Gao Jun called Bancroft at Jeddah Port.

There are two cargo ships there, and most of the cargo is on them. Someone has to keep an eye on them.

"Yes, yes, that's right, it's a nigger. When he comes to pick up the goods, just give it to him. It has my signature on it." Gao Jun tilted his head and held his mobile phone, sitting on the sofa, counting diamonds in his hands.

When raised at a 45° angle, it is a bit reflective and dazzling.

Diamonds are quite bright.

"By the way, give him the manual. I remember there is an English version, right? Don't get the Russian one. Don't make a mistake. Yes, it's free. How can you charge money for the manual?"

"I was right, man, it's free!"

The other person didn't believe him and asked one more question. Gao Jun emphasized it in a louder voice before Bancroft responded.

After hanging up the phone, he threw the phone away.

He took out a notebook from the suit hanging next to him and spread it out. The quantity of goods was clearly recorded on it.

Cross out t62 hard.

I glanced over and saw that now there are only PKM general-purpose machine guns, SVD sniper rifles, and RPK light machine guns. The total quantity is not much. The other AK47s are all sold out. They are too hot.

The most worrying thing is the remaining 12 T55s.

Hammons is quite picky. According to the brain capacity and IQ of Africans, the fool-like operation of T55 is more suitable for them. It can be seen in the wars in Angola and Mozambique.

However, Gao Jun is more inclined to believe that Hammons' organization has some educated soldiers but not many, so he can only arm them with "advanced" tanks as much as possible, but those exceeding the T62 are too expensive.

During your lifetime, you must go to Africa to open a school to teach tank driving and shooting. We will provide you with one-stop training. I don't believe you don't buy a tank even if you have the talent!

"Business is hard to do..." Gao Jun sighed, picked up his suit, and walked out of the lounge. This was actually a plastic room fixed to the edge of the exhibition square for business discussions.

Near noon.

In the exhibition hall, the popularity is finally strong.

Some prostitutes who were dressed more boldly stood on the tanks and even winked at them in public, while a group of mercenaries below screamed.

It's rare to see anyone wearing a suit.

If all the poor people become mercenaries, how much money can they make?

Gao Jun could guess at a casual glance how much their assets were.

"Aren't they going to make money? Is there already peace in Kuwait?" he complained.

"Kuwait does not need such bandits." A voice came from the side. Gao Jun looked over and saw Miller walking over. "The number of civilians who died in their hands is no less than that of the Iraqis."

"When you learn to pull the trigger, you discover that this world has long been anything but gentle. Sometimes I wonder if God will forgive us for killing each other. Then I look around, and it suddenly dawns on me that God has left long ago.

Here it is," Miller said.

"The world is terrible, but there are people doing good things every day." Gao Jun said regretfully, "If those civilians can buy a cheap weapon from me, maybe they have the right to survive."

"What's the difference between my arms and those sold in the United States? Maybe I didn't pay taxes, or maybe I forgot to write "Made in the White House" on the gun."

"The same goes for mercenaries. Tasks performed outside the law are not considered an invasion. Many people respond with good-faith admiration. Isn't it a compliment to the war? When the wild dogs look over, it is already considered an invasion. It is easy to beautify the war.

Let those idiots worship war!"

Miller thought deeply. He felt that what Gao Jun said was right. However, this kind of philosophical defense should not occur in a war zone, but in a school. The purpose of his trip was to get down to business, "I agree to the conditions you gave, but

, we have a request."

"explain."

"We have a cooperative relationship now, but if one day you need formal contract mercenaries, I hope you can sign us in advance and upgrade your existing rating by one level."

When Gao Jun heard this, he looked at him with bright eyes, "Is this what you think?"

“Thoughts from all our team.”

It seems that there are smart people who understand that Gao Jun's "dispatch model" will eventually transform into an exclusive business model, so they want to invest in advance.

Gao Jun nodded, "Your evaluation is given to Umbrella. I won't interfere, but I have a commission here." As he said that, he took out a photo from his wallet, which showed him and Rabe.

"Help me go to the De Fetour tribe and bring him back. This is also within the scope of the mercenary's service, right?"

"If you finish, I will add one level to the rating given by Umbrella. Are you willing to take it?"

Why Nasser changed his mind.

It was impossible for Gao Jun to ask directly. The only one he knew well and had a certain status in the tribe was Rabe.

He needs to have a good talk with the "kid".

Miller took the photo, stared at Rabe, and nodded slightly, "Okay, but I need other means and the costs incurred..."

"Reasonable expenses will be reimbursed by me, but I don't want to see a sheep in there for 300 US dollars..."

Miller accepted this task, not only to let Gao Jun see the strength of his mercenary group, but also to work hard to adjust his rating.

In fact, this is just like some companies, which put employees in positions and then relate their interests to them. Do you think they will not work hard?

Although the difference between Class B and Class A is US$40,000.

But with this money, you can drag away a 107 rocket launcher in Gaojun, and even feed you RPGs until you vomit, making you almost invincible in street battles dominated by mercenaries.

Of course, as long as you don't encounter cheaters.

For example, the American pilot flying the "Warthog".

Gao Jun looked at his back and smiled slightly.

Now you know the use of "non-staff".

Of course, he has a small number of people, but he has a lot of weapons. Those who come out to be mercenaries can quit gambling and prostitution, but they can't even quit bullets.

Give a small amount of benefits and promise a future. Isn't this the case for bosses?

Don't try to see the chaotic world with peaceful eyes. When the bullets and dollar bills start dancing, what will be left is not only the carnival of the venters, but also the sorrow of the innocent.

However, would you rather be the venter or the innocent?

…

Tribe de Fetour.

Rabe got off the camel, his brows furrowed, his expression serious and worried.

Just as he was about to walk into the tribe, he saw a child running towards him, saying in a panic, "Uncle Rabe."

"What's wrong, little Morrie?" Rabe asked, touching the other person's head.

"Over there, there's a little camel injured." Morrie pointed to the back of a hill and said.

What is a camel in the desert?

It's a god!

He is a guardian and a partner.

So when Rabe heard this, he was very nervous. He looked around and saw no one else. With Mori's urging, he hurriedly ran towards the hill.

But when I went over the hill, I saw an off-road vehicle parked.

"Mr. Rabe? Nice to see you. Our boss invites you to be a guest?" Miller said with a smile, raising the silenced pistol, "You should agree."

Rabe's scalp suddenly became numb and he raised his hands.

The companion opened the car door and put him into the car, while Miller looked at Mori and grabbed a handful of candies from his pocket, "Uncle, will you take you to the city to play? I will send you back in the evening."

Of course, it is impossible to let him go back for the time being.

What a joke.

I just have to take it with me.

How resistant are children to sugar?

He is not crazy enough to attack children (!!)
Chapter completed!