Chapter 75

"Running a business?"

The US dollar has been likened to these three terms.

In an instant, Tang Dao's eyes gleamed with dollar signs "$$".

Italians are known for their "friendliness." They went to great lengths to protect the world, even resorting to using their own weapons to down their marshal's plane and disrupt the Germans' advances, effectively holding them at bay on the front lines. In the aftermath of World War II, they bestowed upon you the nickname, "The Boy Who Spread Wealth."

John raised an inquisitive eyebrow, sensing the intense gaze behind him. Furthermore, he pretended to be engaged, conveying his keen interest through subtle facial expressions.

I've heard that the elite special forces of the U.S. Army, referred to as Delta, also undergo highly controversial training in areas such as psychology and human behavior, among others. The term "special forces" doesn't just encompass their physical prowess but also their mastery of numerous skills.

"I'm curious, what kind of business are we discussing?" John inquired, his hand resting casually in his pocket.

"Here?" Cecilio pointed to the upcoming four weeks.

John surveyed his surroundings, tilted his head slightly, and shrugged, "Why not?"

Seeing his acquiescence, Cecilio could only comply. He leaned forward, whispering softly while cupping his hand to his mouth, "Our company owns four natural mines in Somalia. However, due to recent internal turmoil, the head office believes we need to deploy security personnel."

"Are you suggesting that you want to hire us?" John posed the question.

"No, no, no," Cecilio swiftly waved his hand, "We've reached out to MPRI, and they will provide us with a three-year security contract."

"MPRI?"

"Does that stand for Military Professional Resources, Inc.?"

"The legendary private military company?"

"The forefront of American mercenary groups?"

Tang Dao fell into contemplation, puzzled as to why an Italian would visit for such a purpose. Was it merely a show of strength? He couldn't fathom the reasoning behind it and continued to patiently await Cecilio's explanation.

"However, MPRI's supply lines in Somalia are still not fully established..."

"So, you're proposing that we provide support for them?" Tang Dao, who had been silently observing, couldn't contain himself any longer and interjected.

Cecilio appeared slightly taken aback, his gaze shifting to John. Although John remained silent, he subtly moved to the side, signifying his agreement with Tang Dao's words. This small gesture surprised Cecilio. Could it be that the Asian who had spoken held a significant position? Cecilio smiled, "Yes, because there may be no arms dealer in Mogadishu more influential than Mr. Nicholas."

"But what I fail to comprehend is why your company needs to intervene in MPRI's affairs. It seems rather illogical, sir."

"Because I am also one of the shareholders of MPRI," Cecilio replied.

Suddenly, everything fell into place, another connection to the intricate web of accounts.

"In that case, what does our company stand to gain?" Tang Dao inquired directly, his hopes still lingering. However, Cecilio's response was shamelessly straightforward: he pointed to himself and stated, "MPRI's goodwill."

Frustrated, Tang Dao rolled his eyes and gestured as if to say, "Sir, are you serious?"

Even John found the proposal amusing, nearly understanding what was running through their visitor's mind. He shook his head and chimed in, "While we appreciate MPRI's recognition, I'm afraid we can only guarantee our own supply routes. Mr. Cecilio, I suggest you seek assistance within the designated safe areas."

"The safe areas? United Nations humanitarian aid?" Cecilio, who considered himself a gentleman, couldn't hide his frustration. However, MPRI's strategic interests in Africa were on the line. Most of their employees were retired U.S. Special Forces, granting them considerable influence within the military. After all, why else would they have been awarded a $30 million contract during the Gulf War?

These past few years had marked rapid growth for their company, with Africa emerging as a lucrative market, particularly for arms sales. It wasn't a matter of lacking supplies; it was about securing a "partner" in Somalia due to delivery delays.

"Mr. Nicholas, I've genuinely come here with sincerity," Cecilio asserted. "If you have any requests, please don't hesitate to express them."

"Can you make decisions on behalf of your company?" Tang Dao inquired.

"Of course, the company has granted me that authority."

Tang Dao contemplated for a moment, seeking a way to extract value from the Italian visitor. He had an idea of how to make the situation mutually beneficial, one where their strength could secure a foothold while their guest's need for weapons could be met.

"Mr. Cecilio, what if I propose two conditions?" Tang Dao finally spoke, his eyes gleaming with calculation. "First, your company must procure all its weaponry and equipment within Somalia exclusively from us, including ammunition, at a rate below market value, of course."

Cecilio initially resisted, his expression souring, but Tang Dao raised a hand and continued, "Let me finish. Second, we've formed a mutual assistance alliance in Somalia to safeguard our interests collectively. Should you agree to this, I'll reduce your supply costs by 60%, offering preferential rates on a range of weapons, including the Hind helicopter, without requiring a deposit. Naturally, any damages incurred must be compensated."

Cecilio's eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated the proposal. Buying from them would mean relinquishing control over the finances, a move he was unwilling to make. Perhaps, there was another way—renting.

Cecilio appeared deep in thought and leaned in, resting his elbow on the table. "Mr. Nicholas, do you have any plans to establish a private military company?"

"Indeed, the African market is vast, and I intend to make a fortune."

...