Chapter 66: A Pie Falling from the Sky

Actually, the Cook was quite a cunning fellow.

The two hundred dollars he gave to Samir were not spent in vain.

As soon as he was hired, the Cook had Samir help him recruit local mercenaries. Recruiting sixty local mercenaries in just a few days was not a difficult task. After all, people here were currently desperate with poverty, and many ran off to join various armed organizations just to survive. Some locals even worked specifically as informants for different armed factions, earning blood money to keep themselves fed.

As long as the pay was reasonable, plenty of locals would flock to the opportunity, but local security personnel had one fatal flaw: individual combat capability.

Many of them had never even touched a gun before entering this trade simply to make a living. The price for such Iraqi local mercenaries was extremely low. Song Heping had seen instances where the rate was only a hundred dollars a month; the employers were local small-time bosses who would buy two antique AK-47s that were liable to misfire at any moment, slap a bandolier of ammunition across their chests, and put them straight to work.

These people would often walk around everywhere with bullets in the chamber and the safety switched off, occasionally pointing the muzzle directly at others, giving anyone who looked at them the urge to run up and kick them hard in the rear.

Having Samir help with the recruitment made things much more reliable.

For one thing, he was a local; for another, he had formerly served in the ISF and knew quite a few professional soldiers.

Now holding the rank of squad leader with an extra two hundred dollars added to his salary, Samir worked harder than anyone else. He accepted the job on the spot and immediately went to work, taking the company phone and calling everyone he knew.

The issue of local mercenaries was smoothly resolved, but finding core team members proved to be tricky.

After reading the analysis report in his room and just as he had finished formulating the defense plan, Song Heping heard the Cook outside the cabin, jumping up and down and cursing up a storm.

"Suka! Do you people have any integrity left at all?! You made a promise and you just stand me up like this?! Let me tell you, don't let me run into you back home! I'll twist your head right off! You guys are an absolute disgrace to soldiers!"

Song Heping stepped out of the container housing and saw the Cook holding his phone, his face red with anger and spittle flying as he cursed. Unable to help himself, Song Heping asked, "What happened?!"

"Those motherfuckers actually stood me up!" the Cook said, filled with indignation. "They promised me they'd fly over tomorrow, and I even had Ferrari book their plane tickets, but today they suddenly called and said the men I wanted are gone!"

"How are they gone?"

"Some boss offered a high price for bodyguards, so that bunch rushed over en masse, saying it's too dangerous here and the pay isn't even as high as what they make acting as bodyguards back home!"

With that, the Cook kicked a nearby bucket over in a rage.

"Twenty thousand dollars a month, plus performance bonuses and paid vacation! And they call that low?! Even here in Baghdad, that's a high salary! Those pigs only act as lackeys when they guard oligarchs back home anyway! What's so great about them?!"

Grey Wolf advised from the side, "Stop losing your temper and think about how to recruit here instead! There are plenty of free-lance mercenaries in Baghdad right now; if we put out our recruitment notice early, we might still be able to snap up a few elite operators."

"Elite my ass!" the Cook snapped. "The ones with real skills were long since signed by the big corporations, and those who can't get signed by the biggies are just talentless wandering ghosts!"

Song Heping said, "We used to be wandering ghosts ourselves. How long has it been since we had a few full meals that we've already started looking down on others?"

Rebuked by Song Heping with pure facts he couldn't refute, the Cook's face turned even redder.

Song Heping continued, "I think we should listen to Grey Wolf. Let's hurry over to the recruitment center and post the notice; it's better than standing around here throwing tantrums. I'm telling you, I just studied the situation in the Hassan oil field zone. The oil zone area alone is over five hundred square kilometers. If we rely solely on the five of us as core members, there's simply no way we can maintain a twenty-four-hour security watch."

Hearing this, the Cook finally managed to suppress his anger and quickly told Grey Wolf, "You go down to the recruitment center and post the notice. Say we're hiring, write the compensation clearly, and let's see if we can get lucky and land a few good hands."

After Grey Wolf left, the Cook made another round of phone calls, utilizing all his connections in Baghdad to ask others to introduce subordinates to him.

After making a full circle of calls, however, he ended up deflated.

The good ones had long since been recruited, and the Cook didn't want the slackers.

He wasted a considerable amount of phone credit and ultimately came up empty-handed.

Once Song Heping finished the operational plan, he took Samir out to purchase guns and ammunition.

Sixty local mercenaries meant sixty sets of individual equipment, along with bullets, grenades, 40mm grenades, and other miscellaneous items—not a small order by any measure.

