Fu Haoran hung up the call from Olof and did not put down the phone immediately.
He stared at the call history on the screen for three seconds.
"JARVIS."
"I'm here, sir."
"Check Olof's call records to see who he talked to on the phone in the past week."
JARVIS responded quickly, "Sir, Mr. Olof's communication data is protected by the United States military and cannot be retrieved directly."
"But according to the overlapping itinerary analysis of public flight records and business social platforms, he had a meeting with the head of Locke Sid Martin's military aviation department three days ago at Arizona Tucson."
"What else?"
"On the same night, his personal mobile phone had a communication with an encrypted number Pentagon, which lasted four minutes and twelve seconds. The owner of the encrypted number could not be confirmed."
Fu Haoran's fingers tapped on the table.
Pentagon.
He put down the phone and didn't ask any more questions.
1.8 billion US dollars to buy a sealed F-22 Raptors fighter jet complete assembly line, plus supporting processing equipment and some tooling drawings, and also comes with an Air Force bidding qualification.
Fu Haoran thinks this deal is a good deal.
That is Blue Star. At present, it is the only heavy-duty fifth-generation stealth fighter production line with complete combat capabilities.
US$1.8 billion may seem expensive, but compared to the R&D and manufacturing cost of Locke Sid Martin's entire line, which exceeded US$10 billion, it is already a bargain.
After all, in the eyes of United States people, this is just a pile of scrap metal that has been sealed for four years. If it can be sold for 1.8 billion, it is already a huge profit.
Of course, there are still additional conditions.
For example, if a production line is to be resold, it needs approval from Congress.
The production line cannot leave the Amerikan mainland.
Fu Haoran didn't dwell on this matter for too long.
"Whether it's a trap or not, let's get the things in hand first."
"The production line is dead, but it is alive no matter how you use it. Even if someone digs a hole, they must first determine where the hole is before they can go around it."
So, Fu Haoran found Kallen.
"My lord."
"Priest Kallen, Shardenhold, how is the progress over there?"
"Seventy-three percent of the main structure of the exterior wall has been completed, the cannon base has been poured, and it will take two weeks to hoist the cannon body."
Kallen paused.
"In addition, the first batch of materials you purchased has arrived. 400 motorcycle engines, 2,000 seamless steel pipes, a gas tank production line, and 300 tons of supporting raw materials. The quantity far exceeds the actual demand for the construction of the fortress."
"Sir, what should I do with the excess supplies?"
Fu Haoran was immediately asked.
When he bought these things, he just wanted Hive City's industrial system to run first.
The motorcycle engine improves the mobility of Guerrilla Unit, the seamless steel pipe serves as a water pipeline in the mining area, and the gas tank solves the fuel storage problem... They are all used for people's livelihood.
The only problem is that Fu Haoran thought it was too cheap and accidentally bought too much.
Since the money has been spent, it would be a shame to leave it alone.
In line with the mentality of recycling waste, Fu Haoran took out his mobile phone, flipped through it a few times, and handed it to Kallen: "I found some information on the Internet, see if you can use it."
Kallen opened the attachment, and the mechanical prosthetic eye scanned the drawings.
The next second, his processor crashed.
What is shown on the drawing is that seamless steel pipes were converted into rockets, gas tanks were converted into mortar shells, and pressure cookers were converted into anti-infantry mines.
This is no different from the behavior of Orks and those Orks madmen who put together garbage!
How could I, the dignified Machine Cult Tech-Priest, be reduced to doing such a shameful thing?
Once word gets out, how can I hang out in Mechanicus Cult in the future?
Kallen's first reaction was to sternly refuse, but just as he was about to speak, he suddenly stopped.
He stared at the drawing for a few seconds, and a dusty memory was opened.
This idea of using gas tanks as warheads actually coincides with the underlying logic of designing siege grenades when he was still Gear Kid.
Is this the guidance of Omnissiah?
In the end, Priest Kallen made a decision that violated the canon of Machine Cult.
"Okay, I will arrange it."
While Kallen was talking, he forged the identity of a low-level apprentice named "Gear Kid Cam" and attributed all the transformation designs to this virtual character.
Kallen thought repeatedly in his heart: Even if he is discovered by his colleagues in the future, he can still shirk it as an apprentice below and it has nothing to do with me, Priest Kallen!
