Chapter 2120 - 862: First Move, With Interest

The Egyptian soldiers grew restless.

Shafeek walked to the very front and raised the loudhailer.

"Squid soldiers in the building, listen up! I am Brigadier General Shafeek, brigade commander of Egypt's 4th Division! I'm giving you ten minutes to release all civilians, put down your weapons, and come out. I guarantee your personal safety."

The building was silent for three seconds.

Then a voice came out, in Hebrew, with a Tel Aviv accent:

"Egyptian dogs! You killed three thousand of our brothers! You want us to surrender? Dream on!"

Shafeek's face didn't change at all.

"You have nine minutes and fifty seconds left."

The building fell silent again.

Nine minutes passed.

Nine minutes thirty seconds.

Nine minutes forty-five seconds.

Nine minutes fifty-nine seconds.

Ten minutes exactly.

From that window on the second floor, a gunshot suddenly rang out.

The woman holding the child jerked her head back and collapsed. The child slipped from her arms, fell to the floor, and a shriek came from the window.

Shafeek's pupils snapped tight.

"Mortars!" he roared. "Flatten that building for me!"

Thirty seconds later, the first shell landed in the building.

Then the second, the third, the countless that followed.

The whole building shuddered under the explosions, chunks of the outer wall peeled off, windows were blasted out one by one, and from inside came screams, curses, prayers in Hebrew.

Five minutes later, the building collapsed.

In the rubble, the corpses of more than thirty civilians and two hundred Squid soldiers were mixed together, impossible to tell who was who.

Shafeek stood before the ruins, looking at those shattered limbs.

The staff officer walked over, his voice trembling.

"Brigade commander, those thirty-odd civilians…"

Shafeek didn't look back.

"Tell Cairo," he said, "Arish is liberated. The Squid people have paved the way for us with the blood of their own compatriots."

7:00 a.m., Tel Aviv, underground command center of the Squid Defense Army Headquarters.

Moses stood at the main console, staring at the enormous screen.

The light spots on the screen were almost all gone.

On the Golan Heights, the last light spot had gone out six hours ago. In the Gaza Strip, ten hours ago. On the Lebanon Border, four hours ago. On the Sinai Peninsula, now only two or three still flickered.

The communications staff officer ran over.

"Chief of Staff, the pumping system at Lake Tiberias is completely destroyed. Tel Aviv has begun rationing water. Haifa, Beersheba, Eilat, all major cities are sounding the alarm."

Moses said nothing.

"Also, over at Arish, the last unit of the 401st Armored Brigade… has been wiped out. Brigade commander Colonel Dayan is KIA."

Moses closed his eyes.

Three seconds later, he opened them.

"Where's the Prime Minister?"

"In the Jerusalem bunker. He wants you over there."

7:30 a.m., Jerusalem, underground command center.

Shamir stood before a huge map of Israel. On the map, three of the four front lines representing occupied territories had already turned completely red.

When Moses walked in, Shamir didn't turn around.

"Moses," he began, his voice as hoarse as sandpaper, "do you see it?"

Moses stood behind him. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"I see it."

Shamir pointed at that red patch on the Golan Heights.

"Lake Tiberias is gone. Galilee is gone. Half of our water sources are gone."

His finger moved to the Sinai Peninsula.

"Arish is gone. Kantara is gone. The entire Sinai Peninsula is gone."

It moved to Gaza.

"Jabaliya is gone. Three thousand of our soldiers died in that rubble. Three thousand."

It moved to the Lebanon Border.

"Shatura is gone. The people from the Milk Tea Shop are pushing toward Tiberias. In another twenty-four hours, they'll link up with the Syrians."

His hand finally stopped.

"Moses, how many troops do we have left?"

Moses was silent for three seconds.

"On the Golan Heights, two battalions still fighting. Gaza, gone. Sinai, three companies left. Lebanon Border, five outposts. Altogether—less than five thousand men."

Shamir closed his eyes.

"Five thousand. In fifty years since our Independence, we've never had so few."

He opened his eyes and turned around.

"How long until the Mexican Fleet arrives?"

Moses glanced at his watch.

"Four hours."

Shamir nodded.

"Send a signal to that man called Victor. Tell him the gate of the Squid is open for him."

Moses froze.

"Prime Minister—"

"Do it."

8:00 a.m., Mediterranean, 32°47′E, 34°15′N.

The Mexico Mediterranean Fleet, five warships in battle formation, sliced through the waves.

On the bridge of the flagship destroyer Independence, Fleet Commander Navy Major General Carlos Morales stood by the porthole, looking at the coastline growing clearer in the distance.

Squid.

His Brother Colonel Hector Morales was at that very moment on the scorched earth of the Sinai Peninsula, guarding that blasted camp, waiting for him.

The communications officer ran over.

"General, a signal from the Squid side—'The gate of the Squid is open to Mexico.'"

Morales took the signal and scanned it.

He remembered the last sentence Hector had said on the phone:

"Carlos, they blew up seven of our compatriots. A ten-year-old child."

He crumpled the signal into a ball and tossed it into the trash.

"Tell all ships to keep advancing. Do not reduce speed before entering Squid Territory."

The communications officer froze.

"General, that—"

"That is my order."

8:30 a.m., on the outskirts of Moscow, that villa.

The Boss stood at the window, watching the Sky outside begin to pale.

The fire in the fireplace was roaring, but his back was still hot.

The phone rang.

He picked it up.