Chapter 64: The Chef's Hidden Skill

Nancy agreed because the dish was a classic Italian starter.

Of Italian descent, she had grown up eating Italian cuisine at home, making her unable to resist the taste of her homeland.

Especially when a burly, bald mercenary claimed he could prepare this very dish, it completely piqued her interest.

Song Heping vaguely guessed the cook's intention.

This fellow wanted to win her favor by catering to her preferences.

The approach was fine, but achieving the desired result required genuine skill.

Otherwise, it would backfire spectacularly.

After all, this woman was no ordinary person, and handling her was no easy feat.

If it fell short of expectations, Nancy might not even give Angel any face, leaving both him and the cook without a single business deal.

However, Song Heping's jaw dropped almost immediately.

In less than fifteen minutes, the cook returned.

The moment Song Heping caught his first glimpse of the cook, he nearly spat out the sparkling wine he had just taken into his mouth!

This guy actually...

Having removed his jacket earlier, he had somehow managed to find a waiter's tuxedo and put it on. With white gloves on his hands and a tray held high, he looked entirely like a bald-headed waiter!

"Madam, your starter."

The cook gracefully placed the melon and prosciutto roll gently in front of Nancy and said with a slight bow, "Melon and prosciutto."

Then, with the assistance of a waiter, he placed the remaining dishes in front of everyone.

As the food was being served to him, Song Heping couldn't help but ask in a low voice, "What on earth are you playing at?"

The cook winked at Song Heping, one corner of his mouth curving into a smile, before turning around and walking out.

Nancy stared at the melon and prosciutto roll in front of her in a daze for a long moment before finally picking up her fork, spearing a piece, and putting it into her mouth.

The moment the food touched her palate, her eyes lit up like lamps being ignited in the dark.

"Oh, God!"

She exclaimed devoutly, "I never expected to taste such authentic Italian food in Iraq..."

Then, rather eagerly, she forked a second piece into her mouth.

"Mmm..."

Nancy half-closed her eyes.

"Delicious."

She then turned to look at her assistant, Julie.

"Go tell Mr. Raimondo that I need to stay here a bit longer. Ask him to wait for a while."

Hearing her say this, Song Heping was secretly astonished.

He had heard Nancy's words loud and clear.

When they arrived, Angel had mentioned that her Aunt Nancy was extremely busy, with three separate meetings scheduled with different officials just for that night. Therefore, the maximum time allotted to them was fifteen minutes; she would likely have to leave even before the second course was served, missing out on dessert entirely.

Yet, never in his wildest dreams did he expect this.

Nancy, the party whip, was actually taking the initiative to extend the meeting.

He quickly tasted a piece of the melon and prosciutto roll, wanting to see what trick the cook had used to make Aunt Nancy, a woman in her sixties accustomed to grand occasions, make such an exception.

As the ham roll entered his mouth, Song Heping had to admit that the cook truly possessed a unique mastery of his craft.

The sweetness and soft texture of the melon, the richness of the Italian Parma ham, and the finishing touch of a single mint leaf created a clever and balanced harmony on the palate, while the mint leaf brought a refreshing coolness that went straight to the head.

Exquisite!

Song Heping said to himself inwardly.

The cook hadn't been boasting at all!

A rough-and-tumble forty-something bloke could actually cook high-end Italian cuisine?

It was bizarre beyond belief!

When everyone had finished the starter and was sipping sparkling wine, the cook appeared in the dining room once again.

This time, he served a dish of ossobuco with risotto.

Slightly yellowish meat sauce and rice laid the foundation, topped with a golden-brown shank of beef with a slightly charred edge.

Although Song Heping didn't know the origin of the dish, he could tell it was cut from a beef shinbone.

"Oh!"

Nancy's smile was already blooming.

"Marvelous."

She turned to Wood.

"This dish is also known as Milanese risotto, a delicacy from the Lombardy region. My family lived there for a very long time, and my mother used to make this for me all the time when I was a little girl!"

She was no longer sparing with her praise.

"Mr. Yevgeny, I am very fortunate to share dinner with you tonight, and I am deeply grateful to you for bringing such a delicious dish to me. While I would love for you to keep cooking for me, you are, after all, a guest, and doing so would clearly be impolite. Please sit down, join us, and let us slowly enjoy this meal together."

"Thank you, Ms. Nancy." The cook turned unhurriedly, took a bottle of red wine from a waiter, and presented it to Nancy.

"The pairing is traditionally a French Burgundy, but I took the liberty of substituting it with this one, and I hope you will like it."

Nancy gazed dreamily at the bottle of wine.

Starlight once again flickered in her eyes.

"Gaja Sperss 1997?"

"Indeed, Madam. I felt this Italian flavor would suit you better, and this particular vintage received exceptionally high ratings."

As he spoke, he deftly opened the bottle and poured a glass for Nancy.

"It's a pity that it needs a little time to breathe. I suppose we must drink it slowly to truly appreciate the essence of this wine."

"No problem."

Nancy picked up her wine glass and swirled it.

"I still have an hour to spare."

This meal lasted a full hour and nine minutes.

