Chapter 1610: Chapter 740: No Matter How Big the Pie, There Are Always People Rushing In
In the deep night, inside a Georgian-style mansion in Ottawa Rockcliffe District.
Patrick O’Malley had just sent off another wave of party colleagues and radical supporters who ca to express “steadfast support” and “shared hatred for the enemy.”
The living room was still filled with the smoke of cigars and an almost feverish excitent.
Kreti’s so-called “resolute response” speech on television, in his ears, was full of cowardly bureaucratic rhetoric.
Just a coward, not brave at all.
They are Canadians, Canadians who once stord the United States!
His wife and children had long been sent to stay at his mother-in-law’s ho in Quebec City, ostensibly to avoid potential unrest, but in truth, Patrick had subconsciously prepared for the impending storm.
At this mont, the large mansion was left with only him, and the whistling sound made by the sharp cold wind sweeping over the bare maple branches outside.
The doorbell rang abruptly at that ti.
Patrick frowned and instinctively glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel, the hands already pointing to 10 p.m.
At this ti, who could it be? Party colleagues? Reporters? Or soone from the security departnt? He put down his wine glass and walked cautiously to the foyer, not opening the door imdiately, but peered out through the peephole.
Two people stood outside.
The one in front was short, dressed in a cashre coat and wearing a hat, the brim pressed low, obscuring his face, holding a rather heavy-looking leather briefcase.
Standing half a step behind him was a burly man, wearing a more casual leather jacket, his eyes scanning the surroundings, his hands naturally hanging at his sides, yet his posture unmistakably indicated he was a bodyguard or attendant.
Very unfamiliar.
Not any face he was familiar with.
“Who?” Patrick asked in a deep voice through the door, his hand already quietly reaching for the revolver in the foyer cabinet drawer.
The man in the hat lifted his head, and within the limited view of the peephole, Patrick saw a pair of exceptionally bright eyes, the man spoke directly, “Mr. O’Malley, good evening. We have brought so new perspectives on the current situation that might interest you, along with a proposal that might help you achieve certain political ambitions.”
The accent didn’t sound right.
British English sounds like a duck, Arican English sounds like a bitch…
More like those xicans he had encountered before.
In Canada, xicans were also among the major immigrants.
Those people with that accent!
He almost wanted to imdiately draw his gun or call the police.
The man outside seed to sense his sudden burst of hostility, he gently raised his hand, signaling the burly man behind him to remain silent, then spoke against the door panel, “Mr. O’Malley, anger is instinct, but politics is calculation! Before you make any irreversible decisions, why not listen to the ‘truth’ we bring? Another version about the sinking of the ‘Montreal’, and a possibility for Canada’s future, which may no longer need to look up forever towards the South.”
“Truth?” Patrick sneered, consud with rage, “What truth can you butchers have?! Get out of my place or I’ll call the police imdiately!”
“Call the police? And then inform the Royal Mounted Police that two guests with proposals that could change the nation’s fate were turned away by you? Moreover, are you sure Pri Minister Kreti would be pleased to hear news of your contact with us, even if it’s just to call the police?”
Patrick’s political instincts cooled him down instantly.
Although the xicans ca knocking on the door voluntarily, he was the opposition leader, naturally standing against Kreti, did you think those people would give up the chance to attack themselves?
The truth doesn’t matter.
What’s important is that it can be held against him.
Just like in Great Ming 1566, Hai Rui’s congratulatory ssage, is it a congratulatory ssage? It’s a weapon of murder!
The man outside took advantage of his mont of silence and continued, “Mr. O’Malley, we know you admire General Rose, General Rose burned down the White House not to destroy, but to break an old order and establish a new balance. Now, yet another opportunity to break the old order is in sight, don’t you want to be the one to let Canada truly stand tall, no longer being at the beck and call of Washington? Are you willing to always be just an angry opponent, rather than a rule maker?”
These words precisely hit the deepest ambition within Patrick.
His breath involuntarily quickened.
He stared intently at the calm eyes in the peephole, experiencing an inner struggle of heaven and man. After a full minute, he took a deep breath, as if he had made up his mind, and with a click, unlocked the door.
The door opened.
The cold night wind swept in a strange atmosphere into the warm foyer.
The man in the hat nodded slightly, elegantly took off his hat, revealing a normal-looking but calmly composed middle-aged man of about forty years, looking more like a scholar or banker, rather than a spy or emissary, “Good evening, Mr. O’Malley. You can call Dembele.”
He pointed to the burly man behind him, “This is my colleague.”
Patrick did not make way; he blocked the doorway, coldly scrutinizing the man, “Dembele? I don’t care what your real na is, I’m giving you five minutes. Speak right here in the foyer, if your ‘truth’ doesn’t satisfy , or if your proposal has anything that makes feel insulted, I’ll personally throw you out.” His hand remained on the drawer of the foyer cabinet.
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