Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1859: 804: The Sun Never Sets' Sun Is Finally Settin

Capítulo 1859: Chapter 804: The Sun Never Sets’ Sun Is Finally Setting

Victor pondered for a mont: “The Scotland border…is a good choice. But it needs to look like an accident amidst tensions, a tragedy caused by the United Kingdom military’s own mistake or overreaction. Link the third phase of ‘Spring Planting’ with the Scotland situation. Let the English see that it’s not just the Scots bleeding, it’s their sons, brothers, dying on their own border for a foolish, unwinnable war.”

His eyes flashed coldly: “Focus on highlighting ‘pointless sacrifice’ and ‘London’s deceit.’ Reinhardt, you and Bennett are to draft the specific plan. It must be clean and capable of inciting maximum outrage and doubt.”

“Yes, Leader!”

Victor then turned to the Minister of Foreign Affairs: “On the international opinion front, especially in the area of forr colonies seeking compensation, we are to ‘support discreetly.’ Voice our stance through NGOs, academic bodies, and left-wing dia, stressing ‘historical justice’ and ‘decolonization.’ But the official stance should remain unvoiced, leaving London ample space for ‘diplomatic resolution’ fantasies. We want sustained pressure, not to push them into desperation.”

“Understood. As for France and Germany…”

“Keep ambiguous contact. Hint that we understand their ‘concerns,’ and might even offer incentives in certain areas of economic cooperation (such as energy or technology). But ensure they realize xico’s rise is unstoppable, and a chaotic United Kingdom aligns with the European Continent’s ‘rebalancing’ interests. The Germans want to be European leaders, the French want to weaken the United Kingdom, hand them the knife, but don’t let them think we’re holding the handle too firmly.”

After assigning tasks, Victor walked alone to the terrace.

The sky over xico City was a chaotic purplish-red from the neon lights.

Casare followed him out, offering a cigar: “Boss, the situation is developing faster than we anticipated. In Europe…could they really unite to intervene?”

Victor lit the cigar, taking a deep puff before releasing thick smoke: “Europe? Ha. Have they ever united? Not during Napoleon’s era, not in World War I or II, nor during the Cold War. Now the Soviet Union has collapsed, the United States is deflated, the two biggest clouds over their heads have cleared, and you think they’ll stick together for warmth? No, they’ll be scrambling to bask in the sun, and incidentally cut off the old branches blocking the light.”

He pointed northward: “The United Kingdom is the oldest, most space-consuming branch. The French dream of sawing it off. The Germans won’t say it, but internally they wish for half of London Financial City to collapse. The Italians, Spaniards…have a pile of their own ssy accounts. They might at most verbally champion ‘Western unity,’ but privately their calculations are sharper than anyone’s.”

“Then we…”

“We are the ones holding the saw.”

“Moreover, we tell them the sawed-off wood can be shared by everyone. They might not like us, but they dislike a still-breathing British giant even more. That’s the nature of humanity, and even more so in international politics. There are no eternal friends, only eternal interests. And we are now the largest provider…and destroyer of those interests.”

He gazed toward the east, as if piercing through ti and space, seeing London’s chaos and despair.

“Make the fire burn stronger. Burn away that Victorian arrogance, burn away those ghosts of the colonial era, and ignite an opportunity…belonging to the New World.”

…

Three days later, on February 22, 1997, near the Scotland border, Northumberland County, in a small village called “Heize.”

The border here wasn’t as clearly marked with fences like in Gretna; it was mostly based on ancient boundaries and rivers. A patrol from the Royal Anglian Regint was conducting a routine patrol, the atmosphere exceedingly tense.

Rumors of the “Ghost Convoy” and border provocations had stretched every soldier’s nerves to the limit.

Visibility was decent, but low clouds hinted at an impending winter rain.

Corporal Jackson, leading the group, suddenly raised his fist. The team imdiately halted, crouching low. He pointed roughly two hundred ters ahead at the edge of sparse woodlands: “There’s movent. Two people, no…three. Dressed in civilian clothing but acting furtively.”

Through binoculars, figures could be seen flitting through the woods, seemingly carrying long-shaped bundles.

“Suspected weapon transport. It could be smuggling, or possibly rebel scouts.” Jackson whispered a report to headquarters, “Requesting instructions.”

Headquarters response ca with static and hesitation: “…Confirm target nature. If no direct threat, maintain surveillance, avoid contact…repeat, avoid engaging.”

Avoid engaging. Jackson spat. That damned order. Watching suspicious elents operate under our noses?

At that mont, the three individuals in the woods seed to notice the patrol. They quickly dispersed, one raised sothing towards the patrol team — it looked like a tube through the binoculars!

“RPG!” soone in the team shouted in alarm.

“Open fire! Free fire!” Jackson’s rationality was overwheld by fear and the instinct to “defend,” he ordered hoarsely.

Gunfire instantly shattered the border’s silence. The sharp sounds of L85A1 rifle bursts rang out, dirt and splintered wood flew at the edge of the woods.

The other side returned fire too! Not an RPG, but automatic rifle responses! Bullets whizzed overhead, hitting the slopes behind the patrol.

The skirmish lasted less than a minute; the opposition seed disinterested in fighting and soon vanished into the depths of the woodland.

“Cease fire! Cease fire!” Jackson panted heavily as he shouted. His heartbeat pulsating like drums. He looked towards the woods; all was quiet again.