Battlefield Contractor

Larson nodded, "I know the goods, I'm going to find a way to help you get a car-mounted automatic grenade launcher. I can help with that."

"Thanks." Lin Rui nodded to him and returned to the car. "We all have a rest. We have two hours. We will leave as soon as the supplies and equipment provided by the Americans arrive. Take turns to drive and ensure that every time. Individuals have more than two hours of rest."

The team members agreed, and they all took a nap against the car with their guns in their arms. After the supplies and equipment arrived, Lin Rui jumped out of the car.

"Come here, look at this big guy." Larson jumped off an assault vehicle and patted the automatic grenade launcher. "The Afghan security forces don't have such a thing."

"Mk19?" Lin Rui frowned.

"That's right, it's the mk19, the latest model, equipped with photoelectric sights. The maximum range is 2212 meters, and its effective range is about 1500 meters of point targets, or 1500 meters away from area targets. The shooting safety distance is 75 meters. In addition, The mk19 flame suppressor can reduce the firework effect when launching, making it difficult for the enemy to find.

The main type of ammunition used is the m430 dual-purpose hedp high-explosive bomb, with a muzzle velocity of 790 feet/sec. It can penetrate 2 inches of rolled homogeneous armor at a vertical angle, which means it can penetrate most of the Light infantry fighting vehicles and armored transport vehicles. The effective kill radius is about 15 meters, and the lethal radius is about 5 meters. Especially effective against enemy infantry units. Larson nodded.

"Good stuff." Lin Rui nodded.

"Hey, the actual rate of fire of this thing is about 60 rounds. It's like a moving rapid-fire turret." Crazy Horse nodded, "It's really a good thing."

"This assault vehicle was left to the Afghan security forces when we evacuated. It hasn't been used for more than half a year. It rusts in the warehouse. It's better to take it out for your use." Larsen shrugged. "There are still two boxes of ammunition in the car."

"Well, everyone checks the equipment and prepares to board the car." Lin Rui turned and shouted, "Crazy Horse, you and Sausage drive this assault car. The others got in the original car and left quickly. We don't have much time." These mercenaries got in the car together and drove forward.

They moved quickly along the highway, at a checkpoint on the highway. After the armed soldiers checked their identities, they gave them a pass. Then, with this document, they may temporarily enter Pakistani territory and carry out joint anti-terrorism operations.

Lin Rui and the others changed drivers along the way to ensure that every member could take a nap to avoid excessive fatigue.

Peshawar is a small city on the northwest border of Pakistan and Afghanistan. Peshawar, meaning "City of Hundred Flowers" in ancient Sanskrit, was once the capital of the Gudala Kingdom and the second hometown of Buddhism, but it is now one of the most dangerous cities in the world.

Because here is the famous black arms market. Since the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, the arms market in Peshawar has been better than regular American stores. It is said that many backward hand-made small workshops produce ak47 which is comparable to Kalashnikov's craftsmanship. It is no exaggeration to call Peshawar an arms supermarket.

In this famous city in Pakistan, weapon manufacturing is booming in a workshop-style way. Authentic big guns are in short supply, and world-famous guns made and modified by themselves are also popular. Local manufacturers also made their own bullets, using Tokarev's hand and a 7.62x25mm cartridge for the Chinese Type 51 pistol to install a 7.62mmx39mm bullet, and they made special customized bullets. Also claimed to be a mixed-blood gun clan. Many weird weapons that you can't even think of can be found here.

It was the first time Lin Rui had come, but it was not the first time that Snake Eye and Crazy Horse, two old mercenary dough sticks, had come.

Peshawar in reality is a mixture of hustle and bustle and tranquility. The city is not big. In the bright, dark, dark and tortuous buildings with different heights and lows, there are countless stories in the lives of 2 million residents that happen and continue every day. . This is not counting the millions of Afghan refugee camps in the university district in the northwest of the city. The new city left by the British colonists just separates the old city from the university. Most of the inns and cafes, restaurants and shops where travelers live.

Like many small cities in northern China, a main street is dusty, with buses, horse-drawn carriages, small cars, sturdy old-fashioned permanent phoenix bicycles, gorgeously decorated Pakistani trucks and farm tractors crowded with horns one after another.

The old city of Peshawar breeds a scent of life under the warm sunshine in the afternoon of May. There are many people walking and shopping. The men of the family wear white or light blue muslin knee-length robes, loose trousers of the same color, and wear them. Dark vests, serious expressions; young women in robes of various colors, with turbans wrapped tightly around their faces, closely following their husbands.

"I know there is a place to inquire about news." Crazy Horse whispered.

"Haria's shop." Snake Eye smiled.

"Well, it seems that everyone knows that place." Crazy Horse shook his head. "Haliya is an Afghan, but he stays in Peshawar because he has the best hands. The weapons he made are almost better than international ones. The big factory must be fine. He can use a 7.62 machine gun barrel to mount on the ak47 gun body, coupled with an M4 light stock. Make a very delicate and compact weapon."

Lin Rui nodded, "So he is an arms dealer."

"No." Crazy Horse shook his head. "He is actually a carpet maker. He has also made tin pots or other pots and pans before."

"Is there news from him?" Lin Rui frowned.

"Yes, he definitely does." Snake Eye nodded.

"Well, let's go see this small vendor who makes carpets." Lin Rui whispered, "I hope he can have what we need."

So Lin Rui and others patronized the carpet spot of Hariya. The owner politely brought tea, which was black tea boiled with thick milk, with Marsala spice and ground ginger; the two men opened the carpet he thought was the best as he ordered.

This is a silk carpet handmade by a craftsman in the Goum region of Iran. It is 10 feet long and 6 feet wide. The deep sea blue background is a silver Persian palace pattern. It is surrounded by a flourishing olive branch and lily pattern. The Persian signature of the craftsman is woven into the side, and it feels soft and smooth without any defects.

"This is 600 double-button weaves. It takes a craftsman two years to complete the weaving. I can give you a cheap price." The shopkeeper Hariya said diligently.

"Come on Hariya, you know why we are looking for you." Snake Eye shook his head.

Hariya didn't remember Crazy Horse, but he remembered Snake Eye. He was stunned and then sighed, "It's you? I'm not doing it anymore."