Chapter 61

Andreevich anxiously waited in the hotel room, too preoccupied to even touch the food that had been delivered. He paced around the room, occasionally turning on the TV or stepping out onto the balcony for a cigarette in an attempt to calm his nerves. He was restless, like an ant on a hot pan, unable to find peace.

Boom!

Suddenly, the door was kicked open with force, startling Andreevich. He stared in shock as two men in light white suits entered, closing the door behind them. These were the same men who had chased him earlier.

"Sir, aren't you trying to run away?" one of them taunted sarcastically. The other man had an amused look on his face.

Panicked and desperate, Andreevich considered running toward the balcony to escape. However, they were on the 7th floor – a perilous leap.

"Please, I'll leave Kyiv right now! Just let me go, and I promise I won't say anything," Andreevich pleaded.

"Terribly sorry," the man in the suit said with mock sympathy. He took a step forward, forcibly prying Andreevich's fingers off the balcony railing with a bone-cracking sound.

"хуй!" Andreevich managed to utter one word before being kicked in the chest and sent plummeting from the 7th floor with a horrified scream.

Have you ever seen a watermelon smashed on the ground? The impact was similar, and the gruesome scene shocked the passersby on the street and near the hotel.

"Walk," the two killers said calmly as they exited the room. Their mission was accomplished.

...

"Alright, I understand," Major General Medevichuk replied after hanging up the phone. He steepled his fingers, resting his chin on them, a hint of pity in his eyes.

Andreevich had brought in millions of dollars in revenue for him, and his sudden death was a somber moment. But with the KGB hot on Andreevich's trail, those high-ranking individuals needed a scapegoat. In their eyes, the life of a major general was worth more, and Medevichuk had realized the peril he faced. If he weren't willing to comply, they would find someone else to bear the blame.

This incident had shaken Medevichuk deeply. He pondered the situation: if he had been the one thrown out today, did that mean he could be sacrificed to save a higher-ranking official?

Those greedy individuals were even contemplating selling nuclear weapons. Under the influence of their insatiable greed, alliances and friendships could easily crumble. Everyone was an expendable pawn in their pursuit of profit.

The more Medevichuk considered it, the more fearful he became. He needed an escape route for himself. Tapping his fingers on the table, he realized he had to take action. He picked up the phone and made a call.

"Tell Mr. Nicholas that I'm willing to cooperate with him, but certain conditions must be met."

"I'll convey your message," the voice on the other end responded before ending the call.

...

Tang Dao had a lot on his plate, especially regarding the "Fifty Kilometer Airport." He had already sent a fax to Daru Airlines, requesting them to evacuate their belongings from the airport within a week.

Daru Airlines was hardly inconspicuous on the internet. It had been established by several local travel companies in Djibouti and occasionally operated cargo flights. It even owned a retired SC-5 Belfast, the civilian version of the SC-5 Belfast, which was worth more than 8 million dollars. However, due to recent wars in Africa, the tourism industry was on the brink of collapse, and Daru Airlines was on the verge of bankruptcy.

They couldn't even afford aviation fuel, yet they demanded $300,000 in so-called relocation expenses.

Tang Dao was not one to be taken advantage of. He ordered John and a few operatives to fly the Mi-24 helicopter, equipped with guns and ammunition, to the airport at low altitude under the cover of night. If it had been daytime, they would have risked becoming targets.

As the Hind helicopter flew over the "Fifty Kilometer Airport," John strafed the ground with his Gatling gun, expending thousands of rounds. Inside the airport, they could hear the terrified screams of the staff as they frantically scattered. The operation was swift, and the next day, Daru Airlines announced its withdrawal from the airport.

Are arms dealers really merciful? If angered, they could be ruthless. In this case, Tang Dao had resorted to force to resolve the issue swiftly.

With this matter settled, Tang Dao received Gould and his team, who had traveled all the way from Namibia. Gould greeted him with surprise.

"Nice to see you again, sir," Tang Dao greeted them warmly, waving at Baceno who accompanied him.

"Likewise, sir," Gould replied, somewhat restrained but equally surprised. He had noticed Tang Dao's increased influence and the substantial weaponry available.

"I called you here because I need your assistance. As you can see, Somalia is highly volatile. I would like to hire your services to ensure our safety. Don't worry about the compensation; your group will receive $200,000 per month, and we will provide all the necessary firearms and ammunition. What do you think?"

The offer made by Tang Dao was already generous. Gould's dog-headed mercenary group might not be well-known globally, but the compensation was courteous, especially given the circumstances.

Gould, being a practical individual, didn't need much time to contemplate. He nodded in agreement.

"Two hundred thousand dollars per month sounds like a solid deal to us. With the current situation in Somalia, no one would dare to confront an arms dealer equipped with heavy weapons."

Tang Dao's proposal for a formalized partnership with the dog-headed mercenary group was a small step in a strategy that he believed would pay off in the long run. He knew the power of branding and reputation, just like how people associate certain companies with specific products or services.

He explained, "This pattern is very common in arms dealing in later generations. When people think of Boeing, they think of the US military. When they think of a Tuxi bomber, they think of Lao Maozi. It's all about creating associations and potential propaganda."

Gould, recognizing the favorable terms of the deal, quickly signed his name. To him, it was like receiving free money, and he didn't want to miss out on such an opportunity.

With the contract signed, Gould was eager to get to work. He asked, "Is there anything we need to do now?" His strong work ethic was evident, and he was ready to jump into action.

Tang Dao nodded in response, his smile unwavering. "I'll have Mr. John Kansburg assist you. He's a retired instructor from the Delta Force."

The mention of Delta Force left Gould and Barceló dumbfounded. Delta Force, the elite United States 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment D, was an exclusive and legendary unit. Few people in their line of work had ever seen them in action, but the tales of their prowess were widely known.

The fact that Tang Dao had recruited a former Delta Force member surprised and bewildered them. It was a testament to Tang Dao's commitment to building a formidable team.

Tang Dao was about to call for John to come in when the door opened unexpectedly. Robert hurried in, his expression solemn as he approached Tang Dao.

"Boss, Medevichuk has agreed to cooperate with us," Robert reported.

...