America: Starting with Daily Intelligence

Chapter 328 Military Supply Orders

"What exactly do you need? Beef, chicken, canned luncheon meat, and daily military supplies and equipment—I can provide all of that."

Zhang Ailun talked with Lao Hei for a while, and Lao Hei took out his phone to inquire about the mercenary teams in the Central African region. He obtained their needs from them and relayed them directly to the Grand Master.

Combat boots and jungle combat uniforms, depending on individual sizes, can cost several hundred dollars for a standard, universal set. Ordinary everyday items like gun oil, canned food, compressed biscuits, and chocolate bars are only a few dollars in West Coast supermarkets, which is quite cheap.

But this stuff is very expensive even in Central Africa; it's a relatively uncommon American imported food.

The supervisor, Lao Hei, was particularly generous when it came to purchasing things. They were also quite extravagant in their daily purchases, spending money almost without batting an eye unless it involved dangerous equipment.

They immediately ordered 50000 cans of beef, 50000 cans of chicken, and 50000 cans of luncheon meat. They also provided 2,000 sets of clothing, 2,000 pairs of combat boots, 20,000 gun oil cartridges, chewing gum, compressed biscuits, chocolate bars…

With all sorts of miscellaneous items added up and considering transportation costs, the old black man placed a $300 million order for military supplies in one go!

Seeing that the guest was so generous, the head of the guild got up and went with him to the VIP room next door to discuss the details. After confirming the items and quantities required for the order, he called over a Venetian staff member, borrowed the hotel's printer, and printed out the contract. They both signed the contract.

Old Hei wrote down the official tender order from the Central African royal family, and the location for transporting the goods was a small place in Central Africa that the Grand Master had never heard of.

The leader, of course, chose to write down the name of Mr. Sig Comprey, the designated scapegoat of the Thunderfire Armed Nation.

After the documents were signed, Zhang Ailun provided Lao Hei with the Hamburger Foundation's account. According to international practice, a minimum deposit of 30%, or $90, was required in advance. Lao Hei, the supervisor, promptly paid the money.

Zhang Ailun quickly received the payment notification. He took out his phone, glanced at it, and immediately shook hands with the other party with a broad smile, saying, "Pleasure doing business with you!"

"Mr. Jin, it's a pleasure doing business with you. I hope you can ship the goods as soon as possible so that our soldiers can use these supplies quickly." Supervisor Lao Hei was also in a good mood, after all, he had completed the task assigned to him by the royal family.

"I'll have people prepare the supplies when I get back. They'll be shipped out by the day after tomorrow at the latest, and possibly as early as tomorrow," Zhang Ailun said.

"Although it may be presumptuous of me to say this, I still want to ask: 150,000 cans of food, each weighing about 400 grams, that's 60 tons. With a shelf life of only 3 years at most, can you possibly finish eating them all?"

Zhang Ailun asked suspiciously, "Who's a good person who eats canned food every day? Can those mercenaries even stand it?"

The most common source of meat in Central Africa is beef. While ordinary families might not go hunting in the mountains and forests to have extra meat for a meal, they probably don't eat much meat on a daily basis.

Some are dying of drought, while others are dying of flooding.

"We can finish it! If we can't finish it, we can give it to the miners as extra food. It's best not to use the best canned food. You promised that each can would only cost about $5. So, 150,000 cans of meat would cost less than $800,000. That's a really good deal," the supervisor, Old Black, said with a smile.

"..."

Looking at his smile, Zhang Ailun could only say one thing: Why is Lao Hei making things difficult for Lao Hei?

Although the leader doesn't specialize in selling canned meat and doesn't have that much stock on hand right now, it's not difficult for him to find wholesalers to source his goods.

If you really choose cheap canned meat, the manufacturer's cost price is less than $1. The boss is actually making a killing by selling you a 400-gram can for $5.

How could a middleman possibly lose money when they make a profit from the price difference?

After exchanging a few more words and putting away two copies of the contract, Zhang Ailun left the private room with Lao Hei, waving goodbye and smiling as he watched him leave. He then turned and returned to his seat.

He had barely sat down when he happened to see Madison returning from the other side, chatting and laughing with people from the military region. The chief, who was organizing documents, seemed surprised to see him. "You've finalized your deal?" he asked.

"That's right, the royal family of Central Africa is quite generous; they directly ordered 300 million worth of goods from me." Zhang Ailun smiled. "This birthday banquet wasn't a waste of time."

"You're selling them weapons, aren't you going to lose money? What are you selling them?" The military personnel were taken aback and couldn't help but question their own existence.

