Chapter 730: Mismatched Profession (Part One)

Lin Mo focused his gaze and saw a black stone, about the size of an egg.

The texture was fine and dense, with a slight sheen, perhaps from being rubbed in hands over the years, showing signs of slight patina.

Lin Mo smiled, and Saeed wore a similar smile on his face.

No one thought this was a gift of little value.

On the contrary, both saw a golden-hearted innocence in that black stone, which truly was a precious gift.

In such a barren village, children lacked toys, and playing with mud or stones was completely ordinary.

Children have little sense of values; they casually pick up a stone and treat it as a treasure, playing with it in their hands without anything strange about it.

Perhaps this stone was a bit darker, heavier, and harder than usual, but stones like this should be everywhere in the mountains, so it was not surprising that it was just coincidentally picked up by Ali. It became a priceless treasure, both oddly and naturally, belonging only to children.

However, given a child’s tendency to like new things and discard old ones, it was unusual for Ali to keep it for so long; perhaps it served as some kind of emotional support in his father’s absence.

The preciousness did not lie in the stone itself, but in the sentiment it carried.

This scene was observed by Ali’s mother, grandmother, and the two older imams. The adults exchanged glances and shared a knowing smile.

Ali’s face turned crimson immediately. His earlier bravery drained away, and he quickly hid beside his mother, who was the woman preparing lunch in the kitchen.

“Thank you very much for the hospitality; we should be leaving now.”

Having successfully completed the task assigned by Yuri, Lin Mo felt a weight lifted off his chest.

He was glad he came to check it out in person; otherwise, he would never have been at ease, knowing that this desolate and barren village could only manage to meet basic needs without a solid support for the family, making their future incredibly difficult.

……

“Chuck, we have just thirty minutes to go; we’re almost there. Are all Iranians blind when it comes to directions? They gave us completely wrong directions, making us waste so many days. What kind of place is this? The roads aren’t even marked on the electronic map. Oh my God, I’m so frustrated I could faint.”

Gagor Brown, an employee of Northrop Grumman, held a tablet with satellite navigation in the co-pilot’s seat and spoke angrily to his colleague, Viri Chuck.

In just a few days, the sun had reddened their arms, and he believed if he stayed in Iran any longer, he would turn into jerky.

On the tablet equipped with a GPS module, the arrow representing their position was finally getting closer to the previously marked destination. But having a satellite didn’t help; taking a wrong turn could lead them anywhere, even if it was in sight.

Luckily, after several twists and turns, they finally found the right path.

“No, Mr. Brown, I think your Persian is incorrect; they must have misunderstood you.”

Viri Chuck drove the rented Jeep Cherokee with a gloomy expression and casually lit a cigarette from the lighter. It was a lightly flavored woman’s cigarette, and a faint tobacco smell lingered in the cabin before being dispersed by the airflow.

Seeing this, Gagor Brown quickly lit a cigarette off the remaining flame, savoring a deep drag.

Both Viri Chuck and Gagor Brown were avid smokers, and when they entered the country, they secretly stashed a few packs of cigarettes and replenished their “ammunition” from the Iranian black market, ensuring they wouldn’t run out on their journey.

Even so, they could only smoke furtively; otherwise, it would cause them serious trouble.

Smoking and drinking were illegal in Iran, with severe penalties, even death sentences, for serious offenders. Because of this, they didn’t dare hire locals as guides; otherwise, they would be sitting in a police station, struggling with their nicotine cravings.

“That’s impossible! Back in America, my Persian teacher praised me for speaking it well!”

Gagor Brown prided himself on being fluent in Persian, Arabic, Turkish, and Pashto, responsible for assisting with the company’s Middle Eastern operations, but it frustrated him that Viri Chuck, an expert in field operations and safety, deemed his Persian riddled with errors that led to misunderstandings.

Viri Chuck continued to drive without glancing sideways and casually asked, “Was your Persian teacher Iranian?”

The road was empty, with no vehicles or pedestrians insight, and under the scorching sun, their car kicked up a cloud of dust as it sped along.

“Uh, no, he’s Israeli…” Gagor Brown suddenly widened his eyes. “Oh! Shit!”

“……” Viri Chuck rolled his eyes at his colleague and tossed away the half-smoked cigarette.

This was his personal habit, meaning there was always some remaining cigarette.

