Chapter 4: Firearms & Powder
Chapter 4: Firearms & Powder A jet engine howled in the distance as Sgt. Salty flicked the ash off his Cuban and stepped onto the tarmac. The call came from Interpol — an old contact in France who owed Zinshed a favour. Word on the street: Anton Kreiger , international arms dealer, had just landed in Miami under the alias Mikhail Rousseau … and he wasn’t alone. The intel? Kreiger was moving two shipments: Modified NATO-grade weapons — retooled for black-market buyers. A lethal new drug cocktail — part meth, part synthetic cocaine, part madness. Street name: “Whiteburn.” Zinshed zipped up his flight jacket. “When they said ‘double trouble’, I didn’t think they meant explosions and overdoses in one shipment .” Salty slipped on his shades. “Let’s make it a round trip. Miami to madness — and back.” The Drop Warehouse 17 was quiet. Too quiet. Situated at the edge of the port district, it looked abandoned — broken lights, rusted signage, graffiti scrawled in thre...