Lord Of War Page #4

Faster! Or I'll send your ass in!

Yuri, I don't have Dutch!

What?

I've got Belgian.

What the f*** use is that?

He's painting a name registered

in the f***ing Netherlands.

I've got a French flag.

So?

Turn it sideways...

...it's Dutch.

That's why you're my brother.

All right, good!

Everybody look innocent now.

They say every man has his price.

But not every man gets it.

Interpol Agent Jack Valentine

couldn't be bought.

At least, not with money.

For Jack, glory was the prize.

Yeah, it's the Kono;

it's not the Kristol.

Kono, K-O-N-O.

It's clean, sir.

It's clean?

It sure doesn't look clean.

I'm going to go aboard.

Phone in a sighting of the

Kristol south of Aruba.

Even when I was up against an

overzealous agent...

...I had a number of methods for

discouraging a search.

I routinely mislabeled my arms shipments

"Farm Machinery."

And I have yet to meet the lowly

paid customs official...

...who will open a container...

...marked "Radioactive Waste"

to verify its contents.

But my personal favorite is

the unique combination...

of week-old potatoes and tropical heat.

Smells.

Sir, Sighting of the Kristol, due north.

Most importantly, I kept a number

of intelligence people

on the payroll to supply their colleagues

with counterintelligence.

Let's go.

The second rule of gunrunning is:

Always ensure you have a

foolproof way to get paid.

Preferably in advance...

ideally to an off-shore account.

That's why I chose my customers

so carefully.

Say what you like about warlords

and dictators...

they tend to have a highly

developed sense of order.

They always pay their bills on time.

What is this?

Six kilos of pure.

I can't hand this to my f***ing bank

teller at Chase Manhattan.

Listen, a**hole, you should be

thanking me.

Have you checked the street price today?

With the seizures at the border last week,

it's jumped thirty percent.

Whoa... whoa-whoa!

I sell guns. I don't sell drugs.

Diversify.

I've got standards.

You don't pay, you don't play.

F*** you!

What are you doing?

F*** you!

F*** you!

No, you don't f*** him.

We can work something out.

No, Vit!

We have a deal!

The first and most important

rule of gunrunning...

is never get shot with your own

merchandise.

Are you okay?

I think so.

So what do we do now?

Let's celebrate.

That narco guerilla had his facts right.

After shipping it stateside,

the return on that blow

netted me a healthy profit.

It would have been even better,

except one kilo never made it back.

Vitaly?

Vit!

To this day I don't know what Vitaly...

...was running away from.

Maybe just from Vitaly.

I found him twelve days,

two thousand miles,

and one hundred and fifty grams later

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