Grey Wolf adjusted the rear-view mirror and shifted the gear into reverse.
At this mont, none of them had weapons on them.
It was a situation that rendered them helpless.
Sotis during a mission in special circumstances, without weaponry for defense, all they could rely on was to improvise.
If the others made any sudden move, like reaching for a gun, he would imdiately slam on the gas and use the vehicle to ram through these uninvited guests before seizing the opportunity to make a break for it.
Song Heping was, of course, well aware of what Grey Wolf would do.
Having worked together for so long, these core mbers of the company could understand each other with just a glance. This was the tacit understanding of tactics.
"Could these be the arms dealers' n?" Grey Wolf asked.
Song Heping replied with a grave expression, "Not sure, let's wait and see, and if sothing feels off, we'll run for it."
Grey Wolf cursed, "Without a gun in hand, nowhere feels safe."
Song Heping heard this and gave a bitter smile.
Those accustod to risking their lives with a gun felt insecure without one.
Indeed, that was the case.
Which goes to say, a gun is a soldier's second life.
The saying couldn't be truer.
The Toyota stopped about five ters away from the Land Rover Defender.
Song Heping still kept his eyes on the rear-view mirror.
"Hunter, check if it's our contact. What did he say over the phone?" Song Heping asked, turning to Hunter in the back seat.
Hunter looked back through the rear window at the car that had just arrived. When he saw a guy in his twenties wearing red jeans descend from the Toyota—yes, red jeans, with a garishly colored top, he seed more ludicrous than a fiercely wicked man, more like a hip-hop enthusiast than anything else.
"It's the contact..." Hunter covered his mouth to suppress a laugh.
"This guy... he said he'd wear red pants to et... but I never pictured this kind of red..."
The man in the red pants, in his twenties, walked directly to the Land Rover Defender and knocked on the window.
Hunter rolled down the window and began to speak with him in Spanish.
After exchanging a few words, Red Pants glanced at the people inside the car, then strutted back to his own vehicle with an air of absurd confidence.
The Toyota soon left the roadside, passing by the two Land Rover Defenders and driving ahead.
"Follow him," Hunter said. "Their arms cache isn't here; it's in the jungle."
Song Heping lifted his gaze to the distance.
A range of high mountains spread before them.
He rembered two peaks nearby, one nearly six thousand ters in elevation.
The three vehicles silently traversed the mountainous road.
The road conditions here were far from ideal, full of rugged mountain paths that were tough to navigate.
After about an hour of driving, the Toyota made a right turn, venturing into the adjacent woods.
Grey Wolf had no choice but to follow.
Upon entering the woods, they found a narrow path only wide enough for one vehicle, about two ters across.
Another fifteen minutes passed, and the Toyota pickup finally ca to a stop.
Red Pants erged once more, shouting loudly in Spanish and gesturing for everyone to leave their vehicles and follow him.
"This damn place is such a ti sink..." Grey Wolf muttered his complaints while asking Song Heping, "Shall I stay here?"
"Yes, you stay. Have Queen stay behind in the other car, and everyone else will follow . If anything happens, you drive up and break through," Song Heping instructed.
Once out of the car, they were surprised to find themselves at the foot of the mountain.
They continued to follow Red Pants deeper into the mountainside.
Hunter couldn't help but catch up with Red Pants and ask, "How much farther?"
Red Pants pointed ahead, "Just up ahead! Can you see it?!"
Following the direction of his finger, Song Heping began to discern the situation.
It seed like there were two people standing at the base of the mountain, possibly guards.
As they drew closer, they realized the spot was actually a cave entrance.
Indeed, the two n were guards, stationed at the mouth of the cave.
Upon entering the cave, they were greeted by the deep rumble of engines, reminiscent of generators.
Setting up an arms cache in a cave was actually a clever idea.
Looking at the walls of the cave, it appeared naturally ford rather than man-made.
Walking thirty ters further inside, they found themselves in a spacious cavern. Looking up, the ceiling was more than ten ters above them, with dim light filtering in, making this stretch of the cave much roomier and brighter than the previous section.
