Chapter 2074 - 850: Squid~_6

The boss nodded.

"Tell him, next step, wait until Victor and the Squid Man start biting each other. When the biting is at its fiercest, then speak."

Volkov was startled for a moment.

"Say what?"

The boss looked at him.

"Say Victor is the Anti-Christ. Say collaborating with the Squid is betraying God. Say all who follow him will go to Hell."

Volkov's hand trembled.

"Boss, that will set the whole Middle East on fire—"

"Let it burn."

The boss interrupted him, "Once it's burning, we can fish in troubled waters."

He stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, Moscow's night sky was very dark, and snow was still falling.

"Volkov, do you know what the world is most lacking?"

Volkov shook his head.

The boss looked at him.

"Chaos. The more chaotic, the better."

Four a.m., Mexico City, Feathered Serpent Temple top floor.

Victor wasn't asleep.

He stood at the window, looking at the night scene of Paseo de la Reforma outside.

Traffic was already sparse, with only the occasional taxi passing by, its headlights dragging long shadows on the road.

Bramo pushed the door open and came in.

"Victor, the ship has already set out. It's heading towards the Suez Canal."

Victor nodded.

"And the passengers?"

"Emotionally stable. The Squid Man apologized and compensated each person with a thousand US Dollars."

Victor sneered.

"A thousand US Dollars. Three thousand two hundred people, three hundred and twenty thousand. It's like giving alms to beggars."

Bramo didn't speak.

Victor turned around.

"Where's the old man?"

Bramo knew he was referring to Joshua Ben-David.

"Still in Jerusalem. Our intel says he plans to hold a press conference tomorrow."

Victor squinted his eyes.

"What kind of press conference?"

"To announce the next step for SZ."

Victor was silent for a few seconds.

Then he spoke:

"Tell Bennett, before finding out who's behind him, do one thing first."

Bramo waited.

Victor looked at him.

"Send that old man's photo to Tamara."

Bramo was stunned.

"Tamara? That Chechen woman?"

Victor nodded.

"Tell her that this person is the culprit behind the death of those seven Chechens."

Bramo's hand trembled.

"Victor, that's false—"

"I know it's false." Victor interrupted him, "But she doesn't know."

He walked to the window.

"Let her go find him. Let her go ask. Let her go kill."

Bramo didn't speak.

"Once she kills that old man, the whole world will know this SZ wasn't initiated by God, but by man."

He turned around.

"Once he's dead, the SZ will be over."

Nine a.m., Jerusalem, Temple Mount.

Joshua Ben-David stood on the high platform from yesterday.

Below were still three thousand people.

But not yesterday's three thousand rabbis; instead, three thousand journalists.

The media from all over the world had come.

He cleared his throat.

"Brethren, sisters, the righteous of the whole world—"

Before he finished speaking, a woman suddenly rushed out from the crowd.

She was in her thirties, hair cut very short, eyes like two flames.

She had a knife in her hand.

Security rushed to stop her, but her movements were too fast—one slash and she opened a man's throat, one kick and she knocked another one away, then she charged straight at Joshua.

Joshua stood there, motionless.

When the tip of the knife was still half a meter from his chest, a gunshot rang out.

The woman fell down.

Joshua lowered his head, looking at her.

Her eyes were still open, staring at him, full of hatred.

He crouched down, leaned into her ear.

"Who sent you?"

Tamara looked at him.

The corner of her mouth twitched.

Then she laughed.

She laughed very softly.

"No one sent me."

Joshua was stunned.

"I came on my own accord."

After saying that, her eyes closed.

Joshua stood up, looking at those reporters, looking at those cameras, looking at the whole world.

Not a drop of sweat was on his face.

He simply raised his hand, pointing to the sky.

"This is God's punishment."

Ten a.m., Mexico City, Feathered Serpent Temple top floor.

Victor watched the live broadcast on TV.

That woman lay in a pool of blood, that old man pointed to the sky and said "this is God's punishment".

He turned off the TV.

Bramo stood beside him.

"Victor, she didn't implicate us."

Victor nodded.

"I know."

"That old man—he's still alive."

Victor stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, Mexico City's sky was very blue, the sunlight was good.

"Let him live."

He turned around.

"With him alive, the show can continue."

Bramo was stunned for a moment.

"Continue the show?"

Victor looked at him.

"Do you think that old man is the mastermind?"

Bramo didn't speak.

Victor answered for him.

"He's not. He's just a pawn. The real player is still in the back."

He walked back to the table and sat down.

"Let him live. Let him keep calling for SZ. The louder he shouts, the more people will believe him. When enough people believe him, the person behind him will come out to close the net."

He paused.

"When that person comes out—we'll close his net."