observed Semonjene, shaking his head. “This is the perfect time,” Aryan said in disgust. He then turned to Semonjene and smiled. Aryan was getting tired of Semonjene’s complaints. “What do you mean, perfect? It’s 10:45 at night; soon it’ll be midnight. The mosquitoes are eating me alive. There is no freaking moon to tell us where we are going.” “How do you even know where you are going anyway?” Semonjene persisted. Aryan Broughton and Semonjene Raloux had been looking for an abandoned airstrip. Aryan was contacted by the Micaela drug cartel from Colombia to investigate an airstrip they were planning to use for their midnight drops for the Louisiana regional supplies center. The cartel figured out that the drug market in New Orleans and the surrounding states had gotten so lucrative that faster deliveries were needed to meet the market demand. A downloaded satellite search through Google at the Micaela computer room in Barranquilla, Colombia, located what appeared to be an airstrip in Louisiana.
