"Osborne, put some gun oil on it." Tang Dao threw the gun cleaning cloth on the ground with a look of disgust. This Armalite AR-18 automatic rifle has not been maintained for an unknown period of time, and the barrel inside is rusty.

No wonder it’s called the “poor man’s M16”. Even the system said it was a second-grade product with substandard maintenance. It was recommended that the recycling price should not exceed US$70...

Osborne took the gun, sniffed it, shuddered, and pretended to vomit, "Did it get soaked in shit?"

"Stop complaining." Tang Dao pushed him and looked at the mercenary in front of him. The latter's face turned red with embarrassment. He is indeed a talent for using this weapon like this. At least it hasn't exploded yet.

no.

The British man curled his lips, buried his head, and vented all his grievances on the barrel of the gun. With such speed, the barrel of the gun was sparkling.

…

Barcelo, who was wiping his clothes, heard someone at the door. He looked up and saw a team member running over with a walkie-talkie in his hand, "Captain."

Barcelo quickly wiped his hands on his overalls, took them over, covered his ears with his right hand, and found a place to mutter.

Tang Dao looked at the phone with envy from behind. In the early 1990s, the most famous one was Motorola, but the lightest one was 250g. But what he needed was a base station. In a backward country like Namibia, it would definitely not be possible.

There may be base stations, so most of them, including combat troops, still use walkie-talkies.

Of course, some people use saber walkie-talkies. During the Gulf War, the U.S. military used this walkie-talkie. The military-use walkie-talkies were at least two generations ahead of the civilian ones. The monopoly of technology made them not cheap. Each one cost at least thousands of dollars.

Ordinary mercenaries really can't afford to go without food or drink for two and a half days.

Even if the dog-headed mercenary group has a daily salary of 30,000 US dollars, it is almost impossible to equip everyone.

"I need to find some walkie-talkies next time. I should be able to sell these." Tang Dao touched his chin and thought deeply, discovering the business opportunity. By this time, Barcelo had also finished the conversation and walked straight towards him.

He knelt down and looked at Tang Dao's confused eyes and said with a smile, "The leader said that he would help you find a buyer and asked me to take you to the hotel."

Buyer?

Tang Dao's eyes lit up and he had to admire Gould's efficiency. Did he find someone now?

"When is the appointment?"

Barcelo looked at his watch and squinted, "They will arrive in about forty minutes."

"Osborne, Witt, pack your things, let's go back." Tang Dao immediately decided, picked up the ammunition box that he had just used as a stool, and moved it to the armored vehicle. This action naturally attracted the attention of other mercenaries in the room.

come over.

"Nicholas, are you leaving?" someone shouted.

"No! I just give my warmth to other people who need me. You know, there are 550 million guns in the world, and on average there is 1 gun for every 12 people. My question is, how to sell the guns to

Let the other 11 people enjoy their freedom." Tang Dao stood up, put his hands on his waist, and said with a smile.

This statement caused everyone to laugh, and some even raised the international flag unceremoniously.

Tang Dao took out a pack of cigarettes and threw them away, "Gentlemen, if you need anything, you can come to me at the "Star of Tomorrow" in Namibia. I will definitely buy you a drink. Of course, if you need anything in the future, you can also come to me.

Come on, I sell everything. If you need to solve your physiological needs, I can prepare them for you."

As he spoke, he winked, raised his eyebrows, and made a gesture known to all men, which made him laugh again.

However, it is obvious that these people are aware of the existence of Nicholas, a mobile arms dealer.

"Goodbye, gentlemen." Tang Dao sat in the passenger seat and waved, "God bless you."

But don't die. When I take out all the dollars in your pockets, you can go wherever you like, including playing bridge with God.

