[Chapter 468: The Soviet Union Start to Crack]
White Center was now well-stocked, and even without a special arrangement, lunch was very generous.
"Gee, you sure know how to live it up. Hey, why aren't you eating this caviar?"
William White shrugged and replied, "You might not believe me, but for lunch, I'd rather have a burger from USC."
"Cough, you're something else," Lucas said.
"Hahaha, alright, maybe I'm just a bit nostalgic for those days. It doesn't have much to do with food. Caviar is just a fancy word for fish eggs, anyway."
Lucas wasn't really interested in White's eating habits. He was more concerned about the filming of the next Bond movie.
"I say, your Bond film doesn't really fit current events. Our relations with the Soviets have significantly improved."
"That's purely fictional. What's there to question? There are positive portrayals of Soviets in the film, so there won't be any issues. Besides, the Soviets are clearly losing their grip -- why should I worry about their feelings?"
William White wasn't just talking nonsense. Due to excessive oppression, the Soviets' subordinates were planning a rebellion. They could barely manage their own affairs, let alone care about the release of a movie.
Well, that film certainly wasn't going to earn any money from the Soviets. No matter how much you praised them, it wouldn't help your movie get into theaters.
Seeing that White wasn't concerned, Lucas didn't press the issue further. Honestly, the real political correctness was with the Soviets; there probably wouldn't be any big deal. If it weren't for White's fame, Lucas wouldn't have bothered to ask.
...
William White had his own intelligence network and intended to buy some junk later, so he had to pay attention. The regions around Russia had descended into chaos. If nothing unexpected occurred, the Cold War would end soon.
Once this wave of turmoil ended, the world would enter a relatively peaceful period.
After wrapping up his conversation with Lucas, William White needed to get some exercise. Without a good physique, it didn't matter how much money you made.
The sound of punching bags repeatedly pounded in the ears of his bodyguards. Their boss was definitely not the playboy outsiders claimed him to be.
Setting that aside, just looking at his skills in full-contact fighting, a few average folks wouldn't be enough to take him on. Even the killing machines they were wouldn't necessarily stand a chance. Of course, when life and death are on the line, who knows what might happen.
"Sir, there are indeed problems brewing with the Soviets. We might see some changes soon. Their country is relatively stable, but they're facing severe shortages. The surrounding subordinates are struggling."
After downing a bottle of cold water, William White grabbed a towel to wipe off the sweat, saying, "So, the Soviets can't keep a lid on it, huh?"
"Exactly. Sir, the CIA guys are very active. Don't they worry they'll provoke someone?"
"Ah, Tanner, you're overthinking it. Those guys never think about the consequences. If they were even a tad reliable, why would my Bond film need to shoot some British agent? That's just embarrassing, you know? They're either asking for trouble or just plain stupid."
"Sir, there has been some progress on what you had Mike keep an eye on."
"That's good. Keep tabs on it and don't let anyone know who the buyers are."
"Understood, sir. I got it."
The Soviets' aerospace technology wasn't any worse than the Americans. After suffering losses many times over, whether it was a launch vehicle or a satellite, the Soviets still produced decent stuff, though their safety standards were a bit concerning.
William White had no interest in their rockets -- those things were too massive and not suitable for sales. Reconnaissance satellites were decent. He heard they even had night vision, but he wasn't sure if that was true.
American tanks didn't have night vision, but the Soviets did. He heard developing that tech cost them tens of millions of dollars.
The Soviets had an advantage in optics because they had robbed the German company Carl Zeiss. A significant portion of it was in Soviets' hands. Their reconnaissance satellites were outstanding -- no doubt about that.
Of course, the timing wasn't right now; even launching such a thing was a problem. In the U.S., it was completely out of the question.
"Sir, it's feasible, but too many people knowing might lead to complications."
"Ha ha, Tanner, go find those mad scientists; they'll do just about anything if the price is right. Just modding a couple of satellites isn't exactly building a nuclear bomb."
"Okay, sir, I'll check the database right away."
The group of scientists in America was quite peculiar. Some were busy in the lab, truly orthodox types. Others were teaching kids at universities -- they had solid theoretical foundations but lacked practical skills.
And then there were those who had communication issues with people; typically, they weren't hired. But these folks were outstanding in specific areas. Plus, their hands-on skills were impressive -- they could accomplish a lot with simple tools. William White was looking for this type of person.
Tanner wasn't sure; this reconnaissance satellite sounded too good to be true, and he wanted to see it for himself. If they had it, tracking and monitoring would all be a breeze.
There were just too many pesky bugs near Lanai Island, and they were highly alert. The moment you made a move, they took off. Even when you managed to catch one, you couldn't do much.
If they had this new toy, life would be so much easier -- those pests would have nowhere to hide.
*****
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