Farming Life Starting in Africa

"Come on, Senator, let's stop beating around the bush." ​​Rosen chuckled. "The fact that I was able to find you and pinpoint your location means I know the whole story."

Charles remained silent for a long time, then sighed softly, completely abandoning his pretense, and asked in a low voice, "Now that you know everything, what exactly do you want? What do you want to say about Swagger?"

Rosen, with a languid and leisurely air, began, "If we're going to talk, let's start from the beginning, from that innocent little village on the border of Ivia, shall we?"

Charles stubbornly persisted in his last-ditch effort: "I'm sorry, I've never been there and I don't know anything about what you're talking about."

"It doesn't matter if you weren't there; Isaac Jensen was there every single time." Rosen's tone was light, yet incredibly authoritative. "Should I bring him here for a face-to-face confrontation?"

Charles was speechless for a moment, then slowly closed his eyes. He didn't know if Isaac had really been arrested.

He quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind. A few seconds later, he opened his eyes and asked in a deep voice, "What exactly are your conditions?"

“It’s simple.” Rosen looked directly at him. “Let Swagger go, let that wheelchair-bound cripple take all the blame, and let this case be completely closed. How about that?”

Charles frowned slightly, a hint of probing in his voice: "Just for some insignificant sniper? Is it worth all that trouble you went to the trouble of barging into my private suite to find me?"

"Didn't you go to great lengths and cause a major incident by assassinating that innocent bishop in order to cover up the truth?" Rosen asked calmly.

Upon hearing this, Charles was shocked and completely panicked.

He finally realized that the other party did not possess fragmented clues, but rather the core truth of the whole matter.

At the time, everyone assumed the shooting during the street speech was an accidental stray bullet wound, and no one suspected them. But in reality, the archbishop was their primary assassination target.

The archbishop is determined to publicly expose the heinous crimes committed by high-ranking US military officials and financial groups in Africa, including the massacre of indigenous people and human rights violations, in order to build oil pipelines.

In order to protect hundreds of millions of dollars in oil profits and cover up all the scandals, Charles instructed Isaac Jensen to meticulously plan this perfect assassination and also frame Swagger for it.

Charles remained silent for a long time, thoroughly digesting all the information, his face growing increasingly gloomy.

Rosen looked at him, his tone softening, with a hint of negotiation: "Mr. Charles, I never intended to be your enemy. Swagger is useful to me; I'll protect him this time, and you'll do me a favor. It's a win-win situation."

Charles stared intently at Rosen, who sat calmly and composed, his mind racing as he weighed the pros and cons.

The hotel has strict security checks at the entrance, so the other party could not possibly be carrying firearms or other firearms, and appeared to pose no threat at all.

But then I thought, this person must be quite capable to be able to sneak into my private suite without anyone noticing and bypass layers of security monitoring.

The two of them are very close. If they were to completely break off relations and start fighting, he would most likely suffer a great loss. There is no need to confront them head-on and take that risk.

After weighing the pros and cons, he could only reluctantly compromise: "No problem, Swagger is just an insignificant nobody. I can clear his name and drop his record, but it will take time. Have him contact my people and go through the process, and I'll smooth things over."

Rosen saw through his perfunctory attitude and wishful thinking at a glance, and couldn't help but shake his head with amusement: "Swag is a nobody, not worth mentioning. But you are different, Mr. Charles. I can easily appear in your penthouse suite and quietly sneak into your private estate in Sagabonak. Finding you is not difficult for me; I can get close to even the President of the United States at will."

This is no exaggeration. With the mysterious mask, he could approach any powerful figure with ease if he wanted to.

Charles's face turned completely serious, and he fell into a long silence.

After a long silence, he finally relented, "I promise you, I'll let Swagger go. I'll have Michael Sandor confess and take the blame for the assassination, and that will close the case completely."

"That's right, smart people don't do stupid things." Rosen smiled faintly. "Mr. Charles, we have a lot of business overseas and in the United States. If this matter can be resolved smoothly, we can consider in-depth cooperation and make money together."

"To be honest, the African oil pipeline that you've risked your lives to protect isn't very profitable; it's a thankless task."

Rosen's tone was somewhat playful and sarcastic: "In the early stages, you have to invest billions of dollars to pave the way and build a complete set of transportation facilities. In the later stages, you have to maintain it year after year, manage relationships with various parties, and split the profits layer by layer. At most, the net profit you actually get in the year is only one or two hundred million. It's time-consuming, laborious, and quite restrictive."

"Any one of the channels I have at my disposal guarantees an annual net profit of at least 300 million. You just need to use your authority to help us legally and compliantly transport the goods into the United States, and you don't need to worry about the rest. Just sit back and watch your offshore trust appreciate like crazy."

Charles's interest was instantly piqued, and his eyes lit up. He knew all too well that while the oil pipeline appeared massive, there were too many layers of people skimming off the profits, with less than twenty million dollars of the annual profit actually ending up in his own pocket.

If the project Rosen mentioned is real, that would be really interesting.

"What specific project is it? Can you tell me more about it?" Charles asked eagerly, his tone full of anticipation.

"It's very simple, just play the tariff rule difference." Rosen explained in a clear and logical manner, "Now, trade protectionism is rampant in the United States, and tariffs on foreign goods are very high, especially those from China. Goods that are legitimately exported to the United States have seen their costs skyrocket and their profits squeezed, so they can't make much money at all."

"We'll try a different approach. We'll export the goods to Mexico first, without branding them, and import them as raw materials. Then we'll put on local brands, do some finishing touches, and the goods will become 'Made in Mexico.' Then we'll export them to the United States, cutting tariffs by more than half and instantly increasing profit margins."

The loopholes in this set of rules are indeed difficult to investigate thoroughly, but in the business of capital, the law never punishes the masses.

As long as they cultivate enough powerful and influential people, share the spoils widely enough, and have someone above them to back them up, this sure-fire business can continue for a long time, reaping huge profits continuously.

Charles listened and nodded repeatedly. Although he hadn't yet grasped all the details of the implementation, he was well aware of the huge profits involved.