Capítulo 1334: Chapter 646: Victor, Help , Dad!!! (Part 2)
The busy signal blared sharply.
Cavendi felt drained of all his energy and instantly erupted, “F*** the dog Pri Minister!”
Let those British soldiers die in dellin!!!
Ti was rcilessly slipping away amidst the desperate sound of gunfire in dellin, in Victor’s countdown, under Casare’s mocking gaze.
Every second ca with the possibility of a soldier’s life slipping away. Yet, he was trapped in the confines of this small room, helpless, just waiting for the gentlen in London to co up with a “sincerity plan” that might never satisfy Victor.
He collapsed dejectedly onto the cold tal chair in the communications room.
Ti seed to stretch and freeze in this small space, every second accompanied by the potential bad news coming from the direction of dellin.
The Pri Minister’s promise of urgent consultations sounded like the most vicious curse to his ears.
He knew the routine in London all too well: cabinet etings, departntal coordination, risk assessnts, legal consultations… each step a potential excuse for delay, every official inclined to suggest “more cautious” approaches to shirk responsibility.
For over two hours, he sat in there just like that.
No one outside hurried him.
He didn’t even want to go outside; he just tornted himself in anguish.
The only sounds in the communications room were his own heavy breathing and the regular, silent flashing of the red light overhead.
Can’t wait any longer! The soldiers’ lives were slipping away by the minute!
He wasn’t really worried about what would happen to the British army, but he was worried he’d be dragged out to take the bla!
He suddenly grabbed the secure phone and dialed 10 Downing Street once more.
This ti, the answer ca quicker, but the Pri Minister’s voice was distinctly impatient, “Cavendi? I told you, still gathering people, committee mbers…”
“Still gathering people?!” Cavendi’s rationale was completely burned away by his anger, and he roared into the phone, voice hoarse and distorted:
“It’s been f***ing two hours! Are you holding a prep eting for the Wimbledon tennis championships?! Those soldiers! Those soldiers waiting to die in dellin! They’re human, not data in your files! Victor is a cold-blooded hyena! He won’t wait! Casare is right outside! He could co in any mont to tell how many more died in dellin! Do you f***ing understand?!!”
He completely disregarded diplomatic etiquette, let alone that it was the British Pri Minister on the other end, pouring out curses like a flood bursting through a dam, mixed with the most malicious curses and threats:
“F*** you! You coward! Worthless scum! You and your bunch of bullshit advisors are executioners sipping afternoon tea on piles of corpses!”
“Listen! If your idiotic delays cause the deaths of my soldiers, I an, Her Majesty the Queen’s soldiers! I swear to God, when I get back to London, every ti I see you, I’ll beat you! I don’t care if you’re the Pri Minister! I’ll punch your bureaucratic, deceitful face into the floor of Downing Street in front of the entire House of Commons!”
“Authorization! I need authorization now! Anything! Gold! Arms! Lift sanctions! Recognize his damn title! Anything! Just get the people out! Do you stupid pigs understand?!”
On the other end of the phone, there was a deathly silence, only Cavendi’s rough breathing echoed in the small communications room. The Pri Minister was probably completely stunned by this sudden outburst of hysterical, filled with personal threats and insults.
A few seconds later, an angry voice ca from the phone, “Cavendi, mind your position and wording. Maintain radio silence until the eting ends. That’s an order.”
Click, the call was hung up again, with the busy signal like a final death knell.
“Aaaaaargh—!!!” Cavendi furiously smashed the phone against the wall! The sturdy secure phone bounced once, fell to the floor, screen shattered, making a shrill noise. He held his head in his hands, skin flushing red with anger seeping through his fingers, his body trembling violently from extre anger and helplessness.
It’s over. Everything is over. The gentlen in London remain embroiled in “procedural justice,” while the soldiers in dellin are likely already marching towards Hell.
In this despairing silence, the door to the communications room was gently pushed open.
Casare’s round face, always wearing a sowhat amiable and profit-oriented smile, peered in, seeming not to notice the shattered phone on the floor or Cavendi’s almost breaking point appearance. His gaze even lingered on Cavendi’s twisted face for a mont, the smile deepening slightly, carrying a sense of omniscient amusent from a superior position.
“Ambassador?” Casare’s voice was as relaxed as if greeting an old friend, “Seeing you’ve been talking for so long, you must have exhausted yourself quite a bit. How about so supper? The corn tortillas with guacamole here are excellent, or perhaps so hot chocolate? Negotiations require stamina.”
Cavendi, like a puppet, muddle-headedly “invited” by Casare out of that suffocating communications room.
The remnants of the shattered phone still lay on the floor, while Casare’s seemingly kind smile looked sowhat chilling.
Casare seed especially relaxed, even carrying a bit of leisure and pleasure. He turned his head slightly and in an almost casual tone, lightly tossed out a sentence:
“Ambassador, just now in the communications room, you cursed our Supre Leader Victor as a bastard country warlord, a cold-blooded hyena, savages… Oh, that’s a bit excessive.”
Boom!
The words exploded in Cavendi’s ears like a thunderclap!
He froze instantaneously, the blood in his veins seemingly freezing for an instant, then rushing to his head explosively.
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