"Omnissiah witnesses, I have no idea about this!"
"You asked where that Gear Kid Cam went? Oh, I have thrown him into the incinerator for humanitarian destruction. Living for one second longer for such a heretic is a blasphemy against Machine Spirit!"
"This is Gear Kid's idea and has nothing to do with me Kallen!"
A few days later, a group of military vehicles drove into the DYB factory.
Fu Haoran has set aside a dedicated workshop for this production line.
As the fleet unloads the goods, the equipment is hoisted into place one by one.
After the workers finished unloading the things, they patted their butts, got in the car and left.
Fu Haoran stopped the officer leading the team. "Where are the engineers? Where are the people who installed and debugged?"
The officer shrugged. "We are only responsible for transportation, we don't know anything else."
Fu Haoran dialed the number of Olof.
"Brother, I am only responsible for sales, not after-sales." Olof's voice was confident, "Otherwise you think you can buy an F-22 production line for 1.8 billion U. S. dollars? The severance pay for engineers alone is more than this amount."
$1.8 billion will give me a bunch of equipment that no one will teach or debug?
Fu Haoran suppressed his anger and asked, "Where is the original engineer?"
"Who knows, either in a pub or as a homeless man on the street. You also know that the production line has been closed for four years. Those who should be dismissed should be dismissed, and those who should be retired should be retired." Olof smiled, "Mr. Fu, I wish you good luck."
"Are you kidding me? Olof! Or how much do you think your life is worth?"
Hearing the killing intent in Fu Haoran's words, Olof was immediately frightened.
He is a racist, not an idiot.
If he really wants to offend someone, he can't guarantee that the other person won't spend a small amount of money to find an addict, give him a black gun, and shoot him.
This kind of basic behavior is too common in United States.
"That's all, you are working for others anyway, don't get yourself involved."
Olof laughed and said, "Fu, don't get excited, calm down, calm down."
"I have the contact information of those engineers here. How many you can contact depends on your luck."
"Besides, I'm just an errand boy. I can't make a decision on this kind of thing."
Fu Haoran heard what Olof meant - someone was behind this matter.
The phone hung up.
"It seems you have been tricked?" Lucifer asked knowingly.
"This is a little trouble, do you need my help?"
Lucifer rarely lends a helping hand.
However, Fu Haoran refused without thinking.
"No need." Fu Haoran raised his eyes and said in a cold tone, "I want to show Amerikan people that I can open the road they blocked."
Lucifer raised her eyebrows and said nothing more. She still couldn't understand why this kind of carbon-based creature wanted to act on its own initiative. There was obviously a shortcut available, but it insisted on confronting the enemy head-on.
However, from Fu Haoran's perspective, he spent 1.8 billion to buy a bunch of iron lumps and could not return them.
This is to punish yourself to death, and this hatred has been forged.
"Jimmy."
"Boss."
"Go to Arizona Tucson and get Locke Sid Martin's engineer who was in charge of this production line back to me."
"Those who are retired, those who have been laid off, and those who are wandering on the streets, as long as they are still alive, bring them back to me."
Jimmy This was not the first time he had done this kind of work, so he nodded and left immediately.
As a second-rate lawyer, he knows many people from all walks of life, and all of them are talents.
Jimmy led his people and turned Tucson's bars, motels, and homeless shelters upside down.
After a week, only more than 30 retired engineers were brought back, which was less than one-fifth of the original engineering team.
The rest have either been re-employed by Locke Sid Martin, or have died in poverty. There are also a group of people who cannot be contacted, and they are most likely drunk in some pub.
A complete F-22 assembly line has a core engineering team of about 150 to 200 people, plus skilled technical workers, for a total of 600 to 700 people.
Jimmy brought back more than thirty retired engineers, plus skilled workers scattered in various places, totaling less than eighty people.
Fu Haoran fell silent after listening to the report.
He is now very sure that he has been cheated.
Not a coincidence.
It was because someone expected that he could not find an engineer that he was asked to take over the production line.
Arizona Tucson, a private club.
Olof held the whiskey and clinked glasses with the official Pentagon opposite.
"That fool really bought it?"
"1.8 billion, every penny is a lot."
There was also a person sitting next to him, Australia Rio Tinto's former Asia Pacific president Harris.
