Chapter 2137 - 867: Only the Player Can Decide the Direction!

Sanchez said nothing.

"Five thousand people. Five thousand young Syrians. They died on the Golan Heights, died in Hasspin Village, died on the outskirts of Tiberias City. When they died, they thought they were reclaiming lost land for Syria. They thought they were bringing glory to the Arabs. They thought they were sacrificing for Allah." He paused, "But I know they were only being used. Used by the person hiding in Moscow. Used by those drinking tea in Tehran. Used by those counting money in Washington."

He turned around and looked at Sanchez. "Lieutenant Colonel, do you believe that in ten years, no one will remember their names?"

Sanchez was silent for three seconds. "General, I don't believe."

Hassan was stunned. "You don't believe?"

Sanchez pointed to the Mexican flag in the camp. "General, we Mexicans have had people die too. During the drug wars, hundreds of thousands died. No one remembers their names. But their blood was not shed in vain. Because of their deaths, we survived. Those who survived remember for them."

He looked into Hassan's eyes.

"General, you are alive. You remember for them."

Hassan stood there, looking at that flag for a long time. Then he turned around and walked toward the jeep. He stopped beside the car, without looking back.

"Lieutenant Colonel, I will attend tomorrow's negotiations. But there's one condition—"

Sanchez waited.

"Lake Tiberias's water, the Israelis have drunk it for decades; it's time the Syrians have a sip."

He got into the car, and the door closed. The jeep turned around and drove east. Sanchez stood at the camp gate, watching the car grow smaller until it disappeared into the dust.

He turned and walked into the camp, picking up a satellite phone.

"Connect me to Mexico City."

The phone rang once and was answered. It was Bramo's voice on the other end.

"Major Sanchez."

"Mr. Bramo, Hassan came by. He said he would attend tomorrow's negotiations. But he wants Lake Tiberias's water."

Bramo was silent for three seconds. "Tell him the water issue can be discussed, as long as he is loyal to Mexico, he is our friend."

…

Shamir looked at the intelligence just sent from the Golan Heights. Brigadier General Hassan will attend tomorrow's negotiations. The condition is the distribution of Lake Tiberias's water resources.

He put down the intelligence. Moses stood before him.

"Prime Minister, we cannot compromise on the water resources. Lake Tiberias is our only source of fresh water. To yield the water is to yield our life."

Shamir did not answer. He stood up and walked to the wall where the map of Israel hung. Lake Tiberias was at the northernmost part of the map, a small blue spot surrounded by densely packed aqueducts, purification plants, and water pipelines. Half of the country's fresh water comes from this lake.

"Moses, do you know where the water of Lake Tiberias comes from?"

Moses was stunned. "From the mountains of the Golan Heights."

"Right. From the mountains of the Golan Heights. The snow water from the mountains flows into the lake. Whose mountains are they? Syria's. Whose water is it? Israel's."

He turned around. "If we don't give them water, they will come to take it. To take it, there will be war. War will lead to death. After enough deaths, we will still have to sit down and negotiate. After all the negotiations, we still have to give them the water."

He walked back to his desk and sat down.

"Tell the Mexicans that water can be discussed. But there is one condition—how the water is divided, who divides it, when it's divided, how much is divided, Israel will decide."

Moses was stunned. "Prime Minister, that doesn't equal—"

"Equal what?" Shamir interrupted him, "Equal telling the Syrians, the water is here, come to negotiate for it. Equal telling the Mexicans, you can mediate, but the referee is Israel. Equal telling the world, Lake Tiberias is a Jewish lake."

May 13, 1998, Mexico City, "Feathered Serpent Temple" top floor.

Victor looked at the intelligence just delivered.

Hassan wants water, Shamir won't give it.

He put down the intelligence.

Bramo stood before him.

"Tomorrow's negotiations may not succeed."

Victor stood up and walked to the window. Outside, the traffic on Paseo de la Reforma was slowly moving. The sun was about to set, turning the whole street golden.

"They will succeed."

Bramo was stunned. "How will it succeed?"

Victor turned around. "Because someone wants it to succeed more than we do."

He walked back to his desk, picking up the intelligence report about the United States Congress impeachment case. "The Americans want it to succeed because they don't want to get too deeply involved in the Middle East. The Squid Men want it to succeed because they are on the verge of collapse. The Syrians want it to succeed because they lost five thousand people and gained nothing. The Egyptians want it to succeed because they got the Sinai Peninsula and are satisfied. Hamas wants it to succeed because they've used up their ammunition and need time to breathe. The Milk Tea Shop wants it to succeed because they need to digest the territory they've just snatched. The Iranians want it to succeed because they've discovered that the Americans are truly willing to engage in military action. Everyone wants it to succeed."

He looked at Bramo.

"Tomorrow's negotiations are not about preventing war. They're about how to divide the cake. Lake Tiberias's water, the Sinai Peninsula's sand, the Golan Heights's stones, the Gaza Strip's ruins—all are cakes. How to cut, how big the slice, who gets the big piece, who gets the small piece, that's the real focus of tomorrow."

Bramo looked thoughtful.

"Tell Major Sanchez, tomorrow's negotiations, Mexico will not take sides. We won't help Israel, won't help Syria, won't help anyone. We'll aid one thing—getting everyone to the table to finish cutting the cake."

"Tomorrow's negotiations are just the beginning. The real show is yet to come. Once the cake is cut, once everyone thinks they've won, once the Americans feel they can breathe a sigh of relief—"

He paused.

"That person hiding in Moscow should come out."

"Perhaps, the war will begin from another angle!"

Previously did not understand why Meili Soft wanted to support the Squids.

It's only upon reaching this position that it's clear the Squid is just a pawn, effectively preventing the Middle East from falling into peace.

If a state falls into peace, it is extremely unfavorable for certain hegemonic countries.

Mainly unfavorable for drawing candlestick lines!

Victor is actually also profiting from this war.

Only the chess player can decide the direction!

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