Chapter 362: Chapter 362
Chapter 362
2-in-1-Chapter
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"Still, even though I cannot bring out that much money, it does not mean I am without gratitude."
"Mr. Leo, is it? Your proposal interests me. Our army is not only smaller than the anti-government forces, but in terms of combat effectiveness, it is also weaker. Bolivia does indeed need a group of professionals to help train our army. But..."
"Aurora PMC—this is a small contractor company, is it not? Established less than a year ago?"
The president’s doubt was understandable. Leo spread his hands and answered.
"That is correct. But Mr. President, with all due respect, the old giants that provide security services are still there—but can you afford their price?"
The president fell silent. After some time, he finally spoke. "Tell me your conditions."
Leo already knew the president would not reject his offer. The man had no choice. Especially after entering government-held territory and seeing firsthand the weakness of their forces, Leo had been certain of it. If the president did not want to be ousted, then he had no other path.
"We need land, to serve as our camp. We will provide your army with three months of intensive training, to at least give them the appearance of real soldiers. As for weapons..."
"Your light weapons can remain as they are. What you must replace are heavy machine guns, grenade launchers, and rocket launchers. On top of that, you will need armored vehicles and aircraft. Finally, there is cyberware. Full body conversion is unrealistic, but I recommend that every soldier be implanted with a Ballistic Coprocessor and a Smart Link."
The Ballistic Coprocessor enabled ricochet shots. If enemies hid behind cover, the ricochet could still strike them. The Smart Link was essential for smart weapons, allowing automatic aim and target tracking.
Even though it was 2077, in Latin America, Africa, and the Middle East, wars were still fought much like in the Second World War. The combination of upgraded infantry with vehicles was still the most effective mechanism.
The value of armored vehicles was that, whether advancing or defending, infantry could use them as cover while receiving heavy fire support in return. Aircraft were vital for air support, a difference as clear in 2077 as it had been a century earlier in World War II. An army of only infantry was never enough. No matter how well-trained, no matter how well-armed—even the United States elite Rangers had struggled in Mogadishu. It had been helicopters and armored units that ultimately pulled them out.
History proved again and again that flesh alone could not prevail in battle.
The old giants like Arasaka and Militech could afford to play with super-soldiers—men with subdermal armor, secondary hearts, Ballistic Coprocessors, Smart Links, Kerenzikov, Sandevistan, Reinforced Tendon boosters, Kiroshi Optics Mk.3, and more. But such super-soldiers were only possible for the old corporations. For the Bolivian Army, it was unthinkable.
The cost was astronomical. A handful of them could achieve little on the battlefield; enough to make an impact was financially impossible. Bolivia could not even dream of it.
After hearing Leo’s proposal, the president’s expression revealed temptation. But...
"Our finances are already strained. I fear we cannot pay so many euros."
Leo had anticipated this. If the president had real money, his army would not have been carrying such poor weapons, nor would their vehicles be outnumbered by even the improvised trucks of the insurgents.
"That is not a problem. Bolivia is one of the world’s richest regions in mineral resources. Simply grant me the rights to certain mining concessions."
Seeing hesitation, Leo added, "Mr. President, if you are concerned, you do not need to give me government-held mines. The anti-government forces control much of this land. Give me their mines. Your army does not need to interfere—we will handle it ourselves."
The president had been unwilling because his control over mineral resources was already tenuous, and they were the only thing binding the government forces to him. But if Leo wanted only the mines under insurgent control, and Aurora PMC would deal with the problem independently, then what reason remained to refuse?
"Very well. I will use the mining resources in insurgent territory as payment for what you provide. The specific details we must still negotiate."
"Of course."
After several hours of bargaining, they reached terms. Aurora PMC would provide the Bolivian Army with fifty Militech Basilisk armored vehicles and twenty Militech Manticore heavy combat AVs. In addition, they would supply fifteen hundred sets of squad weapons—kinetic, tech, smart, and rocket launchers. Aurora PMC would also provide three years of training.
In return, the president would grant Aurora PMC three mines: two gold, one copper.
No limits on duration.