He was defeated by Fu Haoran on the iron ore battlefield and lost his position. He got involved with Locke Sid Martin and became the broker of this transaction.
"That production line has been shut down for four years. The engineers who should be laid off have been laid off, and those who should be rehired have been rehired." Harris sneered, "Even if he has money, he can't find anyone. There is a pile of scrap metal, rotting in the warehouse, and in the end he has to dispose of it at a low price."
"Even if he wants to sell it, no one in United States will take over. Everyone is working on the F-35. Who wants the outdated F-22?"
"If he wants to sell it abroad, he can't get through Congress, so in the end he has no choice but to throw it away."
Harris held the wine glass with sinister eyes. "He ruined my job, and today I let him lose 1.8 billion US dollars."
"When he takes over the production line and the iron ore field, I can get my capital back with profits."
Several people looked at each other and smiled.
What they didn't know was that Fu Haoran was completely angry.
As the saying goes, the more you think about it for a while, the more angry you will be; the more you think about it when you step back, the more you will lose.
"United States There is no one? Then I will dig them from China."
Fu Haoran called Jimmy and gave the death order.
"Contact all domestic aviation manufacturing companies, Shenfei, Chengfei, Xifei. As long as they are experienced aviation engineers, I will recruit them."
"What are the conditions?" Jimmy asked.
"Poach people with high salaries. We will pay United States people whatever they want."
"If they want a green card, they can get a green card, or if they don't want a green card, they can be chartered every year to send them back to the country to visit relatives. They can even work in the country and provide remote support."
Fu Haoran paused and sneered.
"I don't believe it. I have the entire F-22 production line in my hands. Why can't I turn the global light fighter market upside down? They want to see my joke, but I have to build it for them to see."
Jimmy followed the order and left.
Shenfei, structural design office.
Li Jianguo's workstation is in the far corner of the office.
Forty-seven years old, PhD 985, he has been working in aviation for 20 years. The aerodynamic optimization project of a certain type of fighter aircraft he led won the National Science and Technology Progress Award. However, when evaluating professional titles, the quota always fell to him.
This time it was even more extreme.
A young man who was ten years younger than him took away the deputy senior position that should have belonged to him.
In the conference room, when the leader announced the list of names, Li Jianguo couldn't believe his ears.
He stood up, his voice not loud, but with uncontrollable anger. "Mr. Zhang, I have been doing this for twenty years and won the National Science and Technology Progress Award. Why can't I even be rated as deputy high-ranking officer? Why does he only come here for eight years?"
The leader patted him on the shoulder. "Old Li, management positions are not just about technology, but also about structure. You still have a chance, just wait."
"I'm almost fifty!" Li Jianguo's voice rose in pitch, "When will it be my turn? Will you wait until I retire?"
The smile on the leader's face froze.
People in the conference room lowered their heads and no one dared to speak.
Li Jianguo wanted to say something else, but the person next to him pulled his sleeve.
He took a deep breath, slammed the door and left.
The salary is over 10,000 yuan.
The old mother is undergoing uremia dialysis and needs to pay thousands of dollars a month. The children have to pay school selection fees to attend key junior high schools. The wife quarrels every day:
"You have a doctorate, but you are not even half as good as my best friend's husband, who earns one million a year to open a factory!"
Today, the leader labeled me as "too radical" again, and then I was snatched away as the deputy chief.
Li Jianguo was sitting at his workstation, staring at the computer screen, his eyes sore.
The phone rang.
"Mr. Li Jianguo? I am a headhunter. I would like to invite you to Amerikan Warhammer Heavy Industries Technology Company. The monthly salary is 50,000 US dollars, which is equivalent to an annual salary starting at more than 3 million yuan in RMB..."
Li Jianguo hung up the phone without waiting for the other person to finish speaking.
"Are all scammers these days so perfunctory? They offered me a million yuan annual salary and I've never heard of this Warhammer company."
The next day, the headhunter called again.
"Mr. Li, I am the headhunter yesterday. Don't worry, we are not liars."
"You can check Warhammer Arms Industry online. The parent company is DYB Technology."
"There has been a lot of news recently. We are going to enter the military industry and are setting up an aviation research and development team."
Li Jianguo didn't take it seriously.
