Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 743 "Politics is internal strife! Internal strife is politics!"

February 10, 1996, Parliament Hill, Ottawa, Canada.

Beneath the Gothic vaulted ceiling, every seat in the legislature was filled with people, and the gallery was also packed with nervous reporters and officials.

Today, Jean Chrétien will be here seeking parliamentary authorization to take the most radical military action since he took office, authorizing the navy to blockade the waters near Maquias Seal Island and, if necessary, to conduct deterrent shelling against the Mexican fleet operating in the area in conjunction with the U.S. military.

This is not easy for Canada.

After all, how long has it been since we last fought a war?
Let's do it!
Let everyone know how powerful we are.

Chrétien stood at the podium, his face haggard, but his eyes resolute. He spent nearly twenty minutes, speaking in a somber and earnest tone, outlining the "unprecedented acts of aggression" facing the nation, emphasizing the shame of the sinking of the HMS Montreal, and the "deadly threat" to Canadian sovereignty and strategic security posed by the occupation of Seal Island, Maquias.

He cited classical texts and called for unity.

"Ladies and gentlemen, fellow countrymen!"

Chrétien's voice echoed through the microphone, reaching every corner of the hall: "When our soldiers sink to the cold seabed, when our flag is forcibly torn down on our own territory, to retreat and hesitate is to betray the victims, to commit a crime against the future of our nation. We cannot, and will never, bow to such blatant blackmail. I implore Parliament to authorize the government to take all necessary measures to defend our sovereignty, reclaim our islands, and let the world see that Canada's determination to defend its dignity is unbreakable."

As he finished speaking, the ruling party seats erupted in enthusiastic applause. Many members of parliament were flushed and waving their fists. Chrétien returned to his seat and breathed a slight sigh of relief. He believed that, given the wave of public outrage sparked by the Montreal incident, his proposal should be able to pass, even with dissenting voices.

The speaker struck the gavel and announced the start of the vote.

The numbers on the electronic ticketing screen began to jump.

The number of votes in favor steadily increased, but the rate of increase in votes against was beyond everyone's expectations.

Kretty's confidence froze. He leaned forward, staring at the screen in disbelief. His aides began whispering among themselves, their faces turning grim.

When the final number is displayed—

In favor: 135 votes

Against: 148 votes

The hall fell into a deathly silence, as if everyone was gripped by the result.

Immediately, with a "buzz," like a honeycomb exploding, a huge commotion erupted!

"what?!"

"This is impossible!"

The ruling party's lawmakers stood up and loudly questioned the opposition, while cheers of victory and sharp whistles erupted from the opposition seats.

Kretty abruptly turned her head, her gaze fixed on Patrick in the front row opposite her. Unlike his colleagues, Patrick didn't cheer; he simply sat there calmly, arms crossed, meeting Kretty's gaze with an expressionless face.

"Damn it! O'Malley, what is your opposition party doing? Why did you suddenly change your mind?" A member of the ruling party jumped out and questioned loudly.

The voices of those around them grew louder and louder.

Just as this chaos reached its peak, a figure suddenly stood up in the opposition seats. It was Marcus Hall, one of Patrick's staunchest allies and henchmen, a member of parliament known for his sharp tongue and aggressive style.

Hall carried a heavy black briefcase. Instead of heading to the podium, he stepped onto the oak conference table in front of him to everyone's astonishment. His leather shoes made a dull thud on the polished surface.

"Quiet!!" he roared, drowning out the noise.

All eyes immediately focused on him.

"Authorization?! Authorization for you, a clown who betrayed national interests?! Chrétien!" Hall's voice, resonating through his chest, was loud and penetrating. He pointed at the Prime Minister, whose face was grim. "You don't deserve to sit in that position! You don't deserve to represent Canada! You and your Washington masters have long since sold out the soul of our nation!"

As he spoke, he snapped open the clasp of his briefcase, pulled out a large stack of documents, and with all his might, threw them into the air!
The snow-white papers, like a flock of startled pigeons or like offerings of paper money, fluttered down in the solemn parliament hall.

"Look! All of you, take a look!"

Hall stood on the table like a madman inciting rebellion. He grabbed a few pieces of paper that had fallen to the ground and read aloud, “Prime Minister Chrétien’s personal assistant secretly met with a lobbying representative of Lockheed Martin after the Montreal incident, and just three days later, the government pushed through the highly controversial letter of intent to purchase American F-35 fighter jets, abandoning our own aerospace industry!”

"and this!"

