Chapter 82
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Chapter 82: The Red Scorpion Flag of Aysulu
"Those of us in this line of work know that when we wield a knife against someone else’s throat, theirs is already at our necks," Yakov said with self-deprecation, shifting his gaze to Lin Mo. "Is Aji’s family doing alright?" It was clear that Yakov had a close relationship with Aji.
"Aji’s wife has also died. He only had a son left named Buka. When I found him, he was already an orphan, mingling with a bunch of other homeless kids. They went hungry every day with no one to care for them. When I left, I entrusted him and those kids to my Kazakh friend. If you have some time, you can go see them. My Kazakh friend is called Buranbai, and I arranged for his second son, Baletaberke, to take Buka and the others to the grasslands near Aji’s town," Lin Mo recounted Aji’s death, explaining the whole story he had extracted from Ralph, the man who killed Aji. He pulled out his iPad from his backpack to show Yakov a photo of Buka.
Yakov gazed at Buka’s hopeful face, his rough fingers sliding slowly across the iPad screen. With a kind smile, he murmured, "Aji’s son looks really handsome. When he grows up, he’ll make a great herder. The girls will surely fall in love with him."
"It’s also not a good idea for Aji’s son Buka to follow people like us—those who live day by day. Morin, thank you so much!" Yakov felt a strong fondness for Lin Mo, whom he was meeting for the first time. Although he hadn’t heard Aji mention Lin Mo before, bringing Aji’s broken-tip knife and arranging for Aji’s son’s future was a kindness that could not go unnoticed.
"Tell me, Morin, what do you need us to do this time? Just say it—when the bullets rain down like a sandstorm, I, ‘Lone Wolf’ Yakov, will not frown," Yakov promised, slapping his chest and completely lowering his guard towards Lin Mo. Lin Mo’s sincerity and actions earned him Yakov’s utmost respect.
"My target this time is to take out the Red Scorpion’s air force base. If possible, I’d like to eliminate Lawrence Cotler— the guy nicknamed ‘Golden Scorpion Tail,’" Lin Mo stated directly, pulling out a bag the size of a soccer ball and placing it in front of Yakov. "This is the reward. I won’t ask you to work for free; everything will be done according to the rules."
"What is this?" Yakov asked, puzzled, as he accepted the bag and opened it. His eyes widened instantly. "This is…" He struggled to swallow, never imagining his heart could receive such intense stimulation.
Yakov stammered, overwhelmed by the sight of gold bars and thick stacks of dollars inside the bag, a stunning fortune that dazzled his eyes.
This was all loot Lin Mo had seized from Ralph, the gang leader of a nearby town. Originally, his funds were only enough to approach the Red Scorpion’s controlled area and find a way to infiltrate it quietly.
But now, with such wealth, Lin Mo could afford to hire Yakov’s team, giving him an unexpected army at his disposal. Although Lin Mo regarded their combat effectiveness as lacking, they had been in battle and were brave fighters.
This was part of the "agent" rules and a big business. Friendships matter, but so do deals. Yakov’s eyes reddened as he gasped and swallowed hard, declaring, "You can’t catch wolves without sacrificing some sheep, I’m in!"
Risk brings riches, and Yakov understood Lin Mo’s meaning. This was a major transaction, and without hesitation, he agreed. He quickly tied up the bag, his mind racing. After this deal, he planned to recruit new fighters for his team and upgrade their old, worn-out AKs, which had worn grooves in their barrels and were less effective than bayonets.
Lin Mo had no idea that the cost he was paying was enough to secure the loyalty of ten Yakovs, but at least he had made the deal.
However, unforeseen circumstances disrupted Lin Mo’s plans and introduced unpredictable changes.
In a basin with a sizable oasis in the Kyzylkum Desert, locals called this place Aysulu, meaning "beautiful moon." At the center of the basin was a lake, one of the few abundant water sources in the desert.
The basin had a small amount of arable land used for growing drugs and vegetables, and nearly fifty thousand people lived around the lake, making it one of the largest population centers in the desert. Caravan traders traversing the desert would choose this location as a resting place, making it a significant desert transit hub.
Aysulu had its own administrative and law enforcement system. The soldiers clad in desert camouflage were neither part of the Kazakhstan government nor the Uzbekistan government; they only belonged to the local Red Scorpion armed organization. Everywhere displayed the logo or flag of a red scorpion with raised pincers on a yellow background, representing the notorious desert Red Scorpion.
