When the peddler he met in Kandahar claimed that he could get the needle missile he needed and another more advanced American-made Stinger missile, Valentin thought he was bragging.
But he still underestimated the skills of these natives with their hands and eyes.
Because of the form of security in Afghanistan, firearms are almost like a necessity in life.
Now in Afghanistan, even if people go out to the hospital to see a doctor, they will bring weapons with them.
Therefore, it is not impossible to sell guns and ammunition openly on the black market.
Behind the weapon stall owner apparently stood a team with strength and background, but in three days, Valentin saw these two individual anti-aircraft missiles belonging to different camps in the courtyard of the weapon stall owner's house.
The owner of the weapons stall brought a set of launchers for each of the Stinger and Needle missiles, as well as three of each of the two missiles.
Placed in different ammo boxes.
"I'm not surprised that you can get weapons from the Americans, but why can you even get weapons from the Soviets" Although Valentin was happy to get weapons, the former KGB was saddened by the corrupt military discipline of the Soviet army, after all, he was still serving his homeland not long ago.
Even now, his sense of mission still makes him want to understand how these Afghans traded with the scum of the Red Army.
"We have people in both the Afghan People's Army and the Mujahideen, and they are willing to exchange unused weapons for money," said the arms stall owner without reservation, who did not mind showing his close relationship with the Afghan government and the mujahideen to potential big buyers.
"And what price are you going to sell?"
Valentin inquired.
"The Soviets give $10,000 a missile, and a set of launchers for every three, and the Americans get about $15,000 for each missile, and a set of launchers for every three," the weapons stall owner replied to Valentin.
"Can it be cheaper?"
asked Valentin.
"This is already the cheapest, you know, we are the only ones who can get this kind of missile locally," the weapon stall owner firmly denied.
"Then you can get as much as you can get for this price, I want it all" Valentin said dryly, this time it is really a big profit, the Afghans do not know the actual price of these missiles, and buying weapons from them is the same as picking them up for nothing.
"That's all you can get at the moment, you know, my friend, the weapons are in the warehouse, and occasionally one or two are inconspicuous, but if they are emptied, they can be easily discovered," the weapon stall owner explained to Valentin.
Without hesitation, Valentin took out several bundles of green banknotes, each of which was a real $10,000.
After paying the weapons stall owner $75,000, Valentin rewarded his little henchman Qasim with a reward of $1,000, to everyone's delight.
"You're such a generous buyer, and it's a pleasure to do business with someone like you," the weapons stall owner said politely to Valentin.
"I feel the same way, and I hope that the next time I come back, I can buy more missiles," Valentin also politely replied.
"When are you going to come next time" The weapon stall owner was a little surprised, knowing that although the missile is huge, it is complicated to operate and the price is high, and few customers will be interested in this weapon, and Valentin is almost the biggest customer that the stall owner has met since he opened.
"It depends on when you can stock up here, I don't want to buy three or three of these missiles next, it's best to get me twenty at a time, you have to know that time is money, and wasting my time is just not going to get along with money," Valentin said triumphantly.
The owner of the weapons stall reluctantly shook Valentin's hand and sent him back to the hotel.
After arriving at the hotel, Valentin sent Kassym to look out for the wind, he picked up a satellite phone and dialed Petrov's number.
"Boss, I've got three Soviet-made and American-made ones each, and now the question is how to get these things back," Valentin reported to Petrov in a low voice.
"Pretty fast, where are you now?"
asked Daddy on the phone, satisfied.
"In Kandahar in southern Afghanistan, a city near Pakistan, although the road from here to Kabul is relatively safe, the road conditions on the road are too bad, the transport of missiles is unsafe, and there are still traces of guerrilla activities nearby," Valentin kept telling his difficulties on the phone, and now Valentin was eager to fly back to Moscow immediately and hand over the missiles to Petrov.
You must know that according to the previously agreed price, these missiles will bring Valentin a huge fortune of nearly $1.7 million.
Valentin didn't want to end up falling short on transportation.
"No question, you stay where you are now for a few more days, and I will find a way to send a plane to pick you up," Father Petrov said calmly.
"You're not kidding, flying planes," Valentin thought Petrov was telling another joke.
"Yes, the plane, you need a transport plane, I'm right, wait for us in a few days, we'll pick you up as quickly as possible," Daddy Petrov replied affirmatively.
Five days later, when Valentin saw a 144 modified cargo plane at the airfield of the Kandaha Soviet Army Air Base, he said in amazement: "These gangsters are really capable, they actually sent the fastest plane in the Soviet Union."
Valentin bought a property in Kandahar before leaving, leaving Qasim here waiting for him to come back again.
At the same time, he paid a deposit of about $10,000 to the arms vendor as the basis for his next sale.
Valentin's missiles were repackaged and placed inside a large, Afghan-style sculpture that was transported on the plane as artefacts.
He noticed that the airline indicated on the plane was called Mediterranean Shipping.
The pilot and crew of the plane were all Russians like Valentin, but Valentin was surprised to learn that the person who was transporting the cargo spoke Spanish.
"Hello Valentin, I'm Gomez, the Spanish translator of MSC," the other party introduced himself.
"Well, I would venture to ask, why did you send me a Spanish interpreter, aren't we going back to Russia?"
asked Valentin suspiciously.
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"No, we're going to fly to Medellin, Colombia to complete this business, and the boss told me that you're our product after-sales engineer and you're going to Colombia to show buyers the performance of the product," Gomez replied stupidly. t1706231537: