Black Hawk or Mi-17?

After the matchmaking efforts of a U.S. congressman, Sikorsky's sales manager Tasman finally began private negotiations with the Chinese civilian representatives. Ostensibly, this was a trade meeting for machinery and machine tools, indistinguishable from any other commercial deal—but beneath the surface, it was a secret summit between two nations.

The Chinese side was represented by officials from a shell company named Northern Precision Machinery. In truth, the final decision would come from higher authorities, making the negotiation process more ritual than real.

Tasman, ambitious and confident, aimed to sell at least 60 Black Hawk helicopters in this single deal—an order big enough to pull Sikorsky out of a slump. Given the import patterns over recent years, he was convinced China urgently needed the Black Hawks, and no matter the price, they would accept.

In other words, Tasman believed the deal was firmly in Sikorsky's hands. So it was no surprise that he came to the table aggressively.

"The civilian model of the Black Hawk we last purchased was priced at six million dollars. Now it's eight million? Isn't that a bit excessive?" The Chinese representative, a composed middle-aged man in his forties, responded with polite displeasure.

Tasman leaned forward. "You misunderstand. Our last purchase was back in 1985—seven years ago. Raw material costs have increased since then. And the Black Hawk's technology has only improved. Especially in plateau conditions, no helicopter matches ours. If you don't buy, it will be your loss."

The threat was subtle but unmistakable.

The Chinese man smiled faintly. "Eight million dollars per unit is far beyond inflation. Yes, we acknowledge our gap in plateau transport helicopters, but that doesn't mean we must accept your price. We have been conducting extensive research on plateau helicopters ourselves, learning much from the Black Hawk over these years. It's just that our army isn't ready for a large-scale upgrade yet."

Tasman frowned, puzzled. This wasn't the submissive posture he expected. Why was the other side acting as if they could easily walk away?

The Chinese representative, evidently keeping an eye on another transaction, sipped his tea carefully before adding, "I don't know how Americans conduct business, but in China, integrity is paramount. Only when both parties are honest and equal can we reach a truly win-win deal."

Tasman's translator conveyed this, and Tasman looked bewildered. "I understand your principle, but what does that have to do with our negotiations?"

The Chinese smiled without answering directly.

Suddenly, a man stepped out from behind Tasman and whispered into his ear. Simultaneously, the Chinese representative's aide leaned in and spoke quietly to his superior.

The two men across the table showed starkly different reactions. Tasman's face hardened with shock and anger, while the Chinese representative remained serene, as if fully in control.

Just one floor away, in another room, the Soviet representative Victor was shaking hands and laughing with the Chinese negotiator, celebrating a successful deal.

"You're doing business with the Soviets? What's the meaning of this? A provocation?" Tasman's voice was low but furious, sensing a trap laid by the Chinese.

"No," the Chinese representative said, smiling as he stroked his chin, "just that your civilian Black Hawk is too expensive. Eight million dollars per unit could buy us three Mi-17 helicopters—also specially modified for high altitudes."

"While the Mi-17 may be a bit behind the Black Hawk in some specs, there is an old Chinese saying: 'Cinnabar isn't worth as much as red clay.' The reliable, affordable Mi-17 is our practical choice. By the way, we've just placed an order for 35 Mi-17s. If your price doesn't come down, we'll only buy a handful of Black Hawks."

Tasman had promised his superiors he'd close the deal—but this sudden blow left him stunned. His mind blank, he made a fateful decision.

"So, what do you consider a fair unit price?" he asked, finally conceding.

The Chinese man smiled broadly. "We value integrity and will not push you too hard. We are willing to purchase 36 Black Hawks at four million dollars each."

"Four million?" Tasman almost shouted. "That's half the price! Absolutely not. It can't be sold that low. At least six million. The Black Hawk isn't some crude Russian machine. It's the most advanced aircraft. Not something those vodka-drinking amateurs could build!"

"Five and a half million?" The Chinese representative pressed on without hesitation. "If you won't agree, then we will have to forgo the Black Hawk deal altogether and instead ask the Soviet Union to supply us with 41 high-altitude Mi-17 helicopters."

The negotiation grew heated. After a tense back-and-forth, the Americans finally agreed to sell 41 Black Hawks at 5.9 million dollars apiece—still profitable, but significantly less than their original asking price. Tasman left the table feeling the sting: Sikorsky had just taken a huge hit, earning barely half of what they had hoped.

Meanwhile, the Soviet representative Victor had approached the negotiations with a much humbler demeanor. He offered discounts for bulk purchases and promised comprehensive after-sales support, including parts and maintenance services. This approach impressed the Chinese representatives, who ended up doubling their initial plan to buy only 18 helicopters.

The key advantage was clear: the Mi-17 was substantially cheaper than the Black Hawk, making it a more economical choice.

As Victor exited the building, he unexpectedly crossed paths with Tasman, the Sikorsky sales manager he had encountered several times before. The once cocky and mocking Tasman now looked decidedly deflated.

"Well, well, if it isn't Manager Tasman. What a coincidence to see you here," Victor greeted cheerfully.

Tasman froze for a moment at the sight of Victor, then glanced over at the smiling Chinese representative standing nearby. The realization hit him like a thunderclap.

China was playing both sides, carefully maneuvering to maximize its gains. Judging by the expressions on the Soviet faces, it was the Americans who had been outplayed.

But exposing this in public was impossible. Instead, Tasman shot Victor a sharp glare and snapped, "I was just here to see what high-quality products your company has to offer. Didn't expect to find a merchant dealing in counterfeit, inferior goods."

Victor smirked. "Counterfeit and inferior, huh? Funny, I heard your negotiations weren't going so smoothly. Maybe you were pressured so hard you had to give up a huge chunk of your profit?"

Tasman's face turned pale, but Victor ignored him, turning to warmly shake hands with the Chinese personnel. In flawless Mandarin, Victor said, "I look forward to future cooperation, General Zhang."

The Chinese representative smiled graciously. "It would be my pleasure."