Song Heping felt somewhat hesitant as he made this request.
After all, it was one hundred million pounds, not one hundred million US dollars.
He was actually quite shocked himself to be making such a bold demand.
Just four years ago, he was ecstatic over a mere ten or twenty thousand US dollars.
When he joined the "Musician" team, his monthly salary was just a thousand, and he had to rely on commissions to get by.
Now, he spoke of sums in the billions as if it were nothing.
To say it was a world of difference would be an understatement.
But such is the curious nature of reality.
The more one has, the more one wants—especially when it comes to money.
Once you've tasted wealth, there's no going back.
With a contract worth 2.4 billion in Illiguo, and yearly earnings in the tens of billions of US dollars from Mexico, businesses not worth hundreds of millions barely piqued his interest.
Not to mention, he was well aware of the situation in Southern Afghan, having previously participated in an undercover mission there with Mist.
After some thought, Evans responded, "Allow me to make a phone call."
"Sure, of course," Song Heping said. "Take your time."
With permission granted, Evans walked straight into the banquet hall, then veered off into the hallway, stopping in front of a floor-to-ceiling window. After looking around to ensure no one was nearby, he pulled out his phone.
"Good evening, Mr. Owen."
Upon connecting the call, Evans exchanged greetings, then continued without waiting for a question, "I've run into Song Heping at a defense forum in DC."
"Really? What a coincidence?"
The Mr. Owen on the other end of the line seemed quite surprised.
"Wasn't he recently in Mexico?"
"Yes, it's possible that he has tied up his business there and thus came to DC."
"Did you talk to him?"
"Yes, I did."
"What was his attitude?"
"According to our initial plan, the acquisition won't work; he doesn't agree."
"The acquisition would be best."
"He refuses."
"Is it a matter of price?"
"He didn't even ask about the price."
"Hmm..." Owen seemed somewhat disappointed, "Then what about a partnership?"
"He agreed to that."
"That's good, then. Secure the contract with him as soon as possible."
"But there is one thing..."
Hearing the hesitation in Evans' voice, Owen quickly asked, "Is there some complication?"
"He's asking for a lot, he's really shooting for the moon."
"How much?"
"Just for the training contract in Kandahar, he's quoting one hundred million."
"One hundred million?!"
Owen was also somewhat taken aback.
"If it's too high, I'll go back and negotiate with him, try to bring the price down," Evans said. "I also think the price is too high."
"No surprise there. His company already has a 240 million US dollar contract per year in Illiguo, plus the security contracts for two oil fields. In Mexico, he's collaborating with the CIA to control the drug trade, which is also quite profitable. Our offer of thirty million pounds was really an underestimate of his worth."
"You mean..."
"I never thought we'd sign him for thirty million pounds to begin with," Owen said. "If he's counter-offering, then a hundred million it is."
"One billion... Is he really worth it?" Evans was shocked.
Owen said, "Evans, haven't you seen the current situation clearly yet? Why would Americans suddenly hand over command to the British Army? Do you think they really feel they are insufficient? No, it's a step back to move forward. The military heads in the Pentagon are clear about this, as are the politicians in the White House and the old gents on Congress Hill. If the Americans want other countries to also taste the bitterness of Afghanistan, to drag in the British Army, as long as they bring in the British Army, they could drag the armies of other European countries into the water as well. Look, in just six months, we Europeans had only a few thousand combatants in Afghanistan, and now we have increased to over thirty thousand. But these thirty thousand might still not be enough. Our lords in the parliament are always overconfident. They are always thinking of the glorious days of the past Great Britain, always thinking of returning to that era, only... the strength no longer permits it…"
At this point, Owen fell silent.
"The Prime Minister probably stepped into the American's trap this time, that's why he is urging us contractors to keep increasing our forces to aid their operations there. No matter the cost, they will pay. The Americans have already invested over two hundred billion US dollars in the Afghan battlefield in the past years, and our Prime Minister is said to be investing hundreds of billions of pounds to ensure victory on the anti-terrorism battlefield in Afghanistan. What's one billion? Give it to him! We have signed a twenty-billion order with the Ministry of Defense this time, afraid of not being able to afford this small amount of money?"
"Understood, Mr. Owen." Having heard this, Elson no longer raised objections: "Then I will go talk to him now."
"Go, you must sign him. Remember, this is an instruction I am giving you."
"Don't worry, I'll handle it."