Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 659 Defeating the Capitalists with Violence!

Bogota, Provisional Allied Coordination Headquarters, Working Group Meeting the following day.

General Gerd von Lundstätter is discussing the specific details of the "Amazon Basin Security and Development Fund" with representatives from France, Germany, and Colombia.

The atmosphere at the meeting was much more relaxed than yesterday. Mexico's "generosity" and dominance have been established, and all parties are conducting pragmatic consultations on their interests within the framework.

Suddenly, there was a rapid knock on the conference room door. A Mexican officer, his face grave, strode over to Lundstätter, leaned down, and whispered as he handed him an urgent telegram he had just received.

Lundstätter's usually composed face suddenly furrowed as he read the telegram. He raised his hand to signal the meeting to pause, and the entire room fell silent, with everyone's eyes focused on him.

Lundstätter's voice was low. "We have just received urgent intelligence that last night, the Irish Resistance launched an extremely rampant and deadly attack, using heavy weapons, including rocket launchers and portable anti-aircraft missiles, against the British army camp in Azs."

"What?!" Sir Johnson jumped to his feet, the chair legs scraping against the floor with a screeching sound.

"I'm sorry, Sir, that's true."

Lundstätter gently placed the telegram on the table and pushed it to the French representative next to him for review. "The preliminary report indicates that the attack occurred during the changing of the guard in the early morning, and the resistance forces fired at least five RPG rockets and one SAM-7 missile."

"Rocket grenades concentrated their attack on an armored personnel carrier convoy parked on the outskirts of the camp and an armory storing light weapons, causing a violent explosion and fire. Even more deadly was..."

Lundstätter's voice was heavy. "A SAM-7 missile accurately hit a Lynx helicopter that was conducting a routine patrol at low altitude."

The telegram was passed from one delegate to another, and the words on it were shocking:

The helicopter exploded and disintegrated in mid-air, killing all three crew members instantly.
The explosion at the armory triggered a chain reaction, with preliminary statistics showing at least 15 soldiers killed and more than 40 seriously injured.

Seven armored vehicles were destroyed.

Many facilities in the camp were severely damaged.

The attackers used the complex terrain and darkness as cover to retreat, leaving only traces of blood and discarded weapon packs.

"The scene was engulfed in flames, and the losses were extremely heavy."

Lundstätter concluded, looking at Sir Johnson's swaying body.

"The initial confirmed death toll has exceeded 20, including the three helicopter crew members. There are many seriously injured, and the number is still rising. This is the worst single attack suffered by British troops stationed on the mainland in nearly 20 years."

"We express our deepest condolences!"

"We also protest this irresponsible attack that crosses the line of humanity!"

Az Barracks is one of the most important training bases and outposts for the British Army in Ireland!

Was it attacked by anti-aircraft missiles from the Irish resistance forces?

This was a bolt from the blue! His mind was in complete chaos: the anger at home, the parliamentary questioning, the media bombardment, the already precarious government approval rating... and those pensions!

We just had a falling out in Bogotá over a bigger share of the money, and now my heart has been ripped out back home. Is this money even enough to cover the damages?!
It hurts so much!
“This…this…” Mr. Jazz was somewhat incoherent.

Yesterday he was still haggling over the distribution of hundreds of millions, and today the country has paid the price of dozens of elite soldiers' lives and incalculable military and political costs!
He felt like everyone was looking at him…

"Oh, God……"

The French representative murmured, his face showing sympathy, but a glint of cunning flashed deep in his eyes.

The German representative frowned, tapping his fingers on the table, sensing that something was amiss.

The representatives of those smaller countries were even more terrified and dared not utter a sound, but their eyes turned to pity and a hint of schadenfreude when they looked at the British.
General Gerd von Rundstedt broke the suffocating silence at just the right moment, his voice regaining its calmness, even carrying a perfectly appropriate weight and "concern":
"Sir, please accept our condolences. This is a heartbreaking tragedy and a barbaric challenge to the order of all civilized nations. The Mexican frontline forces express their strongest condemnation of this. We are willing to provide all possible assistance, both in terms of intelligence and technology, to trace the source of these weapons and the whereabouts of the attackers."

His statement was dignified and impeccable.

"Yes! We must investigate! Where did those anti-aircraft missiles come from?!"

Sir Johnson, as if grasping at a straw, shouted, "The Irish Resistance couldn't possibly have such a thing! Someone must be behind this!"

“Of course we must investigate this thoroughly!” Lundstätter said firmly. “The fact that such advanced weapons have fallen into the hands of terrorists threatens the safety of all of us. This once again proves that global security is an inseparable whole. Our fight against Colombian drug lords is for the stability of South America, but maintaining the security of the core region of Europe is equally urgent.”

