King Of War: Starting with Arms Dealer-Chapter 673 - 638 Unlucky Steven

Joe Ga had been cooped up inside the air force base for a week, just waiting to find a suitable target to unleash a powerful punch.

However, even after the arms supplies provided by ’Professor’ arrived, ISIS still did not make a move.

Instead, a serious firefight broke out within Baghdad city, with the infamous security contractor ’Halliburton Company’ and a group of masked gunmen playing the lead roles.

During the incident, the Vice President of Halliburton was meeting with several high-ranking officials of the Iraqi Government in a restaurant when a group of masked armed men burst in during broad daylight, killing eight of the Vice President’s bodyguards and, incidentally, those few high-level Iraqi officials.

This severe security incident had the Baghdad police on high alert, and they declared martial law that day.

Yet, after several days of searching, they found no clues whatsoever.

Joe Ga learned of the news from television—Halliburton was a major player, and the assassination of their Vice President on the streets of Iraq should have been a big deal.

What surprised Joe Ga was that three days passed, and the media in Europe and America remained utterly silent, as if that guy had never existed.

In the meantime, Steven had been very active, constantly meeting and negotiating with Iraqi leaders every day.

To the uninformed, it would appear as if they were truly discussing matters of national importance, but Joe Ga discovered from the asset transfer business he was involved in that those so-called democratic Iraqi politicians were busy moving assets.

Moreover, Steven, in his capacity as a consul of America, issued hundreds of American visas.

When had cooperation with the Americans ever involved such a good deal?

Normally, you would have to complete the task at hand well, and then Daddy America would decide whether or not to take you in.

Now the Americans were the ones eagerly rushing to fight ISIS, starting by fulfilling a part of their promise upfront, their only request being that they cooperate as much as possible.

Cooperate in the fight against ISIS, cooperate in the integration of oil resources.

With Steven’s generous behavior, all these corrupt officials were baffled.

They had not been in power for many years, and there were many checks and balances; Iraq was indeed too poor, so they really hadn’t embezzled much money. An American identity was still very attractive to them.

Send the family away first, and then stay in the motherland to strive for a better future—how wonderful that would be!!

Surprisingly, the transfer of assets and family members by these individuals did not trigger any backlash within Iraq.

Joe Ga had no idea what exactly had happened; it had only been a week, and he couldn’t see what was going on nor did he care...

The phone call he received from Old Chen really surprised him...

Joe Ga truly hadn’t expected China to send so much stuff...

Thousands of containers filled with large quantities of medicines, tents, food, and mixed in with them were 100 top-of-the-line long-head Warriors and 15 Dongfeng Warriors equipped with automatic mortars.

Those energy company guys seemed to know exactly what Mr. Joe liked; besides a large amount of matching ammunition and anti-tank Red Arrow 11 missiles, there were an extra 200 Blue Sword 7 missiles.

The planes and missiles from Seville hadn’t even arrived yet, and these guys had already delivered a big gift.

Joe Ga didn’t ask about the specific cost; as long as he was able to get the two oil barrels operating smoothly, let alone this amount of stuff, even if it was several times more, it wouldn’t be a problem.

At worst, it would just mean a little more inconvenient spending on the books, could two barrels of oil be afraid of a loss?

What made Mr. Joe happiest was that they also sent 20 field kitchens, thoughtfully painted with the Griffin emblem, saving a lot of hassle for the cooks.

Lately, Old Niu and his team were busy reorganizing the air force base cafeteria, exploring suitable combat meals for the local soldiers with the help of the Kurdish people.

These field kitchens were certainly not as efficient as the large stoves in the cafeteria, but their safety was commendable, and they were the best supplement for Old Niu and his team.

When Chris arrived at the air force base with a few militia representatives, he coincided with the arrival of the last batch of containers.

The armored vehicles and artillery, meticulously arranged on the airport apron, outnumbered the personnel from P·B.

It was as if by magic, in just one week’s time the base had acquired many new additions.

Chris had never imagined that Mr. Joe’s mobilization capabilities could reach such a level; not even the Americans were this fast.

It seemed as though those supplies had already been in Iraq, merely waiting for his arrival before making an appearance.

Seeing this, Chris had the visiting militia representatives and their bodyguards store their weapons at the entrance of the base, then led them on a tour of the bustling air force base, taking the opportunity to brainwash them again by citing Mr. Joe’s rhetoric...

"Cooperate with us, and we will be responsible for restarting the oil fields around your old homes.

As residents of the region with the oil fields, you have the right to demand that the Iraqi Government incorporate a portion of the oil field’s revenue into your local finances.

Our boss has already negotiated with the Iraqi Government that 30% of the Rumaila Oil Field’s revenue will become the fund for Iraq’s infrastructure construction.

If you are willing to cooperate, we can persuade the Iraqi Government to allocate a part of it to rebuild your homes.

As a reward for cooperating with us, our boss can provide you with goods worth 5 million US dollars the first year, 10 million the second year, and 15 million the third year.

Subsequently, depending on our revenue, this figure may be adjusted, but it will never be less than 15 million.

This is only for the Rumaila Oil Field, and later there will be more oil fields needing to be restarted.

Guys, I know you are tired of war, I know you want to rebuild your homes and provide a better life for your family, now your chance has come.

