Mr. Huang, in his fifties, was slightly chubby but appeared quite robust due to his height. Though he wore a worried expression, he maintained basic politeness.
Looking at the two nearly new military trucks behind him, Mr. Huang said, "I certainly trust the reputation of you wolves, but I didn't expect that 500 guns would need two trucks…"
He turned and took a large briefcase from a young man, saying, "I brought 3 million dollars, which is all I have. I hope you can help me out."
Joga opened the briefcase, finding it filled with hundred-dollar bills. He took out a backpack from his truck and carefully packed 2 million dollars in cash into it. After closing the briefcase and returning it to Mr. Huang, he said earnestly, "I'm a person who values integrity. I can't accept money for something I'm not sure about. I'll keep an eye on the perimeter when you make the delivery, and if needed, I'll assist. But as I said, I can't guarantee the success of rescuing the hostages, so I can't take your money."
Pointing to the military trucks, Joga continued, "These are compatriots, and you bought these guns at a high price. I'll give you the trucks for free, but you need to leave one pickup truck for me. I have some of my own things in the truck that I need to take."
Mr. Huang nodded with a hint of disappointment and called over a young man to bring a pickup truck. He handed the keys to Joga, saying bitterly, "In my lifetime of business, I've always admired people like you, but right now I really wish you'd at least give me some hope, even if it's just a lie."
"Actually, things might not turn out badly. 'Jindewike' is crazy, but he has to consider the consequences of harming Chinese people. Mr. Huang, you've seen a lot in your life; surely you have a way to maneuver through this."
Joga tossed the money into the truck and called out to Kaman, "Unload our things from the trucks."
Mr. Huang told his young men, "Go help with the unloading."
The silent white man who had been following Mr. Huang stepped forward and said, "I'll help too."
Seeing the tall, bald white man moving boxes from the truck to the pickup, Joga asked curiously, "Who is this guy?"
Mr. Huang replied, "His name is Dorian, an Italian. He calls himself a 'Skinhead.' He used to be a bodyguard for an Italian, but his employer was killed in a hotel attack. Now he's out of work and seems to have gotten into trouble, so I brought him along because I needed help."
Joga, being sensitive to Italians, glanced at Dorian and asked, "Why is he staying here after his boss died? Can he be trusted?"
Mr. Huang sighed and said, "I don't know if he can be trusted. The worst-case scenario is I die, and the 100,000 dollars are wasted. If I survive, that 100,000 dollars will still be worth it. I've realized that, when in trouble, it's best to rely on people from my hometown. The young men here are all from the mine, and only they are willing to take risks with me."
Joga was still puzzled. What kind of person would risk 100,000 dollars to deal with terrorists, especially for a high-risk hostage exchange?
Joga had no particular impression of 'Skinhead,' but he knew that the so-called 'Sea Hunting Dogs' mercenary group he had encountered in South SD included several Italian soldiers. He had later found out that while Italian forces were generally mediocre, the so-called 'Skinheads' were an elite special intervention group within the Italian military.
After a moment of silence, as the items were unloaded from the truck, Joga noticed Dorian eyeing Kaman's gear with envy. Joga approached him and said, "So you're Dorian? Why come into this mess?"
The tall Dorian looked at Joga and replied in broken English, "For the money."
Joga chuckled, "Is your life worth only 100,000 dollars?"
Dorian shook his head. "Alive, it's worth 100,000; dead, only 50,000. My former employer died, so I can't collect the remaining payment and face retaliation from his family. I need money to pay off debts to have a chance at reconciliation."
Joga replied, "Your former boss died in a terrorist attack. What's that got to do with you?"
Dorian shook his head. "The Mafia doesn't discuss this. The man who died in the hotel was named Mori. He was going to South SD to retrieve his brother's body. The Mori family lost two sons in SD; many people follow their misfortune."
Joga became wary upon hearing the Mori family name. Knowing that Dorian's former boss was going to South SD only confirmed his suspicions. The Italian misfortune might just be fortuitous for him.
Seeing Dorian's troubled face, Joga said, "The Mafia is so unreasonable? Why did you work for them?"
Dorian shrugged helplessly. "Because I owe them a lot of money. Being a bodyguard was to pay off the debt. Now that my boss is dead, if I can't repay the debt, guess what they'll do to me and my family? Fifty thousand dollars is enough for my family to temporarily leave Sicily and hide in Switzerland or Austria."
Joga nodded sympathetically and said, "High-interest loans are a bad deal!"