Becoming the Wealthiest Tycoon on the Planet

Arriving at the safehouse, William got out and rang the doorbell, while the Expendables team spread out to secure advantageous positions to prevent any ambush.

Banning, who was resting, quickly stood up when he heard the doorbell, moving to check the computer monitor. MI6 agent Jacqueline joined him.

"FK, is that William Devonshire?" Banning muttered in surprise as William tilted his head up to look into the camera. "What's he doing here?"

Jacqueline, being English, was even more familiar with William. "I'm just as curious about why he's here."

After a half-minute of waiting, William rang the bell again and spoke into the intercom, "Miss Jacqueline, it's impolite to leave someone two ranks above you at MI6 waiting outside this long. And Mr. President Benjamin, you're now my client. Vice President Truman Bull has spent several hundred million dollars for me to find you and Banning, so until I get paid, anyone trying to capture or kill you is my enemy."

"Gad, has Bull lost his mind, spending that kind of money to hire William Devonshire to rescue me?" Benjamin muttered as he pointed to the monitor, where William grinned. "Is he really one of your MI6 people?"

Jacqueline shook her head. "I have no idea, Mr. President. Anyone two ranks above me would be a department head, and there are only nine of those in MI6. I know them all, and I've never heard of William Devonshire being one of them."

"If you're waiting for that special ops team Bull mentioned, let me save you the suspense—they're not coming. Less than five minutes out of their base, they were taken down by a squad of mercenaries, courtesy of Bakkawi. Right now, there's another team of eight mercenaries posing as a rescue unit on their way here," William said, glancing at his watch. "They're about nine minutes away. Were it not for this unfortunate news, I'd be at home asleep, planning to pick you up tomorrow when the British military sweeps through London to clear out these terrorists and mercenaries. Then, I'd take you to the embassy and collect my fee. So, Mr. President, for your safety and so I can get paid, please open the door. OK?"

"Hah, the rumors about him being money-obsessed are certainly true," Benjamin chuckled, his suspicions eased by William's directness. He looked at Banning and Jacqueline. "There's more I can't explain to you right now, but if this really is William Devonshire, then I believe he's not here to capture or kill me."

"Are you sure?" Banning asked, still cautious.

"Yes," Benjamin nodded. "We have no conflicts of interest, nor any personal vendettas. William Devonshire himself is a billionaire worth nearly $30 billion, so there's no reason he'd help Amir Bakkawi target me. Most importantly, he's one of the beneficiaries of this world's current order—wars and black-market dealings aren't his business. Disrupting the world would bring him no benefit. If he meant us harm, it would have been far easier to launch a surprise attack than to show up at our doorstep."

After considering Benjamin's reasoning, Banning nodded and pressed the button to open the door. He then motioned to Jacqueline, "Get one of your colleagues to wait in ambush around that corner."

"OK."

Though William hadn't mentioned the fourth person in the room, having him hidden could still provide an extra layer of protection if needed.

"Andrew," Jacqueline instructed, "position yourself around that corner. If necessary, we might be able to use William Devonshire as leverage."

"Understood," Andrew nodded, pulling out his gun and taking cover at the corner of the room.

A few seconds later, William stepped into the room but stopped just outside the entrance. Seeing Banning and the others' puzzled expressions, he said, "Could the gentleman hiding in the corner come out? And, Miss Jacqueline, kindly take your hand off the gun behind your back. I'd hate to do something rash if I get nervous."

"Are you monitoring us?" Jacqueline asked calmly.

"Heh, don't forget I mentioned that I'm an MI6 supervisor. There isn't a single safehouse MI6 can hide from my sight. Let me show you our latest high-tech gear." With that, William reached into his coat pocket, taking a smart pair of glasses from his storage space and tossing them to her.

Jacqueline caught the futuristic-looking glasses and, after a moment's hesitation, put them on.

The glasses displayed a 3D virtual image, showing the three people in the living room, and even clearly revealing Andrew with his gun around the corner. The only person who didn't show up was William, still standing by the door.

Jacqueline removed the glasses and handed them to the intrigued Banning. When Banning put them on, he saw the same image and exclaimed, "These things are incredible."

But after a few seconds, the glasses emitted a sound, "Beep, beep, beep. Unauthorized use detected. Countdown to self-destruct: 10, 9, 8..."

Alarmed, Banning quickly took off the glasses and handed them back to Jacqueline.

Once back in Jacqueline's possession, the countdown halted, though the glasses now displayed, "Confidential mode activated. Leaving a one-meter radius from Miss Jacqueline will result in immediate self-destruct or explosion."

"FK," Jacqueline muttered, looking at the glasses in shock. Wearing something that might self-destruct was unnerving, so she quickly asked William, who had now entered the room, "Under what circumstances would it explode?"

"No idea," William replied casually as he took the glasses back. He extended a hand to Benjamin, saying, "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. President."

Benjamin glanced at the glasses on William's nose, his gaze flickering, but he shook William's hand. "Thank you for coming to save me, Mr. Devonshire."

"No need for thanks—you're my client now." William laughed, holding up a bag. "Your life is worth $500 million to me. For your safety, I've brought two bulletproof suits, which should be useful for you and Mr. Banning."

Seeing the look on William's face, Benjamin glanced at his own suit. "Haha, looks like your products are selling well."

"They're just a bit too expensive," Benjamin replied with a smile, patting his suit. "Five hundred thousand pounds a set isn't something the average billionaire can afford."

"My products are worth every penny. Level-four bulletproof vests typically include steel plates and ceramic inserts, weighing at least 8 kilos. Meanwhile, my suits are only 200 grams heavier than regular suits, yet outperform level-four vests. They're also dustproof, waterproof, and the second generation has a temperature control feature. In winter, just add a windbreaker for full protection."

"Enough," Banning interrupted, his eyes fixed on the monitor. "Damn, we've got company."

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