Working as a police officer in Mexico Chapter 1863: 805: If You Can't Win, Surrender! It's That Si

Capítulo 1863: Chapter 805: If You Can’t Win, Surrender! It’s That Simple! (3)

In the long run… if separatism becos contagious, will those old ghosts of Corsica, Brittany, and even Alsace-Lorraine awaken?

More dangerous is the man sitting in xico City. Victor Reyes. He proved that the Old Empire can be dismantled at a relatively low cost.

“Mr. President.” The secretary knocked and entered, “The British Ambassador requests an urgent eting.”

“Tell him… I have an important eting in half an hour.” Jiang Zemin said, “Schedule it for tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow? But the Ambassador said it’s very urgent—”

“Then let him be urgent.” Jiang Zemin turned, “Tell him France is also facing ‘complex dostic situations,’ we need ti to ‘evaluate.'”

After the secretary left, Jiang Zemin dialed another number.

“Connect to the Director of External Security (DGSE). I want the latest intelligence assessnt from xico. Especially the degree of their ‘Spring Planting’ plan’s penetration in Europe.”

March 1, 1997, England, Birmingham

At 2 PM, Victoria Square was already gathered with over three thousand people.

This was different from previous demonstrations. No longer just a few hundred unemployed workers holding signs, but a mix from all walks of life: students, nurses, railway workers, teachers, even a few suited bankers holding signs that read “Stop Investing in War.”

On the podium, a woman in her thirties took the microphone. Her na was Sarah Kent, a nurse from Birmingham General Hospital, suspended last month for publicly criticizing NHS budget cuts.

“They say we are rioters!”

Her voice bood through the loudspeaker across the square, “They say we are disrupting stability! But I want to ask: what is stable? The ever-growing waiting lists? The ever-increasing university tuition fees? The ever-rising death toll of young soldiers in the Scottish Highlands?!”

The crowd erupted in roars.

“Look at London!” Sarah pointed to the south, as if she could see through buildings to that city, “The Queen tearfully apologizes on TV, but what are those gentlen in Parliant doing? They’re discussing increasing security budgets for the Royal Family! They’re discussing deploying more troops to Scotland! They discuss everything, except us—ordinary people’s lives!”

Slogans waved among the crowd: “Jobs, Not War!” “Healthcare is Not a Privilege!” “Education Free, Army Out!”

Among the crowd, a few n in ordinary jackets observed silently. They were mbers of Reinhardt’s Hydra Group, responsible for “on-site guidance” and “security surveillance.”

One of them, a German agent codenad “Eric,” whispered into a miniature microphone under his collar: “Emotions are in place. Ready to enter the second stage.”

On the edge of the square, a lone police car was parked. Inside, Officer Thomson nervously watched the crowd.

“Headquarters, Victoria Square crowd exceeds three thousand, emotions are intense, requesting reinforcents.”

The intercom responded, “All available police forces are dealing with another rally in the city center, maintain surveillance, avoid escalating tension.”

“Avoid escalating? Chief, they’re already burning the Pri Minister’s picture!”

“Then let them burn! As long as they don’t attack public facilities or police, do not intervene! That’s the order from above!”

Thomson cursed and hung up the intercom. He’d been a police officer for twenty years, seen miner strikes, anti-war marches, racial riots, but this was different. This ti there was no clear “enemy,” the anger was diffuse, directed at the entire system.

And it was too well organized. Speakers took turns, smoothly transitioning from economic grievances to political criticism, the slogans were uniform, even the poster fonts seed uniformly designed.

Soone was orchestrating from behind the scenes.

He looked towards those n calmly observing in the crowd, intuition told him: it’s them.

But what could be done? Arrest? For what charge? “Looks like organizers”?

In the center of the square, Sarah Kent’s speech reached its climax:

“So today, we’re not going to Downing Street, not to the Parliant Building, we’re going there! To Birmingham City Hall! To ask our Mayor, our councilors: which side are you on? On the side of London’s gentlen, or the side of Birmingham’s people?!”

“City Hall! City Hall! City Hall!” the crowd chanted in unison.

Three thousand people began to move, like an angry river, surging towards the City Hall.

Thomson started the police car, slowly following along the crowd’s flank. He pressed the intercom: “Headquarters, the crowd is moving toward City Hall, expected arrival in ten minutes. Repeat, they are headed to City Hall.”

This ti, there was a longer silence on the other end of the intercom.

Then a stranger, a more senior voice ca through: “Officer Thomson, this is the district superintendent. Listen, no matter what happens, police are not to shoot, not to use batons. If City Hall is occupied… let them occupy it.”

“What?!”

“This is a political order. Now, execute it.”

The call ended.

Thomson stared blankly at the intercom, then looked at the crowd surging ahead.

He understood. They were afraid. Afraid that images of violent repression would spread, becoming the next “Heize Incident,” igniting all of England.

So they chose to retreat.

But what cos after retreat? When the protesters find City Hall can be easily occupied, what about the Parliant Building? Downing Street?

The police car slowly followed, Thomson suddenly felt he was not maintaining order but escorting the procession of a revolution.

Sa day, Berlin, Germany, Ministry of Internal Affairs Crisis Response Center