…

"Sir, it's time for you to buy a communication tool." Wit squatted behind him and muttered, looked at the reflector in the car, and met Tang Dao's eyes, "Leave them a phone number, so that your business can be

There will be more." He licked his dry lips and shifted to another leg that was numb. "I have met a Frenchman in the Middle East before. He is a dealer of Giat (French Ground Weapons Industry Group Company). On his business card

It’s printed like this, and the products he sells are also French, but I think he must be bragging, but his service is really good. With just a phone call, he will deliver it to you directly. Even if you are at war, he will deliver it to you. This is comparable to

It will be much easier for those regular arms dealers to come."

Tang Dao's right brow twitched when he heard this. Isn't this the one-stop service he plans to create?

Has anyone set up this already?

And it was obvious that he was at the forefront, which made Tang Dao start to feel anxious. He knew how strong the learning ability of the businessmen group was. What they like to do most is to follow the path of their predecessors. If there is a way to increase profits, it won't be long before...

This method will spread throughout the third world.

This is the time for a new industry to re-establish its rules!

Tang Dao's face was very calm, but his grip on the handle gradually became stronger. Taking a deep breath, he seemed to have smelled the smell of competition in the air. The market was so big in total, except for those big gangsters, now

More and more people are getting involved in this cake, and a bloody storm is inevitable.

To say afraid?

That's not the case, Tang Dao was just thinking about what method he should use.

"Boss, we're here." Just when he was lost in thought, Osborne pulled the handbrake, stopped firmly, and shouted softly.

"Huh? OK."

Tang Dao opened the door and got out of the car. Through the half-height window, he had already seen Gould facing the door. Opposite him was a man wearing a windbreaker who was wrapping himself up. The old woman was drawing pictures on the menu with a dark face.

What are you wearing?

"Mr. Nicholas." Cornelia was lying on the counter. When she heard the movement at the door, she raised her head. When she saw Tang Dao, her eyes lit up and she called out sweetly, which attracted the attention of Gould and others.

Coming over, the dog-headed family member stood up with a smile.

Tang Dao touched Cornelia's head and walked over, "Sorry, there's... a traffic jam on the road!"

Is there a traffic jam in this damn place?

Bad excuse!

However, Gould didn't care and helped introduce him, "Mr. Conan Klein, this is Nicholas."

"Hello, sir." Tang Dao extended his hand politely.

The other party slowly raised his head. He was a black man. A scar went straight from the corner of his eye, as if he had been scratched by some sharp blade. The eyeball was still a little white. He shook hands with Tang Dao and went straight to the topic, "I heard

Say, do you have a batch of goods in hand? How many of these BTR-40s do you have?"

Tang Dao looked at Gould, who nodded slightly.

"There are six more BTR-40s." After he finished speaking, it was obvious that Conan frowned, dissatisfied with the number? Does this guy have such a big appetite? He quickly continued, "However, I have more

This is pretty good stuff.”

"What's there?" Conan asked.

Tang Dao looked around and lowered his voice, "Lao Maozi's goods, T-64 tank!"

Gould was holding water and had just swallowed it when he heard this. He choked in his throat, his face turned red, he covered his mouth and looked at Tang Dao.

He thought this Chinese guy was just an ordinary salesman. Why the hell did you build a tank?

So generous?

Conan's eyes shone brightly, and he grabbed Tang Dao's hand, "Take me to see the goods."

The latter looked down at the other person's hand, twitched the corner of his mouth, and pulled it back calmly. Who knows if black people may carry any viruses? "Mr. Conan Klein, of course you can inspect the goods, but... I also have to

I see you have the ability to buy."

"Pah..." As soon as he finished speaking, Conan threw out a stack of US dollars.

"Osborne, prepare the car! Let's go to the warehouse." Tang Dao raised his head, sat upright, and shouted to the British guy who had just parked the car. Then he stuffed the U.S. dollars into his pocket rudely and touched his right hand.

I went in, played a few times, and the corners of my mouth became crooked with a smile.

This pile... is about twenty thousand dollars!

As long as you give me money, it's easy to say, Tang Dao is willing to give you a thumbs up.

It's so bottomless and shameless.
Chapter completed!