How could things be so simple?
No matter how the world changes, capital has never been absent.
World War II may be a war between justice and evil, civilization and barbarism, and freedom and slavery, although justice defeated evil.
But when people cheered for the victory, they never thought that under the shadow of the god of justice, capital disguised itself as an angel, waving its claws in the shadows and harvesting the world's wealth.
"In 1944, just before the Normandy landings, more than 1,000 agents of large American companies entered Britain through various channels. They were like a group of hyenas, trying to plunder wealth from the shattered bodies of post-war Europe.
World War II was a feast of wealth, or rather, a feast of wealth for large American companies! No one has counted how much wealth those large American companies earned during the war, but they reached out to the whole of Europe after the war, not 45 years later, but during the war!"
Once upon a time, George sneered at this statement, but after coming to Britain, he saw more than once how those well-dressed people wielded the big stick of capital and harvested wealth. The wealth that the British had plundered from all over the world for hundreds of years was harvested by American capital during the war.
When the Allied soldiers sacrificed and shed blood for the just cause, the capital of Wall Street was wantonly reaping the wealth of other countries. They stood on the corpses of the old European powers and wantonly bit the already dirty flesh and blood.
Unlike the financial capital of Wall Street, George did not have sharp claws and fangs, nor did he have strong capital. Of course, the most important thing was... he did not have the background of Wall Street.
This means that in this capital feast, Zhenhua Company can only drink a mouthful of soup at most.
Who are the ones who really eat meat?
He cast his eyes on the passengers on the same plane. Among them, there must be a real predator.
When George looked at these passengers, there was also a person among the passengers who was looking at him. The man was in his forties. When the two looked at each other, the other nodded slightly at him. Although no one spoke, they recognized each other like jackals in the jungle. They were all jungle predators, and the same kind could always recognize the same kind.
Finally, the plane that took off from Sicily landed at the airport in Brindisi, where both the Allied forces and the Italian army were stationed. After the plane landed, these guys wearing exquisite camel-hair coats and top hats immediately greeted the nearby soldiers in English as soon as they got off the plane.
Without exception, they were all trying to recruit soldiers as their drivers. Just as they were greeting the Allied officers and trying to recruit drivers with US dollars, George and Alfonso had already walked in front of an Italian Air Force major.
"Hello, sir."
Alfonso spoke fluent Italian. In fact, with the help of the system, George had learned Italian, but not very fluently.
"What's the matter, sir?"
The officer looked at the two foreigners in front of him.
"We are businessmen from Spain..."
Before Alfonso finished introducing his identity, George directly took out two packs of Camel cigarettes from his bag and put them on his table.
"Sir, I hope to rent a car and a driver from you. The daily remuneration is a pack of Camel cigarettes, and the driver's remuneration is calculated separately."
Although the method is simple and crude, the effect is very good. Whether during the war or in post-war Europe, cigarettes are the best hard currency, especially Camel and Lucky in the United States.
"Fill up your gas, 5 Camels per tank of gasoline."
Without any nonsense, the two sides reached an agreement. Just when George and Alfonso got on a Fiat car and were about to leave, the car was stopped by someone. It was not someone else who stopped him, but the guy on the plane.
"Hello sir, did you get a car so quickly? If it's convenient, can I take your car into the city?"
The guy made a direct request,
"I am Mickey Anastasio from Morgan Bank. Here is my business card. Sir, I think we must have room for cooperation in the future. What do you think?"
Tommy said as he handed his business card to George. During the whole process, he didn't even look at Alfonso.
"How many of you are there?"
After taking the business card, George looked at the guy curiously.
"Only me."
Mickey shrugged helplessly and said.
"They thought I was an Italian, so I could speak Italian, so they sent me here. God knows, my father can't speak a few words of Italian. Just call me Mickey."
Putting away the business card, George smiled.
"Get in the car, Mickey."
"It's a good thing I met you, otherwise, I would probably waste a lot of time. By the way, which company do you represent?"
Mickey looked at him with interest and said.
"On Wall Street, both Italians like me and Chinese like you are extremely rare."
"Oh?"
George asked curiously.
"Why do you think I'm Chinese?"
"Haha, if not Chinese, how could I be Japanese? They are all detained. Which company are you in? Citi? From the Shanghai branch?"
"I represent myself."
George blinked at him, Mickey was stunned at first, and said excitedly.
"My friend, you did what everyone wants to do but dares not to do,"
Then he pointed his finger out of the car window and said.
"Look what's here?"
"What?"
"Wealth!"
Mickey said with a smile.
"Wealth everywhere, anyone who comes here, as long as they seize the opportunity, will be able to make a fortune, do you believe it?"
Mickey then shrugged his shoulders helplessly and said.
"I came here, but unfortunately I have no money. There are wealth everywhere, but it definitely does not belong to ordinary people. Ordinary people do not have enough money to pry the opportunities and gold buried here, unless you are a millionaire..."
Suddenly, as if thinking of something, Mickey looked at George seriously, and a smile suddenly appeared on his face.
"George, am I right?"
The sudden question made George's heart tremble.
Fuck!
The identity is exposed!
Who is this guy! Is he an intelligence officer?