He then grabbed another sheet of paper: "A trust fund under the Chrétie family received a huge 'donation' of $500 million last month from the U.S. 'Strategic Resources Foundation,' which has close ties to the White House! At the same time, our country made significant concessions to the United States on key agricultural product clauses of the North American Free Trade Agreement. Is this a coincidence? This is blatant transfer of benefits, it's treason!"

"What dirty deal did he and that Bush Jr. in the White House reach in private? To pave the way for America's hegemonic ambitions with the blood of our young Canadians? To exchange our national dignity for his personal and his clique's political and economic interests?! His so-called defense of sovereignty is nothing but a show, a show that binds himself even more tightly to the American military-industrial complex!"

Hall's voice was like a heavy hammer, striking the silent hall again and again. Every piece of paper that fell seemed to carry a scorching heat, burning everyone's vision.

Truth and falsehood intertwined, reality and illusion blurred.
Some of these were "precise ammunition" provided by Dembele, while others were dirt on the opposition that had been collected for a long time but had not had the opportunity to be released. Now they were all mixed together and thrown out like cluster bombs.

“Nonsense! This is slander!” Kretty was trembling with anger. She stood up abruptly and roared at Hall.

"Take him down! Get him out of office!" The ruling party lawmakers were indignant.

"Let him continue!" the opposition lawmakers shouted, trying to stop him.

Order has completely spiraled out of control.

It's unclear who pushed first, or who threw the first punch.

A young ruling party lawmaker tried to rush forward and pull Hall off the table, but was grabbed around the waist by an opposition lawmaker. Then, like igniting a powder keg—

"boom!"

An inkstone flew over and hit a member of parliament on the forehead, causing blood to flow instantly.

"The fight started!"

"Protect the Speaker!"

"You traitors!"

Roars, curses, the loud crash of tables and chairs being knocked over, the sound of papers being crushed and torn... all sorts of sounds mingled together. The usually dignified gentlemen were now fighting like street thugs, ties were torn, suits were ripped, glasses flew off, and fists and briefcases were waving in the air.

The speaker pounded his gavel in vain, shouting "Order! Order!" at the top of his lungs, but his voice was completely drowned out by the wave of chaos.

The live television broadcast faithfully captured the entire event, broadcasting this unprecedented moment at Canada's highest authority to a national audience in real time. As Patrick emerged, escorted by members of the opposition, he raised his fist to the reporters standing at the door and declared, "Canada is not a vassal of the United States. The war between Mexico and the United States should not have resulted in the sacrifice of any Canadian!"

……

To put it bluntly, politics is nothing but internal strife!
Internal strife is politics.

The media machines controlled or influenced by the two major parties went into overdrive, and public opinion began to surge!

The next day, mainstream newspapers supporting Chrétien and the ruling party, such as The Globe and Mail, prominently featured the headline "A disgrace to Parliament: Opposition betrays the nation for its own selfish interests!" accompanied by photos of Marcus Hall throwing documents on the parliamentary table and chaotic scenes of fighting within the chamber. The editorials fiercely criticized Patrick and his party for "putting partisan interests above national interests at a time of national crisis," and stated that "their actions constitute a serious desecration of democratic procedures and a substantial undermining of national security."

However, the media camp that supported Patrick, especially several influential television stations and emerging online news platforms, launched a more direct counterattack.

The National Post devoted an entire front page to detailing some of the "dirty" revelations from Hall, with a shocking headline: "Kretty's 'Secret Deal': Dollars in Blood?"

The report not only meticulously traced the timeline and connections between the so-called "Lockheed lobbying" and the "Strategic Resources Foundation donation," but also "deeply investigated" the "suspicious" asset changes of several key ministers in Chrétien's cabinet, as well as the situation of their children attending prestigious American universities and receiving "mysterious scholarships."

Although there is no conclusive legal evidence, the dense accumulation of "questions" and "coincidences" is enough to cast a huge shadow in the public's mind.

There are even claims that "Kretty participated in Little St. James Island in the United States," and that the list is in Victor's hands.

The television stations went all out.

During primetime debates, the guests passionately portrayed Kretty as a "puppet planted in Ottawa by Washington" and called the proposed military intervention "using the corpses of Canadian youth to pull chestnuts out of the fire for America." They chanted, "Freedom and democracy, what we need is freedom!"

Anyway, it caused quite a stir.

That's what happens when you're too free—every little thing becomes a hassle. Take Microsoft, for example. Hey, the government can shut down? That's the first time I've ever heard of that. So irresponsible! Why don't you just go and have anarchy?

