Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm-Chapter 438 - 437: Political Asylum

"Mister Meyers is absolutely right—we don't harm our friends."

With that, a mustached man in a military uniform stepped out of the house.

This man was the one who had invited Martin and was responsible for handling the oil field deal—"Mr. Izzat."

But this "Mr. Izzat" was no ordinary figure. His full name was Izzat Ibrahim al-Douri, and he was born in the village of Dur near Tikrit, Iraq—yes, the same hometown as Saddam.

He had been the second most powerful figure in the Iraqi government and was ranked sixth on the U.S. military's infamous "Deck of Cards" wanted list.

A die-hard loyalist of Saddam, after the dictator was captured, Izzat led guerrilla resistance against U.S.-UK coalition forces—causing over 3,000 coalition casualties.

He remained a thorn in their side until April 2015, when he was killed by a stray bullet while leading his guerrilla fighters in combat near Tikrit, at the age of 73.

The U.S. military even conducted DNA tests to confirm his death, as he had spent 12 years fighting them.

Martin had no memory of this from his past-life knowledge, so he didn't realize just how much trouble this man would eventually cause for the coalition forces.

To him, Izzat was just a lean, medium-built man in his sixties, with a brown mustache, an exhausted expression, and a pair of sharp, unwavering eyes.

This was a man of iron will.

Martin was rarely wrong when judging people.

"Mister Izzat, when we came here, we might have attracted some unwanted attention. Do you think that could be a problem?"

Martin then detailed his encounter with ISIS militants earlier and how they had been followed.

But Izzat simply smiled. "No need to worry—those people hate the West even more than we do."

Martin, however, countered, "But if they find out that you're selling Iraq's largest oil field to the West, won't that put both of us in danger?"

Izzat shook his head. "They still won't harm us, but you—"

He gave Martin a knowing smile. "I can't promise the same for you."

The entire time, Izzat had been carefully studying Martin's expression.

Yet, unexpectedly, this young American showed no fear or anxiety at all.

Surprised, Izzat asked, "Aren't you afraid?"

Martin smiled. "Mister Izzat, this is a 4-billion-dollar deal. You wouldn't let anything happen to me or my partner, would you?"

"You're a smart young man. My apologies—I shouldn't have tried to scare you." Izzat patted Martin's shoulder, amused by his own attempt at intimidation.

Martin simply replied, "No need to apologize—you didn't scare me. Let's get to business."

"Good! Come inside."

Following Izzat into the house, Martin quickly noticed several others inside.

The way they looked at him varied—some had hope, others disdain, while a few simply didn't care.

Izzat casually introduced them.

They were former high-ranking officials of the Iraqi government, all trusted by Saddam himself.

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After the introductions, one man suddenly spoke up. "Izzat, I still don't agree with selling the oil field to an American. That's aiding the enemy!"

But another argued, "The U.S. isn't monolithic. From what I know, Mister Meyers is against the war and has a poor relationship with Bush."

"He's still an American!" the first man stubbornly insisted.

An older official finally spoke. "Tell me, besides the Americans, do you think any other oil company dares to take this deal?"

That question silenced the first man.

The older official was right. They had spread word through Middle Eastern contacts, yet only Martin's Campbell Oil had responded.

Even Martin himself hadn't expected this.

He had anticipated strong competition, yet so far, he was the only one negotiating with the former Iraqi government.

It just proved how dominant the U.S. was—other countries were too afraid to get involved.

The older official continued, "And what about BP Oil from England? They're working directly with Texas Oil Group! Do you all even understand who the real enemy is?"

After that, the room fell silent.

Izzat placed his hands on his hips and gave a commanding glance around the room. "So—does anyone else have objections?"

No one spoke.

Izzat nodded. "Good. Then let's discuss the deal."

Martin smiled. "Let's talk."

Neither side had issues with the price.

The Iraqis knew that selling for $4 billion was an undervaluation, but under the current circumstances, they couldn't hold out for a higher offer.

Besides, very few companies in the world could even afford that price.

Not even Texas Oil Group could do it immediately.

It wasn't about having the money—it was about how long it would take to secure it.

No one kept that much cash in the bank.

Only Martin, having just made a massive fortune, could pay upfront.

But the Iraqis' main concern wasn't the oil deal—it was political asylum.

They knew they couldn't win this war.

They needed an escape plan.

Martin asked, "Which countries have you contacted?"

Izzat replied, "We reached out to Russia and China, but they refused our asylum request. Those are the only two nations capable of standing against the U.S."

He hesitated before adding, "Iran agreed to take us, but—"

Izzat shook his head and didn't finish.

But Martin already knew why.

If they went to Iran, they wouldn't be killed—but they would be stripped of everything.

Not their lives, but their wealth, military resources, weapons, and even their political influence in the region.

Martin also hadn't expected that they had already approached China—and been turned down.

From his past-life knowledge, he understood why.

At this time, China still hoped to improve relations with the U.S.

They had already made compromises on multiple issues—even after being provoked (such as the U.S. bombing of a Chinese embassy), they had chosen to remain patient.

For China to secure Iraqi oil, they would need troops on the ground.

That could lead to a direct military conflict with the U.S.—something China absolutely did not want at this stage.

After a brief hesitation, Martin said, "Would you allow me to make a phone call first?"

Izzat nodded. "Go ahead."