Morgan's ho, this is the gunsmith workshop introduced by Winston, and its owner is Kyle Morgan.
Jimmy drove around the area, noticing strict surveillance. Every intersection had traffic monitors, and he saw several surveillance caras around the building of the gunsmith workshop too, with one blatantly placed above the main entrance.
There was none at the back door, though Jimmy thought he might see it if he entered the workshop. The environnt here was really not suitable for sneaking in—if not careful, he might leave an image behind.
Jimmy drove away from there, heading to a parking lot without surveillance and took out an unregistered phone he had bought along the way to call Kyle Morgan. A man's voice ca through, "Hi, Kyle, Winston asked to send his regards to you."
Kyle paused, "Hold on." Footsteps were audible through the receiver, indicating that it wasn't convenient for Kyle to talk at the mont.
Kyle: "Go ahead."
Jimmy: "Got ti? Let's et and talk."
Kyle: "Ti, place."
Jimmy: "The church, the one north of you. Fifteen minutes."
Kyle ended the call, and from his voice, it was clear he was sowhat nervous. Moreover, Jimmy could tell he sounded quite young. Was he really a trusted contact of Winston's, as one would theorize? Just a phone call and he was nervous—did he have so trouble? Was he threatened?
Jimmy's mind was racing as he sat in the parking lot, which was only a block away from the Baptist church. He waited a few minutes before getting out of his car and walking over.
The church wasn't closed, but there were no people inside at the mont. Jimmy entered the church and positioned himself in a corner by the door, a spot not imdiately visible to anyone coming in.
Jimmy got ready and checked his watch—three minutes to go.
A young man entered the church, looked inside from the door without noticing anyone, then turned to check outside the church before he walked in. As he scanned around, he finally spotted Jimmy in the corner. "Kyle."
Jimmy greeted Kyle with a smile: "Hi, Kyle. Have a seat."
Not ntioning his own na, Jimmy gestured for Kyle to sit down; they sat in the back row. Kyle was clearly very nervous and indeed looked young—barely older than Jimmy, perhaps around 30, and didn't seem very experienced.
Kyle: "Please, what do you need from ?"
Jimmy was silent for a while, uncertain about Kyle's reliability. He didn't seem like a good choice. "Kyle, are you a gunsmith?"
Kyle, already very nervous, realized Jimmy's intention upon ntioning 'gunsmith': "Yes."
Jimmy: "What about your services? Custom guns? Modifications?"
Kyle: "Both are possible."
Jimmy: "And your shop's licenses are in order, right?"
Kyle nodded, without continuing the conversation.
Jimmy, with a smile, assured: "Don't be nervous, I'm just here to order a gun."
Kyle nodded: "I'm not nervous. It's just that this is the first ti I've ever received a call like this; I'm just a bit surprised."
Jimmy frowned, sothing didn't add up. "The first ti?"
Kyle: "Yes, I took over the shop from my father two years ago, and that's when I started learning about certain things."
Jimmy: "Sorry, your father..."
Kyle: "He passed away, almost two years now, from liver cancer."
Jimmy: "Sorry, my condolences."
Kyle: "It's okay, he was called by the Lord surrounded by family and is probably living happily on the other side now."
Kyle shook his head: "Sorry, I shouldn't be talking about this. Since it's about ordering a gun, let's go to the shop."
Jimmy nodded, and the two left the church and got into Kyle's car, heading towards Morgan's ho.
The car went directly into a private garage. Jimmy got out wearing sunglasses, relieved that surveillance was only on the outside; there were none inside.
Kyle led Jimmy through a side door into the gun shop, which at the front looked like a standard Arican gun shop. Access controls were installed on both the main entrance and the side door near the garage, and the additional doorway fra at the main entrance had glass that didn't reveal itself, but in such a location, it was likely bulletproof.
The walls around the gun shop were full of various firearms, from hunting rifles to shotguns and sporting rifles; the counters were filled with various handheld guns, semi-automatics, and revolvers, even so that looked like antique guns.
The middle shelves held various accessories, making the gun shop resemble a big supermarket if the goods were swapped out for sothing else. The staff, seeing Kyle bringing soone in from the garage, didn't ask anything, as if they didn't exist.
Jimmy followed Kyle to the back of the store and into the warehouse area. After a couple of turns, they arrived at Kyle's workshop.
It was a tool room, quite spacious, looking about fifty or sixty square ters. The room was filled with a lathe and other tools that Jimmy couldn't recognize, but combined with Kyle's relaxed deanor upon entering, it seed like Kyle and this room were a perfect match, as if everything here was an extension of Kyle.
Kyle: "Welco to my room."
"Looks very professional. Oh, and you can just call Jimmy," Jimmy remarked.
Kyle: "Oh, Jimmy, what would you like to order?"
Jimmy: "No rush, tell about yourself. I'm curious, how did you verify who I was?"
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