Within half a block the man was sweating. By the intersection, his clothes were sticking to his body. The Glock tucked behind his right hip was slick with perspiration. Guns, money, and a bunch of high-tech gear. Just like something out of a movie. Except it wasn't. This was real. Turning right, he headed into the large open-air market. It looked as if a car bomb packed with neon paint cans had detonated.