As long as you cooperate with P·B, we can negotiate with those oil companies on your behalf, we will make them show enough sincerity."

"I bet it won’t take more than three years for your homeland to be completely transformed,"

"Just think of the prosperity that will come after those large oil fields start operating. Your people will have jobs again, you can expand your sheep herds and your farms because the things beneath your land can be turned into money."

"Once you all have money, your spending will create even more jobs..."

"You can demand that oil companies build schools and hospitals for you, provide public transportation services."

"If by that time you can cooperate with the Iraqi government in any form, as long as there’s no more war, everyone’s lives will get better."

"That’s what P·B can offer. What else is there to hesitate about?"

A few militia representatives looked at each other and said, "How can you ensure peace will come?"

Chris, imitating Joe’s tone, shook his head and said, "We can’t guarantee it, because this is your country."

"We can only promise to give our all in the fight against ISIS."

"We can only promise that once peace is restored, the operational oil fields will deliver benefits to the Iraqi government as promised."

"We can only promise that there will be an open supply route within Iraq."

"If you still want to ignore P·B’s efforts and fight over some nonsensical issues, then we are powerless."

"A chaotic Iraq is a piece of rotten meat. If you consider yourselves a piece of that meat, don’t blame the vultures for coming!"

As Chris spoke, a buzzing sound suddenly filled the sky...

The militia leaders present were worldly, and they instinctively ducked their heads, only to see two airplanes diving toward the base runway in a stunt-flying posture.

When the planes descended to 200 meters, the P·B insignia on their wings clearly entered their sights.

The Iraqis had seen plenty of NATO fighter jets. Two propeller-driven fighters did not scare them.

But combined with those armored vehicles parked on the tarmac, P·B’s paper strength had already surpassed everyone present, no doubt about it.

For mercenaries, the number of militia men didn’t matter. P·B just needed to take care of the trouble-making leaders.

Militias are not terrorists; they can neither fight nor afford to!

..............

Joe Ga watched ’Cobra’ and ’Archerfish,’ the two old-timers, fly over his head in a stunt-flying manner. He shouted expletives and threw up his middle finger before breaking into a smile.

The heavy equipment like helicopters and armored cars from Seville was still floating on the sea.

But the two old guys couldn’t wait, they travelled to Seville themselves and flew back two propeller-driven fighters specially designed for P·B by the Belgrade Group.

This was a modified version of the Lasta-95N trainer, and the Belgrade Group gave it a catchy code-name: ’Griffin-1.’

The ’Griffin-1’s’ appearance was quite similar to the Super Albatross, but now its body and wings had been lengthened, and judging by their landing posture, its stalling speed was even lower than that of the Big Beak Bird’s.

The extended wings had an extra hardpoint each, giving it a total of six hardpoints on both wings.

A cannon pod was installed under the fuselage, and there was a fixed laser-guided radar under the nose.

As the plane flew over Joe’s head, he scanned it with the Omnipotent Toolbox.

In terms of flight performance and range, this fighter was slightly inferior to the Big Beak Bird, but in terms of takeoff weight and avionics, it was superior.

The Belgrade Group had put all their best features into this plane for P·B’s order.

Of course, the plane still couldn’t compare with jet fighters, but in the propeller-driven fighter category, it was definitely top-notch.

As the plane landed, hordes of curious Kurdish children cheered and ran towards it, and Joe Ga joined them for a first-hand experience. Afterward, a very pleased Mr. Joe hosted a group of militia representatives in the hangar...

Actually, there wasn’t much to say...

The conditions had been set. Militia Tribes that didn’t agree would be left out, and there would always be some individuals with foresight willing to cooperate first.

This chapt𝒆r is updated by frёewebηovel.cѳm.

Such a large-scale project couldn’t be all started at once; it would take several years to proceed gradually. As soon as one group began to live well, the others would have to follow suit, or they would be condemned to death by their own people’s spit.

Start with the Rumaila Oil Field owned by P·B. Such good conditions are offered to you, and I allow several tribal leaders’ families to enter the oil companies for high salaries. If you still don’t agree, I’ll go to your area to promote this, and there will always be someone willing to replace you.

The worst-case scenario is that we just have to put up a fight, and right now, Mr. Joe is looking for a ’target to punch’...

What Joe Ga didn’t expect was that these visitors were quite reasonable; in fact, towards the end, some even wanted to inquire about how high the salaries for joining the oil company were.

Chris’s dedication over the past half-year was seeing results, and it was an important step forward in Joe Ga’s plan. Now they just had to finish with ISIS and then they could let the Chinese energy company come into play...

Joe Ga treated the militia representatives to a meal in the base’s canteen, then gave each of them a radio.

They were all going to Mosul to participate in the war. Of course, the militia is only there to mark time, but they might as well mark time with me.

P·B needed a lot of manpower to secure supply lines. I give you money, and you’re responsible for the safety of P·B’s transport vehicles.

The two sides talked very happily. After everyone was satiated and left, Joe Ga suddenly received a phone call...

"Sir, this is Salim. Ambassador Steven and Mr. Eric are trapped in Energy Minister Ahmed’s villa. There’s a fierce battle going on, and they need support..."