Blind Spot (2)
As the multipurpose ship drew closer to the pier, the admiral read the name on the bow with admiration.
"Sapphire Express, eh? You've got yourself a fine vessel."
"Does it look that way?"
"I was expecting some rusty old bulk carrier... Being an arms dealer must pay better than I thought. Even at a glance, it's superior to any of our navy's supply ships. That's exactly the kind of vessel we've been needing."
"Your praise is too much."
"I'm quite serious. Our Isla Maria Madre might be called a supply ship, but in reality, it's just a glorified ferry hauling prisoners and supplies to the federal penitentiary."
"Penitentiary?"
"The Islas Marías Federal Penitentiary. They make excuses about 'skills training' from the top brass, but as a supply ship, the Maria Madre has zero value. Care to give it a professional evaluation as an arms dealer, El Muni? How useful can a ship be as a supply vessel if it can't even carry a single container's worth of cargo, let alone refuel others?"
"Sounds utterly useless."
"Exactly. They took a lightweight combat vessel, slapped a single crane on it, and commissioned it as a supply ship. From the perspective of field commanders like me, it's infuriating. And then they waste a 240-million-peso ship on prison supply runs that a cheap ferry could handle. I guarantee you, some high-ranking officials in our government took a hefty bribe from those Dutch bastards."
The admiral's cynical outburst carried a deep-seated resentment. The mentions of skills training and the Dutch suggested it was a licensed Dutch-built vessel. Hearing the price and origin gave me a rough idea of the ship. I didn't know the exact build date, but at pre-China-plague exchange rates, 240 million pesos was just shy of $12 million. Not exorbitant for a warship, but absurdly overpriced for a mere prison ferry.
The admiral's tone was laced with barely contained agitation. Even after unloading that tirade, his gaze lingered on the ship with thick regret. It didn't seem feigned. That created a contradiction with the current situation.
Should I play dumb and treat him like any common hypocrite, or probe deeper? Weighing his biometric signs, I leaned toward the latter.
From my perspective, this admiral was just another disposable client. Better to assess the "quality" before deciding.
A mooring line was tossed from the docked ship. Unloading would begin soon.
"I have a question."
"What is it?"
"You seem to despise corruption among the higher-ups, yet here you are, dealing with an arms dealer like me. And taking cartel commissions, no less. If it's not too rude, may I ask why?"
At my question, Martinez's face flushed crimson in an instant. His pulse spiked wildly. That alone told me volumes about the man.
He clamped his mouth shut, and after an awkward silence, he spat out a curt, irritated response.
"I'm... I'm not like that."
The words were clipped, but the meaning was clear in context.
"No misunderstanding. I was just curious. About what kind of man you are, and whether this might be a trap. This line of work breeds suspicion. You understand."
My calm demeanor and reasonable excuse eased his embarrassment.
"It's no trap. The cargo's already in port—if it were, we'd have moved by now. Seize the ship, arrest you and your men, kneel you down, and wipe out the incoming Northeast Cartel crew. Done."
"Then what is it?"
"Do you really need to know?"
His gruff retort. As if I'd trade without knowing. He should be grateful I'm even asking.
Suyeon's report had included his background, but it didn't explain his motive for illegal arms deals. He seemed oblivious to how precarious his position was, having fabricated this meeting and added conditions.
Starred officers had this flaw: authority bred into their bones. It was worse in developing countries. Korea was an exception.
I sighed lightly.
"It's your choice to tell me, Admiral. And mine whether to deal. If I sold weapons recklessly just for quick cash, I wouldn't be alive today. I choose my partners carefully."
"And that careful man sells to drug cartels?"
"A one-off deal, and one I wasn't thrilled about. Take the payout, and we're done. But what you want isn't a one-and-done, is it?"
"Hm..."
"I already have plenty of suppliers. Reliable ones, vetted over years. Diversifying is good business, which means, to me, you're just another option."
"Hey now!"
His sharp reaction, but I cut him off calmly.
"Hear me out. Without this job, I had no reason to meet you—or come to Mexico from East Asia. If you don't grab me here, realistically, your only buyers left are the cartels. The drug lords turning your country into Somalia 2.0. You went to lengths for this meeting, so it seems the cartel deal leaves a bad taste. Am I wrong?"
"..."
"Admiral of the Mexican Navy or not, in this market, you're a rookie with no connections or outlets. Act like one: seize the opportunity. A newcomer negotiating with an established player isn't luck that comes often."
He scowled but couldn't rebut. As he stewed in wounded pride, the multipurpose ship finished docking and activated its twin cranes. The folded mechanical arms extended long.
