Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 615 Nobody's any good!

Al-Cadascia Palace, August 14.

It was so quiet it was as if even breathing had stopped…

Uday Hussein sat quietly in his high seat, his eyes like those of a fierce eagle, flashing with fear, apprehension, and a touch of excitement.

"Your Highness, General Maher, General Izzat, and General Mizban have arrived," a trusted aide said, running in and immediately kneeling on the ground.

"Invite them in."

"Yes!"

The confidant lowered his head and swallowed hard; he felt particularly nervous today.

Although Saddam was the president, Uday preferred to be addressed as His Highness, which represented nobility and honor.

A moment later, three burly men walked in. Leading the way was Maher Sufi Antikriti, Saddam's cousin and Uday's uncle, who had served as the commander of the Republic's Special Guard!
Later, due to some shady financial dealings with Mexico and the United States, Saddam Hussein was furious and dismissed him from his post, sending him to raise pigs. He harbored a great deal of resentment, so he became very close to Uday.

The second one was Izzat Cooper Zachary, the commander of the Uday Commando!
Third place: Mizbanhadi, deputy captain of the Babylonian Palace Guard!

These three people are Udayra's...helpers!
Upon seeing them, Uday was very direct: "I'm prepared to kill Saddam and Qusay!"

Maher Sophie Antikriti's eyes lit up. He stood up abruptly, kicked the chair in front of him, and shouted, "Damn it! I've been putting up with that Qusay for a long time. He ruined me in front of Saddam, demoting me to Chief of Logistics. I can't stand it! Uday! Let's raise an army, storm the Baghdad palace, and seize that damned throne!"

He was very angry…

The main problem is that he's petty and usually holds a lot of power. Now you've put him in charge of logistics, and the chief of staff is basically just a puppet. How can you expect him to be satisfied?

Let's just go against it!

Izzat Cooper Zaqari, a staunch supporter of Uday, stood up and patted his chest, saying, "Your Highness, wherever you send me, I will go! Even if it's to wage war against Israel, I will not hesitate."

Uday was quite satisfied with the suicide squad leader who was named after himself. His gaze then turned to the last one, Mizbanhadi, who was the deputy captain of the Babylonian Palace Guard and in charge of a gate on the right side of the palace. Saddam named it: Ishtar Gate!
Mizbanhadi has a long beard and deep-set eyes.

"What do you mean? Tell me!" Uncle Maher Sophie Antikriti asked loudly, frowning.

"How many of us are there?"

Uday looked at his suicide squad leader, Izzat Cooper Zaqari, whose eyes darkened. "There are 120 men left. The others have been transferred to Saddam's Young Division, and now... we don't have command."

"120 people!"

Upon hearing this number, everyone was stunned.

What can these people do?
Even eating at a buffet will result in a loss.

"What's there to be afraid of! 120 men it is! 120 men will strike first and storm the Ishtar gates. As long as we act quickly enough, we can take down Saddam and Qusay, and enthrone you as president. Then everything will be accomplished!"

Uncle Maher Sophie Antikriti, his neck stiff with excitement, couldn't help but jump up and down anxiously when he saw Uday starting to hesitate. "Your Highness, don't hesitate any longer! Let's do it!"

"Yeah, let's do it!"

"I'm willing to be the vanguard and lead the charge into the Babylonian palace!"

Uday gritted his teeth, his eyes bloodshot. Did he have any way out?

Although the analogy is inappropriate, just like in the Zhenguan era, Kusai was Li Tai, the lame crown prince, whose father wanted to depose the eldest son!

If Qusay comes to power, will Uday still be able to survive?
"Done!"

He let out a roar, like a desperate gambler.

"Are you on duty tomorrow?" he asked, looking at Mizbanhadi.

The latter nodded, "Yes! It's my turn on the night of the 15th."

"Alright! Let's make our move tomorrow. Tomorrow we'll storm in through the Ishtar Gate, have someone send a false message to Qusay saying Saddam wants to see him, and then when he arrives, we'll kill him!"

When Uday spoke of killing his brother and father, his voice trembled, and it was hard to tell whether he was excited or agitated.

"Yes!!"

The three exchanged glances and immediately responded.

In the Babylonian palace.

Qusay walked out of Saddam's room with a satisfied expression. He was pleased that he had been invited to stay for dinner, while his idiotic brother had been sent away.

The father and son were drinking, even though their faith forbade them from drinking alcohol, but who could stop them? Who could stop them in Iraq?

