Working as a police officer in Mexico

"50,000 can't even buy an engine!"

Augustine casually spread his hands, "Riding in a Mercedes makes me look wealthy when I go out, am I supposed to drive a tank to a business meeting?"

"...But... but driving a tank means you don't have to wait for red lights, what kind of trash is a Mercedes compared to a T-72!"

Watching them talk, I stood unaffected as he tapped on the table, "Now it's 60 thousand US dollars, maybe it will be 30 thousand US dollars next month."

"Gentlemen, once the Soviet Union collapses, these will be nothing but scrap, no country will want them, then they can only be dismantled."

"Moreover, I said 60 thousand US dollars each, but it's a buy one get one free deal."

Wow!

The Soviets cursed him, calling him a total unfriendly backstabber.

But in fact, after the dissolution of the Soviet Union, many member countries can't even operate tanks. Having tanks doesn't mean they can fight with them, they still need an integrated maintenance, tank crew training, etc., otherwise why don't so many countries in the world have tanks?

Victor was also optimizing the military industrial system as much as possible.

Slam!

Augustine immediately slapped a check on the table, "If you agree, I'll write it now, and moreover, I can decide, everyone present can get 200 thousand."

While speaking, he continued to count, "One, two, three, four..."

A total of nine people.

The noise of cursing and reprimanding suddenly quieted down, after a few seconds a lieutenant colonel said with little confidence, "We don't want rubles."

No style at all!

These Soviet officers were like pitiable people at the negotiation table, not daring to ask loudly for a price.

Sigh~

In just a few short decades, even their spirit is gone.

"How much for the 613 submarine?" The Vice Admiral, although feeling it was a loss selling for such a small amount, also understood that if they didn't sell now, soon it would no longer be their decision.

Plus there's a 200,000 US dollars kickback.

Augustine frowned, "Can it still operate?"

"Of course, though it's retired, it's very well maintained!"

Who would believe that?

What does it use for maintenance? Maintenance isn't free!

Being able to operate it at all would be a godsend.

But Augustine Przybylski's orders were, as long as the Soviets are selling, we're buying, no rejections!

He pondered for a moment, then stretched out his hand.

"500 US dollars + complete blueprints for the 613!"

"Deal!" The Vice Admiral was quick this time and even in an overlapping tone said, "What about the other goods? Let's see, how much can they fetch?"

With such a commander, we might as well sell you off on the battlefield.

He only cares about how much he can make from it!

"AK47 at 1 US dollar per pound..."

Augustine Przybylski opened his jaw wide, ready to swallow all these benefits, quickly running the numbers with his pen.

And finally calculating.

32.2 million US dollars!!

"If there are no objections, I'll have someone transfer the money; how you divide it is your own business."

The Vice Admiral just wanted to speak but paused and looked towards Vyacheslav Gihonov, Vice Admiral, who nodded like a mascot.

Augustine Przybylski just signed his name, suddenly raised his head, "Generals, by the way, any of you interested in teaching in Mexico?"

"Annual salary for a staff officer is 120 thousand US dollars!"

"Major General 250 thousand US dollars, Vice Admiral 350 thousand, Admiral 500 thousand US dollars!"

"Good benefits, plus annual leave, housing, and insurance provisions..."

"Are you interested?"

...

Half an hour later, Augustine walked out contentedly clutching his briefcase.

"No need to see me off, a ship will dock this afternoon, I hope you can help with the transportation, don't worry, we've taken care of everything in Estonia, no one will stop it."

He shook hands one by one, "I'll see you in Mexico."

After saying that, he got into the car and couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Hearing about becoming teachers with such high salaries, many officers agreed immediately. Earning money from Mexico, spending it in Mexico, thereby boosting the local economy—it's a perfect closed loop.

Not long after the Mercedes drove away, a Soviet Volga car drove in, two Russians got down from it.

They were obviously not here for the first time.

They went straight to Vyacheslav Gihonov, Vice Admiral.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Bout, our goods are already promised to someone, including every single bullet."

Victor Bout: ????

"Can you tell me who the buyer is?"

"I'm sorry..."

When Victor Bout walked out with a friend, his face was grim, his mustache twitching with anger.

"Utekin, find out who the hell stole our deal! Damn it, I just signed a deal with an African warlord, and now someone's cutting off my avenue!"

"Stealing my business on my turf, they're really asking for it!"

His burly companion responded, his bald head even bearing the insignia "Third Reich."

As the two walked out of the building, the phone suddenly rang. Victor Bout answered and his expression instantly changed, "Understood, I'm on my way."

After hanging up, he took a deep breath, "Back to Russia, our business PMC license has come through!"

Utekin's eyes sparkled, grinning wide, his face already bear-like, now terrifyingly more so.

"What's the company called?"

"Wagner!"

...

Outside a church district in Mexico City.

"Move it! The Northern Army is coming, do you want to die here?" Ye Zhenli pulled at Walter White inside the house, shouting loudly.

"Wait, just a bit more."

Ye Zhenli saw him still engrossed in his experiments, she kicked his table, and all the bottles and jars fell to the floor.