I'm a Master in India

Ron had been reluctant to buy an expensive satellite phone, but his business couldn't function without one.

Leaving aside Singapore, he talked to Ranante almost every day.

The phone bills alone for this were enough to buy another satellite phone.

Recently, Luca had also started using one to contact him. Given the situation in Mumbai, Merck had delayed the construction of the laboratory there.

Even those Western gentlemen, frightened by the successive terrorist attacks, were having second thoughts. Luca was trying his best to persuade them.

But no matter what, he was ready to restart the drug business; he couldn't wait any longer. Months of delay had caused the middlemen in Brazil to complain incessantly.

Luca himself couldn't stand by and watch a great money-making opportunity slip away. It was said that some bold compatriots were already preparing to go to New Delhi to find alternative routes.

He could no longer remain indifferent, so he called Ron on the satellite phone.

"I've got the money ready. Can you get in touch with Pant?"

"I saw him at a gathering recently. We talked about this, and he said it's not a problem on his end."

"Damn, finally some good news. I'll take people out to sea tomorrow."

Luca sounded a bit impatient.

"You can also give Merck some assurances, like being able to provide people for drug trials at any time. In short, try your best to win them over."

"I know. To win them over, I even took those scoundrels to enjoy some fiery Brazilian girls!" Luca's strange cry came through the phone.

"Anyway, order has been restored in Mumbai, so tell them to come without hesitation."

"They won't run away, the Brazilian girls will help them make their choice. Wait for me, Ron! Within three weeks, I'll definitely be in Mumbai!"

For the sake of business, Luca no longer cared whether Mumbai was safe or not. Not letting him make money was more unbearable than taking his life.

After hanging up the phone, Ron beckoned Ashish and the others to come in.

"These are our new employees?"

"Boss, this is Zamir, my classmate, also proficient in engineering machinery. This is my cousin, Ashir. This is my neighbor, Saihar."

Ashish introduced them one by one, and the others quickly bowed in greeting. Ron encouraged them briefly, then kept only Ashish and Zamir.

"The workshop at Sur Electricals is still very unregulated. You two write a set of rules and regulations and get the workers to implement them as soon as possible."

"No problem!" The veteran Ashish and the newly recruited Zamir puffed out their chests.

They were secretly excited, this was a sign that the boss was going to rely heavily on them. Especially Zamir, who felt a strong sense of mission at this moment.

Ahem, actually, Ron just hadn't had time to recruit talent for production management.

He was currently looking, and after the personnel were in place, Ashish and the others would still primarily be responsible for technical issues.

Although Sur Electricals was already somewhat known in Mumbai, overall, it was still a bit of a makeshift operation. This would take time to improve and solidify.

"Oh, right, here are your new contracts." Ron handed each of them a document.

Ashish carefully opened it, then caught sight of the figure 4000 rupees, a large and dazzling number. He suppressed his pounding heart and quickly closed the contract.

Zamir also saw his salary, 3000 rupees! His actions were surprisingly consistent with Ashish's, quickly covering the contract.

They looked at each other, then exchanged polite and perfunctory smiles.

Ashish's eyes flickered. His salary had doubled, surely much higher than Zamir's. If the other person was also at 2000 rupees like he was when he first started... Oh dear, wouldn't that be too much of a blow to him? Ashish decided to keep his salary a secret.

Zamir was also in an internal struggle. He was getting a high salary of 3000 rupees right from the start. As far as he knew, Ashish was only around 2000. Would this make him jealous? Zamir decided he would never reveal his salary.

They looked at each other again, smiled politely, and then simultaneously averted their gaze.

"Alright, Ashish, take Zamir to get familiar with the workshop. I have to go out for a bit later." Ron sent the two of them away.

He was a qualified capitalist, but he didn't mind giving his 'cattle and horses' a little taste of sweetness.

Ashish had worked hard and contributed significantly, handling both technology and production, so raising his salary was only right.

Moreover, in India, university graduates in the field of engineering technology had the highest salaries to begin with. Starting salaries were above three thousand rupees, and some foreign companies could offer high salaries of six thousand.

Even graduates in finance and accounting could only earn salaries ranging from 2500 to 5000. In Wall Street, this would be completely upside down.

Graduates in the education field, who had the lowest salaries, were even less worth mentioning; their wages fluctuated within the range of 2000 to 4000 rupees at most.

This is why every Indian man wants to be an engineer; their social status and tangible remuneration are unquestionable.

To keep his 'cattle and horses' feeling grateful, Ron gave them relatively fair treatment.

However, he didn't have time to chat with them today. Ron was going to meet the leader of the Shiv Sena, Bal Thackeray.

Shiv Sena was no longer just an early gang-like organization; it had now transformed into a political party, and its leader was Bal Thackeray.

Ron was brought to the latter's residence by Rafiq, the tough-looking man who remembered him.

