Free Chiefs by Stuart Woods

they wear the pea jacket over it in the cold weather. What would be your preference, Chief?”
    Will Henry, who had not seriously considered the wearing of a uniform, was a bit taken aback, but he began to feel it would be better to be properly uniformed. “I think the shirt should do all right. I expect I can get by for now with just two changes, though.”
    “Fine. Now you have your two shirts and two trousers there. Here, slip into the pea jacket—that’s what they call one something like this in the U. S. Navy, you know. There, that’s a perfect fit if I ever saw one. This is sure the cold weather for it, ain’t it? Now, here’s your wet-weather gear.”
    Within a few minutes Will Henry was standing next to a pile of clothing that reached his waist, and Brown was opening the padlock on the trunk. Jimmy Riley, who had been watching the uniform operation in a kind of trance, gasped. Will Henry reckoned Brown could arm a whole police force in a bigger town than Delano with what was in the trunk. Brown took a green felt cloth from the trunk and spread it over Jimmy Riley’s firehouse card table.
    “Now,” said Brown, lifting a large, squarish-looking pistol from the case and polishing it with a corner of the cloth, “here’s your latest sidearm, the Colt .45 automatic pistol, as used by the U. S. Army in the recent European war.” He took an enormous bullet from the trunk. “Fires a piece of metal that will knock a man flat on his back if it only hits his outstretched hand. A big wallop.”
    Will Henry picked up the pistol and held it gingerly. Brown sensed he had not yet suited his man to the weapon. He removed two more pistols, revolvers, from his trunk and placed them on the felt cloth. “Two very fine weapons, both from the house of Colt. A .32 revolver with a two-inch barrel, excellent piece for the detective or the officer who wants to conceal his weapon. Or your .38 revolver with your four-inch barrel. A fine police sidearm. I feel, myself, that this pistol will sooner or later become standard for most law-enforcement agencies.” Will Henry picked up the pistol and pointed it at a spot on the wall. Then he quickly brought it down and fumbled for an entrance to the cylinder. He had had enough problems with “unloaded” pistols. Brown showed him the mechanism v^hich allowed the cylinder to fall sideways. “I think this might be the best weapon for you, Chief Lee. Npt as bulky as the .45, but a lot more impact than the .32. An excellent piece. Now, you’re going to need an extra weapon around here, Chief. If you ever have to deputize a man you’re going to have to arm him. You can’t have a man showing up here with a .22 rifle or a .410 shotgun for police work. You ever shot much with handguns?”
    “Not much.”
    Brown began hauling boxes of cartridges from the trunk. I’m going to leave you with a thousand rounds. That may sound like a lot, but you’ve got to go out in the country somewhere and practice a lot with the pistol. Not at all like using a rifle or shotgun. Different thing entirely. Now, you’re going to need at least three pair of handcuffs. Hear you’ve already been in a two-cuff situation; handled it well, too. One key fits ‘em all, so you don’t have to worry about keeping track of a pocketful of keys.” He held up a small blackjack similar to the one Skeeter Willis had shown Will Henry. “An officer’s best friend.” Brown dove into one of the other cases and came up with a holster and belt. “Handcuffs fit right in here; here’s a place for a dozen extra rounds of ammunition; and your billy fits right here. All your equipment on one belt. Just buckle this on, and let’s see how it fits.” It fit.
    “Now—”
    “Let’s see what all this comes to, Mr. Brown.” Brown whipped out an order pad and began writing furiously. “I’m sure you’ll find every item on this list absolutely necessary in time, Chief. I’ve been equipping peace officers for twelve years now,