The afterglow of the setting sun shone into Thomas's office, landing on the desk.
The owner of the desk had been sitting there for nearly an hour, his buttocks never leaving the seat.
A document lay on the desk.
It was an action assessment report.
The content concerned the gunfight that had occurred on the overpass that afternoon.
The people of Langley always managed to get their hands on first-hand information the fastest.
Thomas had read this report at least three times already.
He felt both surprised and embarrassed.
The embarrassment came from his failure to fulfill the promises he had made to his superior beforehand.
The surprise was about Song Heping's performance in this operation.
If it weren't for him, perhaps Angel would already be lying in the Green Zone hospital's morgue by now.
And this man from China was someone he had personally recommended to the cook.
Thomas couldn't help but touch his own face.
It was as if an invisible hand had fiercely slapped him across the cheek.
Ding-a-ling——
The landline on the desk rang.
He picked up the handset, a fax machine signal came through, he dialed back the signal, then put down the handset.
Whirr——
With the humming of the fax machine, a fax slowly spilled out.
Thomas quickly tore off the fax and scanned the content again and again.
"...Logistics Base of XXX unit, Military Rank: First Sergeant, Position: Animal Keeper..."
Animal Keeper?
He returned to his computer and sent an inquiry message to the intelligence department via the encrypted system: What is the position of an Animal Keeper?
After sending it, he sank back into his chair, propped his feet up on the desk, still holding the fax in his hands, and read each word on the page out loud repeatedly.
It was a bland resume.
A very ordinary retired soldier from China, who had worked odd jobs and run a water delivery store after leaving the military, then came here to do grocery business in the Green Zone...
Ding——
A prompt sounded from the computer.
Thomas drew his feet back, straightened up, and leaned towards the computer screen to click open the message.
Upon opening, there were only three words—Pig Farmer!
"SHIT!"
Thomas cursed, leaning heavily back into the chair.
"What kind of background does this kid have!"
He now somewhat regretted having introduced Song Heping to the cook.
At that moment, his cellphone suddenly rang.
Seeing the number, Thomas felt a headache coming on.
Still, he pressed the call button in the end.
"Thomas, what the hell are you doing! Didn't you say that chick definitely wouldn't make it back to the Green Zone? Didn't you say you'd definitely take care of it?! I just got the news, Angel has safely arrived in the Green Zone!"
"SIR, you need to hear me out... It's because our forces stationed in Baghdad came to the rescue too promptly. If they were even ten minutes later, Angel surely wouldn't have made it to the Green Zone... rest assured, I will make sure she doesn't get her hands on any evidence..."
Fobbing off superiors was something at which Thomas was a pro.
After some explanation, his superior seemed to accept his explanation for the time being.
Just as he hung up the phone with his superior.
Another phone rang.
He irritably picked it up, but his expression changed once he saw the number; he hesitated for a few seconds before answering.
This time, it was the cook on the line.
"Thomas! Are you still in the Green Zone?"
"Still... still here..."
"Come to the bar tonight, I'm buying!"
"...What's the occasion?"
"Of course, there's a reason! And it's related to you! You remember that Sang guy, right? The one you recommended to me in the bar, I really must thank you! Thankfully he was there today, or our VIP would have been done for! No more talk, come to the bar tonight, I'll open a bottle of the finest Scotch Whisky!
I'm off to collect my reward, see you tonight!"
The line went dead.
Thomas held the phone, listening to the busy tone inside.
For three seconds, he ferociously smashed the phone onto the ground.
He was burning with rage, feeling insulted, but he couldn't vent it.
Because he had brought this upon himself.
Originally thinking that a newbie plus a few Russians would make up the worst combination in Baghdad's mercenary circle,
one would have never imagined they could resist the assault of over thirty armed militants with just five people.
It was like seeing a ghost!
...
In the mission hall of Blackwater International, Miss Lolita was distributing mission rewards to contractors who had completed their tasks.
The Cook grinned as he took a thick stack of US dollars from Miss Lolita's hands, all brand new hundred-dollar bills.
The Cook held the money, pressed it hard against his mouth, and kissed it fiercely.
Then he counted out a thousand for everyone.
Song Heping took the stack of money and carefully placed it in his pocket.
"Let's go have a drink at the bar tonight!" the Cook said.
Song Heping shook his head, "I won't go. I have use for this money."
The Cook said, "I heard you're really in need of money, but don't be so stingy, huh?"
Song Heping replied, "I have uses for the money."