Song Heping had timed it by his watch.

It was many times longer than the originally allotted maximum of fifteen minutes for the meeting.

In addition to that, they secured a major contract.

Originally, Nancy had intended for Wood to fob Song Heping and the cook off with a security contract for some minor oilfield.

As a result, Nancy changed her mind at the last minute.

She instructed Wood to award the al-Hassan oilfield, the largest northern oilfield near Mosul, to the "Musicians" Private Military Company.

This meeting was undoubtedly a success.

As they walked out of the hotel, Song Heping couldn't help praising the cook: "I truly never expected you to have such a unique skill! Did you go to culinary school?"

"That's right, for nine years," the cook said.

"Prison kitchen?"

Song Heping suddenly remembered that the cook had served a nine-year prison sentence.

The cook laughed and said, "Of course. Prisons are full of talented people; you can learn anything there. I met an old man there who used to cook for the General Secretary in the Kremlin."

Upon returning to their camp, they shared the news with everyone.

White Bear and the others were thrilled, while Ferrari remained silent on the side.

"Ferrari, you look like you have something on your mind."

"Why are you all so happy?" Ferrari snorted.

"It's a huge contract!" Song Heping said. "The security fee alone is as high as 900,000 US dollars per month."

Ferrari said, "Just looking at one oilfield paying you that much money, it's indeed a lucrative gig, but this money won't be easy to earn."

With that, he asked the cook, "Do you have a map?"

The cook quickly brought out a map of Iraq.

Pointing to the location of the al-Hassan oilfield, Ferrari said, "Take a look at where this is! Syria to the left, bordering Turkey right at the top in the middle, Persia to the right, and Mosul to the rear—this is a classic four-way killing ground. The money is plenty, but the question is whether you have the life to collect it!"

Song Heping cast his gaze toward the al-Hassan oilfield.

True to Ferrari's words.

It was indeed a four-way killing ground.

Since the war began, various displaced persons and anti-American armed groups had been retreating northward, with the majority flowing into Syria and Persia. Meanwhile, the Turks were no angels either; they were likewise fostering their own proxy forces along the border to seize territory.

These were the primary forces attacking the oilfield. Furthermore, Mosul was currently the most active hub for resistance organizations within Iraq, and since the disappearance of Saddam, anti-American armed groups everywhere in Iraq had been growing increasingly extremist.

Just a short while ago, two Americans had been captured by an armed group over there, publicly beheaded on video, and the footage had been published online—a video Song Heping had watched himself.

If the death squads loyal to Saddam still possessed some baseline ethics and only attacked coalition forces, then the militants active around Mosul were absolute, fanatical extremists.

Most of these fellows were thoroughly brainwashed, fearless of death, and frequently drove bomb-laden vehicles straight into checkpoints, blowing themselves up along with the US military.

"I don't think it's all that difficult. Look here, there are quite a few coalition camps near Mosul. If we really encounter an attack, we can call in close air support to help us defend," the cook said. "As long as the A-10 attack aircraft arrive, no matter how many militants there are, they'll have to run for their lives. We only need to hold out for thirty minutes at most, and air support will be there."

Song Heping said, "I think the biggest problem right now is that our manpower is insufficient. Next week, Wood's engineering team is moving into the al-Hassan oilfield. We only have six days to prepare, and that's the trickiest part. Finding enough seasoned veterans is the real challenge."

"Shang, how many people do you think we actually need?" the cook asked.

Song Heping said, "The more the better, of course. But if there are too many people, the earnings won't even cover the payrolls. Besides, this is business, and we must turn a profit. I'd say... we need at least 60 local security personnel as a bare minimum. We also need to procure some Humvees and other vehicles, our firepower must reach a company-level scale, and our core squad must be expanded to nine people. In other words, besides Ferrari, we need to recruit four more men so we can build at least three tactical teams."

"Fine! I'll take care of arranging the core team members. Tomorrow, I'll pull some strings and look around to see who's willing to join us. As for the local security personnel, I don't think that'll be much of an issue. Iraqis are dirt poor right now; offer them two or three hundred dollars a month, and they'll probably be willing to give you their lives!"

The cook delivered the final verdict: "I'll set the rules here today: from now on, logistics and administration for the company will be handled by Ferrari, external communications and business will be handled by me, and Shang will be solely responsible for the company's tactical and military planning. Does anyone have any objections to this arrangement?"

Although White Bear and the others were veterans, the cook could now see that Song Heping possessed the highest military talent and brilliance among them all, making him the most suitable candidate for military command.

As for White Bear and the rest, Song Heping had already proven his capability in previous operations.

"I agree."

"I have no problem with it."

"I only like being a sniper; I couldn't care less about anything else."

Everyone readily endorsed the cook's arrangement.

This night marked the official operational day of the "Musicians" Defense Consulting Company, as well as its first shareholders' meeting.

Song Heping and the other founding shareholders finalized the response strategy for their first major contract inside a container room.

When everything was settled, the cook extended his hand: "Brothers, whether we eat caviar or dry black bread from here on out all depends on this one job!"