[Chapter 677: Brothers in Hardship]
Treating real estate as a pillar industry was quite a ridiculous notion. Of course, William White was a businessman, and knowing there was potential involved, it would have been foolish not to jump in and grab a bite.
However, it wasn't feasible to invest too heavily. The reality was that housing prices in the U.S. were difficult to inflate. Being a real estate mogul was only viable if you got in early. The whole speculation thing was completely nonsensical; the market was difficult to manipulate.
Property taxes during the holding period were a significant headache. The key issue was that in the U.S., it was tough to sit on properties, unlike in other areas.
Now, here's an interesting point about Americans: their real estate information was publicly accessible. Realtors didn't even need to seek listings; as long as a client bought a house, they raked in about 5% of the sales price.
The transaction volume was their main priority, and to make houses easier to sell, they wouldn't inflate prices. If you set your asking price too high, no one would even look at the property.
...
"Sir, we just got word that we will be implementing economic sanctions against Gaddafi."
"Sanctions? Ever since the Gold Canyon operation, we haven't restored relations with them, have we? What does this mean...?" William White scratched his head a bit. This would once again make oil prices unstable; he was currently negotiating a buyout with Shell.
"Sir, this includes major countries worldwide."
"Really? The British didn't object? Ha! No wonder BP couldn't handle it; this time, they surely must suffer some heavy losses."
"Indeed, their plans might be in jeopardy."
"Okay, I'll keep that in mind. Just two intelligence officers, not worth handing them over. I don't believe it was Gaddafi's doing."
William White had his reasons for saying this. Besides a lunatic like Gaddafi, regular folks wouldn't attempt such actions. As a country, it was even more ridiculous; if their leaders weren't mad, they would have never agreed to such operations.
If you had some personal grudges against America, it was even less likely. Come on, were they worried about America not having an excuse to clamp down on them?
"Anything else?"
"Yes, Saddam has now run into trouble; small tribes along the border have started to resist."
"The Kurds? If I remember correctly, their numbers are quite limited. Right, they also lack real strength. Ha! Could it be the CIA made them some promises?"
"That seems to be the case, but Saddam can't fight them. His outdated MiGs would surely be no match for the Kurds."
"Damn, Washington is going to be crazy! It's only been a few days of quiet; do you think they plan on wandering back over there again?"
"Uh, sir, this time it's being led by the British and the French. They've profited significantly from the reconstruction in Kuwait. I suppose this could be seen as a reciprocation?"
"Ugh, those bastards. It looks like our discount days might be over. Oil prices might spike again. Let's do this, Filson; by the end of the year, we'll wrap up all our current negotiations."
Lately, the semiconductor industry had been booming, and with the big pie of mobile communications, many firms had raised their expectations. If it weren't for the uncertainties in the Mideast, the global economic recovery would have been a sure thing.
Certainly, if the CIA stopped stirring up trouble everywhere, the global economy would rebound even faster. It was difficult to understand these bastards; were they in charge of security, or were they just creating chaos?
"Filson, it seems Africa might be even messier now. Tsk, those poor elephants; let's hope they don't end up as dinner."
"Ahem, sir, that seems inappropriate. I haven't heard of anyone eating them."
"Really? I heard they eat anything. Isn't that where the cancer of the century originated from -- monkeys? Tch, those things are practically the same as humans; it's terrifying."
Filson was at a loss for words. As far as he knew, it wasn't simply a matter of eating. He really couldn't comprehend just how capable these people were.
Africa was in turmoil, and someone still planned to protect the animals? That was just too ironic. If they had sent more food, wouldn't they have saved more lives too?
William White had tried a few years back to deliver aid, but the results had been quite poor. If others saved you, to what extent could they really help? If possible, self-rescue was always the best option. The brothers there had different mindsets; once they filled their bellies, their hormones went off the charts.
When you visited next year, you would be amazed to find that instead of anything substantial, they merely gained a bunch of children.
Well, if one wanted to prevent starvation, aid must be doubled; otherwise, it simply wouldn't be enough. Once aid and eating became a habit, not even gods could save them.
"Sir, if there's nothing else here, I'll be heading to Africa."
"Uh-huh, Max, be careful lately. With Gaddafi preoccupied, our European partners seem to have some ideas brewing again."
"I'm used to it; that place is like a revolving door. It won't be long before they change leadership again. By the way, that guy in Sierra Leone is quite capable -- he'll control the situation soon."
"The one who was British sergeant? That guy truly has his act together."
"Sir, your initial decision was correct. Only a madman would send kids to the front lines."
"Yeah, dealing with people is easy; with the insane, ha, better pass."
William White opted to withdraw a portion of the security here, which was more of a gesture. Well, if possible, it'd be best if everyone played within the rules. Here, even the baseline didn't exist.
...
"Moussa Koussa, did you find out who was behind this?"
"Mr. President, it wasn't our people; the timing doesn't match, and they have other plans. And the British evidently has knowledge of this."
Gaddafi surely understood the outcome. The present issue was that he had no way to break the deadlock. If he handed someone over, it could genuinely spell disaster.
It hadn't been long since the Panama incident; he wouldn't forget that shameless scene. Come on, the leader of that country was taken just like that. Smuggling laundry detergent?
Ha, that was a joke. If it weren't for the CIA scum, that would truly be a miracle.
Funny enough, the Miami court ruled that way. That poor guy would probably never return to Panama again.
Let them hand over a couple of scapegoats -- Gaddafi surely wouldn't care. The problem was the target had never been those two.
Sigh, sanctions were all that could be imposed. It seemed he had to engage more with the surrounding nations.
"Moussa Koussa, what's going on lately? Didn't the Soviets withdraw completely? Who's causing the trouble? There must be a significant grain shortfall this year."
"Sir, it's just too chaotic. Those European bastards are all troublesome. Besides them, there's the CIA. Oh, and aside from that guy's security, many new security companies have popped up with various backgrounds."
Gaddafi was utterly disgruntled; he found the Americans just too troublesome. Even if the brothers sympathized with him, they had no capacity to help. Ironically, they were fighting like mad, while America just sat by and watched the spectacle.
"Moussa Koussa, these guys are useless. It seems we still need help from the Europeans."
"Mr. President, they are treacherous and utterly untrustworthy."
"Untrustworthy? Ha, the Americans just offer too much advantage. Go on, reach out to them; let's see if there's an opportunity to talk."
*****
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