He then changed the subject, his tone becoming more "sincere" and "constructive":
"Sir, I believe that what your government needs most right now is to concentrate its efforts on dealing with this horrific attack on your homeland, reassuring the people, and finding the perpetrators. Perhaps we can postpone discussing the specific share of the 'Amazon Fund' and the details of your country's logistical support? We fully understand the enormous internal pressure your country is currently facing. While Brazil's actions are important, homeland security and stability are always the top priority. Mexico and our allies will patiently wait for your country to overcome this difficult time."

In reality, Mexico has voluntarily given up its huge spoils of war and is now "considerately" offering to postpone Britain's funding commitments to Brazil. What reason or face does Britain have left to occupy an important position in the future "Amazon Fund" led by Mexico, or even in the entire South American security architecture?
Absence means elimination!

But what else could he say?
The country has been turned upside down, and the Prime Minister and the Defense Minister have probably been bombarding his secure phone lines with calls.

He must now get back to London immediately to face the political storm that could topple the government.

Brazil? South America? In the face of the ruins of Az's military camp and the more than twenty coffins draped with the national flag, they all seemed so distant and unreal.

"Thank you for your understanding, General." Sir Johnson's voice was filled with exhaustion and dejection.

"I...I need to report back to China immediately. Our government will respond to the fund as soon as possible." He staggered out of the meeting room.

The meeting room door closed, and after a brief silence, the French representative picked up his teacup, gently blew on the steam, and looked meaningfully at Lundstätter: "General, it seems that some people's backyards are more prone to fire than rainforests. This fire has been set at just the right time."

Lundstätter held up the telegram about the Az attack as if it were just a routine briefing.

He said casually, his finger unconsciously tracing the words "SAM-7" on the telegram. "Alright, gentlemen, let's continue. The British share is temporarily put on hold, but that won't affect our efforts to finalize the overall framework and initial operating plan of the fund. The cleanup operation in Brazil is urgent. Let's focus our energy on investments that can truly bring long-term returns."

The meeting resumed, but the atmosphere was completely different.

……

Inside a safe house in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

Sean McAllister watched the news replays of the attack on Camp Az, the burning wreckage of vehicles, the destroyed buildings, and the national flag draped over stretchers—

And the host's shocked and angry tone.

His companions' faces showed a mixture of vengeful satisfaction and a hint of apprehension at the sheer destructive power of the attack.

"The results are even better than expected," a young member whispered, his voice trembling slightly.

Sean took a deep breath, suppressing the turmoil in his heart, his eyes becoming unusually firm: "This is our strength! This is the response we deserve for London's oppression! The 'banker' didn't lie to us! This is just the beginning!"

He picked up the brand-new encrypted communicator; the screen lit up, and a short message had just been sent:

[Goods received, excellent efficiency. The second batch of support (including sniper equipment and intelligence packages) will arrive at designated point A in 48 hours. Maintain pressure. Targets: transportation hubs and symbolic facilities. Spread panic. —Banker]

Sean gripped the communicator tightly, squinting at the television. Panic? No, what they wanted was a raging fire!

He looked at his companion: "Get ready to receive the next shipment. London's pain has only just begun!"

……

The atmosphere at 10 Downing Street, London, is tense.

The issue of Ireland is truly a sore spot for the British!

The Prime Minister, his face ashen, listened to the reports from the Defense Secretary and the head of MI5, his voice trembling with rage: "Anti-aircraft missiles?! On our own soil?! In our main military camp?! What were the intelligence services doing?! How did those weapons get in?! How did those resistance rats obtain such things?!"

“Prime Minister, we did detect some unusual financial flows and sporadic small-scale arms smuggling before, but this level of heavy weaponry, especially the SAM system, came without any warning! The source… we are still investigating the source with all our might, and our initial suspicion is that it may be from the Eastern European black market…”

The MI5 chief's forehead was covered in cold sweat.

"Doubts?! I need answers! Definite answers!" The Prime Minister slammed his fist on the table. "And the compensation! The compensation for the fallen soldiers! Yesterday Parliament was arguing fiercely about the expenses of the Colombian operation and the compensation budget after the troop reduction, and today there are dozens more! Where will the money come from?! How will we explain this to the public?! How will we explain this to the mothers who lost their sons?!"

He slumped back into his chair, overwhelmed by a profound sense of powerlessness.

Colombia hadn't even finished cleaning up the mess, and news of Johnson's utter disgrace had just come from Bogotá when the country's heart was stabbed in the back.

With its finances stretched thin, its army demoralized, and its intelligence system rendered ineffective, the old wound of Northern Ireland was torn open again, leaving it bleeding profusely... This empire seemed to have become riddled with holes overnight, teetering on the brink of collapse.

Britain is really poor!
Among the five permanent members of the UN Security Council, damn it... it even ranks sixth in GDP, it's laughable, it's utterly useless!
"Convene an immediate COBRA (Cabinet Emergency Response Team) meeting."

The Prime Minister's voice was filled with exhaustion. "Report to Her Majesty the Queen, and also, notify the Ministry of Finance to find a solution! Even if it means suspending some overseas projects! Domestic security! Domestic security must be the priority!" He thought of the so-called "Amazon Fund" in Bogotá, and a bitter feeling welled up in his heart.

