Capítulo 1335: Chapter 646: Victor, Help Me, Dad!!! (Part 3)
Cavendi’s face instantly lost all color, turning as pale as paper, his lips trembling uncontrollably.
An overwhelming fear gripped him, far exceeding his previous anger and humiliation.
This was no longer a matter of negotiation breakdown; this was blatant humiliation of the Supreme Leader! On the opponent’s turf, being directly exposed by their intelligence chief! He felt the death knell of his diplomatic career had sounded, and even… it might be a luxury to leave Mexico safely. He opened his mouth, unable to produce any sound, leaving only heavy and desperate breaths.
Casare seemed not to notice his loss of composure, still smiling amiably, even “considerately” patting Cavendi’s icy and stiff shoulder, applying just enough force to make Cavendi stagger:
“Don’t be nervous, Mr. Ambassador, the Supreme Leader is magnanimous and won’t take offense to your momentary outburst. Come, let’s eat something to calm the nerves. Negotiations can really take a toll on one’s health.” His smile deepened, with a playful hint akin to a cat catching a Rat, “However, the next time you express your opinions, perhaps choose a… hmm, more private setting?”
Damn you, you dogX!
Meanwhile, in London, at 10 Downing Street.
The Prime Minister irritably tore off his tie and violently swept a stack of documents to the floor. He
had been roaring at the empty office for a full five minutes, his voice now a bit hoarse.
What emergency consultation? What core Cabinet security committee?
Today is damn Sunday!
He dialed the numbers of the core members one by one like an ant on a hot pan:
The Minister of Defense was at a private hunting ground in the Scottish Highlands with intermittent signal, finally connected, with the background still full of barking dogs and wind noise. The minister said he would set out immediately, but the Prime Minister knew well that by the time he reached London, it would be too late.
The Foreign Minister was in London, but he was receiving an IV for severe food poisoning in a private clinic; the phone was answered by a secretary whose voice was so weak it was barely audible.
The Chancellor… that damned miser, was attending a “can’t be disturbed” meditation retreat, phone off, even assistants couldn’t reach him!
The Minister for Security Affairs couldn’t be reached at all!
“Useless! A bunch of useless people! None of them can be counted on in crucial times!”
The Prime Minister slammed his fist hard onto the thick mahogany desk, making the teacups on the table buzz. He felt like a Clown abandoned on an isolated island, holding the title of Prime Minister yet unable to gather even a few decision-makers. The bureaucratic bloat and its failure at critical junctures filled him with unprecedented frustration and rage.
He slumped into his chair, covering his face with his hands.
Cavendi’s desperate howl seemed to linger in his ears: “By the time Parliament finishes its research, the bodies of the British Army in Medellin will be god-forsakenly rotten!” And all those vicious curses… Though it infuriated him, at this moment, a deeper sense of helplessness engulfed him.
He seemed to see the British Army corpses strewn across the streets of Medellin, the piles of soldiers’ photos and angry slogans in front of the Parliament Building, the opposition Leader criticizing the government’s incompetence on television, and the end of his own political career…
“F***!” he suddenly stood up, emitting a beast-like growl at the empty meeting room, then slumped back down.
Besides impotent anger, what else could he do at this moment?
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him – should he visit Mexico himself?
Have a private talk with Victor?
There really was no other way. Domestically, nothing could solve the problem. It wasn’t a matter of dozens or hundreds trapped in Medellin, but thousands, and even during this time, many captives were killed, couldn’t withstand it.
Really couldn’t withstand it anymore.
Victor, save me, Father!!!
…