Personnel and vehicles for cargo transport finally rolled into the pier. They'd been waiting, vigilant to the last. Wary of rival factions crashing the party. Impressive they'd stayed intact amid the city's chaos.
The lead vehicle's supervisor approached Suyeon with a group of unarmed men. After a brief exchange, the Northeast Cartel's site boss handed her a USB drive.
Design verification and unloading commenced simultaneously.
Only after the first crate descended did the admiral speak again.
"You're fearless. My firepower outmatches yours here."
Appearances could deceive.
"So, what's your reason, Admiral?"
After a brief silence, Martinez summoned a subordinate.
"Major Svaralska!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Come here a moment."
An officer hurried over and stood at attention. That must be Diego Svaralska.
My sharp eyes anticipated the admiral's next move.
"Remove your jacket."
The major hesitated at the order, glancing between us. He set down his rifle and began stripping off his gear.
Soon, shirtless and at attention again, his torso revealed dark blotches everywhere. Liquid mana cancer spreading through his skin. The major's days were numbered.
Astonishing he was still on duty. Probably doping on military-grade painkillers—not common Mexican coke.
"This is my motive. This damned Immortal Cancer."
Immortal Cancer—the lay term lumping mana essence cancer and mana power cancer together. The diseases converged in late stages, so it wasn't entirely inaccurate.
"Dismissed."
Sending the major back, Martinez revealed a grim disillusionment.
"The government and Defense Ministry are obsessed with exploiting the bendecidos' abilities. But they won't take responsibility for the fallout. Despite WHO warnings that overusing 'blessed' powers raises Immortal Cancer risk, they dismiss it as unproven theory and refuse compensation."
A familiar tale. Sons of the nation when enlisting, strangers when wounded.
"Even during the COVID outbreak earlier this year—that Chinese pneumonia shit. Better to die than survive with aftereffects. Enlisted and officers alike got voluntary discharge. I get that—lungs scarred, unfit for duty. But what came next?"
Mexico, unable to spare a peso for the poor amid global recession, wouldn't care for retired officers and troops.
"Blanket discharges without support? Mass death sentences in this era. I've seen too many expressionless soldiers leave barracks."
"I understand."
His voice sharpened like a blade.
"I need money. A lot of it."
Then he turned the question on me.
"Can I earn that without shaking hands with cartel scum?"
"Let me flip it: the weapons you supply kill people. No regrets?"
"None."
His instant reply belied pure motives.
"In this devil's shithole world, I guard two things: duty to my men and protecting the people. Arm the cartels, and it'll kill Mexicans a hundred times over. But selling to an Asian merchant? Not so much."
He paused, then concluded.
"How many die elsewhere? Not my problem."
Quality human. I probed once more.
"What if I resell your weapons to the cartels? You said you hate dealing with them, but that's not enough assurance. Transport costs make cartels the most economical."
"I trust my comrades, not you. I'll only deliver by sea—and adventuring Mexican waters would be very dangerous for you."
Fair point.
"To sell my guns to cartels, you'd have to take them out, then bring them back by land. Profitable?"
I liked him. A cautious man like this would be prepared elsewhere too.
"There's a saying."
I quoted:
"The just man perishes first among the unjust, so the ruler must know injustice as the means to achieve justice."
Words to please his ears. I extended my hand calmly.
"Welcome as my trading partner, Admiral."
"..."
Staring at my hand, he shook it and asked:
"Odd question, but you believe everything I said? I told you I don't trust you."
"For now. I've got a knack for reading people."
"Hah."
"Can't start big, but building trust step by step will bring mutual profit."
"...I hope that day comes soon."
I then requested a list of available goods and quantities. Among the weapons, ammo, and gear he rattled off were decent items—like high-caliber autocannon rounds demand would surge for, or man-portable rocket launchers (LAWs) we'd seized plenty of in the mountains.
Listening intently, I suddenly detected a powerful mana field racing in from the sea at high speed. Reflexively, I twisted into alert stance.
"What? What's wrong?!"
The startled admiral demanded, but I was tracing the source.
Tension eased moments later.
"Nothing. Sorry to alarm you."
The mana field—intense enough for a Round Table Master on expedition—belonged to no person.
A pod of humpback whales visiting the shallows late at night. One had an unusually dense circuit. Like human geniuses, exceptional animals existed.
They vanished swiftly. What impacts would the sea's colossal powers have ahead?
Regretting the brief circuit observation, the unexpected encounter stirred myriad thoughts.