Capítulo 1866: Chapter 805: If You Can’t Win, Surrender! It’s That Simple!
The trading floor was in chaos, with phone ringing, shouting, and keyboard smashing sounds all mixed together.
“The Bank of England intervened! They’re buying!”
“It’s useless! The sell-off is too large! The European Central Bank hasn’t made a statent! The Fed is silent too!”
“Societe Generale just announced a suspension of all British Pounds transactions with UK institutions!”
“Comrzbank follows suit!”
“Morgan Stanley has downgraded the UK’s sovereign credit rating!”
On the screen, red numbers kept jumping, like the vital signs of soone losing blood.
At 10 Downing Street, the Pri Minister looked at the urgent report delivered by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, his hand trembling.
“After the Inverness Airport incident, international capital has started to flee in panic. In the past twenty-four hours, it is estimated that over twenty billion British Pounds has flowed out of the UK. If the exchange rate can’t be stabilized today…”
“How to stabilize?” The Pri Minister interrupted, “Send the SAS to assault the airport? If the footage gets out, we will beco the Butcher slaughtering ‘Freedom Fighters.’ Negotiation? That would an acknowledging the legitimacy of the Rebels.”
“But Her Majesty the Queen said—”
“Her Majesty the Queen is in Windsor Castle, not in the financial market!”
The Pri Minister shouted, then covered his face in exhaustion, “I’m sorry. I… I need to think.”
After the Chancellor left, the Pri Minister stood alone by the window.
He rembered Gray’s warning late last night: “What we’re facing isn’t just a rebellion; it’s a carefully orchestrated multidinsional attack. Military, economic, political, public opinion… every aspect is being pressured simultaneously. And our allies… are all watching.”
The phone rang.
It was the Cabinet Secretary, speaking urgently: “Pri Minister, Birmingham City Hall has been occupied. Liverpool, Manchester, and Leeds are seeing similar gatherings. The police recomnd… not to forcefully clear them, fearing nationwide unrest.”
“So just let them occupy?”
“For now… yes.”
The Pri Minister hung up the phone, feeling a wave of dizziness.
He walked back to the desk, opened the bottom drawer, and took out a file labeled “Top Secret · Last Resort.”
The file had only three pages, titled: “Feasibility and Bottom Line Plan for Informal Contact with xico.”
It was drafted two weeks ago, at that ti he thought it was groundless worry.
Now, it might be the only way out.
He pressed the call button: “Please have Director Gray et imdiately. Alone, no records.”
On the sa day, France-Belgium border, near Dunkirk
At ten in the morning, Lieutenant Jean-Pierre Leclerc of the French Border Police received an order: set up a “Temporary Enhanced Control Point” at the A16 highway border checkpoint.
“What does enhanced control an?” he asked his superior.
“It ans ‘random checks’ on all vehicles and personnel coming from the UK direction,” his superior’s voice was tired, “especially trucks and buses. Check docunts, check goods, if there’s anything suspicious… find an excuse to detain.”
“This violates the Schengen Agreent—”
“Forget the agreent now! Berlin, Paris, Brussels just held an ergency eting. The UK situation might be out of control, we can’t let the trouble spread to the European Continent. Follow the order, Lieutenant.”
Leclerc put down the walkie-talkie, looking at the unobstructed border crossing in front of him. For decades, this place symbolized the achievent of European integration—a borderless free flow.
Today, the invisible wall is about to rise again.
He commanded his n to set up barriers, place cones. Soon, a long queue of vehicles waiting for inspection ford.
On a truck with a UK license plate, the driver stuck out his head: “What’s going on? They never checked before!”
“Temporary inspection, please cooperate.” The policeman said expressionlessly, “Driver’s license, cargo manifest.”
“I have to hurry to deliver to Brussels! How long will this take?”
“That depends on your level of cooperation.”
The driver cursed while rummaging through papers.
Leclerc walked to one side and lit a cigarette. He saw not only the French side, but also the Belgian direction was setting up checkpoints. Further away, the German border was probably the sa.
Europe was quietly closing its doors.
No official announcent, no news briefing, but every border cop knew: overnight, the rules changed.
A passing British tourist rolled down the car window: “Officer, what’s happened? Is it a terrorist attack?”
Leclerc thought for a mont and gave an official response: “Routine security drill, sir. For everyone’s safety.”
The tourist suspiciously closed the car window.
Leclerc took a puff and looked toward the English Channel.
Across the Channel, the island nation that once ruled the world was now caught in the whirlpool it created.
And the European Continent decided to first ensure it wouldn’t be dragged in.
Unity? Only when there’s no price to pay.
March 5, 1997, Switzerland Geneva, a hotel suite
Gray took off his glasses and rubbed his nose bridge.
Thirty-six hours of secret travel: London-Paris-Zurich-Geneva, all using fake passports and undercover identities.
In the suite’s living room, sat three people.
xican Deputy Minister of Foreign Affairs Hector Marquez.
xican Intelligence Bureau’s Director for Europe Fernando Lopez, with sharp eyes, sizing up Gray.
And a man sitting in the shadow, whom Gray had only seen in photos, Bramo.
The forr darling of the United States, now… xican advisor and aide!
Donald’s brother-in-law.
“Director Gray, the long journey must have been tiring.” Marquez said in fluent English, “Tea or coffee?”
“Let’s get straight to business.” Gray sat down, “What do you want to stop the fire in Scotland, calm the overseas territories, and pause the ‘Spring Planting’ plan?”
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