8: Safety is the top priority.

Gomez fell into deep thought.

His thick fingers unconsciously tapped on the armrest of the lounge chair, making a dull sound.

Arce leaned into his ear and quickly spoke in a voice only the two of them could hear.

"Boss, the 'buk' is too conspicuous, our men can't operate it, and once the Government Army' planes spot it, we won't be able to escape."

"But small toys like the 'stinger' can't shoot down real fighter jets; they can only scare helicopters."

Gomez nodded slightly; Arce had voiced his concerns.

He raised his head, and his cloudy eyes flashed with the decisiveness and ruthlessness of a powerful figure.

"I want them all... no, I want a combination."

He stared at David and said in a deep voice, "For the portable ones, I want fifty units."

"But I also need stronger firepower—weapons that can cover my manor and lock down a section of airspace."

"The 'buk' system you mentioned is too cumbersome. Is there a compromise option?"

The corner of David's mouth curled up slightly.

He knew it would be like this.

For these drug lords, portable missiles are the "spear," used for active offense.

But they also need a "shield" to protect their lair.

"Of course there is."

David snapped his fingers.

"M247, the 'sergeant york' Self-Propelled Anti-Aircraft Gun System."

"It has a tracked chassis, strong off-road capability, is equipped with two 40mm Bofors autocannons, and includes a fire control radar and short-range anti-aircraft missiles."

"It's not as complex as the 'buk'; a few people can operate it, and it can hit and run."

"Although it can't deal with top-tier goods like the F-22, it can intercept the f-15 'eagle' fighter jet and A-10 attack aircraft."

"Or shooting down drones and armed helicopters in the sky—it's more than enough."

"The most crucial thing is that it can move."

"Whether you live or die depends entirely on you."

Gomez and Arce exchanged glances, both seeing excitement in the other's eyes.

This was exactly what they wanted!

It possessed both powerful anti-aircraft firepower and hit-and-run mobility—it was practically tailor-made for them!

"Good! I want ten of these 'sergeant yorks'!" Gomez declared, making the final decision with a wave of his hand.

"For the portable ones, as you said, give me fifty units of the 9K32. That thing is cheap and effective."

"Then..." Gomez rubbed his hands together, his eyes growing fervent, "Mr. David, let's calculate the total price."

"No problem."

David took out his phone and pretended to use the calculator.

In reality, his consciousness had sunk into the System Store, rapidly browsing prices.

[Ka-50 Armed Helicopter: 15 units x 16 million = 240 million]

[humvee (including m2 heavy machine gun modification): 35 units x 200,000 = 7 million]

[smaw rocket launcher: 120 units x 15,000 = 1.8 million]

[9K32 Portable Anti-Aircraft Missile: 50 units x 80,000 = 4 million]

[M247 'sergeant york': 10 units x 10.53 million = 105.3 million]

"The total price is three hundred fifty-eight million one hundred thousand US dollars."

David quoted a number accurate to the hundred thousand.

Gomez and Arce didn't even blink.

For this batch of arms, enough to overthrow the regime of a small Central American country, the price could even be considered fair.

"We can forget the change," David said lightly. "Three hundred fifty-eight million."

He proactively dropped one hundred thousand US dollars, showing sincerity and making it easier for the other party to calculate.

This was a small psychological trick to make the client feel they got a deal.

However, Gomez's reaction was unexpected.

"No, no, no!"

Gomez waved his hand, grinning widely and revealing teeth stained yellow by cigars.

"Mr. David, you are too stingy! I like round numbers!"

He held up three fingers, then gestured a six.

"Three hundred sixty million! That settles it!"

He instantly added nearly two million US dollars for David!

David was stunned for a moment, then he laughed.

Holy crap, this client is great. If he has money, he really pays!

"Mr. Gomez, you are truly generous."

"Hahahaha!" Gomez laughed heartily. To him, this amount of money was nothing; what mattered was face and prestige.

"Oh, right," Gomez suddenly remembered something. "How are the bullets for the m2 heavy machine guns on the humvees calculated?"

"Twelve point seven millimeter rounds, twelve US dollars per hundred rounds," David casually quoted the price.

This price was a little unscrupulous, but for Gomez, it was merely pocket change.

