Chapter 70

Tang Dao led Lucian and his team to inspect the merchandise.

The 2S3 self-propelled howitzer was a relic from the 1960s, a Cold War era weapon that had seen better days. Its yellow-green paint and slightly melancholic appearance gave it a nostalgic charm. For Tang Dao, this was a personal favorite, and if he could occasionally get his hands on one through air transport, it would boost his reputation.

Tang Dao exchanged 9,000 coats for...

"Uncover it," Tang Dao instructed Robert and the others, cigar in hand. They quickly removed the dust cover, and Robert turned to Lucian with a smile, saying, "Please, have a look, you can even sit in it and try it out."

One of the task force members, awkwardly trying to climb aboard, struggled to gain a foothold and almost slipped embarrassingly.

"Sir, this way, please," Robert said, suppressing a grin, gesturing to the newcomer.

The black man scratched his head but managed to climb in from the side. The 2S3 self-propelled howitzer had seating for five, providing ample space. Robert attempted to explain the basics to the man, but it was like trying to teach a cow to play the piano; the language barrier was insurmountable. Moreover, Old Hei was not the quickest learner.

Nevertheless, the newcomer was ecstatic. After disembarking, he spoke to Lucian in his dialect, giving a thumbs-up and chatting away. Lucian, with a smile, inquired, "How much for this?"

Tang Dao retrieved a brochure and pointed to the price, "2.1 million dollars, and we'll throw in two grenades as a bonus."

Perhaps due to his genuine fondness for the 2S3 self-propelled howitzer, Lucian appeared contemplative. He counted on his fingers behind his back, then said, "Deal! But we also need some other items. Let's place a joint order."

"Of course, let's discuss it in the office over a bottle of fine red wine."

In the end, Lucian made a substantial purchase: one 2S3 self-propelled howitzer, twenty SPG-9 recoilless guns suitable for mounting on pickup trucks, a hundred RPG-7 rocket launchers with twenty crates of rockets, and 600 AK47 rifles with a quantity of ammunition.

The total bill came to $6.7 million!

Lucian was taken aback when he saw the total, nearly spitting out his red wine. He glared at the bill and raised his glass, asking incredulously, "Are you sure your calculations are correct?"

"Sir, my team is highly professional. We don't make mistakes. Please double-check it," Tang Dao replied, handing over the invoice. Lucian scrutinized it, and while other prices were accurate, he noticed the bullet price was listed as $2 per piece.

Lucian cursed under his breath, but when he looked into Tang Dao's eyes, he abandoned any thoughts of confrontation. When dealing with an arms dealer desperate for money, backing down was not an option. He opted for cooperation, whispering in Lucian's ear for the sake of harmony and future deals.

Lucian, a finance expert, knew how to save face and money.

Lucian and his team couldn't handle the logistics themselves, so Tang Dao charged an additional $70,000 for delivery services, including security, with Jin Dun accompanying the team.

The Italian Dignitaries Protection Team provided exceptional care!

Was $70,000 too steep for a 500-kilometer journey?

"Tsk, I'm too lenient," Tang Dao mused after returning to the office. He sipped tea and pondered. His comment was overheard by Robert and Osborne, who exchanged glances before turning away to feign ignorance.

"Do you have any ideas on how to sell the surplus inventory?" Tang Dao asked, adjusting his chair and leaning back, pen in hand, brow furrowed.

"Boss, I think we could seek out an agent," Osborne, with an eager expression, suggested. He rested his legs on the table.

An agent? Not a bad idea.

Finding an agent, even in a small country, allowed them to protect their interests and strengthen their local ties. Ideally, the agent should hold some local influence and be an effective communicator. Parachuting outsiders into a territory could disrupt existing power structures.

Is there a suitable agent in Somalia for the Salvation Company?

Warlords were unlikely candidates, as Tang Dao's company did not want to explicitly support any faction, risking future complications.

What about local power players, known as "prominent families"?

Would they be willing to cooperate?

"Dong dong!" Tang Dao tapped the table thoughtfully. The tufts of hair on his chin fluttered as he exhaled. Osborne and Robert glanced at each other before departing the room.

Once outside, the British-born Osborne seized the opportunity to chat, hooking his arm around Robert's shoulder, his face contorted in a friendly manner. "Hey, mate, why do you reckon the boss trusts you so much? He's handing over everything to you."

"The boss doesn't like slackers," Robert replied, pausing to tug at Osborne's beard. "A little grooming goes a long way. You just need to present yourself as trustworthy."

Osborne shook his head, dodging Robert's hand from his beard. "Don't touch the beard, mate. You know Michael?"

"Michael?"

"My idol. He's a laborer, and his beard is 65 centimeters long. I find it incredibly sexy. When I get back to London, I'll have all the ladies swooning."

"You might make people swoon in Somalia, like a ghost."

Robert struggled to free his hand from Osborne's grip and gently pushed him away. "Keep your distance, sir."

"Damn!" Osborne exclaimed, then stuck his tongue out and chased after Robert.

Back in the office...

The bungalow's thin walls allowed Tang Dao to hear the ongoing conversation outside. He rested his feet on the table and smoked as he contemplated why other arms dealers hadn't encroached on his territory.

Somalia and North Africa were territories that had once been controlled by Italy and the British, and those gentlemen were not known for their tolerance. He realized he might be too naive to think they would share the market with him.

High-profile advertising aside, he had another reason for being open about his operations: stirring the pot.

Tang Dao didn't believe others would willingly share the North African market with him. When interests collided, one party had to fall. The brutal competition of capital was more than just words on paper.

"Is someone waiting for the right moment?" Tang Dao wondered aloud.