Sitting on the balcony of the Hotel Nacional in Havana, staring out at the turquoise sea and the distant coconut trees, Pierre began calculating in his mind.
Submachine guns were only the beginning. Next, he could provide more weapons—machine guns, maybe even artillery.
"Mortars are great. That Soviet 120mm mortar, for example—very effective and cheap..."
Once his imagination was unleashed, he wasn't just thinking about simple weapons anymore. Fixing his gaze on the coconut trees lining the shore and the beautiful tropical scenery before him, a flash of insight lit up his face with a confident smile.
"Yes, now that's the real stuff!"
Just then, someone approached his table.
"Hello, Miss Song."
Pierre stood up and pulled out a chair.
"Thank you, Young Li."
Song Bing expressed her gratitude. In fact, she knew exactly why her father had sent her to handle the negotiations—because… he was young, and close to her in age.