The mines and the surrounding land would belong to Aurora PMC outright, with full sovereignty. Bolivia would have no right to interfere.
Only one small request came from the president: one percent of the mining profits, not for the state, but for him personally—deposited discreetly in a Swiss e-bank account.
Both sides parted on good terms.
That evening, at the president’s invitation, Leo attended a lavish banquet. Later, he retired to the room prepared for him. After meeting briefly with V and Lucy, he placed a call.
The line rang for nearly thirty seconds before Meredith Stout’s surprised, wary voice came through.
"Leo?"
"Ms. Stout. It’s been a while. I hear you’ve been promoted."
Ever since the incident with the Maelstrom gang, Meredith had been brought deeper into Militech’s confidence. Now, she oversaw Militech’s entire Night City division, answering only to Washington. In practice, she was a sovereign power in her own right.
"What do you want?" Her tone was cold.
She and Leo had never been close. They had cooperated once, but afterwards had little contact. Over time, she had nearly forgotten him.
Once, she thought he might become another Night City legend. But later she heard he had gone outside the city and built a private military company. That had not impressed her.
Not only in Night City, but across the entire world, small companies were the same. Even if they managed to survive, they were forced to eke out a precarious existence. With the current global order, no small enterprise had any chance of true development.
Meredith never expected Leo to contact her. She hesitated for a moment, torn between doubt and curiosity, but in the end she accepted the call. She wanted to hear what Leo was looking for.
Leo spoke directly.
"I want to purchase fifty Basilisk IFVs and twenty Militech Manticores."
Meredith frowned.
"Do you even have that kind of money?"
"Name your price."
"One Basilisk costs 8.5 million eurodollars. A Manticore runs at 10 million per unit. Altogether, your order comes to six hundred and twenty-five million eurodollars. Can you pay that much?"
"It’s only six hundred and twenty-five million. I can. But I don’t trust electronic transfers with that kind of sum. Tell me a time. We’ll meet, and I’ll hand you the money face to face."
Meredith was stunned at Leo’s extravagance. Did this man win the lottery? How could he speak so casually about hundreds of millions, agreeing to a deal of such scale without even blinking?
Still, weapons manufacturing had always been one of Militech’s strongest pillars. If someone wanted to buy, Militech would not refuse—so long as the buyer was not Arasaka, their sworn rival. And besides, the Basilisk and the Manticore were older models, decades out of date. Selling them from storage did not pose any real risk of strengthening an enemy.
Meredith considered the situation carefully. According to protocol, business was always a simple matter of cash on delivery. If Leo could produce the funds, she could authorize the release of stock directly from Militech’s warehouses. There was no need for betrayal or deception. The deal was substantial, but not unprecedented, and for the corporations, credibility mattered—at least when dealing with wealthy clients.
"Fine. If you can bring the money, I can get you what you want."
"Good. I’ll be in touch when the time comes."
After ending the call, Leo immediately made another call to Rogue.
After the usual pleasantries, he cut to the point.
"Rogue, I need to borrow six hundred and twenty-five million."
In her private booth at Afterlife, Rogue’s eyelids twitched hard.
"You do realize you’re talking about over six hundred million eurodollars, not Zimbabwean banknotes, right?"
"Of course."
If it had been anyone else, Rogue would have hung up and blocked the number immediately. But this was Leo. She knew him, and she knew he never joked—least of all about something like this.
So she listened.
"You must understand, this is a colossal amount. Even for me, producing that much would mean tearing flesh from bone."
"Rogue, you and I go back a long way. But unless you give me a reason, I can’t loan you that kind of money."
Leo answered steadily.
"You lend me six hundred and twenty-five million. Within five years, at most, I will return seven hundred million to you."
The Bolivian president had just signed over two medium-scale gold mines to Aurora PMC. Normally, a medium mine generated profits ranging from tens of millions to several hundred million annually. Even at the most conservative estimate, tens of millions each year was guaranteed. Together, the two mines could produce close to two hundred million in profit. And that did not even account for the copper mine.
Five years was more than enough to repay Rogue with seven hundred million.
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