I am a master in India

Chapter 202 The Middleman

Yadav belongs neither to the Congress Party nor the BJP; he has his own party—the Socialist Party.

Therefore, Yadav's house was not near the headquarters of the two parties; he lived on Ashok Road.

It was a large house with red walls, and next to the entrance was a metal pavilion where a heavily armed guard sat, watching the Civic slowly approaching.

Ratan rolled down the car window, and without needing to say anything, the guards let them in.

He's already a regular here, so he doesn't have to report, apply, or wait for a reply like ordinary people do.

As soon as Ron entered the yard, he saw two German Shepherds wandering around the garden, barking every now and then.

To be honest, Yadav's ministerial residence reminded Ron of a place, the Dube family estate in the Uttar Pradesh.

This place is just as impressive; a peacock flew onto the wall and perched there.

It was sunset, and the peacock's deep blue neck and long tail turned golden in the afterglow of the setting sun.

But in the blink of an eye, the peacock flew away without a trace.

Deeper into the garden, you could hear the calls of other animals: lions, tigers, and monkeys.
Ron had no doubt that the minister's house housed a zoo for his or his family's amusement.

When they arrived at the door of an office, a tall, thin figure was waiting there.

“Lamar, does Mr. Yadav have time now?” Ratan put his arm around his shoulder affectionately.

“The minister was in meetings until the early hours of the morning last night, and he needs to rest now,” Lamar said with a smile and a shrug.

“This is my brother Ron, you’ve met him before. His cement factory was personally ordered to be built by Mr. Yadav. He flew all the way from Mumbai and just got off the plane.”

“Oh, of course I know it. Suer Electric Appliances is very famous.” Assistant Lamar smiled and shook hands with Ron. “I heard there are many foreigners in Mumbai?”

"Yes, when they come to India for tourism, the first city they visit is Mumbai."

"Wow, you must have seen a lot of foreign women." Lamar said enviously.

“You could say that.” Ron’s expression turned strange.

“There are foreigners in New Delhi, but they are too serious, including the foreign women, which makes them uninteresting.”

Ron glanced at Ratan, who subtly shrugged, as if to say that this guy was very difficult to deal with.

“Don’t worry, Ron. As soon as the minister wakes up, I’ll have him call you.”

"Thank you, we are extremely grateful for your help, but when will Mr. Yadav wake up?"

"It might take an hour or two, or it might happen tomorrow, who knows?"

"It's still early, let's go have some fun."

"What?" Lamar hadn't expected Ron to be so direct.

"Let's go find a place where foreign women aren't so serious."

Ron gave Ratan a wink, and the two brothers immediately helped Lamar out the door and into the Civic.

"Ishang, is there any whiskey in the car?"

"Yes, young master." He took out the bottle of his treasured Johnnie Walker from the storage compartment in the passenger seat.

“Oh, this car is really well-equipped.” Lamar sat down comfortably; Indian men can’t resist whiskey.

Ishan had transformed from a driver into a bartender, pouring drinks for the three people in the car.

After doing all this, he glanced defiantly at Anil beside him, as if to say, "Look how capable I am."

"Cheers!" Ron clinked glasses with Lamar enthusiastically.

The aroma of whiskey filled the car, and Lamar wore a contented expression.

"You're a very clever driver. Some people spill alcohol everywhere." He said with a smile.

“You would never guess he belongs to a completely prohibitory caste,” Ratan joked from the side.

"So where are the unserious foreign women?" Ron asked with a smile.

“Modern Hotel,” Lamar blurted out.

“Okay, let’s go there.” Ron patted Ishan on the shoulder.

“A car is a man’s palace.” Lamar patted the Civic he was sitting in with envy. “I dream of doing that in a car.”

Ratan laughed heartily; after drinking, everyone's relationship suddenly became much closer.

“Mumbai won’t work; there are too many people on the streets,” Ron agreed.

“That’s the advantage of staying in New Delhi, my friend.” Lamar took another sip of his drink. “How have you been lately, Ron?”

"The cement plant is my most important business, as is Suer Electric Appliances."

“That’s right, that’s right,” Lamar said, sniffing his glass. “But when we Delhi people talk about ‘situation,’ that’s not what we mean. My dear friend!”

He laughed, then pointed to a certain part of his genitals. "I mean, who's taking care of you down there?"

"Oh, there are so many people coming and going, I can't remember who they are."

The men in the car laughed loudly, with Lamar laughing the most exaggeratedly and cheesyly.

Ron was smiling too, a muscular smile.

Ratan was right, those scoundrels are all bastards.

"Oh, we've arrived." Lamar kept his eyes on the outside of the window, afraid of missing the show he had been waiting for.

"Ishan, stop the car." Ron and Ratan walked towards the hotel entrance first, whispering a few words to each other.

