Weaponized Read Online Free PDF Page B

cheese sandwich from inside the case. It’s shrink-wrapped and looks so loaded with additives it could survive the apocalypse. The type of sandwich that’s the staple of international airspace.
    The man holds up the sandwich like someone surrendering or confessing. “I’ve been out of the developing world for too long. My insides have gone soft against parasites.” He takes a bite of the sandwich, another drag off his cigarette. He’s always doing something with his mouth. “So, vacation?”
    “That’s right.”
    “I’m on business. I think I’ve got my card around here somewhere.” He starts searching through the various inner pockets of his linen suit. “I work in telecommunications. Southeast Asia is ripe for smartphones. Expendable income is up sixteen percent.”
    Kyle’s interest is slightly piqued—is this a fellow tech guy, a brother in coding? “You an engineer?”
    “Salesman. I work for a German telecom company. VodaFone. That’s Fone with an F, then o-n-e .”
    “But you’re not German…”
    “God, no.” The man gives up the search for his card. “American. I pursued the Germans for a position. American telecom companies have lost their fire. All fat off their monopolies. While they rub their bloated bellies, the Chinese and Germans are buying up the contracts to build infrastructure throughout the developing world. The action isn’t in the States anymore, and I adore the chase. I told the Germans, Look…turn me loose. I want to make all of you fucking rich. ”
    Kyle looks over his shoulder, not used to staying in one place this long. “That’s what it takes to make it in sales, I imagine.”
    “That and slightly jaundiced scruples. You have no idea who you have to deal with in order to get a contract signed in some of these places. Warlords who a few years back were eating young girls’ hearts for power before riding off to slaughter. These same fucking lunatics now control the rights to half the infrastructure. And their idea of bargaining differs slightly from what they teach in MBA programs. But if we want to be competitive with the Chinese, we need to turn a blind eye to that, because the Chinese sure do.” The man raises his glass. “They don’t call them emerging markets for nothing.”
    “You like getting sent all over the world?”
    “ Love it. Massively. I love to sell.” The man takes another bite of the sandwich, discreetly brushes some crumbs off his lower lip, and says: “Christ…manners. I’m Julian Robinson. My mother read the Forsyte Saga like the Bible. I’m the beneficiary of her Anglo lust.”
    Kyle sees a way around giving up a name. “Could be worse. She could have named you Trevor.”
    “Trevor’s my younger brother.” Robinson lights another cigarette. “So who are you?”
    Kyle stares at the cigarette held between Robinson’s thumb and index finger. “Andrew,” he says. “I’m Andrew.”
    “Andrew,” Robinson says. “And what do you do back in the States?”
    “Tech support,” Kyle says. “Databases. Networks, mostly.”
    “Deal with charts and graphs all day,” Robinson says. “I don’t know how you do it. Bores my tits off. The company sent me to an Excel course to learn how to keep better expense reports. I left after an hour and told them, You want me to sell or fill in boxes?” He brings the cigarette to his lips. “Been at it long?”
    Kyle tries to avoid specifics. “Freelance. I float from company to company.”
    “Like me,” Robinson says.
    “Except I don’t sell anything.”
    “Sure you do. You sell yourself. You sell confidence in you. We all sell something. Been doing it long?” he asks again.
    “Floating? Or tech support?”
    “Either.”
    “Tech support…longer than I care to remember. Floating the past five years. Mostly New York.”
    “Well, it sounds great,” Robinson says.
    Kyle’s relieved, assuming the conversation is over and he’ll be rid of Robinson any moment now.
    Robinson leans across