Chapter 2000: Chapter 832: Useless Without a Coastline~
November 8, 1997, Brussels.
Conti stood in the smoking area of the European Union Council Building, holding an unlit cigarette.
The negotiations had been deadlocked for six hours.
Spain and Portugal accepted Mexico’s terms on the spot. They have the longest coastline, intercept the most semi-submersibles, and their morgues are almost full.
French hesitated. Germans opposed.
The reason for opposition was straightforward: allowing Mexico’s technical team to be stationed at the national coast guard command center was akin to handing over the keys to the backdoor of the national security system.
Conti could understand. But he knew something else: Rome’s morgue was also running out of space.
The phone vibrated.
He glanced at the caller ID; it was the encrypted line from the Ministry of Internal Affairs in Rome.
"Speak."
"Minister, there’s been another incident in Catania. Two corpses were found by the coast, they’re coast guard patrol soldiers. Shot dead. Their patrol boat is missing."
Conti said nothing.
"Monitoring discovered that a semi-submersible docked last night and collided with the patrol boat during unloading. They opened fire. The patrol boat was taken by them and now might be heading to other cities carrying drugs."
Conti hung up and tossed the cigarette into the trash bin.
He walked back to the conference room, and as he pushed the door open, the sound of arguments flooded in.
The German representative was pounding the table: "Five years is too long! Two years at most! And Mexicans can’t access core data!"
The French representative echoed: "Yes, their permissions must be restricted."
Conti didn’t sit but stood at the door and said:
"Two patrol soldiers died in Catania last night. Their patrol boat was taken by drug traffickers and is possibly heading to Naples carrying twenty tons of drugs."
The conference room fell silent.
"Keep arguing," Conti turned and walked out, "When you’re done, let me know the result. Rome won’t be participating any longer."
November 9, 1997, Mexico City.
Victor stood in the monitoring room of the Quantum Computing Experimental Building, looking at the giant screen on the wall.
The screen didn’t show data, but a map. There were dozens of red dots along the Mediterranean coast, each representing a case related to "Black Pearl."
Bramo pushed the door open and entered.
"Italy has signed. Spain and Portugal have followed. France is still hesitating, but the informants at the Paris headquarters say they won’t hold out past next week. Germany—"
"It doesn’t matter if Germany signs or not."
Victor interrupted him, "Germany is not coastal. When ’Black Pearl’ comes ashore in Hamburg and Rostock, they’ll come to us themselves."
Bramo placed a folder on the table.
"Additionally, from the Congo side, Gals sent a message that they’ve tracked a new base of ’Black Sea Wolf.’ It’s not within Congo, it’s on the Rwanda border. What’s stored inside aren’t weapons, but ledgers."
Victor turned around.
"Ledgers?"
"Transaction records. For the past six months, ’Black Sea Wolf’ sold weapons to African drug lords—quantities, prices, payment methods. And the buyers’ names."
Bramo paused, "’Black Mamba’s’ name appeared on there seven times."
Victor said nothing.
"Gals asked if they should move in and steal it."
"No need." Victor returned to the window, "Tell Gals to keep monitoring. When the Europeans and ’Black Mamba’ are both severely weakened, that ledger will be more useful."
November 10, 1997, off the coast of West Africa, ’Far Seer.’
Black Mamba received a fax.
The fax came from his "partner" in Kosovo. It said: The first batch has arrived, the second batch urgently needs weapons. Payment method remains the same.
Black Mamba handed the fax to Hendrick.
"Are they that urgent?"
"The situation in Kosovo has been tense lately." Hendrick replied, "Serbians and Albanians may fight at any moment. They need weapons."
Black Mamba was silent for a few seconds.
He didn’t care if the Kosovars went to war or not. What he cared about was that once the Kosovo route was cut off by war, his goods couldn’t enter the Eastern European market.
"Inform the ’Engineer,’" he said, "The next batch of weapons, go through Greece. Land at Thessaloniki, then by land transport into Kosovo."
Hendrick nodded.
"Also," Black Mamba went over to the sea chart, "Have you heard that Europeans have signed the agreement with Mexico?"
Hendrick said nothing.
"Mexicans want to have a hand in everything," Black Mamba’s voice was calm, "Drugs they want to control, weapons they want to control, even the command center of the coast guard they want access to. Sooner or later, they’ll come after us."
Hendrick waited for what would be said next.
"So we need to prepare ahead of time." Black Mamba turned around, "Change the identification code of ’Far Seer.’ Register it in Panama. Scrape off the name on the hull and repaint it. The next batch won’t be shipped with this vessel."
Hendrick hesitated.
"Not with this vessel, what then?"
Black Mamba took out a photo from the drawer and pushed it to Hendrick.
The photo showed a cargo ship, very long, and the deck was stacked with containers.
"This is a ship provided by Ukrainians," Black Mamba said, "A refrigerated cargo ship, normally running the agricultural products route from Ukraine to Egypt. The cargo hold is divided into three layers, the bottom layer is sealed, and cannot be detected by customs scanners. Ten tons of goods can be stuffed in and covered with a layer of frozen fish, and no one will see any problem."
Hendrick looked at the photo.
He knew what this meant.
If semi-submersibles are targeted, switch to cargo ships. If cargo ships are targeted, switch to fishing boats. If fishing boats are targeted, switch to speedboats.
As long as there’s a crack in Europe’s coastline, his goods can squeeze through.