The shimmering surface of the Round Moon Lake reflected countless spots of sunlight like pieces of gold. The unique microclimate within the basin made it far more comfortable than the surrounding sandy sea, allowing people to avoid breathing in the exceptionally dry air. They could jump into the lake anytime and enjoy the cool waters.
On the lake, several beautiful Persian women clad in bikinis laughed and splashed in the water, their curves appearing and disappearing in the waves, enough to spark desire in any man.
A large Cuban cigar rested on the edge of an ashtray. The hand that set down the cigar picked up a crystal goblet from a small table, filled with bright red Bordeaux wine, gently swaying and releasing its sweet aroma.
The owner of the hand lifted the goblet to his lips and drank it all in one go, squinting as he surveyed the mermaids frolicking nearby, enjoying the delightful afternoon sun.
"Mr. Lawrence, a two hundred strong team has appeared on the border of Aysulu. They said they were driven away by the government forces and came here to find some food," a young man wearing an Islamic-style cap reported, bowing slightly and keeping his head down, afraid to show any disrespect. His eyes were fixated on his toes.
"Do we know whose team it is?" Lawrence set down his wine glass, his tone cultured and smooth as he glanced at the young man reporting to him.
"It’s Lone Wolf Yakov’s team. They originally had about two hundred people, but now there are fewer than a hundred left."
"These guys only think of themselves when it suits them, all scattered like loose sand. They pride themselves on the glory of being the head of a chicken instead of the tail of an ox. Now they finally understand the benefits of resting beneath a big tree," he murmured to himself, nodding. "Okay, after we break them up, arrange for them to join Natasha’s team. Get a few people to watch them and see if there are any issues."
"Yes, Mr. Lawrence!" The young man bowed respectfully as he withdrew.
The empty goblet on the small table was refilled by a nearby servant with a thin layer of Bordeaux red wine. Lawrence took another sip, pondering for a moment before snapping his fingers. "Have someone check how our recent arms merchant teams are performing. Compile a report for me. Also, see how much liquid capital we have left; I’ll be needing it soon."
"Yes!" A Slovak man dressed in a light-colored suit nodded in response to Lawrence’s command and quickly made his way out.
As the focus returned to Lawrence, he appeared as a charming, middle-aged Caucasian man. His thick brown hair was slicked back, and he exuded the aura of a powerful figure with a commanding presence.
He was indeed the leader of the Red Scorpions, Lawrence Cotler, whom Colonel Xie Fengdao had introduced to Captain Feng as the mastermind behind the organization. He firmly controlled all operations within the Red Scorpions, profiting through arms production and drug smuggling, and he was one of the most influential armed organization chiefs in this desert.
"Lawrence, you’re living quite comfortably!" A young man with dark hair appeared beside the Red Scorpion leader, helping himself to a cigar worth dozens of dollars from the cigar box on the small table. He quickly snipped both ends and produced a ZIPPO lighter, performing a smooth flick of his wrist that ignited one end.
"Mm, mm, great smoke! Great smoke!" The young man puffed on the cigar, not appearing to be of Central Asian descent but resembling an ordinary young person from East Asia, thin with bright, spirited eyes, wearing sunglasses—more like someone from China, Japan, or Singapore.
Lawrence Cotler seemed quite cultured, showing remarkable tolerance towards the young man’s uninvited behavior, and rather curiously asked, "Haus, you’re back. How did it go?"
"Unfortunately, I was a step late. The line was cut. It seems someone noticed. All the ‘nails’ I set up were pulled out. I didn’t dare touch the few deep ones and will wait until the moment passes. Business isn’t good right now. We were so close to getting China’s ‘Pioneer-4’ air defense missile and ‘Red Arrow-8’ anti-tank missile, which would have allowed us to gain connections for counterfeiting, thus creating another revenue stream. But sadly, we fell just short, and our entire team was wiped out before we even reached the border. We suffered significant losses, and the Chinese military even deployed fighter jets over this. Those pilots are something else; they couldn’t shoot down the ‘Pioneer-4.’ Could it be the J-10 has many undisclosed capabilities? I’ve heard the ‘Pioneer-4’ is superior to the Stinger. I’m wondering if we should target the J-10 next time," the dark-haired East Asian young man, referred to as Haus by Lawrence, spoke as he exhaled smoke rings.
