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Chapter 4 The Client Arrives

Daniel couldn't care less about the so-called 'big business' the other guy was hyping up.

Sure, 50 AK-74s and 20,000 rounds of ammo could bring in some serious cash, but they'd only net around $200,000. Any more than that, and he'd have to worry about getting screwed over.

Even though he tacked on an extra $100,000 for delivery, Daniel knew the risks were no joke.

Folks from southern Sudan weren't exactly known for playing nice. A $300,000 risk was something Daniel could handle, but if it was a million-dollar deal and they figured it was cheaper to just rob him, he'd be in deep trouble.

Honestly, it was Daniel's own greed that got him into this mess. When he got the deposit, Frederick was just about to start college.

Back then, Daniel was broke, so he took the $100,000 deposit and wired $50,000 back home.

Looking back, he knew he’d been a bit rash. If the other party had picked up the goods themselves, it would've been fine, but delivering them was a whole different ball game.

Now that the other side was in a rush, it meant their situation was dicey, and the danger level was definitely up.

The only silver lining was that their urgency meant they really needed the goods, so they were less likely to kill their supplier, lowering the chances of a robbery.

After mulling it over for a while, Daniel made up his mind and called a buddy in Sudan.

Around 2 PM, the hottest part of the day in Sudan.

Daniel parked his pickup on the roadside north of Khartoum.

Checking his watch, he saw it was almost 2 PM. Just as he was about to bail on the deal, an SUV rolled up in the distance.

Seeing the SUV flash its headlights a few times in the rearview mirror, Daniel threw on his sunglasses and baseball cap, rolled down the window, and yelled, "You the guy George sent?"

Seeing a good-looking young dude nodding in the passenger seat, Daniel waved a 'follow me' gesture, hit the gas, and turned onto a dirt road.

After about 30 minutes of kicking up dust, Daniel stopped in a desert area.

This was where Daniel usually practiced shooting. He walked over to some fallen steel pipes, propped them up, and used a black net to shield himself from the blazing sun.

It wasn't until Daniel had set up a makeshift tent and magically assembled a folding table that the folks in the Toyota got out.

The young guy who had nodded earlier, along with two tough-looking bodyguards, walked into the shade.

The young guy was a chatterbox. He pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Daniel. After being turned down, he lit one for himself and grinned, "Man, this weather's hot enough to fry an egg.

Since we got mutual friends, I won't beat around the bush, Jackal. Can you show me the goods?"

Daniel nodded, walked to the back of the pickup, opened the tailgate, pulled out several gun cases and a few boxes of ammo, and laid everything out on the beat-up folding table under the tent.

Glancing at the young guy and his bodyguards, Daniel asked, "You know how to handle these, right?"

The young guy eagerly opened a gun case, glanced at the AKM inside, and tossed it aside like it was trash.

The AK-74 didn't impress him either. But when he opened the case with the FN-SCAR, his eyes lit up.

"Finally, a real gun! And it's got interchangeable 0.2-inch and 0.3-inch caliber modules. Now that's what I call professional!"

Seeing the young dude fumbling with the FN-SCAR, trying to switch to the 0.3-inch caliber kit, Daniel shook his head. He stepped in, assembled it for him, and slid a box of ammo over. "Money first, then you can play with the toys. The full SCAR setup is $50,000, AKM's a grand, and the AK-74's a bit pricier at $2,000. Ammo's a buck for 5 rounds, no matter the caliber."

The young guy waved a bodyguard over to grab the cash from the car. After the bodyguard dumped a bag full of bills on the table, another bodyguard pointed at the last canvas bag with handguns and asked, "What's the deal with these?"

Daniel pulled out an M1911 and handed it over. "Two grand, no haggling. If you're buying, you can test it."

The bodyguard checked the gun, quickly took it apart and put it back together, then racked the slide a few times. "The gun seems solid, but none of these have serial numbers."

Daniel scoffed, shaking his head. "You want me to register them for you? Maybe get you a gun license too?"

The bodyguard, probably ex-military, looked a bit uneasy about the shady deal. After Daniel's jab, he paused, then nodded. "My bad. As long as they shoot straight, we're good."

Hearing the bodyguard call the shots for the young guy still clinging to the SCAR, Daniel gave him a curious look. "Alright, let's test 'em out. You wanna set up your own targets, or should I do it?"

"You got targets?"

Seeing their curious faces, Daniel walked over to a steel pipe, kicked a latch on a small winch, and a series of clattering sounds followed as a bunch of makeshift iron targets popped up at different distances.

The targets, mounted on springs, swayed back and forth.

Daniel didn't need this shooting range anymore; he was looking for a new, more hidden spot.

Seeing their interest, he figured he'd let them have some fun.

Daniel couldn't tell how loaded the young guy's family was, but it was a lot. He'd seen the young guy's watch in plenty of flashy photos.

Daniel didn't know what it felt like to wear a watch worth hundreds of thousands, but he knew this was a rich client, and rich clients usually didn't cause trouble. If he could, he'd try to keep them happy.

Seeing the well-thought-out target setup and the faint shooting paths on the ground, the two bodyguards exchanged glances and then looked at Daniel, who had a quick-draw holster on his waist, with newfound respect.

This was a legit mixed handgun and rifle combat shooting range. The farthest target was clearly 600 feet away, and judging by the angles, the shooting paths were predetermined, just missing some obstacles to mark them clearly.

Most importantly, the targets were all moving, and their rapid swaying made it a lot harder to hit them.

Regular folks would be happy shooting at fixed targets; this was next-level stuff. Anyone who could handle this range was probably a pro.

The young guy didn't get the nuances; he just felt dizzy watching the targets sway.

Loading 20 rounds into the mag, he switched the fire selector to full-auto, flipped off the safety, and yanked the trigger.

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