11
Financial Crisis
Of course, there was one eentsy weentnsy problemo. Wasn’t there always?
Philippe came back from town with groceries, a newspaper, weapons and mission gear. You know, the usual. He also brought back a look of thunder on his face. He levered a pair of large grey plastic boxes off a portable blue trolley and shoved them up under the window of the cabin. The weapons he’d bought all looked the same to me. Learning to shoot was a lot faster than learning the difference between a Glock, a SIG and a Heckler & Koch. So long as it stopped a JPAC stooge from ripping you a new one, who cared what it was called? I watched on from the top bunk as Philippe ran the rule over his new toys.
“Where did you get all those?” I asked, as he spun out a few inches of cable from a grappling
