[Chapter 621: Back to Hell]
"Sir, I don't think we can pull out. If we venture into the jungle..." The words hung in the air, as this was already the third wave of attacks in six days.
"Alright, we'll put down our weapons. They don't want us dead."
Frustration and despair couldn't even begin to describe Moussa Koussa's feelings. The Americans were preparing to turn against their own leader, and they had to retreat. All those previous efforts were just a means to dress someone else in fine garments.
What he didn't expect was that even if he wanted to withdraw, it wouldn't be that easy.
"Sir, do you think they will...?"
"Heh, and even if they do, what of it?" Moussa Koussa grimaced. The previous ambush had wiped them out completely. Clearly, their adversaries preferred to avoid casualties and didn't want to wipe them all out.
So the question arose: what were these well-trained guys really after?
There was only one answer -- in less than a year, they had sweated to the bone. Now, they were being treated like free labor.
Damn it, could they be any more ridiculous? They were already in a tough spot.
...
"Chief, we're waving the white flag. If you ask me, we should just take them out and be done with it. Why complicate things?"
"Shut it. Remember to speak French, the casual way."
"Alright, you're in charge; we'll follow your lead."
"Watch yourself. The returns this time better be good; leave nothing out."
"Don't worry. I'm almost too broke to buy pants these days." Max couldn't believe it. This idiot acts like money is just chocolate. How could he run out of funds in such a short time?
This couldn't continue; he had to talk to the boss about setting up a fund to keep things steady.
...
"What's our plan now, sir?"
"These bastards even gave our weapons back. If being a robber ends up like this, it's quite the industry benchmark."
"Sir, even though most of them speak English, they're evidently not too fluent; I still catch snatches of French occasionally."
Moussa Koussa knew well that what he saw or heard wasn't always real. As for who was pulling the strings, he had lost his will to care. If he didn't have to feed the lions this time, he planned to retire for good. It would be nice to find a little spot in the Mediterranean.
Some people are just like that; they never reflect on their own mistakes. As soon as something goes wrong, it's always someone else's fault. If only you'd stayed home like decent folks, this world could use a little peace.
...
"Chief, did they just rob all the diamond mines?"
"Heh, as if there's enough output for that. If I'm guessing right, they raided the tribes."
"Chief, we should just eliminate these scum."
"Don't you know the boss's temperament? He doesn't care for casualties; he really doesn't want to see any."
"Sure, the boss is great, but he's too soft-hearted."
Max couldn't be bothered to refute such foolishness. Damn it, if the boss was ruthless, these guys would've been done for long ago. What a joke!
Some things, the living can't keep secret. Max understood very well that the boss probably knew everything; he was just the type who held a lot of pride. He'd say he wouldn't trade lives for money and meant it.
In truth, Max overestimated his boss's principles. Some things weren't a matter of not wanting to do; they were about being too scared to do them. If you commit one dirty deed, you might need to counter it with two more. If you bulldoze through, what's next? Total destruction?
For William White, trivial matters couldn't shake his foundation. To rise to the top tier of American society, if you hadn't done a few bad things, what would that make you?
[T/N: It seems I have been mistakenly using Moussa Koussa. According to the author, the person is Uday Hussein, son of Saddam. I didn't find any record of Uday Hussein ever working with Gaddafi. So, I let it be like this.]
"Well, chief, the haul this time is substantial. If we dump it all on the market, prices will surely plummet."
"Diamonds are just like that, aren't they? A handful of people control the supply and cutting processes, then weave some romantic stories around it. If they knew where these things came from, would they still find them romantic?"
"Cough, getting a bit too poetic there. Let's bring the goods back to Lanai Island; we won't unload yet."
"Sure thing, chief. I'll handle it. Are we returning to the previous base this time?"
"Is the situation that bad?"
"Yes."
Max didn't elaborate; he knew expressing the attitude was enough.
"Ugh, that's troublesome. I'll figure out how to communicate since there's a food aid shipment going out. Wait for my word."
...
Don't let the vastness of Africa fool you; it's hard to find suitable locations.
"Somalia? No good, Tanner. That place is just awful. More importantly, there's no output there."
"What about Sierra Leone, sir?"
"Still not right; that sergeant or whatever. Forget it; if he's packing back all those guns, it can't lead to anything good. Congo it is. Our goal is still diamonds; nothing else matters."
"Alright, master. It won't be a problem. I'll arrange it immediately."
"Okay, but keep actions low-key. I suspect Gaddafi is probably very unhappy right now."
"Heh, master, you've robbed him so many times now; I'd guess he's gotten used to it."
...
Quietly, the security team returned to Africa. Given their remote location, they had yet to draw attention. Of course, that "other" didn't include the CIA. Their level of concern for this security team's movements was quite high.
But they were too busy to care right now; they had found Leo Wanta.
They had the guy, but trouble followed. It was clear he wasn't keen on seeing them.
Wanting money was one thing; getting a credible reason was another. There was no way he'd just hand over the cash. Damn it, you'd give them the money, and in a split second, they'd take you out without hesitation.
Leo understood now; to enjoy a peaceful retirement, he had to live in the light of day.
Yes, he might have more money than William White. In that sense, he could be considered the richest man in the world. Yet, William White was a public figure; Leo was just an anonymous player.
Shorting the London market with gold and pound was just a test for him. Yes, he wanted to step into the public eye. Even if his reputation wasn't sparkling, that didn't matter. As long as the word spread, those guys would be cautious.
The CIA director's assurances were nothing but a joke to him. You don't even know how much I'm sitting on, and yet you're trying to take charge here. Haha, am I that foolish?
...
"Attacks? Could it be those French? Nonsense. This has got to be Max's doing."
"Director, a while back, those French were indeed recruiting."
"What? Are you sure?"
The CIA chief was thoroughly confused; he had been tracking Leo Wanta closely. He hadn't even glanced at the briefing during that time.
"Director, their upper management suspects it was the work of their subordinates. I hear they're sending someone to investigate. There are many, many diamonds at stake."
"It can't be that sinister. By the way, what's Max and his crew up to?"
"No reaction at all; very low profile."
*****
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