Victor Bout felt as if he was shining, "Of course, no problem, Mr. Guzman, do you need elite soldiers?"
"The 'Zheleznyak' combat division has more than 200 soldiers leaving active service. I have a good relationship with their general and hoped I could find them work. Do you need them? They can operate tanks and handle ground weapons."
"An intermediary fee of only 600 US dollars per person is required, but you'll have to cover the travel expenses, and the salary needs to be negotiated by you."
At this point, Guzman had no idea what to say.
You're seriously the best partner of the Drug Association.
"Yes! There's absolutely no problem with the salary, but I also hope they can come to help me as soon as possible. I am in urgent need of manpower as I'm fighting with the Anti-Drug Force in Mexico."
"Victor?" Victor Bout asked with raised eyebrows.
"Of course, he reminds me of Friedrich Wilhelm Viktor Albert von Hohenzollern (William II), interestingly, they both have Victor in their name, both so cruel!"
Guzman had never heard this name; he wasn't well-read, no clue what that long name was all about.
"So, I need a lot, a lot of people, you could completely help me bring over an armored division, I can definitely afford it."
Victor Bout was very forthright, "As long as you need them, it's completely no problem."
As long as your money is in place, they could all retire within an hour.
Don't think it's an exaggeration, after the Millennium, many wealthy nations, greasy with wealth, a cloth over their heads: the richest of all on earth. They are still parading T62s when even African big brothers have moved onto T72s!
As long as you pay, there's nothing I won't sell.
I can't decide, but there are people above who can.
Under Victor Bout's assurance, Guzman hired him as the "HR" of the "North American Drug Syndicate" to help recruit people willing to come to Mexico or the Latin American region for combat.
Preferably, those without any moral scruples.
After all, people are nearly starving at home, where would they get the scruples from.
Not much longer, if this kept up, he'd have to bury himself.
A standard soldier's intermediary fee was 200 US dollars, a technical worker's was 600 US dollars, and if it was a pilot it reached 2000 US dollars.
For drug traffickers, transporting a shipment next door would damn well enlist a lot of people.
Money, they had plenty of!
"Bout, do you sell production lines?"
After hanging up the phone, Victor Bout still had a somewhat lingering sense of happiness on his face.
Guzman was just too okay!
He had spent at least 1.2 billion US dollars at his place.
This was a major customer.
He absolutely couldn't let him die; if he died, his own performance couldn't be guaranteed.
Victor Bout hesitated for a moment and then made a call to a familiar general.
"Hello, Ambroliet, it's me, Bout, do you want to make money?"
"I need 2000 professional soldiers!"
"Can't fit in your armored division? How many can you take then? 600?," Victor Bout pondered for a moment, "How about I give you 1000 rubles (about 30 US dollars) per person? That's right, of course, I would think of you when I am making money. You are my good classmate."
"Great! No problem, what's the job?"
Victor Bout thought for a second, "Go to the Latin American region to stir up trouble for the Americans and their lapdogs."
"The salary is high, all-inclusive for lodging and food, just bring a bag, and there's even a pension if you die."
"Okay, then get the paperwork done quickly, it's three hours till dawn, I need them by tomorrow."
"No problem, I'll buy you a drink at that time."
After hanging up the phone, Victor Bout wore a satisfied smile, then continued to make calls to other generals he knew.
I've really put in a lot for you.
Indeed, no matter where, wealthy people really can do whatever they want.