Chapter 118: The New Arms Business
Petrov lived up to his title as the War Lord. No matter how bizarre or seemingly impossible Ron's request, the next morning everything was delivered to the warehouse below his office.
Thanks to Toretto's master craftsmanship and the creative videos he'd seen of Eastern European militias in his previous life, Ron single-handedly completed the entire civilian-to-military conversion.
A remote-controlled tarp was added to the back of another Ford pickup truck. Beneath the tarp, four welded steel pipes held four modified gas canisters.
After the round warhead was filled with the existing gas, a booster filled with fertilizer and sugar was welded to the rear, along with the cheapest grenade on the market serving as a detonator.
(The details are omitted here; please don't try this at home.)
The most cost-effective guerrilla weapon on the modern battlefield was finally completed. Petrov, standing nearby, was stunned, applauding loudly.
"OH MY GOD! Ron, you're the most incredible person I've ever met. You know what you used to build this..." Petrov was momentarily at a loss for how to categorize this weapon, but Ron quickly reminded him.
"A rocket launcher, yes, it's a rocket launcher."
"Yes, the rocket launcher you built. Do you know how ridiculously cheap its materials are? Less than fifty dollars a piece, and the most incredible thing is the shell.
But even so, a single rocket costs less than forty dollars! Do you know what that means?"
Petrov had gone to great lengths to urgently secure these steel pipes and gas cylinders after receiving the call.
Because Ron needed them so urgently, there was no time to order them from overseas suppliers. The steel pipes came from various construction sites in Los Angeles, and the gas cylinders came from Mexican restaurants in East LA.
After finally acquiring these supplies, Petrov, unable to suppress his curiosity, drove them over personally, wanting to confirm what his old client was planning to do with them.
"What does it mean?" Ron answered absentmindedly.
"It means I can't sell any more arms!" Petrov said gloomily. "Damn it, I should kill you right now! Otherwise, after I have these things, only idiots will continue to come to me for weapons."
"Come on." Ron rolled his eyes. "These are just some cheap civilian-to-military conversions. Compared to real arms, they're far less powerful and accurate. They can be blown to pieces by real weapons in minutes.
The only advantage is probably the cheapness. If I have to add another advantage, it's that they're easier to conceal and difficult to trace afterwards."
Petrov was still unhappy about Ron's words. "No, you're wrong. The cheapness alone is enough. Who do you think the customers who buy arms from me are? They're basically those small warlords in Africa.
Big arms buyers like Saudi Arabia, who are stupid rich, will only contact the Pentagon directly. The money goes to the big shots in Congress. How can I get a piece of that action?"
"Not really?"
"Why not?" Petrov rolled his eyes in annoyance and continued to complain: "You know what? Most of them can't even afford to buy the cheapest arms!"
"Then why are you still doing business with them? You can't be running charity in Africa, right?"
"Of course I am. Although they won't give me US dollars, thank God there are diamond mines everywhere in that godforsaken part of Africa. Usually those warlords will use these to settle accounts with me, and then I take the diamonds to De Beers to exchange for US dollars.
Otherwise, I guess they'd just trade with me for the livestock in the fields and the women they kidnapped from Asia. God knows what use I'd have for them!!"
"Or would you consider selling some steel pipes and gas cylinders specifically to Africa?" Hearing this, Ron's eyes lit up, and he thought of a brilliant idea to make a fortune.
"I'm willing to teach you these modification techniques, and by the way, give you a tip about smuggling ports. It's like a technology investment. You can sell these things there in bulk. These things have nothing to do with arms, which can help you avoid those Interpol investigations.
You can even have your cargo ships deliver them from regular ports openly."
"OMG! I have to say O! M! G! Ron, you are really a genius. Fortunately, your profession is an agent. If you also became an arms dealer, I'd be unemployed and homeless in minutes!"
Petrov's eyes lit up again at Ron's reminder, and he immediately sensed a new business opportunity.
As he himself said, his arms business wasn't as prosperous as everyone thought. The majority of the arms purchased by the warlords were old firearms discarded by the Soviet Union in the last century.
After deducting kickbacks to the military and adding shipping costs, the money earned was purely hard labor.
The warlords certainly needed heavy firepower, but when they asked about the price, they could only shake their heads. At most, they would purchase a batch of individual rocket launchers to supplement their heavy firepower.
As for weapons like Ron's, which were cheap and could be used in a centralized manner to provide large-scale firepower coverage of a specific area, they were completely out of reach!
"Nah, it's nothing. The technology involved is nothing special. You can find any mechanic to handle it. All I can provide you is a layer of protection."
At this point, Ron's eyes suddenly sharpened. "Of course, everything is based on the premise that you pay taxes legally. Do you understand, Petrov?"
"Of course I understand. I don't want to anger the gentleman behind you." Petrov shrugged helplessly, but his displeasure was quickly overwhelmed by the joy of a new business opportunity.
"How about we go grab a drink somewhere right now? And while we're at it, we can confirm the tax rate on these 'industrial goods'?"
Ron glanced up at the clock on the wall and shook his head. "Thanks for the suggestion, but I'm afraid it won't work today. As you can see, I have work to do, and I can't reveal my true identity."
"Damn it! You're not dragging me into some crazy situation again, are you?" Petrov felt a little uneasy, since he had supplied all of Ron's equipment.
"Hahaha~ Of course not." Ron smiled to mask his embarrassment, but his smile was forced and sent a chill down Petrov's spine.
"But if you're not busy lately, I suggest you take the next flight to somewhere not under CIA influence. Eastern Europe would be a good option. You could even visit some manufacturers and see if there's a discount for bulk purchases."
"Damn it! You're actually planning to use the stuff I sell you against the CIA!" Petrov's eyes widened: "I take back what I said just now, Ron, you are a complete bastard!"
(End of chapter)
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