Even their mother, Sajida, couldn't control them!

Oh, by the way, Sajida is Saddam's cousin, which means Qusay and Uday could also call Saddam "uncle"?

Qusay was very excited. His father had just patted him on the shoulder and said, "Your brother has a bad temper, is ungrateful, and acts without thinking about the consequences. I don't like him. You must work hard. After I pass away, everything in Iraq will still be handed over to you."

At the time, Qusay suppressed his excitement and simply spoke obediently of Uday's good points.

He knew that the more he praised his eldest son, the less pleased his father would be, and sure enough, he scolded him several times at the dinner table.

Standing in the fountain outside the Babylonian palace, Qusay raised his head and declared, "I will be as great as Allah!"

...

August 15th, 10:8 AM.

U.S. Senate President Charles Glass led a negotiating team to Victor International Airport in Mexico.

Casare personally went to the scene to greet him.

The national television station also broadcast the event live.

On television, the two sides even hugged, making it seem as if the two countries had been friendly for generations.

11 o'clock in the morning.

Charles Grassley met with President Cuauhtmer at the National Palace, expressing his desire for peace and his belief in stability in North America.

At 11:30, the meeting began in a closed-door setting.

With no reporters present, Charles Grassley was more direct in expressing his desire to meet with Führer Victor.

Casare and Quaukmote exchanged glances, and the former smiled and said, "I will be fully responsible for the negotiations!"

Charles Grassley's eyes flashed, but he didn't press the matter; he simply smiled and nodded.

But when he saw the "Mexico Treaty of Twelve", he jumped up immediately.

"Impossible! Absolutely impossible!"

"This demand would be tantamount to completely dividing the United States. We cannot and will not accept such a treaty, which would formally cede and restore all or most of the territory seized by the United States in the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo of 1848, including but not limited to California, Nevada, Utah, Arizona, most of New Mexico, western Colorado, southwestern Wyoming, the Oklahoma Panhandle, and the part of Texas west of the Rio Grande. Do you know approximately how many square kilometers that is?"

Charles Grassley slammed his fist on the table and shouted.

He wanted to side with Victor and become the President for Life of the United States with Victor's help, and he was willing to sell out American interests for this, but that doesn't mean he would actually sell them out like that.

I sold you condoms, and you tell me you've fallen for my wife.

Shall I push it for you?
The American negotiating team members next to them were equally indignant after seeing this.

"Don't forget, the United States also has nuclear weapons. If you push us to the brink, we'll all die together!" One of the military representatives, a general, was furious. This man was the newly appointed Deputy Commander of the Central Command, General Max Weltherman!
An old man who is 63 years old.

He served as commander of the U.S. Southern Command from September 1989 to November 1990.

In December 1989, the United States launched Operation Just Cause, an invasion of Panama. Thurman, as commander of the U.S. Southern Command, was one of the key commanders in this operation. He was responsible for developing the operational plan and coordinating overall command. Under his command, the U.S. military deployed 26,000 troops, divided into five task forces, to launch a surprise attack on Panama from multiple directions, quickly overthrowing the regime of Noriega, the commander of the Panamanian Defense Forces, and disbanding the Panamanian Defense Forces!

A general!
"Nuclear threats won't scare Mexicans. If you dare to make a move, we'll wipe the Americans off the face of the earth!"

Casare was equally defiant, slamming his fist on the table. "Don't fucking scare me. I've seen it all when I was fighting alongside the Führer. What kind of situation haven't I been through? You think you're some paper tiger trying to intimidate me?"

"Don't pull me!"

Kuukmot tugged at him, and Casare pointed at the American in front of him, "I'm telling you, if you don't want to sign, go back home, and we'll fight face to face again. I want to see how many more of you guys have to die!"

! ! ! ! !

Is it that hard, bro?

Wasn't Casare supposed to be all smiles all the time?
But I have to say... he's really manly!

General Max Welseman and Charles Grassley were both red-faced from his rebuke.

Four years ago, Mexico was a country that could be brought down by economic sanctions; four years later, it has become even more uncontrollable!
Charles Grassley took a deep breath. "We need to continue this discussion..."

For the next eight hours, the two sides took turns speaking, engaging in a fierce verbal battle. No one dared to drink a sip of water, for fear of missing a single exciting moment.

19:27pm.

The conference room door opened, and a weary-looking Charles Grassley emerged with his negotiating team.

