Chapter 10

“Mister Mo, it looks like you’ve had this stuff since before my kids were born; you sure they’re going to be okay?”

Surely, he thought, things couldn’t be so bad at Swanson’s that their stock was so dated.

From beneath the counter, Mister Mo slapped another package on the counter.

“Two boxes then, bud,” the other man continued, his smile unfaltering.

“Are you trying to rip me off?” Jude asked.

“Are you a professional soldier?” Mister Mo countered.

Slightly taken aback, Jude shook his head.

“Then I’m not trying to rip you off,” the other continued.

Every time he came here, Jude wished he knew more about guns. Sure, he knew how to handle the old Remington rifle that had once been his father’s, but he realized on occasions like this just how little he really understood about the technicalities of weaponry.

You’re a writer, Jude Calohan, he chided himself. You should have researched this stuff.

“How much?” he asked, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice.