It wasn’t until dinner that Deng Shiyang met the other members.

Since it was a welcome dinner, the meal was quite lavish. The kitchen table was filled with food: pumpkin soup, South American-style roast chicken, stews with plenty of spices and chili peppers, garlic mashed potatoes, toasted bread, and a fruit platter with blueberry sauce. The hearty South American cuisine emitted a strong aroma that whetted the appetites of Harrowby and the six contractors sitting around the table.

The person closest to Deng Shiyang was Keith, the Northern Irishman he had met at lunchtime. His full name was Keith Brown, though he preferred to be addressed by his first name. Keith was a former reservist officer from the 21st SAS Regiment and was therefore jokingly called the "armed artist." As expected, he was the supervisor for this mission, responsible for assembling the team and acting as the on-site commander, which explained his "I knew it was you" demeanor when they met earlier.

To his right was a solidly built Belgian with short, sandy blond hair and a high forehead, who was eating the stew heartily. His name was Mark Vlaeminck, but everyone called him "Little Mark." Despite the nickname, he was over six feet tall and weighed at least two hundred pounds. Keith didn’t elaborate on Mark’s background, simply mentioning that he was an excellent automatic weapon specialist.

Across from them were three other men. One was nearly forty, with a lean face and a prominent hooked nose. He was called Johnny Du Preez, a large South African man with British heritage who had served in the South African Defense Force’s Special Operations Brigade before joining Executive Outcomes. He had combat experience in Angola and Sierra Leone and was a seasoned mercenary.

Johnny was a quiet person who spoke softly and with a nasal tone. A black skull tattoo decorated his left forearm, and a thick brown belt with a leather sheath carrying a dagger hung around his waist. The dagger's guard, treated with phosphating, was polished to a shine, and its walnut handle had darkened from long-term use, showing it to be a well-worn weapon.

To Du Preez’s left was a tall, skinny American who looked like a beanpole. His name was Per Jansen, and he had short, wavy chestnut hair and a youthful face that made him appear to be in his early twenties. He wore semi-transparent, brown-rimmed glasses on his straight nose. If not for Keith's introduction, anyone would likely have mistaken him for a college student visiting Bolivia rather than a former Green Beret radio operator.

The last person was Marc Rodin, a Corsican. Stocky and lean, he had a weathered face with narrow triangular eyes, prominent cheekbones, and thick eyebrows. His bald head made him look like Captain Jean-Luc Picard stepping out of a TV screen.

Because Rodin had served in the French Foreign Legion, Keith referred to him as "the Frenchman," though Deng Shiyang felt that the nickname mocked Corsican arrogance.

Upon their first meeting, Rodin’s initial comment was, "Oh, there’s even an ‘Asian.’" And when Keith introduced Deng Shiyang to the others as an "excellent marksman," Rodin responded with a disdainful snort.

By the time dinner ended, it was already past eight, and the well-fed group was led to a small living room.

The living room had been set up as a temporary meeting room; the original furniture was removed, and two folding tables were placed together in the center, surrounded by a haphazard array of chairs. Opposite the tables hung a projection screen on the wall, and next to it was a whiteboard covered with photos.

Besides Harrowby, all six contractors gathered around the folding tables. Although they sat close together, there was a noticeable distance between Rodin and the people next to him, indicating that Deng Shiyang wasn’t the only one who found "the Frenchman" difficult to get along with.

After everyone settled down, Harrowby stood up and began speaking in a standard English accent, "Gentlemen, before we start the meeting, I first want to thank you all for coming."

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After the brief opening, he got straight to the point, "I’m sure you’re aware that this is a difficult and dangerous mission. But I assure you, if we succeed, the rewards will more than compensate for the risks."

These words immediately piqued everyone’s curiosity.

Harrowby glanced around the room, then walked over to the whiteboard and pointed to a photograph, saying, "This is a rescue mission. The target is him."

