Chapter 2099 - 856: They Feared a Beating—So They Struck First!

The sound of the door being pushed open was urgent.

When Bennett walked in, he didn't even knock. This had only happened three times in his twenty-year career as Director of the Counterintelligence Bureau. Each time, it meant someone had died.

"Leader."

Bennett's voice was hoarse as he placed a thin folder on the desk.

Victor turned around.

"There's trouble in the Middle East."

Victor set down his coffee cup and opened the folder.

The first page was a satellite photo. Northern Gaza Strip, Jabaliya Refugee Camp. In the photo, a dozen buildings had turned to rubble, and smoke was still rising. In the corner of the photo, the time was marked in red pen: March 29, 1998, 2:17 AM.

The second page was a briefing. Hebrew, intercepted by the emergency intelligence department. The first line made Victor squint his eyes.

"The Squid Cabinet held an emergency meeting on the evening of March 28, approving 'Operation Cast Lead,'" Bennett read aloud for him, "At 1 AM, the Squid Defense Army's 84th Infantry Brigade and 7th Armored Brigade crossed the green line and entered the Northern Gaza Strip. Simultaneously, the Squid Air Force launched thirty-six airstrikes on Gaza City, Jabaliya, and Rafah."

Victor turned to the third page.

It was a casualty report. The numbers were still being updated, but they were already shocking—at least two hundred people dead, over eight hundred injured. The first name on the list of the dead was circled in red pen.

Yasser Arafat.

Victor's hand paused on that sheet of paper.

"Seriously injured," Bennett said, "The airstrike targeted his secret command post in Gaza. A one-ton bunker buster. Arafat was twelve meters underground at the time, holding a meeting. When dug out, he was still breathing, but suffering from internal bleeding, multiple fractures, and cranial injuries. He is still in critical condition at the European Hospital in Gaza. BLST has locked down the news, but we have our people in the hospital."

Victor closed the folder.

"Why did the Squid suddenly make a move?"

Bennett took a deep breath.

"Three days ago, a car bomb attack happened in Jerusalem. Over sixty civilians were injured, seven killed. HMS claimed responsibility. The Squid Cabinet held meetings for two days but couldn't control the military. Last night, intelligence indicated Arafat secretly entered Gaza to meet with HMS leaders in Jabaliya, prompting approval for the assassination attempt."

He paused.

"But that's not all."

He flipped to the last page and pulled out another document.

It was a photograph. The Mexican Embassy in Tel Aviv, or rather, what's left of it. A four-story building with a huge gap blasted in the middle, its exterior walls charred and windows shattered. The stone plaque at the entrance was broken in half, with only half of the national emblem remaining.

"At 3 AM today, a Squid Air Force F-16 'misoperated' on its return journey," Bennett's voice lowered, "A Mark-84 bomb, yet to be dropped, accidentally fell, landing on the embassy rooftop."

Victor looked up.

Bennett met his gaze.

"Seven people died, including the embassy counselor, two military officers, and four local employees. Over twenty others were injured. The Squid side has already apologized, citing 'technical malfunction,' 'accidental bombing,' 'regret.'

The room was quiet for a full ten seconds.

Victor stood up and walked to the window. His figure cast a vague outline on the glass.

"They're insane." He said, his voice light, as if talking to himself.

Bennett stepped closer.

"Leader, they're not insane. They've calculated."

Victor turned around.

"Calculated what?"

Bennett looked at him.

"Calculated that we're preoccupied."

He walked to the map, pointing to the Middle East region.

"For the past six months, you've dragged the United States into Central America and Europe, with Congress arguing daily, the President on the brink of impeachment, and The Pentagon's resources entirely drained by the mess in Texas and California. Over at NATO, the United Kingdom just broke apart, the French are overwhelmed in the Balkans, and the Germans are busy dealing with the Chechens. The entire Western World, not a single country has the capability, will, or interest to handle Middle Eastern affairs."

He paused.

"The Squid saw this window. They're afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of being besieged." Bennett's finger slid across the map, "The Iranians have established themselves in Syria, the Chechens have been sent into the Golan Heights, the ZZ Party has re-armed in Lebanon, and HMS is eager to act in Gaza. If they all get ready, the Squid might face four fronts simultaneously. They can't afford to gamble."

"They're surrounded by enemies!"

Victor squinted.

"So they made the first move."

"Exactly." Bennett nodded, "Preemptive strike. Eliminate the leadership of HMS, destroy the supply lines of the ZZ Party, intimidate the Syrians. By the way—" He pointed at the embassy photo, "Test our reaction."

Victor returned to the desk and picked up the report on the embassy.

"Seven Mexicans." He said, "They used the lives of seven Mexicans to test me."

Bennett said nothing.

Victor put down the report.

"What did the Squid say?"

"The Foreign Ministry just sent a note. 'Deep regret,' 'a full investigation,' 'willing to compensate.'

Victor let out a cold laugh.

"'Deep regret.'"

He repeated the word.

"Tell the Foreign Ministry, we do not accept. Inform the Squid, we do not recognize their so-called 'investigation.' Tell Bennett—"

He paused.

"Have our people in Tel Aviv check the F-16 pilot. I want to know his name, where he lives, who his family is."

Bennett nodded.

"Also," Victor said, "Call Shamir."