Team Run N Gun
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Prologue
A week before the race starts…
It had been a fortnight since our first contact with the FSB. Ben and I were offloading a shipment of M4 Carbines in Guajara-Mirim when we saw a big black Ardent A150 with four well armed Slavic looking guys inside. It was parked down an alley facing a street we’d planned to use to leave the site of the gun deal. After the local militia guys paid us and headed out I let Ben know what the militia leader had warned me about…
S: “Hey Ben! We all ready to go?”
B: “Yeah, no more crates, lots more money and a free souvenir!” brandishes a M79 grenade launcher and belt
S: “Sweet! I’ve got some bad news though… Ricky saw something we may have to deal with, pronto”
B: “Fuck! It’s the FSB.”
S: “Maybe, maybe not… Let’s check 'em out and see”
After I grabbed my trusty Uzi and Ben scooped up his AK-M to add to his arsenal of weapons, we tactically made our way to the alley where the goon squad was parked…
S: “Let me scope 'em out first. No point killing local Law or DEA agents since they aren’t after us.”
B: “Just do it, this shit has ambush written all over it!”
I pulled out a 6x rifle scope from my belt pouch and looked over the car and occupants as well as I could…
S: “Looking, looking… They’re armed with AK-74S carbines… They’re wearing Soviet era kit… Wait! someone’s coming!”
We made ourselves as minimalist as possible as a figure, flanked by two armed guards, came over to the window of the Ardent and gestured to the men inside… I was still scoping them out so when the central figure glanced towards our end of the alley, I was transfixed! The figure was Valerie!!! Clearly older but still impossibly beautiful, her bored glance swiftly transformed to shock… Ben had stood up and was firing the M79!
The Ardent and it’s crew never stood a chance; the 40MM HE shell landed just behind the cab, in the tray bed. The explosion was deafening and blinding. I was thoroughly disorientated and was lucky that Ben had the wits to keep his head about him. Ben dragged us clear of the killzone and we ran/stumbled back to the shed where our SUV was parked and made a swift getaway, back to Bolivia…
We had further run-ins with the FSB kill teams and we had to shut down our arms smuggling work indefinitely. I got in contact with a DEA agent who agreed to extradite us to the US in return for our smuggling information. He’d entered us into the GAR: Bolivia as cover to flee the country and it was he who dropped another bombshell on our heads…
S: “Frank!!! Long time no call! Wassup buddy? Everything OK?”
F: “Potentially bad news, I’m afraid… There’s a member of the race who could be family! Team… Old but Gold, Name’s Richard Smith by the way… A rich industrialist from the UK. File says that he’s related on your mother’s side but it could still be an elaborate ruse.”
S: “Shit… I’ve heard of Ol’ Richie Rich. Bastard’s a tight-ass who won’t share his wealth with anyone, unless they give him something first… shudder I’ll be careful and thanks for the heads up!”
F: “No problem, your boys evidence will see some really big fish being taken down, finally, so stay safe and we’ll make sure you both get new identities and can live out the rest of your days in peace…”
S: “Thanks Frank, see ya in Arica!”
25th August, 2018 at 19:46PM, Local time…
We arrived at the start line without any incident. Ben and I settled down to wait and scope out the competition. Time passed. We were then approached by members of the race organisation and given a crate. Inside was a chainsaw (Chinese, most likely), a machete (I took that since Ben already had one), Bandaids and antiseptic (added to the first aid kit), Viagra and condoms (stashed in the glovebox).
We’d also done our own packing; a couple weeks worth of MRE’s ensuring we won’t starve to death, spare tyres and our packed tent on the roof, spare fuel, oil and water inside the rear cabin and a pair of Glock 17’s (Ben and I openly wear these; Ben’s on his RH outer thigh and mine is in a shoulder holster). We’re also carrying extraneous camping gear like a stove, cookwear and utensils, plus extra clothing and treasured personal items, since we’re never coming back…
TO BE CONTINUED
] “Yep. It did look like two guys doing yoga excersices…”