"Give me five hundred thousand rounds," Gomez said without thinking.

"No problem," David readily agreed.

"The list is settled, so what about delivery?" Gomez dropped his smile, his expression turning serious. "When can it arrive?"

This was the key.

David pondered for a moment, held up one finger, and then added four more.

"Fifteen days."

He thought to himself that as long as the money arrived, he could materialize everything from the System within five minutes.

But he couldn't say that.

Saying it would either treat the customer like an idiot or make himself sound like a god.

Fifteen days was a timeframe that sounded very reasonable, perhaps even a bit fast.

Unexpectedly, Gomez shook his head.

"That's too fast."

"Mr. David, I'm not in a hurry."

"My people need time to clear an absolutely safe route to ensure this shipment can be transported in without fail."

He stared at David and said word by word, "Safety is the priority. I would rather wait longer."

"I'll give you thirty days. Deliver the goods to my designated location within thirty days. Is that acceptable?"

David understood instantly.

This old fox wasn't just worried about transportation safety.

He was also giving himself time to verify David's identity and monitor his movements.

"Of course, no problem." David shrugged carelessly.

"Good!" Gomez was completely relieved. He slapped his thigh suddenly. "Arce, go, bring Mr. David's deposit!"

"Yes, Boss!"

Arce turned and left. Soon, several burly men carried several heavy metal boxes over.

The boxes were opened, revealing stacks of neatly arranged hundred-dollar bills.

The stacks were sealed with plastic wrap, emitting the distinct smell of ink and money.

"Forty percent deposit, one hundred fifty million US dollars, it's all here." Gomez pointed to the boxes, speaking with great confidence.

"Mr. David, you may inspect the goods."

David didn't even glance at it, merely tilting his head toward Pedro behind him.

Pedro immediately stepped forward, took out a small money counter, and skillfully began spot-checking.

Throughout the entire process, David remained leaning back in the lounge chair, slowly sipping his drink.

It was as if the pile of cash before him, enough to drive anyone mad, was just a stack of scrap paper.

This demeanor made Gomez feel even more certain that he had found the right person.

A few minutes later, Pedro returned to David's side and whispered, "Boss, everything checks out."

"Very good."

David stood up and extended his hand toward Gomez.

"It's a pleasure doing business, Mr. Gomez. Leave a secure contact method, and I will notify you before delivery."

"The pleasure is mine!"

Gomez shook David's hand, and the two exchanged encrypted satellite phone numbers.

David, taking Pedro and the boxes of cash, turned and left decisively, without any lingering hesitation.

On the way back to Santa Cruz, Pedro focused on driving while David rested his eyes in the back seat.

The car was silent.

Suddenly, Pedro's voice came from the front, low and cautious.

"Boss, we have a tail."

"A black Chevrolet Suburban has been following us for ten minutes."

David didn't even open his eyes, merely asking faintly, "Is it the police or the military?"

"Neither," Pedro said, glancing at the rearview mirror.

"The people in the car are professional, maintaining a safe distance. They must be veterans. I guess... they are Gomez's men."

"Then don't worry about them."

David's tone was calm and steady.

"He just gave me one hundred fifty million US dollars. It would be strange if he didn't send someone to follow me. He's afraid I'll run off with the money."

He chuckled softly, a hint of mockery in his voice.

"Let them follow us. They can help us clear up any small troubles we might encounter on the road."

"Yes, Boss."

Pedro stopped talking and focused on driving.

The convoy sped along the road, finally arriving in Santa Cruz late at night.

David found a hotel to stay in, and the next morning, he made a phone call.

"Hello, is this Mr. Jack? I'm David. We spoke on the phone. I'd like to buy a property from you."

An enthusiastic voice came from the other end of the line: "Oh! Mr. David! Of course, I remember!"

"For the kind of suburban manor with a large tract of land you wanted, I have an excellent recommendation!"

"In the Hector region, near the mountains, there's a manor covering four and a half acres!"

"It has a private road and excellent privacy! The original owner's entire family immigrated to the US and is eager to sell, so the price is very favorable!"

David's spirits lifted.

This was exactly what he needed.

A large, hidden warehouse to store the arms he "materialized" from the System.

"That sounds good."

"I'll go take a look right now."