"This is my good brother and the current boss of our company, Sang!"
As soon as Song Heping entered the restaurant, the chef couldn't wait to introduce him to his gang friend, Ivan.
"He's the most formidable tactics master I've ever seen!"
"Pleased to et you, my brother!"
Ivan, still holding a drink in his hand, opened his arms and gave Song Heping a solid hug.
This guy was dressed in a white suit and a top hat, but under the jacket, he only wore a white tank top, revealing tattoo-covered skin that extended to his neck, with bizarre patterns appearing to be symbols and special markings.
This was the first ti Song Heping had seen soone with tattoos that were both so dense and so nurous.
It gave the impression that Ivan wished to leave so pattern on every inch of skin one could tattoo.
The chef also had tattoos, but not as many, and located on his chest, normally out of sight.
Song Heping had also heard the chef casually ntion the tattoo culture of their Russian gang.
For example, dagger tattoos on the shoulders indicate the criminal has killed in prison and is open to murdering for hire.
Bells on the feet ant he had served long prison terms.
Shackles on the ankle signified a sentence of more than five years.
Rings on the fingers represent his rank.
Stars on the knees an "I will not kneel before the police."
Every tattoo on Ivan's body seed to declare to others that he was a tough guy.
Song Heping's personality wasn't exactly outgoing, even a bit introverted.
He was so embarrassed by Ivan's enthusiasm that he could almost dig out a three-bedroom, two-living-room flat with his toes.
"Co, co, let's have a drink!"
Before Song Heping had a chance to sit down, Ivan had already taken over as host, uncorking the wine bottle and clanging glasses in front of everyone, filling a tall glass to the brim.
That kind of tall glass held half a liter, and it took almost half a bottle of Blue Ribbon XO.
"To show my respect for you, you drink from the glass, and I'll drink from the bottle, Додна!"
Having said that, he put the bottle to his lips and started to guzzle down the content.
In less than half a minute, the rest of the half liter had entered Ivan's stomach. He let out a satisfied belch, then glanced at Song Heping's glass and said, "Badlyahali!"
Having spent a lot of ti with these Russian gang types recently, Song Heping had picked up a bit of the Russian lingo.
Ivan was urging him to hurry up and finish his drink.
Out of politeness, he picked up the glass and drained it in one go.
"Let's sit down and chat while we eat."
The chef quickly invited everyone to sit.
Then ca the food.
Lobster, giant grouper, abalone, conch, Gold crab...
Seafood was naturally the focus here.
And of course, there was also premium Angus beef.
The rent of $30,000 a day was indeed not spent in vain; you get what you pay for.
Since this was not the Maldives that Illiguo ca to for vacation, everyone at the scene let loose with their drinking.
The most composed drinkers at the table were Song Heping and a man nad Samir.
Perhaps it was the joy of reunion after many years or finding an old acquaintance in a foreign place, but the chef and Ivan were the most animated in their conversation.
When the chat heated up, they hugged and banged heads together with a loud thud, making one worry about whether their skulls might crack.
With drinks in him, Ivan beca even more unrestrained, boasting endlessly about how there was nothing in the world he couldn't handle, and from now on, whatever firearms "Musician" Defense could get, he would sell them all.
Samir whispered to Song Heping, "One can't take the Russian's words seriously after they've been drinking."
Song Heping agreed, "I know."
Drunk, they call each other brothers, but sober, they treat you like a fool.
Song Heping had seen this sort of thing before.
Just as the wine flowed and the dishes pleased the palate, Ivan's phone rang.
Already bleary-eyed, he fumbled several tis before finally retrieving his phone, pressed the call button three tis, held it to his ear, and berated loudly, "I'm drinking! Don't you ever check the ti before calling?! I said I was eting an old friend here in the Maldives today, and not to bother unless it's urgent! Didn't you rember?"
Ivan truly acted the part of a big brother; even inebriated, he retained his commanding presence.
