"John, catch!" The Colombian sniper's voice suddenly sounded close by.
Viper had slipped down from the tree at some point and tossed him a magazine and an M67 hand grenade, "There's a fuel depot behind the factory, blow it up!"
John McTavish grinned viciously and pulled the safety pin, hurling the grenade towards the crowd of drug traffickers emerging from the tunnel. Amidst the explosion, he saw at least three drug traffickers blown away by the blast, and the burning gasoline flowed down the tunnel into the factory, instantly detonating the stored chemical materials.
In the towering flames, John McTavish hopped on one leg to the riverbank and shone his tactical flashlight on the floating wooden crates. One of the boxes was slashed open by shrapnel, revealing neatly stacked bricks of cocaine inside, each labeled "Special Supply for the Spanish Royal Family."
"Did you get it?" he growled into his throat mic, "This evidence is enough to make those bastards in Madrid drink up!"