"We've actually met more than once, at Leopold Cafe, and also at a club." He smiled with a hint of amusement, or perhaps just simply expressing friendliness.

"I have some impression too, I often go to Leopold Cafe." Ron nodded in reply.

Rafiq was right, they had indeed met a few times. Especially at that club, Hard Khan was also present at the time.

Ron was almost certain that Rafiq and Hard Khan knew each other, and even had some kind of transaction.

The irony was that Rafiq was now one of the leaders of Shiv Sena. On the day of the riot, he personally lit a gas cylinder and pushed it into the gate of the mosque.

Ron still remembered the person who was on fire, his screaming, begging...

He wondered if Hard Khan, being a Muslim, knew what Rafiq had done? And what would he think?

"Shiv Sena is the hope of India, and Thackeray will lead us to victory." Rafiq suddenly said this.

Ron's expression was subtle. Perhaps he also thought of Hard Khan, and at this moment, he didn't forget to express his loyalty.

"You know, during the riots, the police gave Shiv Sena the green light. Receiving direct instructions from Thackeray was a glorious thing for the police station." As if to add more convincing power, Rafiq continued.

"I saw it, it was eye-opening." Ron thought of Police Commissioner Samant, whose angry roar on the walkie-talkie was still vivid in his memory.

"So when you meet him later, you know what to do, don't provoke him."

"Thank you for your advice."

Bal Thackeray was not at the Shiv Sena headquarters in Dadar, perhaps because it had just been attacked by Muslims. Now he only stayed at his villa.

Thackeray's villa was heavily guarded, with a total of 180 bodyguards ensuring his safety. These people were all from the police, including three mid-to-high-ranking Deputy Commissioners.

Regardless of who governed Mumbai, Thackeray always traveled in a bulletproof car, escorted by the police throughout. The government also allocated additional funds to provide round-the-clock security for his residence in Matoshri.

All this information was revealed by Rafiq, and there was a hint of boastfulness in his tone when he introduced it.

The villa was located deep in the secluded Kalagarh Road, bearing strong traces of government planning, and was touted as a residential masterpiece specifically built for artists.

Its exterior walls were entirely white, deliberately flaunting the taste of a nouveau riche. This Mumbai-style ostentation made the entire building look larger than its actual size.

Several Mitsubishi Pajeros were parked at the entrance. Ron somewhat doubted whether these large SUVs could really run smoothly in Mumbai.

Perhaps this Shiv Sena leader had suddenly become rich and didn't know how to squander his money, so he bought cars as toys.

Ron also had to go through a security check before entering the house. A metal detector scanned him repeatedly. The scale of this was even more thorough than the security at Mumbai Airport.

Otherwise, the latter wouldn't have been so easily targeted by Muslims throwing grenades on the runway. If it were at Thackeray's place, he probably wouldn't even be able to get past the outer gate.

Rafiq led Ron to the waiting room. The room was filled with huge portraits of Shivaji (the founder of the Maratha Empire, after whom the Shiv Sena is named). In the center was a row of chairs facing a closed door.

As soon as they sat down, the door opened. Rafiq got up again and led Ron into the inner room.

This was a slightly smaller reception room, with the walls covered with photos of Thackeray's deceased wife. The table with coffee was empty, but soon Thackeray walked in.

"Long live the Marathi people!" He greeted first.

Rafiq returned the same greeting, and Ron had no choice but to follow suit.

"Dr. Sur, your good deeds were a slap in the face to those Muslims! They only know how to destroy, while we Hindus are busy cleaning up the mess." Thackeray sat down in an armchair by a coffee table. He was speaking in English.

"Uh... I just hope Mumbai can stabilize as soon as possible, which is good for everyone." Ron had intended to explain that he wasn't a doctor, but then thought better of it.

"You're right, as long as the Muslims are driven away, Mumbai will become a peaceful paradise."

This Shiv Sena big shot seemed extremely prejudiced against Muslims. In his broken English, most of it was dissatisfaction and worry about Muslims.

He was of medium build, thin and bony, with thick black hair that didn't match his age of over sixty, and wore square-rimmed glasses that covered half his face.

He was wearing the traditional orange attire representing Shiv Sena and also had a long string of Rudraksha beads around his neck.

"I heard that besides being a doctor, you also do other business?" After finishing his rambling, Thackeray lit a cigar.

"An electrical appliance factory, that's my main business." Ron replied.

"Any Muslim workers?"

"I think... no."

Ron wasn't lying; at least none of his workers wore white caps. As for whether any Muslims had shed their traditional attire and come to work in his factory, he didn't know.

Thackeray held the mouthpiece in his mouth, glanced at him, and said, "Muslims are dangerous, you've seen it."

Ron nodded silently, not knowing what this big shot, nicknamed "The Tiger," was thinking.

"You should join our union. I can guarantee that no official will trouble you, including soliciting bribes, endless inspections..."

"What do I need to do to join the union?" Ron's eyes flashed. He knew the main event was coming.