Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2471 The Most Dangerous Enemy (Third Update, Please Subscribe)
Money can play its proper role everywhere.

With just a $20 bill, you can get the staff in the hallway to offer you assistance.

With the help of the staff, Halberstam and Daniel left the hotel through the staff entrance with their luggage.

A dozen minutes later, they arrived in the downtown area, where the call to prayer from the mosque in the distance had just ended, and the streets were full of pedestrians. After the land was taken away, Beirut is now crowded with millions of refugees.

The place was packed with people; cars moved slowly through the crowds, motorcycle engines roared intermittently, and of course, there was a lot of arguing.

"David, where are we going now?"

Daniel looked around blankly. They were foreigners, unfamiliar with the place and the people. They left the hotel, and then what?
"I'm going to visit a friend of mine."

Just then, a yellow taxi nimbly weaved through the congested traffic to appear in front of us.

"Central Market, please hurry."

Halberstam bent down and sat in the back seat, the leather seat still warm from the sun. The driver, a local with a thick beard, glanced at him in the rearview mirror, mumbled something, shifted gears, and the car, kicking up dust, merged into the street.

“Daniel, remember this: wherever we go to conduct interviews, we must have a local contact person, or guide. This person can be an old friend, a friend of a friend, or preferably a journalist. Through him, we can get everything we need—accommodation, a car, and of course, a guide.”

As Halberstam shared his experience with Daniel in the car, neither of them noticed that several kilometers above them, a drone was flying slowly. Its silver-gray fuselage was almost invisible in the sunlight, and its high-definition camera steadily locked onto the yellow taxi, transmitting live footage to the coalition forward command post at Beirut International Airport, ten kilometers away.

The air conditioning in the intelligence center was blasting, creating a world apart from the sweltering heat outside.

Zhu Kaide leaned back in his swivel chair, looking at the screen on the wall. The screen showed a taxi slowly driving through a crowded array of stalls.

"Have the paparazzi from Team Three follow them, keep a distance of fifty meters, and don't get spotted."

The agent in front of the screen immediately issued the order through the microphone, while the agent next to Zhu Kaide said:

"Sir, wouldn't it be a waste to use informants to follow them? They're just reporters..."

Zhu Kaide picked up his mug, the steam from the hot coffee blurring the sinister look in his eyes.

"A reporter?" He sneered, the coffee rippled on the cup, and said:
“These guys with cameras are the biggest problem. If terrorists blow up a building, we can explain it as ‘necessary sacrifices in the fight against terrorism’; but the photos they deliberately take can spark an anti-war movement around the world, and then we will become the target of everyone’s criticism.”

He downed his coffee in one gulp, the coffee grounds sticking to his lips. On the screen, the taxi suddenly turned into a narrow alley, and Zhu Kaide immediately tapped the table:

"Notify the checkpoint at the alley entrance to say it's a 'routine security check' and stop them for ten minutes. Use this time to find out who Haberstam wants to see and who is helping him, then place our people there. In short, make sure he only sees what we let him see."

Zhu Kaide stared at the frozen image of the alleyway on the screen, his fingers unconsciously tapping the table.

"do you know?"

Zhu Kaide, staring at the screen, said:

“A few years ago, I also went to Saigon as a war correspondent and had contact with Halberstam. He was very clear about how American journalists, including Halberstam, used “out of context” and exaggeration to report what they called the ‘truth’.”

From then on, I understood that the truth is never something that exists objectively, but rather a product that has been filtered and presented.

Taking a sip of coffee, Zhu Kaide glanced at his thoughtful subordinate beside him and continued:
"Whether it's the military or journalists, they're all reporting the truth they need based on their own ideas. The only difference is that the military needs the truth that will allow them to win, while journalists need the 'truth' that will attract viewers."

"Sir..."

Seeing that his subordinates didn't seem to quite understand what was going on, Zhu Kaide continued:

"Therefore, in this war, journalists like Halberstam may be even more dangerous than terrorists."

After all, a terrorist's machine gun can only kill one person, but Halberstam's footage could potentially cost us the war.

Moreover, what are terrorists best at? They are at posing as victims to deceive the entire world.

As for these Western journalists?

It's not that I'm completely swayed by their narrative, but rather that Western journalists like to portray terrorists as resistance fighters against the oppression of powerful nations. It's not because they are genuine heroes, but because audiences enjoy seeing heroes rebelling against tyranny, not justice striking down evil! If an evil side is needed, then having the powerful be evil and the weak fiercely resist is undoubtedly more eye-catching—that's their goal!