A pause? I'm afraid it's not a pause, it's a complete elimination. The Mexicans really know how to play the game!
Outside the window, London was shrouded in dark clouds. The smoke from the Aztec barracks had drifted into Downing Street, into the heart of Great Britain, bringing a chilling cold and endless panic.

……

Mexico City, the rooftop of the National Palace.

Outside the window, torrential rain pounded violently against the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, blurring the skyline of this vast city into a gray and hazy blur of light and shadow.

Rain lashed against the glass like a waterfall, creating a continuous, muffled roar. Inside the office, the soft lighting contrasted sharply with the raging weather outside.

Viktor stood quietly by the window with his back to the door.

He casually rolled up his sleeves and held a coffee cup in his hand.

"Knock, knock, knock." The knocking sounded, steady and rhythmic.

"Enter."

The door was pushed open, and Casare walked in, holding a thin folder in his hand. He was very excited. "Boss!"

"London must be very lively, right?" Victor asked.

"Yes, boss, you're absolutely right!"

"In London, public opinion is in an uproar, and the pressure on the government is unprecedented. The Northern Ireland issue is giving them a big headache. It is said that even the Irish in the UK are a bit uneasy."

"Our second batch of aid is on its way, targeting transport hubs and symbolic measures. If the Northern Irish aren't stupid, it should be no problem!"

"How many pounds are the lives of more than twenty elite soldiers worth? How much budget is needed to rebuild a core military camp after its destruction? The surge in compensation, equipment replenishment, and counterterrorism budgets... and the unseen blow to markets and confidence?"

"Boss, they're under a lot of pressure!!"

Victor's eyes lit up. "Since the British are under so much pressure and their treasury is so empty, does that mean our 'harvest' season can start early?"

Casare immediately understood what Victor meant and nodded vigorously. "Boss, the panic will spread to the market, the pound will be under pressure, and the value of British assets will experience violent fluctuations, especially those key companies and technology sectors that urgently need cash flow or whose valuations have been severely undervalued due to the domestic security crisis..."

"Panic is the best catalyst,"

Victor's voice was not loud. "When people start selling off all their liquid assets, when the government has to sell off quality industries at rock-bottom prices to fill fiscal holes, that's when we step in. Those once high and mighty British gentlemen will soon understand what it means to be penniless."

Casare nodded quickly: "Our fund is fully prepared. Offshore accounts, agent companies, complex trust structures, all means to avoid the UK regulatory scrutiny are in place. We are just waiting for the market panic to reach its peak so that we can flood in like a tide and buy those high-quality assets that were once out of reach at bargain prices."

Viktor walked to the huge desk, picked up a list that had been prepared beforehand, which was filled with the names of target companies.

“This aero-engine company has world-leading technology, but recently, due to the reduction of military orders and the plunge in stock price, its cash flow is about to dry up. We can quietly acquire shares in the secondary market first, and then propose to inject capital when they are most desperate, on the condition that we take control of the R&D department.”

"And that established electronics and information company holds cybersecurity technology for many of the UK's critical infrastructures. The British government is currently preoccupied with its own problems and has no energy to protect them. We can acquire these technologies quietly through a third-party acquisition."

"Don't forget the energy sector,"

Victor tapped his finger heavily on the list. "The British government is looking for someone to take over the North Sea oil field projects due to declining returns on investment and environmental pressures. Now is the best time to acquire the mining rights at the lowest cost and reap the benefits for decades to come."

Casare's heart raced as he looked at the names on the list.

These are the pillar industries of the British economy, their pride and joy, but now they are becoming the "prey" in Victor's eyes.

"Boss, these targets are all too sensitive. Even if the British government is short of money, I'm afraid they won't give up easily, right?" He was a little worried.

Do they still have any other options?

“When the domestic population is complaining about security issues and economic recession, when parliament is arguing about funding, and when the Treasury’s account is almost unable to pay soldiers’ pensions, they have no choice but to compromise. We can package it as a ‘friendly investment,’ promise to preserve jobs, and even bring in some European puppet companies to participate, making them think it’s just a normal business transaction.”

He paused, "Moreover, we have more leverage. The situation in Northern Ireland can be made even more chaotic, keeping the British government under constant pressure and preventing them from scrutinizing our acquisition. By the time they realize what's happening, those core assets will already be ours."

“Tell the fund managers,” Victor said slowly, “to prepare themselves. Now all they have to do is wait and see how the British handle things.”

Casare nodded vigorously: "Understood! Boss, this time we'll definitely make Britain bleed a lot!"

Victor didn't speak, but simply raised his coffee cup and gently touched it to the rainy night outside the window.

It was as if they were toasting to the upcoming harvest.

"Times have really changed!"

Use capital to strike at capitalists!

……

(End of this chapter)