What is the role of governments in Europe and America?
Oh, it's for Commissioner Smith to make money.

Amidst this uproar, in his office, Jean Crett wearily rubbed his temples, the ashtray in front of him overflowing with cigarette butts.

He had just concluded an emergency meeting with core party members, and the situation was far from optimistic. Although most of the "dirt" Hall had released could not withstand rigorous legal scrutiny, it was politically fatal, especially at this sensitive time, and could shake the support of centrist lawmakers and the public.

Just then, his private phone rang.

Kretty took a deep breath and answered the call.

"Yes, I am George."

George W. Bush's voice came from across the ocean, "I saw your parliament's news, God, it's a complete farce. What is Patrick trying to do? Wasn't he the most hardline hawk before?"

Kretty gave a bitter laugh, her voice hoarse: "George, I can't figure him out either. He and his men are like madmen. They not only rejected the authorization, but also threw out a bunch of carefully crafted lies, portraying me as a clown who betrayed national interests."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then George W. Bush's tone became displeased: "Listen, I understand your domestic difficulties, but the Mexicans on Maquias Island won't disappear just because your parliament is arguing. Our fleet is heading north and needs the unwavering support of our allies, not to back down at the last minute. Can't you use your power to enforce this? This is a matter of national security!"

Upon hearing this, Kretty's face flashed with a hint of embarrassment and helplessness.

Forced implementation? Under Canada's parliamentary system, how could he possibly mobilize the military for a substantive offensive operation without parliamentary authorization?

How?
Do you think he's the Emperor of Canada?

He patiently explained, "George, without parliamentary authorization, I cannot order military operations outside of the blockade. Besides, that bastard Patrick is already planning a no-confidence motion or even impeachment proceedings against me. I'm in a precarious situation myself."

He paused, his voice heavy with exhaustion: “Canada is facing a serious problem right now, George. It’s not just about whether or not to send troops; it’s about the country potentially facing a constitutional crisis. Patrick has seized on some of the complex sentiments people have about the United States, and he’s now portraying himself as a defender of national independence.”

George W. Bush remained silent for a long time on the other end of the phone; only his heavy breathing could be heard.

Finally, he said curtly, "Okay, I understand. You deal with your internal problems first. But time waits for no one, and we hope Canada can make a decision that is in our common interest as soon as possible."

After hanging up the phone, George W. Bush sank deep into his presidential chair, his face so dark it seemed to drip water.

"You son of a bitch..." he muttered under his breath, unsure whether he was cursing Patrick or the sudden turn of events.

He is not a fool.

Patrick, a politician known for his toughness and advocacy for war, suddenly made a 180-degree turn at a crucial moment, not hesitating to launch a political nuclear attack on the incumbent prime minister. There is definitely something abnormal behind this.

Is it merely partisan strife or a change in ideology? It couldn't be that drastic and thorough.

"Who convinced him?" George W. Bush muttered to himself. Who had the ability and the motive to persuade Canada's opposition leader to switch sides at this critical juncture, even at the cost of causing domestic unrest, in order to prevent Canada from entering the war?

The answer is almost obvious.

Who benefits most? Without a doubt, it benefits Victor of Mexico the most. A Canada that cannot send troops is equivalent to removing one of the United States' arms on its northern flank.

The pressure on the Mexican fleet will be greatly reduced, allowing them to focus more on dealing with the US forces coming from the south.

“Victor…” Bush Jr. narrowed his eyes.

Just as he was basking in the frustration of being isolated and manipulated, the office door was suddenly flung open with a bang, without even a prior knock.

George W. Bush looked up angrily and saw his chief of staff, Karl Rove, stumble in, breathing heavily and covered in a fine layer of cold sweat.

"Karl?!" George W. Bush jumped up in shock at his appearance, not even noticing the cigarette ash that fell onto the expensive carpet. "What happened? Is it the Gulf of Maine? Or the fleet...?"

Rolf rushed to his desk, slamming his hands heavily on the mahogany surface to support his nearly collapsed body. He opened his mouth and gasped for breath.

"Speak! What happened?!"

Rolf took a deep breath:

"BrahMoor, Illinois! That son of a bitch Bramo has sent troops!"

"He crossed the state line and launched a surprise attack on Indiana. Their vanguard, at least two armored battalions, has broken through the National Guard's first line of defense at the state border and is advancing rapidly toward Gerry and Hammond! My God, they've even shelled residential areas in the outskirts of Chicago!"

……

(End of this chapter)