"It doesn't really count as some astronomical figure." Song Heping said calmly. "Two hundred and fifty million, that's all—and it's just a batch of inventory the US Army needs to dispose of after pulling out."
"But disposing of it is no easy job." The one speaking was Curtis. He was elegantly cutting his cod, not even looking up. "Especially a certain portion of it… the more sensitive equipment. Stinger Missiles, loitering munitions, high‑end drones… Stuff like that, the market is limited, and there are a lot of 'restrictions.'"
Song Heping looked at him, feigning surprise. "Looks like Mr. Curtis knows quite a bit about this."
Curtis raised his head, smiling as he pushed up his Glasses. "My business touches a lot of fields. Arms are one of them. I know what sells easily and what burns your hands."
He put down knife and fork, picked up his napkin and dabbed at the corner of his mouth.
