The Strongest Arms Dealer Chapter 96

"Sir, our boss said that if you have time, you can go to him for tea. When the time comes, I hope it will be in the United States."

Osborn stuck his head out of the driver's seat, stopped Grant, and passed on Tang Dao's words to him. The latter stopped and didn't look back. He just pricked up his ears and walked towards the camp. The adjutant had already Waiting at the door, when he just came in, the latter went up to meet him and glared at the ogre, who just raised his **** at him.

U.S. military?

Amazing?

How many shots can you take!

"Lieutenant Colonel Grant, your wife just made an ocean call."

"What did he say?" Pulsatilla asked with his eyes moving slightly.

"Your daughter was enrolled in the Princeton public elementary school in the United States."

Even the adjutant was surprised. Princeton public elementary schools have very strict admission criteria, and only elites are selected. Americans pay attention to fairness and democracy. In fact, it was a lie at the beginning. All the educational resources are so big in total. To rob, to fight, after all, some people were born in Rome.

In order to strengthen themselves, the wealthy class thought of another word, "donation".

Donations can go to elementary school, middle school, university, all the way to politics.

Looking at Grant like this, his daughter doesn't seem like a smart kind. Is this guy a hidden rich man?

Grant was in a daze, and a sentence lingered in his mind: it is not emotion that decides whether you cry or laugh, but money.

The so-called happiness of the poor.

Deceive yourself!

When Cecilio's body was tied to the gate of Mogadishu by Aidid's bandits.

All the agents kept their mouths shut.

All of them know that a war that determines the arms business in Somalia is over.

It was the Asian who had the last laugh!

Do you know how disgusting the face of capitalists is?

He can drink with your enemy during the day, discussing **** you, and he can also run to your room at night, kneel and stick out his tongue like a dog, as long as you give him something to eat, that's enough.

Mogadishu.

Old Chen Chinese Restaurant.

This is a well-known restaurant in the local area and even in Somalia. The owner has been here for 20 years. He used to study Chinese medicine and opened a medical clinic. When he came here, he couldn't see soldiers on his face, his tongue coating was black and not slippery, and he felt his pulse. He was so angry that he lifted the table, put down the acupuncture and picked up the rice shovel.

Lao Chen is about sixty years old, years have carved wrinkles on his face, half of his hair is gray, and he has no wife in his hometown. Instead, he picked up a baby boy in Mogadishu and raised him as a son. Pension.

Usually he closes the door in the afternoon. The situation in Mogadishu is very unstable. He was almost killed several times. The worst time was when a bird shell exploded at the door. It wasn't that he hid quickly and was almost crushed to death.

This also brought him a lot of mental pressure.

But you can make money in this place. There are peacekeeping troops or some mercenaries here. It doesn't hurt to spend tens of dollars on a meal. If you earn a few more years and bring your adopted son back, it can be regarded as returning to the roots.

bang bang bang!

Not long after Lao Chen closed the door, he heard a violent slam on the door. He looked at his 167-year-old adopted son, put his finger on his mouth, motioned him to be quiet, and whispered to himself, "Go and get the gun from above. "

That Heiwa nodded, and ran upstairs on tiptoe, and within a few seconds, came down like a monkey again, holding a Beretta 38 submachine gun in his hand, which is already a product of World War II. Beretta, Italy produced by the company.

Although he is old, Lao Chen bought it for self-defense with 70 US dollars.

Somalia is really messed up.

"Old man, why don't you open the door and I'll take the gun?" Hei Wa's mouth was full of Sichuan flavor, and he was a little reluctant to let go.

"Melon!" After cursing, Lao Chen snatched the submachine gun and looked through the eyes. There were two white men in suits standing outside, with anxious expressions and occasionally looking at their watches. Like thugs, as long as they are not locals, that's fine, he opened a gap slightly, and said in his English, “Two, sorry sir, we are closed.”

"Walter, I'll give you the money." One of them took out a wad of dollars in his pocket and handed it over, "We've got it for you here."

This stack must be worth thousands of dollars.

Lao Chen, who saw the money, immediately glowered, realizing that this was a big customer, he hurriedly asked someone to open the door, and beckoned him in.

He knew from the other party that some big shots wanted to treat guests here, and the guest was of Asian descent.

For the sake of dollars, he paid for the meal.

It was only later that he realized that the dinner seemed to be a bit big.

At four o'clock in the afternoon, the adopted son ran in and told him that there were many people outside, and they were all armed. Lao Chen was startled, went to the door, and took a peek.

More than a dozen strong men with guns were sitting in the corner near the door, and three middle-aged men in suits were sitting around a table. Their faces were all tense or restless. Old Chen could only hear a little by pricking up his ears: "Nicholas Don't overdo it"

Suddenly a burning smell rushed into his nostrils, he turned the corner, slapped his thigh and ran in, almost burnt.

517 p.m.

An 80 armored personnel carrier opened the way in front, and three 152 armored vehicles behind it, with machine guns on them, loaded with bullets, and fully armed employees, this is a hard rock, and anyone who sees it will feel embarrassed.

The bosses who had already received the news walked out side by side. Seeing this posture, they looked at each other, and at the same time saw the worry and helplessness in their eyes.

Most of the companies behind them do not focus on the North African market.

But they want to eat!

Somalia's profits are also determined by how much dividends they can get.

It has a lot to do with their own interests, but when they saw this, they suddenly understood that sooner or later the other party might feel that the market in Somalia is too small, and the amount of dollars that can be squeezed out of a country with a total population of 10 million is limited.

Tang Dao got off the 152 armored vehicle, took off his suit, looked up and saw three big men standing on the steps with smiles on their faces.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Nicholas." A white man with glasses~www.mtlnovel.com~ and pigtails stretched out his hand first in a Nordic tone.

"Nice to see you again, Mr. Frantesc."

Franteske Kowski is an old Czech arsenal sbr, which translates to: the agent of the "Seska Straight Poljovka" factory. This is a well-known firearms manufacturer in Northern Europe, such as pistols, 75 The pistols are all its representative works, which have been performed in actual combat.

Seeing him taking the lead, the other two rushed to say hello, not to be outdone.

One of these two is the agent of Argentine Domingo Matt, and the other is a black guy, a local foreign trade organization with a little strength in North Africa. The foreign trade company of this era, to put it bluntly, is not just a smuggling company, but a smuggling company. Wearing sheepskin, they look gentle, but are they sheep? Grinning, he was still a wolf.

"Don't stand here, let's go in and talk." Tang Dao saw that a few people were restrained, but turned against customers instead. He smiled and walked into the restaurant first, and looked at it a few times. He was very satisfied. clean up.

They all stood, and waited for Tang Dao to sit down before the others sat down.

Unknowingly, he has taken the dominant position.

"I haven't eaten Chinese food for a long time. I can smell the aroma. Is it ready to serve?" Tang Dao propped his knees and asked left and right. An employee behind Frantesc ran towards the kitchen and greeted him.

Old Chen nodded hurriedly, "Immediately."

He slapped his adoptive son on the forehead with a backhand, "Gua, don't look, the food is served!"

Chapter end