43: The king of the sky! So inspiring!

"Welcome, Sultan. Baghdad is honored by your arrival."

Today, Saddam had traded his usual military uniform for casual attire, wearing a warm smile on his face.

However, deep in his eyes, there was a hint of imperceptible anxiety.

There was no helping it; war is all about money.

Although those thirty-six f-15 "eagle" fighter jets had helped him regain face on the battlefield and grind his opponent, who was supported by the Russians, into the dirt, the hole in his military budget was growing ever larger.

The military expenditure deficit was growing, and even the landlord had no grain left in the barn.

Since Sultan, this big financial backer, was visiting today, he had to treat him well.

"Brother, congratulations!" Sultan patted Saddam firmly on the back, his tone filled with sincere envy.

"Your air force fought beautifully! Those 'eagles', they are simply the kings of the sky! It's so inspiring!"

Saddam showed a rare moment of humility and waved his hand.

"It is all by the grace of Allah, just giving those ungrateful fellows a small lesson."

The two exchanged pleasantries as they walked into the reception hall and took their respective seats.

A maid served the finest black tea and snacks.

Sultan took a sip of tea, looked at Saddam with burning eyes, and finally revealed his true intentions.

"My brother, besides congratulating you, I have an impolite request."

"Please, speak freely."

Saddam was clear-headed and knew the real topic was coming.

"Those 'eagles' of yours..." Sultan leaned forward slightly and lowered his voice.

"Where did you get them from? You know that The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia has always wanted to buy advanced weapons from the Americans."

"But they always make excuses and only sell us the export versions. If possible, we would like to purchase a batch as well."

Here it comes.

Sure enough, he was here for the f-15 "eagle" fighter jet.

Saddam picked up his teacup, slowly blew on the steam, and did not answer immediately.

"Well... Sultan, it's not that I won't help you. It's just that I promised that seller I would keep it confidential for him."

"You know, reputation is the most important thing in business."

He deliberately emphasized the word "seller".

Who was Sultan? He understood immediately.

He was holding out for a better price.

He smiled indifferently and held up two fingers.

"Two billion dollars."

"Interest-free loan."

"To support the post-war reconstruction of our brothers in Iraq."

Saddam's eyelid twitched, but his face remained calm.

He shook his head with a troubled look.

"This isn't about money, Sultan, this is about principles."

"Three billion."

Sultan increased the offer decisively.

"My dear brother, three billion dollars! You and I both know what this money means."

"As long as you help me make the connection, this money can be wired to your account tomorrow."

Gulp.

Saddam's Adam's apple bobbed.

Three billion... dollars... interest-free!

If this money arrived, he could re-equip his army from head to toe all over again!

What kind of bullshit principles? In front of three billion dollars, that's nothing!

He put down his teacup heavily, a look of determination on his face.

"Alright! For the unbreakable friendship between our two countries! I will help you with this!"

"However, I cannot tell you directly who he is. But I can arrange for his representative to meet with you."

"Tonight, I will hold a party at the Presidential Palace, and at that time, I will introduce him to you."

"Great!" Sultan was overjoyed. "I knew you were the brother I could trust the most!"

That night, the Presidential Palace was brightly lit and crowded with celebrities.

Big shots from all walks of life in Iraq gathered together, clinking glasses, and the atmosphere was lively.

Kian was dressed in a well-fitting suit, holding a glass of champagne, standing quietly in a corner, observing everything.

He was like an experienced hunter, waiting for the prey to enter his line of sight.

Soon, Saddam led Prince Sultan toward him.

"Mr. Kian, this is Prince Sultan of The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, my good brother."

Saddam introduced him enthusiastically.

"Your Highness the Prince, this is Mr. Kian, a... very influential businessman."

Kian and Sultan shook hands, sizing each other up.

"I've heard so much about you, Your Highness the Prince." Kian's smile was just right, neither servile nor overbearing.

"Mr. Kian, nice to meet you." Sultan's eyes were sharp, and he got straight to the point. "I think we have some common business to discuss."

Seeing this, Saddam smiled knowingly.

"You two chat; I have other guests to attend to."

After saying this, he turned and left, leaving space for the two of them.

Sultan signaled for his attendants to step back and said directly to Kian.

"Mr. Kian, I won't beat around the bush. The f-15 "eagle" fighter jet of the Iraqi Air Force was provided by you, right?"

Kian neither admitted nor denied it, just smiled and raised his glass.

"Your Highness the Prince, our company provides various products to satisfy all reasonable needs of our customers."

This answer said everything.

"Very good!" Sultan was very satisfied with this efficiency. "I need the f-15 "eagle" fighter jet, the latest model, and the more, the better!"

"Besides that, M1 main battle tanks, 'apache' attack helicopters... as long as it is equipment currently in service with the Americans, we want it all!"

He paused, his tone filled with unquestionable bravado.

"Money is not a problem."

"Any problem, here in The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, is not a problem."

Kian's face still wore a professional smile.

"I have noted down Your Highness the Prince's procurement list. However, for such a big business deal, I need to report to my boss."

"Of course." Sultan nodded. "That is only right. I will wait for your news."

"Please leave a secure contact method, and my boss will communicate with you personally," Kian said.

Sultan handed Kian a gold-stamped business card, which had only a satellite phone number on it.

"You can call this number at any time; there is someone to answer it twenty-four hours a day."

"Happy to do business with you, Your Highness the Prince."

"I hope so."

Leaving the noisy party, Kian quickly returned to the hotel.

He locked the door, drew the curtains, and took out an encrypted satellite phone from a specially made suitcase.

He dialed a number he knew by heart.

The phone rang three times before it was answered.

"It's me," Kian said in a low voice.

A young man's voice, filled with laughter, came from the other end of the line.

"Kian, you've worked hard. Looks like the fish has taken the bait?"

The person speaking was none other than David, far away in Riyadh, the capital of The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia.

That's right, he was in Prince Sultan's home turf, leisurely drinking coffee and remote-controlling all of this.

"Boss, your 'fishing' tactic is truly brilliant," Kian couldn't help but laugh as well.

"A super big fish. Prince Sultan of The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia wants the Americans' full combo; he started by asking for f-15 "eagle" fighter jet and M1s, and even said money is not a problem."

"Hahaha, those wealthy despots, it's standard procedure," David's laughter was relaxed.

"If we don't let them get anxious, they'll think advanced weapons are like Chinese cabbage at the market, something you can just pick and choose at will."

"Then we...?" Kian asked for instructions.

"Take it!" David said decisively. "Why not take it? There's no reason not to do business that comes to your doorstep."

"It's not just The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia; during this period, other countries will definitely come knocking through various channels. Don't turn anyone away, take all the orders for me!"

"Understood!"

"One more thing." David's tone became a bit more serious.

"Go and give Saddam a nudge. Tell him the final payment for the first batch of planes and the advance payment for the second batch are due."