The liar's words are all one after another.
On the third day, a man in a suit and tie stopped him.
"Hello Mr. Li, this is my business card. This is business information. Our company would like to invite you to visit our Amerikan headquarters. All travel expenses will be borne by the company."
"You can even bring your family to visit together, just in time for the long vacation."
Li Jianguo was stunned.
He has seen scammers make phone calls and send text messages, but he has never seen scammers dare to come directly to his door.
"What... do you do?"
"Build airplanes." The headhunter smiled and opened the news page on his mobile phone.
On the screen, there was a report that Warhammer Arms Industry announced its entry into the aviation manufacturing industry.
The financial report of DYB Technology, the news of South America iron mine, and the planning map of the industrial park are all clear and clear.
Li Jianguo turned through a few pages, and my heart began to beat.
This seems... not a liar?
But he didn't agree.
"I'll think about it."
In the next few days, Li Jianguo tossed and turned and couldn't sleep.
Annual salary is one million.
One month's salary in advance.
Round trip accommodation and air tickets included...
With these conditions, it would be false to say that I am not moved.
But as a middle-aged man, he knows very well that pie will not fall in the sky.
What if it's a trap?
What if I go and can't come back?
Li Jianguo wants to talk to someone, but doesn't know who to talk to.
My wife wants him to change jobs quickly. His colleagues will be jealous if he finds out about it, and his boss will even try to put some shoes on him if he finds out about it.
Just when he was hesitating, the straw that broke the camel's back came.
This year's May Day holiday lasts for five days.
The leader posted a notice in the group: The holiday duty schedule has been arranged, please take a look.
Li Jianguo Clicked on it and saw his name again.
For more than ten years in a row, he was on duty during May Day, National Day, and Spring Festival.
He sent a message to his boss. "Mr. Zhang, can I skip the shift this time? I have something to do at home."
The leader's phone call came directly.
"Lao Li, what do you mean? The duty has been arranged collectively, but you won't arrange it if you don't want to do it?"
"Mr. Zhang, I do have something wrong."
"What's the matter? You're not going on a trip, so you're just staying at home."
Li Jianguo held back his anger and said, "I also have arrangements."
"What arrangement? Tell me and listen."
"I... I'm going abroad."
There was silence on the other end of the phone for two seconds, and then the leader laughed, "Lao Li, are you kidding me? You haven't even applied for a passport. Why are you going out of the country?"
Li Jianguo's face turned red.
"I'm not worthy of this shift."
The leader's voice turned cold. "Lao Li, what's your attitude? Where is the collective consciousness? Did you just give up your job because you knew there would be no duty subsidy this year?"
"What kind of thoughts are you thinking? It's extremely irresponsible!"
Li Jianguo finally couldn't bear it anymore. "Why me? Why isn't Zhu Peng on duty? I've never seen him on duty during the long holiday."
The leader's voice suddenly rose. "Xiao Zhu wants to go abroad for the holidays, can we do the same?"
Li Jianguo clutched the phone, his knuckles turning white, and asked angrily, "Zhu Peng can go abroad, why can't I?"
"Do you have the conditions of a family? Do you have the structure of a family?"
The leader's rhetorical question poured cold water on Li Jianguo.
He took a deep breath and his voice calmed down.
"Mr. Zhang, I also have an arrangement. You have to approve it or not. If you have the ability, you can get rid of me."
The other end of the phone was stunned for a moment, and then the leader roared, "Li Jianguo! You..."
Li Jianguo hung up the phone and threw the phone on the table.
He was sitting at his workstation, his chest rising and falling violently.
All the colleagues in the office lowered their heads, no one dared to look at him.
Li Jianguo reached out and touched his pocket. Inside was the mother's dialysis payment slip that he had just received in the morning, and the school choice fee reminder from the child's class teacher. He clenched the two pieces of paper.
Twenty years of youth were spent here, but what they got in return was endless oppression and injustice.
Li Jianguo stood up, picked up his coat, opened the door and walked out.
Walking to the door of the company, the headhunter just sent a message: "Mr. Li, what do you think? If you are sure to go, we will book a ticket for you now."
Li Jianguo looked back at the door that he had entered and exited for twenty years. It was still the same door, but he knew that he would not come back again.
Then he replied with three words: "I'll go."