"This is Colonel Rob, one of the heads of the Luchino Air Force Base," Madison introduced to the leader, adding, "We have a strong connection with Colonel Rob, and we get along very well."

Got it. It means he's not on the other side, but there's a chance he could become one of us.

The Grand Master nodded and immediately shook hands with Colonel Rob, saying with a smile, "Hello, Colonel Rob, I am Hamburg Juankin."

"Hello, Mr. King, I've heard of you from Mr. Madison and other friends. But I'm still very curious, how exactly did you manage to close deals with those stingy black men?" Colonel Rob was completely baffled.

"As far as I know, when our people approached them to discuss cooperation, even for a second-hand Black Hawk helicopter at a rock-bottom price of only $360 million, which included a professional pilot training course, they wouldn't even consider buying it. They even rejected AR-15 rifles and M16s."

"We also tried to sell them military vehicles and tanks, but they wouldn't consider any of them. Isn't there a war going on in their region? How can they guarantee their soldiers' chances of victory without superior equipment?"

Colonel Rob, who had fought half his life and received half his life's military training, did not understand this and fell into deep thought.

After listening to what he said, Zhang Ailun pondered, "Is it possible that they simply don't need these things in the first place?"

"They don't need weapons to fight? How do they fight then? Riding elephants with a few feathers in their hair, shooting arrows on the battlefield? Are they living in the last century? I heard that there are more than sixty different ethnic groups and many poor and backward tribal areas there," Colonel Rob quipped humorously.

Oh, look at your damn racism, you're definitely mocking Native Americans.

While those black guys may be poor in Africa, it's only the lower classes who are poor; the royal family and clan are anything but poor. They own mines, after all! They're much better off than some lowly military laborer like you.

"Don't they have AK?" Zhang Ailun said.

I also think that Colonel Rob must be the kind of old Manchu Plain White Banner person who would show off turkeys like crazy on Thanksgiving.

They're even more "red" than Texas rednecks; you can tell from their tone—they're quite arrogant.

"AKM?" Colonel Rob hesitated.

"AK47," Zhang Ailun said.

"...Those are all ancient relics; only Russia and third-world countries still use them." Colonel Rob was speechless.

"I didn't sell them any useful weapons, just some daily military supplies, combat boots, jungle combat uniforms. Of the three million dollar order, there were 60 tons of canned goods alone, 150,000 boxes of beef, chicken, and luncheon meat," Zhang Ailun said with a smile.

"Hahaha, canned food? They wouldn't be trying to bribe their soldiers with canned food, would they?" Colonel Rob laughed.

"They didn't train their own soldiers because they recruited foreign mercenaries. They believed their own soldiers were prone to betrayal, so they preferred to bribe mercenaries with $26 an hour and diamonds to ensure their loyalty wouldn't waver, and they would replace them with a new batch every now and then," Zhang Ailun said.

To be honest, this method is quite effective under the exploitative policies of a tyrant. Even if you want to resist, you still have to rely on the intervention of other external forces.

The locals are poor and have nothing, and you have no guns, don't know tactics, and only know how to shoot out of faith. Facing more professional mercenaries, wouldn't your rebellion be as easy as giving them away for nothing?

"..."

Colonel Rob was completely baffled.

What an amazing country this is!

But this is probably only done in certain regions controlled by royalty and families.

"Shouldn't Black soldiers be cheaper to hire than mercenaries? They're their own race, so why would they trust outsiders?" Madison may not understand warfare, but he does understand economics and investment.

"Noble Black people are not the same race as ordinary Black people." Zhang Ailun shook his head. "If there were a pill in the world that could bleach one's skin color simply by taking it, I bet the first country to sell it would be Africa."

"And then there's us here?" Colonel Rob chuckled.

"Not necessarily, it's more likely to be Asia." Zhang Ailun smiled as well.

"Oh, then I might need one of my 'mao dan' (a type of egg), because I often complain that it's not white enough," the old man who was the director of Tyson Foods chimed in.

"Hahahaha." The group exchanged a few laughs, cracking a little devilish joke at each other, none of them letting the other off the hook. Then they grabbed a glass of red wine from a passing waiter and raised their glasses for a hearty drink.

They spent some more time at the Venetian Hotel, chatting and laughing, and getting along very well. Several hours passed quickly, and Zhang Ailun glanced at the time; it was already past midnight. The older men, after all, couldn't match the stamina of the young leader; some of them were already dozing off, their eyelids drooping.

Madison took out his pocket watch, glanced at the time, and suggested, "It's getting late. The birthday party is almost over, we should head back."

"I second that." Zhang Ailun nodded.

"Aren't you going to stay here for the night?" Prince Simba asked as he saw the group about to leave. "The rooms are all ready."

