Leon rolled his eyes and swatted them both on the head. "Cut the nonsense. We're wasting time. Let's get to the warehouse and pick up the goods. Did you get all the paperwork sorted?"
"Yeah, we got everything," Julien replied.
The three of them headed to the warehouse where the tobacco and alcohol were stored. After a month of doing this, Leon had become adept at managing the inventory, checking the accounts, and handling the paperwork. He exchanged nods with familiar faces from the crew as they went about their business.
Leon had also gotten to know quite a few people from the organization over the past few weeks. Pascal, the captain who managed the area next to Leon's, approached with a cigarette in hand.
"Hey Leon, I heard there was some trouble at the Blue Ocean last week."
Word travels fast in their circles.
"Yeah, it was Bruno and his men," Leon replied, taking the offered cigarette.
"That Bruno is small-time, but he's bold enough to cause trouble on our turf. So, how'd you handle them?" Pascal inquired.
"Locked them in the cellar, no food or water for three days," Leon said with a smirk.
Pascal chuckled heartily. "Good call. Teach them a lesson they won't forget."
Pascal had already loaded his goods and waved goodbye as he and his men drove away. But just as they were leaving the rough neighborhood, two trucks suddenly appeared, blocking the narrow street ahead.
"What the hell? Who the hell parks like that?" Pascal barked, irritated. "Rémi, go check what's going on."
Rémi got out of the truck to investigate, but as he approached the trucks, the tarpaulins suddenly flipped open, revealing men armed with submachine guns.
Rémi froze, panic setting in, but before he could react, a hail of bullets erupted, cutting him down where he stood.
Pascal and his driver barely had time to reach for their guns before the attackers unleashed a barrage of gunfire, shattering the truck's windows and riddling the vehicle with bullets. Blood pooled on the pavement.
Within minutes, the attackers had stolen the alcohol and cigarettes from Pascal's truck, tossed a lit stick of dynamite into the cab, and fled.
Moments later, a deafening explosion rocked the street, and Pascal's truck went up in flames.
Meanwhile, Leon had just finished loading their supplies into their truck. The total came to 72,400 francs—a good sign that business was picking up.
As they pulled out of the warehouse, Thierry drove at a leisurely pace, about forty or fifty kilometers per hour. Before long, they found themselves on a deserted stretch of road lined with abandoned factories. Suddenly, they noticed a truck parked across the road up ahead, blocking their path.
"Damn, who's the idiot that parked there?" Thierry muttered, leaning on the horn in frustration.
But the truck didn't budge. No movement at all.
"Forget it. I'll go make them move," Thierry said, opening the door.
But just then, Leon felt a sudden jolt of fear. An instinctual alarm bell rang in his mind, a sharp sense of danger.
"Wait!" Leon grabbed Thierry's arm. "Don't get out. Reverse. Now!"
"What's going on, Boss?" Thierry asked, confused.
"Just do it! Reverse!" Leon ordered.
Thierry saw the intensity in Leon's eyes and didn't argue. He put the truck in reverse and started backing away.
At that moment, the men in the truck ahead realized they had been spotted. They jumped out, guns at the ready—every one of them wielding a submachine gun.
"Get down!" Leon shouted.
Bullets flew, shattering the windshield and peppering the truck with holes. Thierry kept reversing, trying to put distance between them and the attackers.
"Thierry, swing the truck sideways!" Leon shouted.
Thierry turned the wheel sharply, skidding the truck sideways across the road to create a makeshift barrier.
Leon was the first out, rolling to the ground and pulling his pistol. He took quick aim and fired at the advancing gunmen.
A single shot rang out, and one of the attackers went down.
The gunmen hesitated, realizing they were facing a sharpshooter. They dropped to the ground, continuing to fire but with less reckless abandon.
Julien and Thierry jumped out, firing back, but their aim was wild. The distance was too great for their pistols to be effective.
"Julien, get my rifle!" Leon shouted.
"On it, Boss!"
Julien scrambled into the truck, grabbing Leon's rifle from under the seat and tossing it to him.
With the rifle in hand, Leon felt a familiar rush, like he was back on the battlefield. He chambered a round, took aim, and squeezed the trigger.
Another gunman went down.
The attackers realized they were outmatched, hesitating in their advance. Leon's precise shots had turned the tide.
A man crouched behind a tree, believing he was well concealed. Half of his body, however, was clearly visible. To Leon, he was nothing more than a sitting duck.
Leon took aim and fired in one smooth motion.
"Bang!"
The man let out a shriek and collapsed to the ground.
Six adversaries had initially taken up positions across the street. Leon had already dispatched one with his pistol and two more with his rifle. Now, only three remained.
The MAS 49/56 wasn't renowned for its precision. Its accuracy paled in comparison to a proper sniper's rifle. Its real advantage lay in its semi-automatic capability and its ten-round magazine.
Leon's choice of weapon was simple: familiarity. He knew this rifle inside and out, and he trusted himself to be most effective with a gun he had mastered over time.
"Nice shot, Boss!"
Julien couldn't help but cheer as he watched Leon take down another opponent.
Thierry gazed at Leon, his eyes filled with admiration.
Had Leon not sensed the impending danger, Thierry thought, he might have been reduced to nothing but bits and pieces. The enemies were heavily armed, yet Leon had already eliminated three of them, forcing the others into hiding.