[Swordfish941]

He grabbed his shoulder and felt the bandage wrapped around it. The wound was from the Hutu, who had shot him with a 9mm handgun, and he had retorted by shooting him twice in the stomach and once in the head. Katie was able to get the bullet out, clean the wound, and sew it up. She had given him a shot of morphine and a Vicodin tablet to ease the pain, but he could still feel the burning sensation throbbing in his back. He just hope the money was worth it. The contractor had offered 250,000 Rand, half now, half later. The money was split into a ninth share, so the mercenaries and the boat's crew would each get a share. Greg knew what he was going to do with his share. As soon as he got to port, he was going to the nearest bar and buy three shots of Flor de Cana Black Label and a daiquiri heavy in grenadine. Besides Castle Lager beer and Smirnoff vodka, rum was the only kind of booze he would drink. He preffered mai tai's, mojito's, pina coladas. He hated drinking beer. Beer was too common. Everyone drank beer.