Realizing where the problem was, Gagor Brown cleared his throat awkwardly and looked down at the tablet in his hands, though the embarrassment was hard to hide.

Iranians and Israelis have always been at odds; speaking Jewish-accented Persian would earn you some cold stares.

The cabin fell silent again.

The road was dry and desolate, with clumps of yellowish clay hills and large rocks scattered around, making it hard to see even a single blade of grass.

Gagor Brown and Viri Chuck had flown from America, circling half the globe to reach Iran, then taking a train and a car, and finally, guided by satellite navigation, they reached their destination, a small village called Varga.

Along the way, Gagor Brown struggled with his mediocre Persian, while he and Viri Chuck relied on prepared translation notes to navigate unfamiliar Iran.

After numerous detours, they finally found the hometown of Northrop Grumman’s temporary employee, Abul Hasan Zargalar.

They were merely delivering a large check, as the company executives wanted it personally handed over to show their care for employees who had made sacrifices for the company.

“Fifteen more minutes, oh my God, we’re going to miss lunch! It looks like we’ll only have that damn dried rations for lunch. Chuck, once we hand over the check and say what we need to say, we can enjoy ourselves. This is ridiculous; Iran has no bars! Let’s hurry and book our return tickets; America is a paradise, and we need to make up for lost time.”

Gagor Brown noticed that Viri Chuck, sitting in the co-pilot’s seat, still looked gloomy. He reached out with his large furry hand and patted him, continuing, “Hey! Buddy, don’t look so miserable. We’ve finally made it through; we should be doing our best. I know what you’re thinking; it’s tough to find work these days, and many people don’t find jobs suited to their expertise. Just forget that damn geology and exploration knowledge. We all need to look forward, right?”

Viri Chuck glanced at Gagor Brown with a hint of sadness, saying, “You know, I spent so much time pursuing a PhD and never thought I’d be doing a job I have no interest in. Even if the pay is generous, it’s not what I want.”

Over the past few days working together, Viri Chuck had shared everything with Gagor Brown, who learned that Viri Chuck wasn’t satisfied with his current job. Although he performed excellently on every task, the department supervisor always noted his lack of passion.

Gagor Brown shook his head vigorously and said, “Chuck! Chuck! Don’t play coy. I, Gagor, also have a master’s in astronomy. Look at me now—Persian, Arabic, Turkish, Pashto, and I’m even learning Russian and French. Oh God, I’m almost becoming a multi-language translator. I left my astronomy knowledge back at university, but look! Am I not doing well now? Think about it, buddy, what’s a job with your major that pays as much as this? I—cough, cough! Oh damn!”

Suddenly, a loud honk pierced through, and a big truck zoomed past the Cherokee, stirring up dust that blew into Gagor Brown and Viri Chuck’s cabin since they hadn’t rolled up the windows to save gas and smoke.

“God damn you! Oh no, this isn’t God’s territory; hmm! May Allah curse you!”

Gagor Brown leaned halfway out of the window, giving the departing truck the middle finger, but just then another truck overtook from the side, sending the dust straight into his face.

“Ptooey! Bastard!”

In the driver’s seat, Viri Chuck was also caught in the dust again and quickly rolled up the window.

Truck after truck rushed by, forming a sizable convoy ahead, all with writing in English, seemingly belonging to a company called Boulogne Mining.

Suddenly, the truck in front slowed down, blocking the road with an intimidating presence.

“Damn it, what do they want? Are they trying to rob us?”

Gagor Brown turned pale with fear; he thought his earlier gesture might have angered them. He quickly shrank back into the car, rolled up the windows, and locked all the latches, rummaging through the junk box for a can of pepper spray, trembling in fear.

With the path blocked, Viri Chuck glanced in the rearview mirror and saw two long, luxurious buses calmly lining up behind them, completely blocking the gravel road that had never seen such a jam.

Seeing the situation turning grim, the Cherokee came to a stop.

Five or six big trucks and two buses slowly surrounded the Cherokee, giving off a vibe that made one wonder if trouble was brewing.

“Hey?!”

Viri Chuck noticed a muscular man jumping down from the front truck, wearing a white tank top, camo outdoor pants, and a thick chain around his neck. Though he wore sunglasses, that face looked somewhat familiar.

The man took off his glasses, making his face even more recognizable.

A name hung in Viri Chuck’s mind, like a Muslim woman’s veil, but he couldn’t recall it.