Chapter 13

The Antonov An-12 had impressive dimensions, with a length of nearly 30 meters and a height of over 10 meters, capable of easily accommodating heavy trucks. As for the other transport vehicles, they belonged to the 2nd Division, and Tire would need someone to return them.

Sitting in the cabin, Tang Dao idly shook his legs and gazed out of the circular window. Below, Tire and the others waved their goodbyes.

"Mr. Nicholas, are you nervous?" Ambrose, who had just left the cockpit, approached with a bottle of wine in hand. The bottle bore no label, only a skull emblem. He shook it teasingly. "Have a drink; it can help dispel nervousness."

Ambrose bit the cork off with his teeth, poured some into a glass he produced from an unknown source, and handed it over.

"Are you not going back to the cockpit later?" Tang Dao inquired casually, and Ambrose didn't seem to mind. He touched the wine glass, raised it, and downed the drink. His face reddened immediately, and he slurred his words, "Drink some wine; it makes flying more exciting."

Drinking and flying?

Tang Dao's heart skipped a beat, and both Robert and Osborn, who were sitting nearby, widened their eyes.

Did Soviet pilots really drink while flying?

Ambrose couldn't contain his amusement when he noticed their reactions. He chuckled and waved it off. "I'm just messing with you, hahaha. I'm joking."

Tang Dao heaved a sigh of relief, and Robert, who was seated nearby, echoed the sentiment.

"Well, don't worry, buddy," Osborn reassured Robert as he stretched his waist, "It's not like there's going to be an attack on us in this place."

As soon as Osborn finished speaking, a massive explosion erupted in the distant city, shaking the ground and causing the mountains to tremble. The shockwave reached their location, causing the entire plane to shudder. Osborn instinctively flinched and glanced at Robert with an apologetic expression.

"Well, that's a minority," Robert said in an earnest tone, his face still flushed from Osborn's friendly pat.

"A month ago, the largest rebel army in Namibia took control of Belialpo, a critical town just 30 kilometers from Grutfontein," Ambrose explained as he disembarked with a grave expression. He gazed into the distance, checking his watch. "We can't linger here for too long. We'll refuel and depart soon. But I've already arranged for the airport's manager to assist you."

Tang Dao took a deep breath as the air was filled with the scent of gunpowder. Despite his trembling, his blood seemed to boil, and he found himself inexplicably drawn to this place. In his gaze, he spotted several figures jogging toward them, all dressed in white uniforms. Leading them was a bespectacled black man named Dalton, who caught sight of the tanks and armored vehicles on board and couldn't believe his eyes.

Tanks and armored vehicles!

An arms dealer?

"Hello, sir, I'm Dalton, the airport manager. How may I assist you?" Dalton beamed, revealing his gleaming teeth in the dark night. As a Namibian, he harbored a dislike for arms dealers, but as the airport manager, he welcomed these generous "vampires."

This wasn't the first time arms dealers had come through here. A Frenchman had been here not long ago and spent nearly $3,000 at the airport, including expenses for labor, aircraft maintenance, and storage of goods.

Tang Dao glanced at Ambrose, who took a step back, signaling that he wouldn't participate.

"I need two warehouses, and I require a group of workers," Tang Dao stated, extending his hand to make an offer.

"How many workers?" Dalton inquired, his eyes gleaming.

"Thirty people, $1 per person per day," Tang Dao offered.

This represented significant income in Namibia, a country with a high income gap. While the nation was classified as middle-income, income disparity was substantial. The unemployment rate stood at 51.2%, and the Gini coefficient reached 0.743, making it one of the most unequal countries globally. The top fifth of earners accounted for 78.7% of the nation's total income, while the poorest fifth made up just 1.4% of total income. Additionally, Namibia faced rampant AIDS, which contributed to lower life expectancies.

Rich individuals could thrive anywhere.

But for those without money, hardships persisted.

Offering $1 could easily attract a group of strong young men.

Dalton could expect some kickbacks from this arrangement, ensuring that more money would end up in his pockets. He nodded eagerly. "I'll arrange it right away, gentlemen. Would you like to have dinner? For 15 gold, you can enjoy the most unique sashimi in Namibia."

Tang Dao couldn't resist; he was eager to taste the local cuisine, especially after dining on canned food during the flight. "Sure! Bring out the good food; money isn't an issue."

"Alright!" Dalton rubbed his hands together, grinning widely. "Sir, should I settle the bill first?"