Chapter 2071 - 850: Squid ~_3

"I really don't know."

The Lieutenant Colonel was silent for two seconds.

Then he picked up the intercom.

"Report to headquarters, suspicious item found. Requesting instructions."

4:50 PM, Jerusalem, Prime Minister's Office.

Shamir had just finished a phone call with the Minister of Defense.

The Minister's conclusion was: they didn't recognize the box. It wasn't Squid's, nor was it commonly used by any known terrorist organization. But the seal on the box was made of a very special material—PTFE coating, typically used for storing radioactive materials.

Shamir's hands were trembling.

Radioactive materials.

On a Mexican's ship.

Twenty nautical miles off the Squid coast.

The secretary pushed the door open and entered.

"Prime Minister, the military is requesting instructions."

Shamir looked up.

"What do they want to do?"

The secretary hesitated for a moment.

"They want to board the ship—for a full search."

Shamir was silent for a few seconds.

Then he asked:

"Any word from the Mexicans?"

The secretary shook his head.

"No. No one answers the phone."

Shamir stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the Jerusalem sky was very blue, the sunlight was very good.

He thought of two hours ago, when three thousand rabbis shouted on Temple Mount.

And now, suspicious radioactive materials had been found on the Mexicans' ship.

This was no coincidence.

"Tell them," he turned around, "conduct a full search. If anything threatening Squid's security is found—handle it on the spot."

The secretary was stunned.

"Prime Minister, that means—"

"It means war," Shamir interrupted him, "but if that box really contains a dirty bomb, then the war has already started."

5:10 PM, Mediterranean, on the "Mexico Star."

The second group of people arrived.

This time, it wasn't six, it was thirty.

Fully armed, faces painted with camo, holding assault rifles.

Torres was pressed onto the deck, face against the cold steel plate, watching as they rushed into the cabin.

The screams of the passengers became louder.

Some cried, some shouted, some tried to resist, only to be pinned to the ground.

The search lasted forty minutes.

When they came out, the leader was holding three metal boxes.

Identical to the first one. Silver-gray, thirty centimeters square, PTFE coated.

The Lieutenant Colonel walked over, took a glance.

Then he picked up the intercom.

"Report to headquarters, three identical items found. Requesting next instructions."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the intercom.

Then a voice came:

"Bring them back. Detain the ship. Everyone—take them all back to Haifa."

Torres struggled to lift his head.

"You can't do this! This is international waters!"

The Lieutenant Colonel lowered his head, looking at him.

"Captain, from now on, there are no international waters."

5:40 PM, Mexico City, top floor of the "Feathered Serpent Temple."

Victor stood by the window, looking at Paseo de la Reforma outside.

The traffic had slowed, it was blocked. Someone was honking, someone was cursing, someone stuck their head out of the car window, looking towards the direction of the National Palace.

They all knew.

The TV was broadcasting live: Squid Navy detains Mexican cruise ship, 3,200 passengers being taken to Haifa Port. In the footage, those passengers were escorted off the ship, hands raised, lined up on the dock. Some cried, some shouted, some knelt down to pray.

Bramo stood behind Victor, his voice tense:

"Victor, the Minister of Defense is asking, should we send a warship over?"

Victor didn't answer.

"The Foreign Ministry says, the United Nations has called an emergency meeting. The United States, the United Kingdom, France, Russia—they're all asking what's going on."

Victor still didn't answer.

Casare was pacing in circles beside him, anxious.

"Boss, say something! Those Squid guys are going too far—"

"Shut up."

Victor spoke, his voice very light.

Casare immediately shut his mouth.

Victor turned around.

He looked at Bramo.

"What is in that box?"

Bramo was taken aback for a moment.

"What box?"

"The box that the Squid people said they found on the ship. Four of them. Silver-gray. PTFE coating."

Bramo's face changed.

"I don't know—"

"You don't know?" Victor stared at him, "That's our ship. The things on it, you don't know?"

Bramo's palms began to sweat.

"Victor, I swear, I really don't know. I've seen all the cargo manifests, there's no such box."

Victor was silent for a few seconds.

Then he asked:

"Who put those boxes there?"

No one could answer.

6:00 PM sharp, Haifa Port.

3,200 passengers were detained in a temporary camp.

Barbed wire, searchlights, armed soldiers.

Some cried, some cursed, some tried to reason with the soldiers, only to be knocked to the ground with a rifle butt.

Torres was detained alone in an interrogation room.

Two people sat opposite him.

One was the Lieutenant Colonel, the other was a middle-aged man in a suit, hair graying, wearing glasses, speaking calmly and slowly.

"Captain Torres," the middle-aged man spoke, "I'm Ehud Shavit, from Squid's National Security Bureau."

Torres looked at him.

"What do you want?"

Shavit didn't answer his question.

"Captain Torres, do you know what's inside those four boxes?"

Torres shook his head.

"I don't know."

Shavit stared at him.

"You really don't know?"

Torres stared back at him.

"I really don't know."

Shavit was silent for a few seconds.

Then he pulled out a photograph, sliding it in front of Torres.

The photo was of a silver-gray box, identical to the one found on the ship. But this box had an additional emblem—a skull, with two crossed bones beneath it.