Under the night, all kinds of monsters and monsters were like beasts awakened by hunting biological clocks. They all stared at each target that could become their prey, looking for the best opportunity to take action. Especially in the southern city near the coastline of the Tavi Peninsula, gunfire, screams, and whispers filled with the smell of money and conspiracy, almost like the croaking of frogs in a pond at a spring night.

Still with a gloomy face, Potov looked around the empty beaches and low and declining buildings around him, staring at the black young man standing beside him: "Is this sure it's here?"

He nodded nervously, and the black young man responded respectfully: "It must be here. There are enough people around. Anyone who wants to enter an area within two kilometers will receive news first..."

Before he finished speaking, the phone carried by the black young man had already started ringing. After briefly talking to the people on the phone, the black young man nodded quickly at Potova: "They are here. There are only two people in the car!"

With the words of the black young man, two sharp light columns of car lights appeared in front of Potova. However, in just a few minutes, a Suv off-road vehicle that seemed to be nothing surprising rushed to the front of Potova at a speed of lightning.

In the dull sound of the tires rubbing against the sand, the middle-aged white man with obvious Eastern European ancestry jumped out of the car with agility that was absolutely not matched by his figure, and shouted hoarsely to Potova: "Trade?"

Frowning in confusion, Potova looked at the wrinkled jacket on the middle-aged white man and the bullet holes on the car door that could not be covered by night. He spoke in a gloomy voice: "It seems you are in some trouble?"

With some difficulty, he squeezed out a smile at Potova, and the middle-aged white man responded in a dry voice: "Trouble? For those who are in this industry, trouble is a necessity for daily life! I brought the goods, transactions?"

Staring at the faces of the middle-aged white man with a obviously anxious look, Potov felt a little relaxed inexplicably...

From the time of first meeting at noon, this middle-aged white man always had a high attitude and fully grasped the rhythm of communication with Potov, which made Potov, who was used to giving orders on his territory and following his words, felt extremely uncomfortable.

Based on this, after the middle-aged white man Shiran left, Potov immediately ordered his subordinates to find out the background of the middle-aged white man. However, because time was tight and the direction of search was a bit clueless, the information found was limited to the scattered information revealed on several emails of unknown origin - someone stole a very important weapon and equipment from a notorious international arms broker, and the international arms broker was looking for people all over the world to chase the bold thief.

Taking into account the information that seems to have almost nothing to do with his own business, and looking at the embarrassing and anxious appearance of the middle-aged white man in front of him, Potov suddenly felt that he had seen through many problems!

With a sinister sneer, Potova looked at the middle-aged white man standing in front of him and waved his hand slowly: "I don't think we need to be so anxious! As we all know, the price of doing business depends on the value of the goods, and more on the size of the trouble attached to the goods. You should understand?"

A little stunned, the middle-aged white man understood the meaning of Potova's words almost instantly, and immediately widened his eyes with annoyance: "I don't think I need to remind you, my respected Mr. Potova, I am not the only buyer?"

Still sneering sinisterly, Potova slowly raised his hand and pointed at the off-road vehicle that had not been turned off: "It seems that your buyer is not happy with you?"

Looking back at the obvious bullet holes in the car door, the middle-aged white man sighed helplessly: "Okay... I can give you a corresponding discount on the original price of the goods...Habi, take out the things!"

Accompanied by the shouts of the middle-aged white man, the strong white young man Potova had seen had a little difficulty getting out of the off-road vehicle and placed a silver suitcase on the front hood.

After glanced at the bandages wrapped around the waist and abdomen of the strong white young man, Potova's face was even more cold and turned to look at the black young man standing beside him: "Let me see!"

Obviously, he was prepared for the transaction tonight. After Potova ordered, in just a few minutes, a tool truck had rushed to Potova quickly. The hunched old man who jumped out of the car walked to the off-road vehicle without hesitation and opened the silver suitcase, clamping the two signal connectors that had already been grasping in his hand on a piece of chip the size of a palm in the suitcase.

The tool truck was almost filled with various instruments running rapidly, and various readings began to emerge from several not-so-large display screens. After just a few minutes, the hunched old man nodded silently at Potova.

Swallowing nervously, the middle-aged white man immediately reached out to take out a laptop and a small satellite signal amplifier from his silver suitcase, and shouted at Potov: "Four million euros!"

Taking a deep breath of the sea breeze with a salty smell, Potova slowly shook his head: "This is the price after the discount you can give? A mature stinger air defense missile costs only about 38,000 US dollars. And you just took out a guide chip, but you are going to ask me for four million euros?!"

With his eyes widened, the middle-aged white man shouted urgently: "But this is the core technology included in the improved guidance chip, which is enough to make the existing advanced individual air defense missiles surrender! What I am selling is technology, the future, and the monopoly market position of a certain type of weapon in a certain period of time!"

Smiling proudly, Potova shook his head again: "Two million dollars, this is my final bid! Otherwise I will turn around and leave, and you will hold your technology, in the future, monopolize the market position, and face the pursuit you encounter in a penniless environment! You damn thief and liar!"

With a pale face, the middle-aged white man's hands were trembling obviously: "This is absolutely impossible! OK... the deal is cancelled! Cancel!"

Almost as the middle-aged white man finished speaking, a gunshot happened to sound in the direction of the decaying building not far away. Seeing that several black young men around Potova were all warning themselves with guns, two of them even pointed the gun at him. The middle-aged white man reached out and grabbed his hair in despair: "Okay... OK! Two million US dollars! Trade immediately!"
Chapter completed!