Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 44 Interview
Milton glanced at Brandon with some surprise.

$2 is a sum that most people would have to save for 15 years without eating or drinking to earn, but Brandon just pulled it out like that.

We can share hardship, and we can share wealth...

At that moment, Milton completely regarded Brandon as his confidant.

Then we won't pursue his habit of spreading rumors all the time.

“3 in gold, 7 in cash.” Milton patted Brandon on the shoulder. “Cash on delivery.”

"Alright, alright! We'll bring the ammunition over after you leave! Thank you for your patronage!"

With trembling hands, "Ghost Wolf" took the money and gold. After verifying their authenticity with a money counter and a spectrometer, he was grinning from ear to ear.

He made nearly $1 from this deal!
Don't be fooled by the low profit margin; the fact that these hard-to-sell goods can be quickly converted into cash flow is a huge profit in itself!

However, just as he was overjoyed, he saw Milton reach out and quickly pull $5000 from the stack of banknotes.

Ghost Wolf was a little confused. He looked up at Milton in bewilderment and asked, "Uh, what's this?"

Milton handed the money to Brandon, then signed a ticket and receipt, saying, "This is to collect taxes on your smuggling of these weapons."

This is your bottom line for prices.

Ghost Wolf stared dumbfounded at the receipt, his mind overloaded for a while before shaking his head with a wry smile: "Damn, you even collect taxes... The rumors were true, you really are a madman! Fine, fine! Consider it protection money I paid to the 'Hell Tax Collector'."

Earning five thousand dollars is not bad.

“Of course.” Milton glanced at the points credited to his account and said seriously, “As long as you pay your taxes on time, you enjoy the rights of a taxpayer here.”

Having made a fortune, "Ghost Wolf" was in a good mood and didn't take those words seriously. He nodded and said, "Okay, okay, let's go. I'll help you transport the things back."

Milton didn't get up. After considering for a moment, he said, "Oh, right, there's something else I'd like you to help me with."

"Ghost Wolf" looked over warily, cautiously refraining from answering first: "You speak first."

“I plan to recruit some reliable people. The requirements are…” Milton explained his needs, “Loyalty is not a major requirement, but at least they cannot betray us.”

“Your current identities are a problem…” “Ghost Wolf” thought for a moment, then nodded and agreed to help. “I will try my best to find them for you, but I cannot guarantee that they are completely reliable. You will have to make your own judgment.”

Milton replied, "No problem."

"Okay, wait for me a moment, I'll help you contact the channels."

After saying that, "Ghost Wolf" left the counter and went into the office.

Brandon and his assistant stood up, disguised the weapons and equipment, and carried them out of the gun shop and back to the pharmacy's basement.

When Brandon finished his work and rushed back, "Ghost Wolf" was just coming out of his office.

"Come to my office. Someone will call in a bit, and you can do the initial screening. I won't help with the interviews."

Telephone? In a country like this, you rely on public phone booths. It seems like on average, only 3 private phone lines are available for every 100 people. No wonder they're in the arms business; they're really rich.

Milton sighed and followed "Ghost Wolf" into the office.

Ghost Wolf thoughtfully stood by the door without coming in. After the two went in, he left the office and even closed the door behind him.

Milton sat down, glanced at the phone, and was a little surprised—it was still a push-button phone instead of a dial phone!

Dealing in arms is all about making money.

Ten minutes later, the phone rang.

Milton reached for the receiver.

The person inside spoke in heavily accented English: "Hello, are you Mr. Milton, the 'Hell Tax Collector'?"

Milton frowned and asked in English, "Don't you speak Spanish?"

"I...I don't know how..." "Sorry, our team needs smooth communication. Let's work together again in the future."

Milton hung up the phone immediately.

Brandon stood beside him, utterly astonished: "Boss, you can speak English? Is there anything you can't do?"

"This is nothing, I can also speak Chinese."

"..."

After chatting for a couple of minutes, the phone rang again.

Is it the 'Hell Tax Collector'?

“I am Milton.”

“Nice to meet you. My name is Dane, I’m 28 years old, I’ve served in a U.S. Army conventional combat brigade for 6 years, I participated in the Gulf War, I’m very experienced, I can serve as an assault soldier and marksman, I can use most weapons and drive most vehicles, and I’m a free agent.”

Brandon's face lit up with excitement after hearing this... This sounds pretty good!
However, Milton frowned and shook his head, asking, "Freelance mercenary? Haven't you joined a mercenary group recently?"

"without me……"

Before he could finish speaking, Milton hung up the phone.

Brandon looked over blankly and asked, "Boss, isn't this guy pretty good?"

Milton sneered: "Free mercenary, that sounds nice, but it just means no mercenary group wants him... Heh, in a place like this, anyone can become a cannon fodder mercenary. With his qualifications, he could clearly be a mid-level member of any mercenary group, yet he's ended up being unwanted by everyone, which means he definitely has a huge problem."

Milton wasn't particularly knowledgeable and didn't know what the problem was, but staying away from it was definitely the right thing to do.

They wouldn't even take those monstrous mercenary groups, let alone Milton.

Brandon suddenly realized, "I see... Wait, what kind of people does 'Ghost Wolf' introduce? They're all so unreliable?"

Milton didn't blame the gun shop owner: "He's not a professional either. He can only give us a general overview. We have to handle the details ourselves."

"Too……"

A while later, the phone rang again.

"Hello." This time, a crisp female voice came from the other end of the line. "Are you 'Hell Tax Collector'?"

"Just call me Milton. What's your name?"

"Flora Chloris. We are a registered security company. We just finished a contract with our last client. There were three of us, all retired members of the regular army of NATO countries. We are professional, reliable, and have an extremely high mission completion rate."

Milton nodded slightly.

It's actually a legitimate small security company? Looks like the civil war is really nearing its end, with so many people planning to head to Chiapas, Mexico to make money?

However, companies in small towns like this are unlikely to be very formal.

"Go to the 'Kuai Kuai Di' Chinese restaurant near the police station for an interview at 4 pm today. Salary will be discussed in person. Please be on time."

The woman on the other end readily agreed: "Okay, see you later."

"..."

Milton then received several more phone calls, from mercenary groups retreating from the front lines of the Civil War, from regular soldiers retiring due to the reduced intensity of the war... and of course, some were just shills.

In the end, Milton identified three candidates for interviews.

After hanging up the last call, Milton stretched and said, "Alright, go to the police station to prepare for the commendation ceremony. I can handle the interview by myself. Be careful on the road; I've arranged for Lutz to cover for you, but you can't let your guard down yourself."

Brandon chuckled: "You might even see me on TV, boss!"

(End of this chapter)