However, the person on the other end of the line seed undeterred and continued talking.
As Ivan listened, his expression turned grim.
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Initially, he had been flushed from drinking, but his complexion gradually turned pale.
As if the words from the other end of the phone had forcibly expelled the alcohol from his system.
Only after a while did Ivan ask, "Is the news confird?"
Whatever was said on the other end, Ivan stared blankly for a long ti before slowly putting down the phone.
The cook also seed to sense there was a problem.
He reached out and slapped Ivan's shoulder hard, "Brother, what happened?"
Grabbing his glass, Ivan twirled it by the stem, swirling the liquid inside until he downed it in one go, then told the cook, "The shipnt sent to Colombia, there's been an incident... "
"What!?"
The cook imdiately sobered up.
Even though there was now plenty of money, that arms shipnt was still a business deal worth over two million US dollars.
Just the cost was one million.
Not to ntion the additional hundred thousand dollars spent on bribes to get the arms out.
That wasn't important...
Not important...
What mattered was, this was the first arms deal the cook had personally arranged.
He rembered assuring Song Heping that everything would be fine. Now there was trouble, his reputation was hanging on a branch, and he simply couldn't retrieve it.
"What exactly happened? Was my rchandise seized?"
Ivan shook his head, "No, it was a case of backstabbing..."
"Suka!" The cook cursed, "Who dares to stab in the back! Right, you were the middleman for these arms, didn't the gangs over there dare to stab in the back?!"
Ivan said with a wry smile, "This ti it wasn't the gangs, it was the damn local anti-governnt ard forces backstabbing us..."
"Anti-governnt ard forces?"
Upon hearing this, the cook's expression changed slightly.
Gangs are rely street thugs and cri syndicate mbers, but anti-governnt ard forces usually an warlords, actual military organizations.
No wonder they dared to hijack the shipnt.
If it was a warlord, the problem was much more serious.
"Which warlord organization was it?" the cook asked.
Ivan suddenly coughed twice as if a bit overwheld.
"It's AUC."
The cook, unfamiliar with the military organizations there, naturally didn't know what AUC referred to.
"AUC? How many people do they have?"
Before Ivan could answer the cook's question, Ferrari sneered, "Cook, stop dreaming. AUC stands for the Colombian United Self-Defense Army, they're a formal anti-governnt ard force. Although they haven't been around for long, they currently boast approximately 31,000 ard personnel.
This group is the most notorious ard organization in Colombia, often accused of massacring civilians and committing wanton violence. Just last year, they planned 804 murder cases, 203 kidnappings, and 75 massacres. What do you think you can do against them?"
Clearly, Ferrari found the cook's ignorance amusing, and also thought these Russians were too arrogant for their own good.
After Ferrari's introduction, everyone at the table fell silent.
An ard force of more than thirty thousand.
Heh.
Which gang would dare clash with them?
Isn't it like an egg striking a rock?
"Don't worry."
Ivan suddenly proclaid with conviction, slapping his chest.
"Even if it's the local warlords, I will personally fly to Colombia to reclaim that shipnt!"
The cook said, "Brother, if AUC has swallowed that arms shipnt, I advise you to think it over before going to Colombia. It's not that you're afraid to die, but there's no need to walk into death."
Song Heping had thought Ivan was just putting on a show.
He didn't expect the man to actually have the guts to pick up his hat, turn around, and leave.
"Cook, rest assured, I, Ivan, have never broken a promise in my business dealings. I will definitely retrieve the money from this deal for you. If I can't bring it back, then I have no business staying in Russia!"
Having left the restaurant, Ivan called his pilot over. Ignoring the cook's objections, he truly boarded the plane and soared away.
There was silence in the restaurant.
Everyone sat around the table, looking at each other.
After a long while, Ferrari suddenly picked up a large lobster, began dissecting and eating its at, and while eating, he said, "Not bad, the guy's got guts. But alas, he's too rash. Once he's in Colombia, he's not coming back."
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