Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1628: 746: Smith Commissioners Everywhere! (Part 2)

Chapter 1628: Chapter 746: Smith Commissioners Everywhere! (Part 2)

“Sir, this is ‘venture capital’. We are investing real money and taking on the risk of your country possibly collapsing completely, risking our entire investnt. Naturally, we need so unconventional guarantees, or perhaps you can try seeking help from the International Monetary Fund or your traditional European allies. See if, while you are concurrently at war with xico and Illinois, and Canada’s attitude is unclear, they are willing and able to provide such a substantial, imdiate sum of money without these ‘harsh’ conditions?”

This… is not wrong.

Japan and South Korea have long been ambiguous, and those two Asian juniors are now pretending to be quail.

Ask them for money?

Hey, they’re all shaking their heads blindly.

People’s hearts are not what they used to be.

“Of course, to express our sincerity and help you alleviate dostic political pressure, we can also provide an additional, off-the-books ‘Political Action Fund’, approximately one billion US Dollars. This fund can be used to persuade key congressn or to et so unforeseen electoral needs. The operation will be absolutely confidential and conducted through a trusted third-party channel.”

The room was deathly silent.

Little Bush stared hard at Schneider, who returned his gaze calmly.

Rove kept his head down, staring at a blank notebook as if it held the answer to all this.

Little Bush’s chest heaved violently.

He almost wanted to roar at them to get out.

But as the words reached his mouth, images flashed through his mind: frontline soldiers defeated due to lack of supplies, cities plunged into chaos due to power and water outages, McCarthy’s gloating eyes on Capitol Hill, and Thomas Lee Gorestein (the gunman from the previous chapter) with a sniper rifle aid at him.

Ti ticked away, each second feeling as long as a century.

Finally, Little Bush squeezed out a sentence extrely slowly, almost through gritted teeth, his voice hoarse beyond recognition: “The terms regarding Alaska, and the authority of the ‘liaison office’ stationed in the Treasury Departnt, need to be anded.”

Finally, a smile appeared on Mr. Schneider’s face.

“Certainly, sir, the details can be negotiated. We have brought a preliminary draft of the agreent. Now we can begin discussing the scope of ‘modifications’.”

…

About two hours later, Little Bush erged from the bunker with a tired face, grabbed a bottle of mineral water in the office, and took a big gulp, his eyes sowhat red and swollen.

He then looked at Rove and said, “Make sure the money gets to the frontline soldiers first thing, you’re in charge, can I trust you?”

Rove, a friend of decades, heard this and straightened his face, nodding vigorously, “Don’t worry, George, I won’t betray our friendship.”

Hearing this, Little Bush nodded contentedly and softly said, “Thank you.”

Guilt flashed in Rove’s eyes for a mont. Seeing the other party tired, he said, “You get so rest, I’ll go get busy.”

The other nodded.

Carl Rove left the office, the heavy wooden door closing gently behind him. He paused for a mont outside, took a deep breath, adjusted his tie, and walked towards his office.

Back in his office, Rove locked the door behind him.

He pondered for a long ti before finally picking up the red phone on the desk and dialing a number.

After a few busy signals on the receiver, it was answered.

“Jonathan.” Rove’s voice was very low, even though he knew the line was secure.

On the other end was Defense Minister Jonathan W. Green, an old acquaintance and a bureaucrat who had spent years in The Pentagon. “Carl?” Green’s voice carried a trace of barely detectable urgency, “Did the eting in the bunker end? How did it go?”

“It ended,” Rove replied concisely, “The money problem is temporarily resolved, the first installnt of 20 billion will arrive shortly.”

With an audible relief, Green on the other end of the phone could be heard sinking into his seat, “God bless… Finally so good news. When? In what form will it be disbursed? The front line can’t wait any longer; the pressure here is imnse. If there’s no pay soon, I’m afraid the next to surrender to Bramo won’t just be a few stragglers.”

“I’ll coordinate with the Treasury Departnt for the exact process to transfer quickly to the Defense Departnt’s special account,” Rove paused, his tone becoming sowhat nuanced, “However, Jonathan, this money has a special source, and the accounts need to be handled cleanly.”

Green, being extrely astute, imdiately understood, his voice lowered a notch, “I understand, in ‘special tis,’ there are always ‘special expenses,’ tell , how much ‘fake salary’ needs to be handled?”

Damn!!

Still skimming off paychecks at this ti.

It’s sothing, really sothing.

He put it bluntly; in monts like this, false politeness is aningless. Military skimming is a chronic issue, but the scale and nature differ with this massive ergency allocation.

Rove was silent for a few seconds, as if weighing the situation, and also like he was gathering strength for his next words. Little Bush’s bloodshot trustful eyes flashed in his mind, a pang of guilt like a poison snake gnawed at his heart, but it was quickly suppressed by a stronger reality logic.

If I don’t skim, others will, and I might as well benefit!

Is it easy for Little Bush? Is it easy for anyone? This ship is sinking; shouldn’t I at least get myself a lifeboat?

He sighed, a sigh full of staged helplessness and mutual understanding among conspirators, “George (Little Bush) isn’t having it easy either, facing too much pressure, we can’t be too excessive. Let’s do it this way…”

He seed to make a big decision, “We’ll operate on a scale of 30,000 people. Let’s skim a little less.”

“30,000 people…” Green repeated on the phone, seemingly doing quick ntal math.

Based on the approximate payroll and allowances of the U.S. Military at that ti, these 30,000 ‘nonexistent’ soldiers could generate tens of millions of dollars of operable funds each month, and within this 20 billion ga-fund, the amount that could be diverted initially without being easily detected would be extraordinarily significant.

Dogs, all dogs!

“Understood. I’ll have my subordinates handle it cleanly; the lists and accounts will be flawless. This ‘extra’ funding will ensure it’s used in the most ‘critical’ ‘places’.”

They both understood each other; “most critical places” clearly didn’t an frontline soldiers’ boots and rations.

“Be careful,” Rove finally advised, his voice regaining the coolness of a Chief of Staff, “This money is lifeline money; mishandling it would spell doom for both of us.”

“Don’t worry, Carl, The Pentagon has its own rules,” Green confird, “For Arica.”

He added a pompous ending.

I skim for patriotism!!!!

After hanging up, Rove felt his palms slightly sweaty.

He walked over to the liquor cabinet, poured himself a small glass of spirit, no ice, downed it in one gulp.

The liquor scorched his throat but couldn’t warm the budding chill in his heart.

Did he betray Little Bush’s trust?

Perhaps. But he could also convince himself it was preserving a breath of life for the country, preparing for a potentially worse outco.

If Arica is gone in the future, I’m willing to donate!

In the mire of politics, pure loyalty has long been a rarity; survival and interests are the eternal laws.

He gazed out the window, the city’s lights stubbornly flickering in the night.

The US Dollar is about to arrive. Will it illuminate this country’s path forward, or simply shine a light on the shortcut to a deeper abyss for those at the helm? He didn’t know the answer.

All he knew was that Arica, this broken ship, might not even weather the impending storm.

Perhaps tomorrow it’ll be slinking off to beco a world refugee?

“George, to you.”

Rove raised the goblet, muttering to himself.

…