The photo showed a rough-looking white man in front of a crude wooden house made of planks and corrugated metal. Since only his upper body was visible, it was unclear whether he was standing or sitting. His face was haggard, and his shirt was dirty and torn, making it hard to discern its original color. He was holding a Spanish-language newspaper in his hands, which were raised to his chest.

"This man is Peter Bowman, the Vice President for South America at a British oil company. Two months ago, he was kidnapped while inspecting a natural gas field project near the Cochabamba province border. His convoy was ambushed; the driver and assistant were killed, and two bodyguards died while three others were injured. This photo was received by his company three weeks later..."

At this point, Rodin interrupted, "Who did it?"

Harrowby frowned and replied, "According to intelligence, it's the ELN."

The room was filled with a low murmur, though Keith and Jansen wore expressions that said, "I already knew."

"What a No. 10 job," Deng Shiyang thought.

The ELN, or National Liberation Army of Bolivia, was an anti-government militant group active in Santa Cruz. Its members were originally proletarian revolutionaries dedicated to fighting corruption and land reform. However, after the Cold War ended and foreign aid ceased, these communists degenerated into drug traffickers and bandits. They cultivated and processed cocaine in the mountains for profit and kidnapped foreigners for ransom. Although Interpol had launched joint operations with the military to eradicate them, little success was achieved against the ELN, who were skilled in guerrilla warfare and hid in the rugged terrain.

Due to the uneven economic development across Bolivia's provinces, the central government's policies favored heavier taxes on the wealthier eastern provinces to subsidize poorer regions. Combined with the unpopularity of the corrupt Morales administration, many in Santa Cruz, the country's wealthiest province, either supported or sympathized with the ELN. It was no wonder Harrowby had chosen this secluded farm as a hideout.

Clearing his throat, Harrowby waited for the room to quiet down before continuing, "The kidnappers initially demanded a ransom of two million pounds, but later shifted to political demands, asking the Bolivian government to release a captured leader of the militant group..."

Rodin again interjected, "Who is this ‘Brit’ anyway?"

"Please don’t interrupt me! There will be a Q&A session afterward." Harrowby’s annoyance at being interrupted was evident, but he still answered, "Peter Bowman comes from a prominent British family that is a major supporter of the Labour Party. This information was known only to a few senior company officials, but somehow it leaked, and the ELN immediately switched to using him as a political bargaining chip, pressuring the Bolivian government to free their imprisoned comrade. Since Bolivia severed ties with the U.S., its oil and natural gas extraction has relied heavily on British technology and equipment, which is why the ELN views him as a 'political asset.'"

"Now, let’s talk about the topic that interests you most—compensation. The pay for this mission is fifty thousand pounds per person, with a ten-thousand-pound advance for those participating. The balance will be paid upon successful completion. I can guarantee that the mission will not last longer than a month, and I will cover all expenses during that time."

The payment amount surprised Deng Shiyang. Contractors doing "Protect_job" work typically earned no more than one hundred twenty thousand pounds per year. While "Shoot_job" offered higher pay, the difference was usually no more than threefold, and they often had to cover their weapon and equipment costs. Now, to earn fifty thousand pounds for just a month’s work with expenses covered was generous even by "Shoot_job" standards. Considering the risks, however, the amount seemed fair.

"That concludes the mission briefing. Now it's time for questions."

Mark was the first to speak, though his question was a bit of a mood-killer, "What happens if we fail?"

"If the mission fails, those who return alive will receive a ten-thousand-pound compensation. In the event of death or disabling injury, the payout will be twenty thousand pounds. However, due to the lack of insurance coverage, the contract does not include medical insurance," Harrowby answered without hesitation.

Surprisingly, after Mark’s question, no one else raised any.

Seeing this, Harrowby said, "If there are no more questions, please let me know whether you’re participating by ten o’clock tonight. I’ll prepare the contracts. Those who choose not to participate may leave tomorrow morning. The meeting is adjourned."