Lamar followed behind them, constantly looking left and right, like a child who knew he shouldn't do bad things but was still about to do them.

He had only recently become Yadav's assistant, and no one had invited him to a place like this yet.

Lamar had hinted at it to Ratan before, but the latter kept asking him to drink and offering him tips.

Today, Ron stepped in and immediately grasped the secret.

That's why he's a businessman; he understands things immediately.

Lamar liked Ron very much, especially after overhearing his conversation with the hotel manager.

“I know there are foreign women here offering special services, the really high-class kind,” Ron said, handing over several large rupees.

“Oh, there are a few European girls. They live nearby and are available anytime.” “Great, any recommendations?” Ron asked.

"Interested in Hollywood stars? There's a girl who looks a lot like one of them, 6 rupees."

“She’s the one!” Ron turned to Lamar. “What do you think?”

"Okay, okay!" Amal stammered.

6 rupees! Wow, that's enough for him to sleep with Indian women for half a year, a different one every day.

The manager made a phone call, and soon a blonde girl rushed in from outside. She did indeed look very much like a female celebrity that Ron recognized.

Lamar's eyes nearly popped out of his head; he hadn't expected the hotel manager to be serious.

The girl was tall and beautiful, and what was most striking about her was her beautiful hair!
Her golden hair was smooth and shiny, just like in a shampoo commercial!
This hit Lamar right where it hurts; he had seen blonde girls like this in American movies he watched since he was a child, and he still remembers them to this day.

The manager smiled and said to the girl, "Please greet the guests in Hindi."

“How are you, sir?” she said in perfect English, and reached out to shake Lamar’s hand.

“Look, India has progressed, hasn’t it? Even she can speak Hindi now.” Ron laughed.

“Yes, yes, New Delhi is amazing!” Lamar exclaimed, at a loss for words.

“Go on, go upstairs.” Ron winked.

The hotel manager warmly led Lamar upstairs, and the European girl was with them as well.

"Will this work?" Ratan asked quietly after they left.

"Didn't you notice Lamar's weakness?"

"what?"

"Blonde! He likes blonde girls."

"Wow, bro, you really know a thing or two about women."

"It's just a common problem among Indian men."

Ratan laughed, "That's how Indian men are; they can't resist a poster."

"What do we do now? Just wait here?"

"Go get a cup of tea, that Lamar won't last long."

"how do you know?"

"Weak point! A vulnerability that can break your defenses instantly."

Sure enough, about ten minutes later, Lamar came downstairs shakily, as if he had just recovered from a serious illness.

"The minister should be awake by now, let's go back." He spoke in a weak voice.

"Lamar, are you alright?" Ron waved and called the car over.

“Excellent! Ron, that blond hair is real, the real deal, I touched it.” He had a strange perfume scent about him.

"Once the cement plant issue is settled, Ratan will bring you back. You can stay as long as you want."

“Okay, let’s go find the minister now.” He got into the car, and the scent of his perfume made Ishan sneeze repeatedly.

"Hurry up, Ishan, stop rubbing your nose." Ratan pressed his advantage, not wasting a moment.

The sun had completely set, and the birds in the city began to line up and return to their nests.

New Delhi is a well-planned city; it's large and populous.

But there are still many green spaces in the city, large parks, forest reserves, and large areas of wasteland, and small animals often run out of the green spaces on the road.

By the time the Civic arrived back at the minister's residence, it was almost completely dark, and the wolfhounds in the yard were barking loudly.

With Lamar leading the way, Ron and his group went straight into Yadav's study.

The minister had just finished dinner and was about to watch some television.

Look at his relaxed appearance, he doesn't seem like he just woke up.

Forget it, now is not the time to dwell on this.

After exchanging greetings, Ron didn't waste any words and immediately produced the loan certificate from the Bank of Mumbai: thirty million.

He was telling Yadav that he was serious about mining and running a cement plant.

Sure enough, after receiving these assurances, Yadav's interest was significantly boosted.

When will the cement plant be able to start production?

"No more than two years."

"I'll give you a maximum of a year and a half."

"can."

It will be 94 soon, and in two more years, it will be time to prepare for the next general election.

Yadav hoped the cement plant would become one of his political achievements, something he could genuinely boast about to the media.

“I’ll call the Uttar Pradesh State Bank tomorrow.”

“I’ll send the money separately,” Ron said without hesitation.

“You don’t need to go yourself. Just have someone deliver it to Lamar. He knows what to do.”

"it is good."

This is also for security reasons; there are too many people watching New Delhi.

After chatting for a few more minutes, Ron tactfully took his leave.

In New Delhi, money alone isn't enough; you need to find the right middleman.

They have the ability to lead people into politicians' reception rooms, officials' offices piled high with documents, or some high-end salon.

Ron had only just begun dealing with middlemen.

(End of this chapter)