As Zhu Kaide recounted all this, the people in the room were filled with surprise. They clearly hadn't expected that the so-called truth from those Western journalists would actually be this kind of truth.

Seeing his astonished subordinates, Zhu Kaide continued:

"The group of people we are dealing with now is exactly like this. They are civilized in the face of barbarity, but act like thugs in the face of civilization. This also means that we cannot defeat them by ordinary means."

"Boss, what do we need to do now?"

"It's very simple... to deal with thugs, you have to use thug methods."

Zhu Kaide took a sip of coffee and then said:

"Since they've chosen to be thugs, then we'll deal with them using thuggish methods."

He paused slightly, then continued:
"After all, our civilization will only ever be given to civilized people."

……

Pakistan.

An old Volkswagen was traveling along a makeshift road toward Gwadar. Surprisingly, the passengers and driver did not look like locals, but rather like East Asians.

"Old Yang, do you think they'll really let us in?" Wang Shengli, who was driving, looked at his colleague with some concern.

"Who knows if we don't try? You've heard those Pakistanis say that planes take off and land in Gwadar every day, all of them military transport planes bound for Beirut."

Although we can't go directly to Beirut to conduct interviews, we can still interview some SEA soldiers there.

As Yang Song spoke, Wang Shengli nodded and then asked:
"Hopefully they'll actually let us in; after all, it's a military base."

"Who knows? You'll never know unless you try."

Then Yang Song continued.

"If we miss this opportunity, we won't have another one. After all, this is our first time having the chance to report on this kind of news."

"But what if the agency doesn't publish it?"

Wang Shengli's question immediately silenced Yang Song.

Three years ago, they were sent to Pakistan to establish their first overseas correspondent station. Yang Song still remembers the feeling when he first went abroad, and he felt that the world was vast and colorful.

He originally wanted to write down everything he saw, but the newspaper had specific requirements for reporting at the time, stipulating many "prohibitions." The political situation and social conditions of the host country, relations with neighboring countries, and local customs were all prohibited. Moreover, the embassy also required that their articles be reviewed.

The reporting has only become more interesting now, covering some of the local customs and culture.

Following the London terrorist attacks, while the SEEA was waging a war on terror, they in Islamabad were now also paying close attention to this war.

The Middle East has always been a global hotspot, where the US and the Soviet Union fiercely competed, and now other countries are getting involved.

How could they not be curious?
After obtaining the ambassador's permission, they drove to Gwadar for an interview, as it was a leased territory of the State Economic Union.

This is also evidence of imperialist invasion.

Soon, the car reached the border—the border between Gwadar and Pakistan.

A barbed wire fence stretching from the coast separated the leased territory from Pakistan.

After the car stopped at the checkpoint, the border police, while checking the passports of the two men, learned that they wanted to enter the concession and reminded them:
"Sir, we can let you through, but whether they will actually let you through is another matter."

Yang Song smiled in response to the police's reminder.

"Let's give it a try. How will we know if we don't try?"

After the car passed through the border checkpoint, Wang Shengli, who was driving, looked at the checkpoint getting closer and closer, and at the soldiers at the checkpoint who looked exactly like him. He couldn't help but take a deep breath.

Finally, the car stopped in front of the checkpoint, and a soldier wearing sunglasses walked over, bowed, and said...

"Sir, please show your pass..."

He froze for a moment. As he took their passports, the soldier hesitated for a second, then asked:

"Sir, what brings you here?"

This time he switched to Mandarin, and his tone was more curious than doubtful.

“We are journalists based in Islamabad. This is our identification. We heard that you are going to the Middle East to fight terrorists, so we wanted to come here to do some interviews.”

Hearing Yang Song's answer, the soldier hesitated for a moment, then said:

"Just a moment."

The soldiers, holding their passports and press passes, were talking to the officers at the checkpoint.

The officer looked at them curiously, then made a phone call, seemingly to consult his superiors.

A few minutes later, the officer walked over with his identification, then stood to the side, bent down, and said to Yang Song:

"Welcome to Gwadar. Please wait a moment, and an officer from the press office will come to greet you shortly."

Upon hearing this, Yang Song was so excited that he couldn't even speak.

"So we can go in and conduct the interview now."

"Yes, you just need to wait here for a moment."

Wang Shengli then drove through the checkpoint under the officer's instructions and stopped on the other side of the road.

While waiting for the press officer to arrive, Wang Shengli, who was holding the steering wheel, said...

"Oh my, I really didn't expect them to be so easy to talk to, and they were very polite too."

"yes,"

Yang Song nodded and said.

"It's not what I imagined!"

(End of this chapter)