mimic what I had just seen, confirming that the weapon wasn't loaded.

"Don't ask silly questions, Dexter provides untraceable hardware. You know he had a wire-guided anti-tank missile in that basement?" Ty smiled playfully.

"Holy shit..."

"I know, I nearly bought it! One of those would make a hell of a mess of Sharp's flashy motor. OK, now onto the pistol. Firstly, point it well away from you, and anyone else that you don't want dead, then release the mag like so..."

He ran through the procedure he had just shown me, flipping a little switch on the butt behind the trigger so that the magazine dropped slightly. He removed it and laid it before him.

"Always remember that there might be a round in the firing chamber. Check it and remove it by pulling back the slide," he demonstrated the action with a satisfying clunk.

"Then examine the chamber through this hole. When you are sure the weapon is empty, let the slide go and pull the trigger." The mechanism gave a loud click and Ty placed the pistol next to the magazine.

"Loading the gun is essentially the reverse, insert the clip and draw the slide to chamber a round. You try."