Chapter 342 - 125: Trip to Tehran (2)

Chapter 342: Chapter 125: Trip to Tehran (2)

The two got into a black Mercedes-Benz. The car left the airport and drove through the streets of Tehran.

Werner sized up the city through the car window. Most of the buildings were drab and gray, their walls covered in bullet holes and slogans.

Occasionally, military trucks drove past, their cargo beds packed with soldiers armed to the teeth.

On the sidewalks, women in black robes hurried past, their heads bowed.

"What’s Tehran like now?" Werner asked.

Fahad glanced at him in the rearview mirror. "Tensions are high. The Revolutionary Guard is purging dissidents everywhere. Just the other day, they arrested a few foreign journalists, accusing them of being spies."

"Doesn’t sound very safe."

"It isn’t." Fahad sighed. "But you don’t need to worry. Mr. Karim has arranged everything. I’ll be with you the entire time you’re in Tehran."

The car stopped on a wide avenue. This was Tehran’s commercial district, the street lined with high-end hotels and office buildings.

"We’re here," Fahad said. "Mr. Karim is waiting for you inside."

Werner got out of the car with his leather case and followed Fahad into a five-story office building.

They took the elevator to the fourth floor and walked into a spacious office.

Karim was sitting behind a desk, a pot of coffee and several plates of pastries laid out before him.

Seeing Werner enter, he immediately stood up, his arms spread wide.

"Werner!" Karim walked over and embraced him enthusiastically. "Old friend, you’re finally here!"

Karim was an Iranian man in his forties. He was short and stout, with a meticulously trimmed beard, and wore an expensive silk robe.

"Karim." Werner returned the embrace. "Long time no see."

"Indeed. When was the last time we met? 1980?" Karim led him to a seat and poured him a cup of tea. "Tehran has changed so much these past few years. I barely recognize the city anymore."

"That’s true." Werner picked up his teacup and took a sip. "The Revolutionary Guard is everywhere on the streets. The mood is very tense."

"Tense?" Karim burst out laughing. "It’s more than tense! It’s sheer madness! Khomeini and his cronies have made a complete mess of the country. But—" He lowered his voice, a cunning glint in his eye. "For people like us, chaos means opportunity."

"Which is why you’re still alive," Werner said with a smile.

"Haha, well said!" Karim slapped his thigh. "Enough pleasantries. Let’s get down to business. Are you interested in that big order I mentioned in the telegram?"

"Of course." Werner set down his teacup. "Otherwise, I wouldn’t have flown all the way out here myself."

Karim nodded, took a file from a drawer, and pushed it across to Werner.

"This is the buyer’s requisition list," he said. "Take a look."

Werner opened the file and quickly scanned through it.

The list detailed various weapons and equipment: ten thousand AK-47 rifles, five hundred RPG-7 rocket launchers, one thousand AT-3 anti-tank missiles, three hundred PKM machine guns, and assorted ammunition.

"That’s a sizable quantity," Werner said, looking up. "Who’s the buyer?"

"The Revolutionary Guard," Karim said in a low voice. "To be precise, a faction within the Guard. They need these weapons to equip their frontline troops but don’t want to go through official channels. They’re afraid their political rivals will come after them."

Werner was silent for a few seconds. "Why come to East Germany?"

"Because the Soviets are too bureaucratic and their prices are too high," Karim smiled. "They know East Germany has large stockpiles of weapons that are cheaper than what the Soviet Union offers, and delivery is faster. More importantly, you’re discreet. You won’t go advertising it."

Werner nodded. ’The explanation makes sense,’ he thought. ’East Germany’s Koko is indeed skilled at these sorts of gray-market deals, and with the intense factional struggles within the Revolutionary Guard, they would need to arm their forces in secret.’

"What’s the price?" Werner asked.

Karim scribbled some numbers on a piece of paper and pushed it over. "This is their offer. All in US Dollars. Half as a deposit, half upon delivery."

Werner glanced at the paper, his brow furrowing slightly.

"Five million US Dollars total?" he asked, looking up. "Karim, this price is too low. At current international rates, this shipment is worth at least eight million."

"I know." Karim held up his hands. "But they said if this deal goes smoothly, there will be long-term orders. They can also offer certain... conveniences. Like helping you establish secret warehouses in Iran, or assisting you in moving merchandise over to Iraq."

Werner fell silent for a long moment, quickly running the numbers in his head.

’Five million US Dollars is definitely below market rate, but if I can establish a long-term relationship, future profits could be ten times that, or even more.’

’Plus, with the protection of the Revolutionary Guard, my operations in Iran would be much safer.’

"Six million," Werner said. "That’s my bottom line."

Karim studied him for a moment before finally nodding. "I’ll talk to them. I should be able to make it happen."

"When can I meet the buyers?" Werner asked.

"Tomorrow night," Karim said. "They’ll arrange a secret location. You’ll have to go alone to meet their representative."

"Alone?" Werner frowned.

"It’s their rule." Karim shrugged. "The men in the Revolutionary Guard are a suspicious lot; they don’t like having too many people around. But don’t worry. I’ll have Fahad wait for you outside. You can contact him if there’s any trouble."

Werner considered this for a few seconds before finally nodding. "Alright, I agree."

"Excellent!" Karim clapped him on the shoulder. "I knew you had the guts. Come, let’s have a drink to celebrate our new partnership!"

He took a bottle of whiskey from a cabinet. Although the Khomeini regime had banned alcohol, a man like Karim always had his ways.

The two men clinked their glasses and downed the whiskey in one go.

Werner set down his glass and gazed out the window at the Tehran sky. The sun was rising, bathing the entire city in a golden light.

’He knew tomorrow night’s meeting would determine the success or failure of this deal, and with it, his standing in the Middle East arms market.’

’The risk was great, but the reward was greater.’

’This was the life he wanted: dancing on a knife’s edge and counting cash on a powder keg.’

**************

「The next evening, on the outskirts of Tehran.」

Fahad drove Werner through the crowded streets toward the edge of the city. The sun was setting, staining the sky a bloody red.

"Where are we going?" Werner asked.

"Somewhere safe," Fahad answered curtly. "The Revolutionary Guard picked the spot. It’s very secluded."

The car bounced along a dirt road before finally stopping at the gate of an abandoned factory.

The factory looked as though it had been abandoned for years. Its walls were peeling, its windows were broken, and the courtyard was overgrown with weeds.

"This is it?" Werner asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he took in the scene.

"That’s right." Fahad pointed toward the factory’s interior. "They’re waiting for you inside. I’ll be in the car. If there’s trouble, press this."

He handed Werner a small radio transmitter, about the size of a cigarette lighter.

"Press it, and I’ll come in," Fahad said.

Werner slipped the transmitter into his pocket, pushed the door open, and got out.

He crossed the courtyard and entered the main factory building. It was pitch-black inside, with only a faint light visible in the distance.

Werner walked toward the light and pushed open a rusted iron door.

Three men stood in the room.