"Come out, come out!"

Reporters waiting in the rest area called out, and dozens, even hundreds, of people rushed over carrying their equipment. They stayed there for quite some time.

“Mr. Speaker, this is The New York Times… Oh shit, don’t use your ceiling on me!” the blonde reporter yelled at the person behind her.

"Mr. Speaker, this is The Washington Post..."

"This is the Daily Mail..."

Looking at all these reporters, Charles Grassley cursed inwardly, "It must be those damn Mexicans who did this!"
The presence of so many reporters was intended to psychologically undermine them.

"Thank you, please move aside." The security personnel pushed the reporter aside.

"Mr. Speaker, how are your talks going? Have you agreed on when a ceasefire will be reached?"

Charles Grassley and the others squeezed in without saying a word, their faces dark, and got into the car outside, which drove towards the hotel.

After a while, Casare and the others came out.

The reporters' cameras were once again aimed at him.

Fatty Ka chuckled, "Don't rush, everyone can answer. Take turns."

This smile was like a gentle breeze, completely different from the one she wore during negotiations inside.

Kuukmote stood silently to the side, but a hint of amazement could be seen in his eyes. Casare had grown up very quickly and was already a very, very mature politician.

Meanwhile, on the American side, he remained completely silent the entire way.

But Charles Grassley's expression wasn't particularly bad. Arguing for profit is work, surrendering is life. I've already defected to the enemy, what are you trying to make me angry about?
Surprisingly, General Max Welsemann, the deputy commander of the Central Command, also remained calm.

“Aren’t you angry?” Charles Grassley asked.

Should I be angry?

The other party countered with a question, then shook his head upon seeing the other's astonished expression. "The final choice is not mine, but yours. I'm just expressing my anger. The most important thing is that even if we were to actually bomb nuclear weapons, the domestic conglomerates wouldn't stand for it."

This is true.

If you bomb it, Mexico will bomb it too. What money will our conglomerate make then?

Selling body bags?
Or are you selling sanitary napkins?

Capital is inherently weak, and coincidentally, the United States is controlled by capital from top to bottom. Norman Schwarzkopf is merely a military man who rose to power through force, unworthy of respect. It's like how the old ministers of the Tang Dynasty viewed Wu Zetian as just an old woman who would simply wait for him to die, but little did they know that this guy became more shrewd with age...

“Sigh.” Charles Grassley sighed.

The two didn't exchange any more words on the way.

After arriving at the hotel, he had a meal and went back to his room to rest, but Charles Grassley still couldn't sleep. He knew that Victor would definitely see him!
Sure enough, around 10 p.m....

There was a knock on the door. He opened it and saw a stranger, a hotel staff member. "Sir, Mr. Yuan wants to see you."

"Wait a moment, I'll change my clothes."

The waiter nodded.

Charles Grassley came out after changing his shirt and said, "Let's go."

He then went downstairs through another elevator, which also had a back door with two Cadillacs parked behind it.

He could vaguely see a familiar face through the car window.

Wait until you open the car door…

"General Max Welsemann!!!" he exclaimed.

The latter also looked equally unpleasant, forcing a smile as he said, "Speaker."

Charles Grassley sat down with a very expressive face.

Goodness…

You slammed your fist on the table, threatening to bomb Mexico. I thought you were some kind of hero, but it turns out you're just like me!
This immediately lessened Charles Grassley's sense of guilt.

Humans are just that kind of animal...

He feels balanced as long as someone shares his misfortune.

The atmosphere inside the car was awkward…

"Cough cough..."

Finally, Charles Grassley spoke first, "Uh... when did you join..."

General Max Welseman paused for a moment, understanding perfectly well what the other party meant: they were asking him when he had betrayed them!

"Last August."

Charles Grassley raised an eyebrow, a half-smile playing on his lips. "So you're a senior, huh?"

These words were somewhat sarcastic and hurt the other person's feelings. Maxwell retorted, "You have to run fast, otherwise you won't even get a bite of hot shit if you're lagging behind!"

As soon as he finished speaking, he realized something was wrong.

Damn…

Does that mean you ran so fast just to eat a hot piece of shit?
Charles Grassley looked at him strangely, but didn't refute him.

They're all traitors, so why bother arguing about who came before whom?
Do you think you're Liu Lu? Just because you have a sanitary napkin on your mouth doesn't mean you're someone important.

The two remained silent, simply gazing out of the car window.

……

(End of this chapter)