Glancing around, they were astonished to see a corner filled with seven or eight ard personnel consuming their al, while the other side was piled high with ammunition crates and weapons.
"Welco, my esteed guests!" A man with stubble, a burly fra, pockmarked face, and a head of curly black hair stood up from his chair, embracing Song Heping and his group with open arms. This man of typical South Arican appearance seed to be in his forties, dressed in camouflaged pants and a black jacket, exuding a certain ruthlessness, and especially those small eyes, which betrayed the stare of a seasoned, bloodied veteran.
Hunter stepped forward to greet him.
He had taken on the role of translator for this mission.
He quickly introduced who the boss was and who had the say in his party.
The over-forty arms dealer shifted his gaze to Song Heping.
Their eyes t in the air for a mont, each having sized up the other, both understanding that neither was easy to provoke.
"You speak English, right?"
The other party suddenly switched languages, which surprised Song Heping.
"That's correct, I speak English."
The arms dealer smiled and said, "My na is Oscar, but people call 'Sword'."
As he spoke, he patted his waist.
Indeed, he had two uniquely shaped swords hanging at his waist, their scabbards looked to be made of sturdy, durable leather.
"I'm Song."
Song Heping extended his hand.
The two shook hands.
Sword gestured to the side, "Weapons, ammunition are all here, pick whatever you need, and after you've chosen I'll give you a discount."
"Okay."
Song Heping didn't sense hostility from Sword.
Business.
It was just business for everyone.
He made money, and he got guns.
It seed there was no trickery or danger involved.
Song Heping approached the pile of ammunition and weapons to have a look.
Half of the weapons here were Soviet-made, the other half Arican-made.
The models were a jumbled ss.
There were grandpa-era rifles from World War II like the M1A1 Thompson and the M1 Garand.
On the Soviet weapons side, most were the two most common weapons, the AK47 and AKM.
But Song Heping also saw so good stuff.
The M4A1 automatic rifle.
This was the latest model of Arican equipnt that Song Heping could find in this pile of weapons.
He picked one up and examined the rifle body.
It was used, not brand new, with wear and tear on the surface and so spots worn white.
He removed the magazine, pulled back the bolt, checked the bolt and the rifling, and finally glanced briefly; the iron sights were neither crooked nor damaged.
The overall condition was acceptable.
"This is a good gun."
Song Heping said to Sword, "Do you have accessories like silencers and night-vision scopes for this M4A1 automatic rifle?"
"Yes!"
Sword grinned with a smile.
It seed he considered Song Heping a big custor.
"But night-vision scopes are very expensive, so I don't stock many, just three sets. Silencers, however, I have as many as you need, but they're not any famous brand, they're custom-made by ."
"Custom-made?" Song Heping asked, "Can I take a look?"
"No problem!"
After saying that, Sword turned and walked behind the pile of weapons, rummaging around with clanging sounds and eventually carrying a box over, placing it in front of Song Heping and flipping the lid open right before him.
Song Heping looked inside the box and indeed it was filled with silencers, several dozen of them.
He picked one up to feel its weight; it was sowhat heavy, seemingly made of steel.
Using a small flashlight, he shone it through the shooting hole and could clearly see the neat baffle plates.
It did indeed seem like the real deal.
"How much for one?"
Song Heping juggled it in his hand and asked Sword for the price.
Sword shot high: "500 US dollars each."
500 US dollars...
Hunter, who was standing by, imdiately voiced his discontent, shouting, "The cost of these things doesn't exceed 50 dollars!"
"We're all professionals here, who doesn't know the cost price?" Sword shalessly grinned and said, "Do you think this is like selling cigarettes? This is trafficking weapons, contraband!"
Hunter wanted to argue further, but Song Heping stopped him: "Forget it."
He never wasted ti on trivial matters.
"Can I test it to see if it's worth this price?"
"Of course, you can."
Sword was very generous, handing over five bullets to Song Heping.
"You can test it here, just shoot at that wall."
He pointed to a stone wall to the right.
Song Heping swiftly attached the silencer, then aid at the stone wall and fired a burst, emptying the magazine.
Pu pu pu pu pu——
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