Harvey, the gun store owner, had an attitude noticeably better than before; the moment he saw Song Heping, his face blossomed into a smile.

"Sang, I heard you struck it rich, landed a big contract, and are even recruiting and expanding your own team."

Harvey pointed to the shelves behind him.

"Are you coming in for a bundle package this time? I'll give you a discount."

His gaze suddenly landed on Song Heping, and his eyes instantly bulged.

He spotted the individual equipment Song Heping was wearing.

This wasn't the Romanian-made AKM he had bought from him previously; it was an MK18 assault rifle used by U.S. military special forces.

"This kit of yours..." Harvey said. "Where'd you get it?"

Song Heping replied, "Someone gave it to me."

Nothing wrong with that statement.

A dead man gave it to him.

"Given to you?!" Harvey wore a look of utter disbelief, figuring the kid was definitely bullshitting him.

"Boss, are you still doing business or not?"

"Yes, yes, yes! How many sets of individual equipment do you need?"

"Start with sixty sets, equipped with three basic loads of ammunition. Also, configure four grenades for each set—two offensive and two defensive—plus helmets..."

As Song Heping spoke, he handed over the list in his hand.

Harvey took it, looked it over, and couldn't help glancing sideways at Samir.

"Romanian-made AKMs..."

He muttered under his breath.

As everyone knew, in present-day Iraq, most people hiring local mercenaries couldn't bear to buy this kind of AKM assault rifle; the majority bought those ancient AK-47s instead. The price gap between the two was vast.

Samir clearly realized this as well, and a wave of warmth surged in his heart. He knew he had followed the right person.

He swore right then and there to stick with Song Heping to the end.

At least this man considered him worthy of risking his life for.

Ever since the coalition forces invaded Iraq, truly very few people treated the locals as human beings.

With Song Heping, Samir felt he was finally receiving respect.

"Are you guys hiring?"

Suddenly, a voice came from beside them.

Song Heping turned his head and cursed inwardly.

Two tower-like figures were standing right in front of him.

"Damn!"

Song Heping himself stood at one meter eighty.

Yet standing in front of these two, he suddenly felt like a dwarf.

Their physiques were fully on par with the White Bear's.

One had a typical Eastern European face, while the other was clearly of Caucasian descent, sporting a full beard and emitting a tremendous sense of oppression.

"Who are you?"

"The two of us..." the Eastern European-faced man said, "My name is Guy Sajet, and this is my friend, his name is Doka Umarov. We just heard you guys are hiring. Is that true?"

Song Heping said, "Right, we are hiring. However, we're recruiting core team members, which requires relevant military service experience."

"I have it," Guy said. "I'm a former Foreign Legion paratrooper with ten years of service, and my specialty is sniper."

A Foreign Legion paratrooper?

That seemed decent enough.

Seeing Song Heping's gaze shift to the bearded man, Guy quickly added, "This is my friend from the Caucasus. He also served in special forces for five years."

Special forces from the Caucasus region?

Song Heping understood.

Judging solely by their resumes, these two had zero issues.

Yet Song Heping grew slightly suspicious.

Mercenaries with such good qualifications hadn't been signed by any major corporations?

Could such good fortune really fall into his lap?
"Alright, the two of you come back to the company with me later. Recruitment isn't my department; you'll have to let our boss look you over."

Song Heping intended to leave the final decision to the Cook.

After all, the two of them had a division of labor.

He handled military matters, while the Cook handled business operations.

"The Cook?"

Song Heping never dragged his feet; he took out his phone and called the Cook directly.

"I'm at Harvey's weapon shop and ran into two elite mercenaries—one former Foreign Legion paratrooper and one from Caucasus special forces."

"Caucasus special forces?" A hint of abnormality crept into the Cook's voice.

"Right, do you want them? If so, I'll bring them right back!"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

The Cook agreed without hesitation.

This was precisely the time when personnel were desperately needed.

Who cared what kind of Caucasus special forces they were?

He wanted them!

Song Heping instructed Samir to stay and check the equipment with Harvey, then drove the Nissan off-road vehicle and rushed back to the camp with the two men.

When the three of them stepped out of the vehicle, the Cook and the others were already waiting in the open space in front of the container housing.

When they saw Song Heping, everyone was smiling.

When they saw Guy, everyone's eyes lit up.

When they saw Umarov, everyone's facial expressions instantly transformed, and they cried out in unison—

"The Jinx!"

This concludes the second chapter.

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