P226

Gunsite Academy was located in Arizona, and its founder, Colonel Jeff Cooper, was revered as the father of modern handgun shooting techniques.

He had established the influential "Four Rules of Gun Safety," promoted and systematized the two-handed "Weaver stance," and developed the "Mozambique Drill," which had shot to fame thanks to the John Wick series.

Training was scheduled for a month later. In the meantime, Nick did not have to do anything but wait for the logistics department to send him his plane ticket.

So, in an excellent mood after saving a considerable sum of money, he dragged his longtime partner Hancock to a downtown gun store called Northwest Armory that weekend.

It was one of the largest, most modern gun stores and indoor ranges in the Portland area. With close ties to local law enforcement, it was the first choice for most officers buying personal equipment or practicing their shooting.

Nick actually preferred another gun store called The Gun Room. Reportedly one of the oldest gun stores in all of Oregon, its decor and atmosphere were decidedly old-fashioned, filled with the smell of old wood and rusty steel.

To him, The Gun Room was less a gun store than a firearms museum, packed with all kinds of classic military rifles, antique guns, and collector-grade weapons.

But those firearms were expensive. Until the bitcoins Nick had such high hopes for soared in value, he was unlikely to buy anything at The Gun Room.

His goal today was to get himself a handgun for regular use-a good gun reliable enough not to jam at a critical moment.

There was a reason old cops scorned polymer handguns like Glocks as "plastic guns." Although known as the "AK-47 of handguns," their extreme cost-effectiveness came with some problems.

It was less noticeable with a model like the Glock 17, which used 9mm ammunition, but on the Glock 22, chambered in .40 S&W, the overly light frame made the recoil feel very abrupt.

That forced the shooter to put more effort into controlling muzzle rise, with poor accuracy during rapid follow-up shots.

The Glock series' "Safe Action" firing system also made for an overly long trigger pull, with a vague feel like pressing against a rubber wall. That, too, took some getting used to for Nick, who had been accustomed to the Chinese-made Type 92 in his previous life.

After listening to his complaints, the salesperson gave him a knowing look and pulled a gun case out from beneath the counter. "You might want to try this newly released P226 Tactical Operations.

"It has SIGLITE night sights, a stainless-steel slide with a special coating, and a Picatinny rail that lets you mount all kinds of tactical lights, laser sights, and other tactical accessories.

"The custom grip panels feel excellent. It'll definitely meet your requirements."

Nick was naturally familiar with the renowned P226. The NP22, one of China's most successful export handguns in his previous life, was a copy of this model.

So what first caught his attention was not the salesperson's long list of flashy accessories and features, or even the handgun itself, but the five extended magazines lined up inside the case.

"Are these twenty-round high-capacity magazines?" Nick was a little taken aback. With another round loaded into the chamber beforehand, that made a full twenty-one rounds of 9mm ammunition. Firing it would be like spraying water.

The salesperson misunderstood, however, and gave a self-satisfied smile. "Although .40 S&W is still the mainstream choice for police handguns, a return to 9mm is only a matter of time.

"After all, putting two 9mm rounds into the chest is more useful than missing with one .40, isn't it?"

The year 2008 fell right in the period when police handguns were transitioning from .40 S&W-the FBI caliber-back to 9mm Parabellum ammunition, so he was not wrong on that point.

Before long, the Glock 17 and the compact Glock 19 would become standard issue in most police departments across America.

An hour later, after testing the gun at the range, Nick left the store with Hancock, smelling of gun smoke. Hancock looked rather disgruntled and was still muttering as he walked toward his old Ford Mercury.

"You really don't hold back. Eleven hundred dollars for a handgun. Looks like that business before gave poor little Nick quite a scare."

That was indeed a steep price in 2008. After all, a Glock 22 only cost six hundred dollars at the time, yet his good partner had spent nearly twice that on a handgun for self-defense.

Nick, however, thought it was more than worth the money. After all, Captain Renard had already saved him a full three or four thousand dollars. Investing eleven hundred himself in a reliable tool to safeguard his life was an entirely reasonable expense.

What was more, the salesperson had recognized Nick as the star cop who had been on television not long ago. He had not only offered him a ten-percent discount but thrown in a box of 9mm ammunition as well.

The gunsmith had also fine-tuned the gun's settings at Nick's request, slightly shortening the trigger pull and reducing its weight to around three pounds.

"Unlike someone, I don't spend my entire monthly paycheck in bars. Good thing none of your ex-wives had kids with you, or you'd be coming over to mooch meals every day instead of every weekend..."

Nick's retort was interrupted by the jingle of a bell as the door of a nearby coffee shop opened. Both men turned to see a shapely, fashionably dressed blonde walking down the steps, chatting and laughing with a female companion.

Hancock stared at the beauty without blinking, his mouth running on autopilot. "As a detective, tell me what you think."

"She's wearing an Armani women's suit, and those car keys in her hand are for a BMW. From the looks of it, she's either a partner at a high-end law firm or a senior white-collar employee at a big company, making at least two hundred thousand a year. This is no ordinary woman. Don't get any ideas."

Nick threw cold water on his partner's hopes.

"It's not like I've never hooked up with a lawyer." Hancock knew he was right, but still retorted defiantly before turning and walking around the front of the car to open the driver's door.

Nick remained leaning against the car door, admiring the beauty. Though the blonde's looks were not particularly to his taste, she made up for it with her exceptional presence.

To put it elegantly, she was naturally alluring. To put it more bluntly...

But what happened next nearly made him cry out. As their eyes happened to meet, the smile the blonde had likewise shown at the sight of a handsome man suddenly froze on her face.

Then a sudden transformation occurred. A strange ripple passed across her lovely features, which then withered into a horrifying visage of rotting flesh, a crooked mouth, and a mouthful of rotten teeth.

The ugly face made Nick jolt, and his hand instinctively went to his waist. But a second later, she returned to her original appearance. Her smile was gone, however, and she lowered her head and hurried away as though frightened.

"Did you see that?" Nick turned toward his partner, who was opening the car door.

"See what? Looks like our Mr. July doesn't always win the ladies over." Hancock had no idea what he meant.

"No, did you see her face suddenly... uh..." For a moment, Nick did not know how to describe it.

Should he say her face had suddenly turned into that of a fairy-tale witch who could frighten children to tears, or was it closer to the hideous, terrifying zombies in the zombie movies popular these days?