"No, we have things to do tomorrow," Madison politely declined his offer. Simba didn't say anything more, only regretfully seeing the two off, saying goodbye to the others, taking the elevator down to the lobby, and exiting the hotel.

"My father loves the gift you gave me, Hamburg." After escorting him all the way to the private jet at the airport, Prince Simba also expressed his gratitude to the Grand Master before boarding.

Zhang Ailun waved his hand and said with a smile, "I'm glad Your Highness likes it. If you like it, I can give you one another day. But I remember that was a gift for the Princess, wasn't it?"

"My father is always in charge of receiving gifts on my mother's birthday. He enjoys the process of unwrapping them, but he himself rarely celebrates his own birthday. This is because my grandfather was assassinated on his birthday, which is considered unlucky by the entire family. But my mother is an outsider, so she doesn't have this restriction," Simba said.

"I deeply regret this." Zhang Ailun was speechless. What could he say about their family tradition?

After chatting for a few more minutes, I waved goodbye, turned around, boarded the plane, and closed the cabin door.

The pilot started the plane, sprinted down the neon-lit runway, and soared into the sky.

"Do you want to go back to Jehovah's Island, or to my island?" Madison asked.

"No, take me to Los Angeles Airport," Zhang Ailun said. "I need to get a good night's sleep tonight."

"Alright, it's good to be well-rested so we can better solve problems tomorrow." Madison nodded in agreement. He had originally planned to play a little longer after returning home, but it seemed he would have to try to go to bed early before 4 o'clock.

This young man is really focused on health and wellness.

An hour later, the plane landed at Los Angeles Airport. Zhang Ailun waved after disembarking and watched the plane turn and leave. Looking around the airport, he saw no one; the empty Los Angeles Airport felt rather deserted.

I took out my phone and sent a message to Sig, but after waiting for a while, there was no response.

I wonder what that kid is doing!

Zhang Ailun sent messages to everyone one by one, but none of them responded, which surprised him.

"What about health? You usually stay up until the early hours of the morning, why are you going to bed so early today?"

Unable to find anyone to pick him up, the leader had no choice but to leave the streets on foot. Anyway, it wasn't far from the New Harbor Villa, so he could just walk back slowly. He knew he wouldn't be able to get a taxi so late at night.

The streets of Los Angeles at night are undoubtedly very unstable. The leader of the organization had to use his cell phone for light as he walked along the way, as there were no streetlights.

I also saw many homeless people pushing carts or even sleeping in corners on the street, a beautiful sight.

He wondered if some clueless thugs would jump out of these dark alleys and rob the leader.

As it turned out, the bad luck came true instead of the good. He had only walked two streets and turned a corner when he bumped into a group of black men leaning against a wall, smoking tobacco and bragging.

"Hey! Bro."

Several black men saw the leader of the gang and, in their astonishment, they surrounded him with ill intentions.

"Bro, you idiot."

When Zhang Ailun saw them pull out fruit knives from their pockets, he realized they were a few unfamiliar faces and didn't seem like good people. He touched his waist pouch and wondered, "Where's my gun?"

It seems the gun was left on the plane at Madison. They didn't allow guns into the Venetian Hotel before.

WTF!!

Without hesitation, he picked up the trash can and threw it at them, then turned and ran without stopping.

Those who know the current affairs are handsome.

Old Black, whose only equipment slots contained knives, was just taking advantage of the fact that the leader wasn't bringing bodyguards or guns with him today.

Do you think you can bully a max-level street fighter like me?

Moisturizing!

The guys were a bit stunned when the trash can hit them. Seeing their leader take off without saying a word, they immediately chased after him, shouting as they ran.

"Stop!!"

Zhang Ailun ran several blocks without looking back, slightly out of breath. "I've been ruined by alcohol and women; how have I become so haggard? I must quit drinking starting tomorrow!!"

My phone beeped, and I took it out to look at it.

Sig: Boss, I just came out of the bar. I didn't see your message before. Where are you?

Zhang Ailun replied with a string of voice messages: "I'm being chased by a bunch of black guys on the streets of Los Angeles, where do you think I am! Fxxkyou!!"

Sig called me directly.

Zhang Ailun chose to answer the call.

"Boss!! Don't panic! I'm coming to save you! Where are you?" Sig said immediately.

"By the time you came to save me, I would have been hacked to death! I'm alright now, thank goodness I ran fast."

Zhang Ailun, holding the phone, broke off a stick from the roadside, weighed it in his hand, and found it quite handy. It was incredibly exciting; after running a lap, the alcohol quickly evaporated, and he sobered up instantly.