Joja wasn't particularly interested in the so-called "bigger business" his client mentioned.
Fifty AK-74s plus 20,000 rounds of ammunition, even with a marked-up price, would only sell for $200,000. If he pushed the price higher, he'd have to worry about being double-crossed. Although he'd charged an extra $100,000 for delivery, Joja knew the risks all too well. The black brothers in southern Sudan weren't always reasonable. A $300,000 deal was within Joja's risk tolerance, but if they were discussing a million-dollar deal, and his clients decided it would be easier to simply kill him and take the goods, Joja would be in serious trouble.
Looking back, Joja realized his greed had gotten the better of him. When he'd accepted the down payment from the client, it was right when his younger brother, Joliang, was heading off to college. At that time, Joja was flat broke, so he took a deep breath, accepted the $100,000 down payment, and sent $50,000 back home. Now, thinking about it, Joja knew he had been a bit impulsive. It would've been better if the client had picked up the goods themselves; delivering them was too risky.
Now the client wanted to rush the delivery, indicating that things weren't going well on their end, which would only increase the danger. The one good thing was that if the client was in such a hurry, they must genuinely need the weapons and would be less likely to kill the supplier, reducing the chances of a double-cross.
Sitting in his chair and thinking for a long time, Joja finalized his plan and picked up his phone to call a friend in Sudan.
…
Around 2:00 PM, the hottest time of day in Sudan, Joja parked his pickup truck on the side of the road north of Khartoum. Checking his watch and seeing it was almost 2:00, he was just about to leave and abandon the deal when an SUV appeared in the distance. Through the rearview mirror, Joja saw the SUV flash its headlights a few times. Joja put on sunglasses and a baseball cap, rolled down the window, and when the vehicle got closer, he loudly asked, "Were you sent by Mr. Huang?"
Seeing a handsome young man in the SUV's passenger seat nod, Joja waved his hand to signal them to follow, then stepped on the gas and turned onto a side road. After driving for about 30 minutes on the dusty road, Joja stopped in the middle of a desert area. This was where Joja usually practiced shooting. He walked over to a few fallen steel pipes, quickly propped them up, and used a black net to block out the scorching sun.
It wasn't until Joja had set up a simple tent and, like magic, unfolded a table that the people in the Toyota finally got out of the car. The young man who had greeted Joja earlier, accompanied by two tough-looking bodyguards, walked into the shade. The young man was quite talkative; he pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Joja. When Joja declined, he lit one for himself and said with a smile, "This damn weather is hot enough to kill. Since we were introduced by mutual friends, I won't beat around the bush, Wolf. Can we see the goods?"
Joja nodded and walked to the back of the pickup. He opened the tailgate, took out a few gun cases, and grabbed some boxes of ammunition. After placing everything on the worn-out folding table under the tent, Joja glanced at the young man and his bodyguards and asked, "Do you know how to use them?"
The young man eagerly unzipped one of the gun cases, but he made a face of disdain when he saw the AKM inside and tossed it aside. The AK-74 didn't interest him either, but when he opened the case containing the FN-SCAR, his eyes lit up. "Wow, finally, a real deal! It even comes with interchangeable 5.56 and 7.62 caliber modules. Professional, very professional!"
Seeing the young man clumsily trying to swap the FN-SCAR's pre-assembled 5.56 module for the 7.62mm one, Joja shook his head and quickly assembled it for him. He then pushed a box of ammunition toward him and said, "Money first, then you can test the guns. The SCAR is $50,000 for the full set. The AKM is just $1,000, and the AK-74 is a bit pricier at $2,000. Bullets, regardless of caliber, are $1 for 5 rounds."
The young man casually waved his hand, signaling one of the bodyguards to fetch the money. After the bodyguard placed a bag filled with cash on the table, the other bodyguard suddenly pointed at the last canvas bag containing handguns and asked, "How much for the pistols?"
Joja took out an M1911 from the bag and handed it to the bodyguard, saying, "Two grand. No haggling. If you're serious about buying, you can test it first."
The bodyguard checked the gun, skillfully disassembled and reassembled it, and after racking the slide a few times to get a feel for it, he said, "The gun seems fine, but they don't have serial numbers…"
Joja sneered and retorted, "Want me to help you register it, maybe even apply for a license?"
The bodyguard, likely with a military background, seemed a bit uneasy with the illegal transaction. After being snapped at by Joja, he paused, then nodded and said, "My mistake. As long as the guns test out fine, we'll take them."
Surprised that the bodyguard was making decisions on behalf of the young man who was still clutching the SCAR, Joja curiously glanced at him and said, "Alright, give it a shot. Do you want to pick your targets, or should I set some up for you?"
"Do you have targets?"
Seeing their interest, Joja smiled, walked over to a steel pipe, and kicked a small mechanical winch hard. A series of pops and clinks followed, and dozens of simple metal targets of varying distances sprang up from the ground. The targets, mounted on spring-loaded bases, constantly swayed back and forth.
Joja had already decided to abandon this shooting range since he now needed a new, more distant, and more concealed one. Seeing how excited they were, he figured he might as well let them have some fun with the targets.
Joja had no idea how much money the young man's family had, but it was definitely a lot. Joja often saw that model of watch in the young man's hand in some of the more flamboyant wealth displays on social media. Joja didn't understand what it felt like to wear a watch worth tens of thousands on his wrist, but he knew this was a big client who wasn't short on cash. If he could, he would go out of his way to satisfy them.
Seeing the carefully designed target positions and the faint outlines of shooting paths on the ground, the two bodyguards exchanged glances. They then looked at Joja, who was carrying a holster on his waist, with a new level of respect.
This was a classic mixed shooting range for both pistols and rifles. The farthest target was clearly over 200 meters away, and from the angle of the targets, the shooting path was obviously predetermined—just lacking some obstacles to mark the route. Most impressively, the targets were all moving, swaying rapidly, which greatly increased the difficulty of the shots.
For most people, hitting a stationary target was challenge enough. This setup wasn't just for fun; anyone who could handle a course like this was a serious shooter.
The young man didn't understand the intricacies; he was just dizzy from watching the targets sway. Using clumsy motions, he loaded 20 rounds into the magazine, switched the fire selector to full-auto mode, and then disengaged the safety and pulled the trigger with force.
"Bang, bang, bang, bang..."
"Ah…"