Jimmy checked his two storage units, and having just spoken with James, decided that since driving in Manhattan was difficult, he would fly there instead. He needed to streamline his suitcase, keeping only some clothes and personal items, and left the rest in the storage unit under his name.
In another storage unit leased under someone else's name, Jimmy also took some cash and a few gold coins. It had been a while since he had received any assignments from Justin, so Jimmy now had just four gold coins in total. Aside from the one he carried with him, there were only three left in the storage unit.
Jimmy packed his suitcase, but both the FBI-issued firearm and his own revolver were carried with him, not placed in the luggage.
As an FBI agent, they were allowed to carry their issued firearms on commercial flights because TSA and airlines did not want to be in a situation where an aircraft was hijacked or another incident occurred with FBI agents on board who could not intervene due to a lack of weapons.
Under the federal regulations for the unobstructed transport of weapons, Federal agents were allowed to carry their issued firearms on planes, both on and off duty, as long as they notified the airline owning the flight in advance for recording purposes.
By the way, the guns that the gang members used to shoot Jimmy were actually stolen from him. Those two guns were now collecting dust as evidence in the LRPD evidence room. Jimmy had no interest in retrieving them, since the procedures were too troublesome and could potentially unearth the 92F with a silencer, which would be even more problematic.
Previously, Jimmy had asked Sergeant Chris from the LRPD to erase the incident of the lost gun, and since there had been no word for over six months, it meant that Chris had done a very clean job. Now, if Jimmy were to stir things up by asking for the gun back, in the event of an issue, Sergeant Chris would also be implicated.
Jimmy got everything he needed for his trip to New York ready, then locked up the storage units, went to the management office to renew the leases for both units, and left. He headed to the West District station, not knowing when he would return, and he also needed to meet with Cage and Noah. He didn't want to be chided by them later on; after all, as colleagues and friends, it would be rude to switch locations without saying goodbye.
All matters in Little Rock were settled, and in the afternoon, Jimmy left the county police station to head for the airport, ready to fly directly to LaGuardia Airport in New York.
At the airport, Jimmy first notified the service desk that he needed to bring a firearm on the plane, filled out a form, then bought a plane ticket to New York departing in an hour. Afterwards, using his FBI credentials, he passed through security with his firearm through a special thoroughfare, where security personnel checked the weapon, and then he waited in the terminal for his flight.
Jimmy wasn't rich, and of course, he didn't opt for first class. He squeezed into economy class like everyone else. His physique had become quite robust, not flabby, nor was he a muscly hunk; he was just very solid. During the five months at the FBI academy, their physical training instructors never ceased their training, ensuring each person had enough stamina to complete the other training content, which was no easy task.
However, his size made sitting in an economy class seat rather uncomfortable. Jimmy didn't complain, though; he just endured it until the plane landed.
Because he was carrying a gun, Jimmy couldn't enjoy any alcoholic beverages on the flight, which was a bit annoying. A drink or a small bottle of beer would have made the stifling journey more relaxing for him, but regulations forbid drinking on a plane while carrying a firearm.
After 9/11, commercial flights typically had 1-2 armed air marshals in plain clothes. Jimmy had no interest in looking at each passenger, so he didn't greet them, but they were likely aware that there was an FBI agent aboard carrying a weapon, and perhaps Jimmy wasn't the only agent on the flight.
That night, after the plane landed, Jimmy took his luggage and went straight for the Brooklyn District by taxi. He couldn't report for duty that late, so he found a small motel near Manhattan in Brooklyn on the map and stayed there for the night. Of course, it wasn't one of those hotels that charge several hundred to a thousand dollars a night, but a modest roadside inn costing just over a hundred a night. It was barely clean, and not being too picky, Jimmy just wanted a good night's sleep so he could be fresh for reporting the next day.
The night passed without incident—at least for Jimmy. Frequent police sirens were audible nearby, indicating that safety in New York was a serious issue. Before sleeping, Jimmy jammed a chair under the doorknob as an extra precaution. The motel seemed alright, but one could never be too safe.
The next morning, Jimmy got up early, washed, put on a suit, and positioned his holster on his waist belt. His revolver was in a shoulder holster, which wasn't too conspicuous under his suit. Once dressed, he was ready to go.
Jimmy's Arkansas CCW (Concealed Carry Permit) was useless in New York, as it wasn't recognized there, but his FBI badge was legitimate, so carrying two concealed firearms was no problem. The FBI badge ensured that Jimmy could carry firearms legally across the United States, even in government institutions, courts, and other venues where private firearms possession was prohibited.
After checking out of the hotel, Jimmy took a taxi to the Federal Square in Manhattan, a building that housed many federal agencies, with the FBI located on the 23rd floor.
Jimmy entered the building, passed through security with his FBI badge, and took the elevator to the 23rd floor. The entire floor was the FBI's office area, and Jimmy went to the reception desk, opening up his badge.
Jimmy presented his badge to the receptionist, "Hi, I'm the new agent Jimmy Yang. I'm here to report to Agent Tim Dunn."
Receptionist, "One moment, please." The receptionist picked up the phone and called Tim Dunn.
Receptionist, "Tim, there's a new agent, Jimmy Yang, at the reception desk looking for you. OK."
The receptionist hung up the phone and said to Jimmy, "Please wait, Tim will be right here."
Jimmy, "Sure. What's your name?"
Receptionist, "Stephanie."
Jimmy, "Stephanie, you have really beautiful blue eyes."
The receptionist smiled, "Thank you."
Jimmy stood waiting by the reception desk. There was no waiting area here, not even a chair, but well, it's not like people generally need to sit and wait at the FBI reception.
A short while later, a middle-aged man in his 40s with brown, slightly curly hair, came out from the inside.
Tim Dunn, "Hi, I'm Tim Dunn from the administrative department. You must be Jimmy Yang?"
Jimmy reached out to shake hands with Tim, "Yes, I'm Jimmy, just graduated from the Quantico academy, and I've been assigned to New York."
Tim, "Come with me, let's go inside and talk."
Jimmy, dragging his suitcase, followed Tim inside to a conference room, where Tim asked him to wait for a moment before leaving.