Jeremy shuddered as he loaded the crate into the back of his small red truck. He fidgeted with the tailgate door to get it to latch properly. Dealing with an arms dealer had been a far different experience than he had expected. Considering the trail of contacts he went through to find him, he'd expected a gangster with excessive bling. The man he finally met with talked like a businessman and wore a plain, yet expensive looking, suit. He was also cold and unemotional. It made sense, though. How would some street gangster get a hold of some high grade military hardware? But he had some now, didn't he?