Hearing that William was only interested in England Power, Old Smith was quite surprised. At this time, England Power was not a highly profitable enterprise; in fact, it was quite possible for it to incur losses if not managed properly. Moreover, electricity prices were government-regulated, so raising prices was not an option at will. The unions of these old enterprises were also very troublesome, often striking and demanding higher wages. If the future looked promising, they wouldn't be offloading this company as a burden to William.
"Sorry, William, we weren't sure what kind of company you'd be interested in, so we could only offer you some potential enterprises recommended by professional managers. If you have a specific type of company in mind, let me know, and I'll ask my partners to see if we can help you acquire it," Smith suggested.
"Hehe," William chuckled, now sure that these guys were playing him. Not only did they not want to pay him, but they also wanted to gain benefits from him. Luckily, he had come prepared. Despite Smith's dubious reputation, his extensive global network could be very helpful. With these guys' help, getting what he wanted would be much easier than doing it himself.
"I only want England Power and Aston Martin; for the rest, I want cash," William said with a smile before Smith could respond. "Don't be in a hurry to refuse. I know what you're thinking. Skipping out on a debt is a bad habit, Mr. Smith. You'd better have your men look into this; there might be a surprise."
William took out a piece of paper from his pocket, placed it on the table, leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head, and squinted at the sky. Smith felt a sudden bad premonition as he looked at the paper and quickly instructed his head bodyguard to check it out.
After a few minutes, the head bodyguard returned briskly and whispered something into Smith's ear. Halfway through, Old Smith almost had a heart attack, furiously exclaiming, "How dare you!"
"Haha, what wouldn't I dare? Remember, I warned you that if you defaulted, I'd blow up Caesar's Palace. This time it's just a warning; I sent some bullets and grenades. Next time, I won't be so polite. This is a courtesy because of your old friendship with my grandfather. Otherwise, you wouldn't be sitting here now," William said.
Even though his bodyguards surrounded William, Smith had a strong feeling that if he ordered William to be taken out, it would likely be the bodyguards and himself who ended up dead. He couldn't understand why he felt this way, but seeing William's nonchalant expression, his sense of danger grew. After a moment of intense internal struggle, Smith raised his hand, not to give an order but to signal the bodyguards to stand down.
"Hehe, Smith, you made the right choice," William said, suddenly flicking his wrists. Smith saw a few flashes of white light, followed by the white lights returning to William's hands. Smith's bodyguards gasped, clutching their necks where their earpiece wires had been cut. Smith, seeing this skillful display, realized why he felt such a strong sense of danger earlier.
His men were like sitting ducks to William; he could kill them without even getting up. Panicking, Smith pointed a trembling finger at William, "You, you, you..."
"Ah," William yawned, putting away the knives. "I advise you not to point your finger at me again, or I can't guarantee it won't get cut off. Last warning, Mr. Smith, pay me back every penny you owe, or I'll wipe out your entire family." Ignoring the armed bodyguards, William leisurely walked toward the elevator. Just before entering, he added, "Oh, by the way, there's a big grenade in your private suite, right in the living room. It's a gift from me; hope you like it."
After William left, the head bodyguard quickly instructed his men to search for the grenade. A few minutes later, one of them brought back a military-grade grenade. The head bodyguard cursed, "Idiot, are you crazy? Get it out of here!"
Turning to the curious Smith, the head bodyguard explained, "Boss, this is a cluster grenade. One could take down an entire building, with a kill radius of over 30 meters. The most crucial part is that it's a thermobaric grenade. If it detonates, even if people aren't killed by the explosion, they'd suffocate. If it goes off in our hotel, everyone on the floor would be in danger. God knows how he got his hands on this."
"F**k, William Devonshire can get anything, even more dangerous stuff than this. Why do those idiots at MI6 keep recruiting these Devonshire family lunatics? God, the entire Devonshire family is crazy! I was just negotiating prices with him, and he planted dozens of bullets and four or five grenades in my hotel," Smith ranted.
The head bodyguard remembered that in the early hours, Smith had told him something quite different—that if they could stall for a year or so, William might die, and they wouldn't have to pay. However, the bodyguard knew better than to mention this to an already furious Smith. "Boss, I think you should leave the hotel. It's not safe here anymore. There might be more dangerous items around. You should go to a safe house," he suggested.
"No need. Where is William Devonshire now?" Old Smith quickly calmed down, reasoning that if William, the instigator, was still at Caesar's Palace, then the hotel was probably safe. He didn't think William would actually harm innocent people.
The head bodyguard tapped his ear but then realized his earpiece had been cut. Under Smith's angry glare, he pulled out his phone and contacted the surveillance room.
"Boss, William went to the gaming hall, exchanged for a 10,000-dollar chip, and reserved a table to play dice against us," the bodyguard reported.
Hearing this, Old Smith breathed a big sigh of relief, tidied his clothes, and sat back down with a smile. "I thought William Devonshire was truly fearless, but it seems he ran into the gaming hall to hide after scaring us. Haha, does he think being in a crowded place makes him safe from us?"
However, before he could relax, another subordinate rushed over, anxiously reporting, "There's a problem, boss."
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