White Bear and Queen teased from the side, "Song, in our line of work, money comes and goes quickly. Live for today, drink for today. If you're too stingy to spend your money, you might just kick the bucket one day, and all that savings will be for nothing."
The Cook said, "Song, I know you have brothers and sisters waiting for you to bring money back to support them, but those of us in this business make fast money, and you never know when you'll meet God. You should eat when you should eat and drink when you should drink. Don't be too frugal. Money isn't saved up; in our line of work, money is earned back through strength!
Don't worry, stick with me, and I guarantee you'll have meat on your plate!"
With that, he clenched his fist and shook it in front of Song Heping's eyes.
Before the Cook could finish, they suddenly heard a voice full of mockery coming from the doorway.
"I've always heard Russians love to boast, and today I've seen it for myself, hahaha! Cook, aren't you afraid of biting your tongue with all that braggadocio?"
All eyes turned sharply toward the entrance.
The voice was very familiar.
Song Heping remembered, it was that guy from Duke Wellington's Regiment, the retired officer Lars from Great Britain.
Talk about a small world!
Indeed, it was Lars who had arrived.
Lars, with a few of his subordinates, appeared in the mission hall, his face bearing Britain's unique overconfidence.
His gaze swept over everyone present, finally landing on Song Heping.
Song Heping knew this guy had no good feelings towards him.
Earlier that morning, he had humiliated Lars in public, mentioning the dark history of Duke Wellington's Regiment on the Peninsula. Was this bastard here for a fight?
But it seemed Lars and his group had not come to make trouble for Song Heping.
After sizing up Song Heping, they went straight to Miss Lolita to register and hand over the missions they had completed that day.
Then they turned and walked over to the Cook. Lars glanced at the stack of bills in the Cook's hands and said, "Getting so happy over a ten thousand dollar bounty, looks like you Cooks haven't had many good days."
After saying that, he left with a snide laugh.
"Huh—tui!"
Once they were gone, the Cook humphed loudly and spat on the ground.
Song Heping, puzzled, asked Grey Wolf, "They seem very arrogant."
Grey Wolf replied, "Of course! They are official employees of Blackwater. Lars is nicknamed Mad Dog; he brought over a twenty-man team from Great Britain and formed a 'Mad Dog' Mercenary Group organization, which is currently under contract with Blackwater International. They get the same benefits as the official employees, so their income is much higher than ours."
As a newcomer, Song Heping was not familiar with everything in the mercenary circle.
Curiously, he asked Grey Wolf, "How much higher?"
Grey Wolf explained, "Currently in Baghdad, the income disparity among mercenaries is quite large. Independent mercenaries like us, who don't have corporate contracts, are at the bottom, doing the odd jobs others don't want. We earn between one hundred to three hundred dollars a day, with additional allowances and commissions if there's work, nothing but cold wind if there isn't.
The mercenaries under small company contracts have regular salaries, usually between 7000-10000 dollars a month; they have a guaranteed income whether they work or not, plus task subsidies. It's quite comfortable. As for the formal employees of big PMC companies like Blackwater International or AAFES, they are formidable.
They get a base salary of 15,000 dollars a month, and those with deep experience and capability can earn even more. Not only do they offer personal insurance, task subsidies, and commissions, but they also get paid vacations. Their benefits are top-notch; we stray souls and wild ghosts can't compare..."
"Oh... it's the difference between being in the organization and being outside of it..."
Fifteen thousand US dollars a month—the figure indeed shook Song Heping.
To think that in the southern part of China, the average salary for a worker is only a few hundred to over a thousand RMB. Even within the system in his hometown's small county, it's barely four or five hundred RMB.
Based on the current exchange rate, not to mention comparing with the big company mercenaries, just the thousand US dollars he earned today would be enough for someone from his hometown to live on for a year.
One day's earnings equaling another's year.
Although this job meant exchanging life for money, the compensation was quite tempting.
A small goal began to take root in his heart.
He would earn one million RMB in Illiguo before going home. With that, he could buy three apartments in the county town and have enough left over to do some small business in peace.
One million RMB, which actually converts to just over a hundred thousand US dollars.
If the Cook's team always had work and he didn't splurge, he could save up that amount in less than a year.
Anyway, it was all for making money to support the family. It would be better to fight for it here than to suffer back in China.
The lowest-cost business in the world is trading your life for money, and the highest-cost business is also trading your life for money.
The only difference is which industry you invest in.
A person needs to have ideals, some kind of small goals, right?
One million sounds like a lot, but what if it were achieved?