Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1719 - 772: Following the Europeans, Starving Three

The smoke is so damn thick it could be wallpaper.

The ashtray is piled with the remnants of "Popular Brand" cigarettes, and the table is spread with a map of Eastern Europe. The Polish "Lightning" Brigade lost another squad in the Indiana Hills, with 16 n dead and equipnt damaged, yet the battle report was buried on the third page, behind updates on the logistics of the British and French armies.

Colonel Wadysław Sochański had both hands on the table, the veins on his neck throbbing.

He had just spent half an hour on the phone with the NATO liaison officer, who was polite and ticulous in his wording, but the core ssage was the sa: "Not my problem, you're on your own."

Sochański kicked a chair, its legs scraping across the marble floor, creating an ear-splitting noise. "The British are carving out a concession in Louisville, the French mining in Tennessee, and the Germans are setting industrial standards in Ohio! And us? We're being shelled by xican cannon fodder in Indiana, and the death toll doesn't even make it to the headlines! Now they want us to be self-sufficient, essentially using us as sitting ducks while they conduct business in peace!"

Across the long table, Deputy Pri Minister and Economic Envoy Marcinski, who had just flown in from ho, extinguished his cigarette, looking equally grim.

The humiliation in Ann Arbor was still fresh in his mind, the cold blue eyes of the British Major and the curved knives of the Gurkha soldiers infuriating him more than bullets on the battlefield.

"Wadysław, calm down."

The third person in the room spoke up, Zigmunt Jankowski, Deputy Director of the General Staff Intelligence Bureau, a gray-haired, eagle-eyed man. "Shouting won't solve problems. Why do the British dare? Why can the French? Because they have capital, leverage, and an escape plan. What do we have? We only have the blood of our young n and an ally's worthless promise no one cares about."

Sochański sat down breathing heavily: "Then what do you suggest? Continue being watchdogs for the Anglo-Saxons? Or beco cheap labor for the Germans? We sent troops to North Arica for post-war benefits, not to be cannon fodder!"

Still not getting the point…

If you're not the cannon fodder, who will be?

Just like the United States Marine Corps, the fourth-grade Marines, they're definitely used as cannon fodder.

Deputy Director Jankowski's fingers slowly traced the map from Warsaw to the Atlantic Ocean, finally resting on the xico-controlled area. "The lines for the cake have already been drawn by those who arrived first. To get a seat at the table, either snatch away their knives and forks."

He paused, looking at Sochański, "Or find a new table."

Deputy Pri Minister Marcinski's pupils shrank: "You an xico?"

"Why not?"

Jankowski leaned back, "Victor is an enemy but also currently the most formidable force in North Arica. He's blocked all of NATO, devoured the Italians. The British and French are privately hooking up with him, discussing business, discussing the future. If they can do it, why can't we?"

Sochański seed to have heard a fantasy: "Us? Negotiate with xico? We are NATO Allied Army! The frontlines are still engaged!"

"The Italians were also NATO Allied Army." Jankowski replied coldly, "Now even their bodies are cold. NATO? NATO is a club, and the primary duty of club mbers is to maintain their own interests, not to die for the club. When the club doesn't offer you benefits…" He didn't finish, but the implications were obvious.

"If necessary, we can also be passionate about xico!"

Marcinski's mind raced.

Humiliation?

Not really.

Politicians are straightforward and direct.

"The risk is enormous, if exposed, we'd be completely isolated within NATO, even labeled as traitors. We can never be as shaless as the Italians… mainly because we lack their national strength."

"Risk?" Jankowski laughed, "Haven't we faced enough risk in history? Being divided, being betrayed, being used as buffers, and the result? Relying on others is never reliable. North Arica is now in chaos, the old order shattered, the new order not yet established, this is both risk and opportunity. If we can directly reach so kind of understanding with Victor, even cooperation, then our presence in North Arica is doubly assured. The path with NATO isn't completely closed, the path with xico is also laid out partially, eggs, cannot all be in one basket."

Sochański was silent for a long ti, looking at the Polish eagle emblem on the wall, then at the vast and opportunity-filled North Arican continent on the map. "How do we make contact? Who goes?"

Jankowski lowered his voice, "I'll make the arrangents for the channel. We need soone with enough weight who can completely keep it secret to lead the team. Deputy Pri Minister, you might have to personally make the trip."

Marcinski felt his mouth dry and heart racing.

"What will we talk about? What can we offer?"

"Indiana." Sochański suddenly spoke, his eyes sharp, "We can discuss joint developnt with them, what do they need? xico requires more people in the world to champion its cause, we can be those people!"

May 29, 1996, Cancun, xico, Leader's Palace.

Victor had just finished listening to Kitchener's report on the stabilization of the battle lines when Casare handed him a decoded ssage, originating from a certain encrypted transit channel in Europe. The content was extrely brief but its aning clear.

"The Polish want to talk." Casare's tone was filled with incredulity.

Victor raised an eyebrow, took the telegram and looked at it again, suddenly chuckling, tossing the telegram onto the table.