Chapter 2139 - 868: Reconciliation Under the Witness of the Great Victor…?! (Part 2)

Barak also spoke up. "Israel currently draws 350 million cubic meters per year. Half of the country's fresh water comes from Lake Tiberias. Reducing it to 300 million is tantamount to depriving two million Israelis of water. Try cutting off the water supply to Tel Aviv for three days and see if they agree to it."

The two simultaneously looked at Sanchez.

Sanchez didn't speak. He picked up a glass of water from the table and took a sip. The water was from Lake Tiberias, fetched from the lakeside last night, boiled, cooled, and tasteless.

"General, Colonel," he put down the glass, "do you know why Mr. Victor sent us to the Golan Heights?"

No one answered.

Sanchez continued. "It's not because we can fight. Mexicans can't fight, the whole world knows that. It's not because we have money. The money Mexicans have is far less than Americans. And it's not because we're fair. There's no fairness in this world."

He looked at Hassan. "Mr. Victor sent us because we don't understand. We don't understand why you and the Jews have been fighting for fifty years, don't understand why water flowing down from the mountains is more valuable than blood, don't understand why a country that has lost five thousand lives is still fighting for a quota of 30 million cubic meters."

His voice was calm.

"We don't understand, so we're not afraid. Not afraid to offend Syria, not afraid to offend Israel, not afraid to offend the Americans, not afraid to offend that man hiding in Moscow. We only understand one thing—water is meant for drinking. Whoever wants to drink, sit down and talk. Whoever doesn't want others to drink is an enemy of the world."

The conference room was silent for a dozen seconds.

Hassan spoke first. His voice was a bit lower than before. "Thirty million cubic meters is not enough."

Barak also spoke up. "Three hundred million cubic meters is too much."

The two simultaneously looked at Sanchez.

Sanchez stood up and walked to the window.

Outside, the sun over Lake Tiberias had begun to set, turning the lake surface into a golden sheet. In the distance, the outline of Tiberias City on the western shore was blurry, like a faded painting.

"Fifty million cubic meters. Israel will provide Syria with fifty million cubic meters of freshwater annually, pumped through the intake at the lake center. Syria will build an aqueduct on the lakeside, directly connected to Deraa Province's water supply system. International observers will monitor operations, with Mexican technicians responsible for maintenance. Renegotiations will occur after three years."

He turned around. "General, Colonel, this is Mexico's bottom line. It's also Mr. Victor's bottom line."

"Otherwise, the man will be angry."

Hassan was silent for a long time.

"I need to call Damascus."

Barak also stood up. "I need to call Jerusalem."

Sanchez nodded. "Please go ahead."

The two left the conference room and headed to their respective cars. The car doors closed, windows rolled up, and no one could hear what they were saying.

Sanchez stood by the window, watching the light on the lake slowly dim. A staff officer walked over and handed him a cup of water. "Lieutenant Colonel, do you think they can reach an agreement?"

Sanchez took the cup, but didn't drink. "They can reach an agreement. Because they're both tired. Five days of fighting, thousands dead, no one wants to fight anymore. What's needed now is not a hero, but a step down. Whoever provides that step, they'll take it."

The staff officer looked outside at the two cars. "Are we the step?"

Sanchez took a sip of water. "We're the ones who put up the step."

Ten minutes later, Hassan emerged from his car. His expression didn't change, but his steps were quicker than when he went in. Barak also came out, not walking fast, but with a bit of expression on his face, not a smile, but a subtle, relaxed look.

The two almost simultaneously walked into the conference room.

Hassan spoke first. "Syria agrees to the plan for fifty million cubic meters. But there are three conditions. First, the costs for the construction and maintenance of the aqueduct are to be borne by the international community. Second, the operation of the intake must be open around the clock, not closed due to military tension. Third—"

He looked at Barak. "The renegotiations in three years must include the final status of the Golan Heights."

Barak didn't respond immediately.

He looked at Hassan for three seconds. "Israel agrees to the plan for fifty million cubic meters. But on one condition—three years later, only water issues will be discussed, not territorial ones. The Golan Heights issue is not something to be discussed at this table."

Hassan's hand pressed on the table. "Colonel—"

Barak raised his hand. "General, hear me out. The Golan Heights issue is not something the two of us can discuss. It's a matter for the Prime Minister and the President, for Parliament and Congress, for the United Nations Security Council. But water issues are our concern. Today, we've reached an agreement on water. Maybe in three years, we can agree on other issues."

Hassan looked at him for a long time. Then he withdrew his hand from the table.

"Lieutenant Colonel, bring me paper and pen."

Sanchez pulled out a blank document from his briefcase and pushed it to the center of the table. It was already headed with titles in three languages: "Interim Agreement on Lake Tiberias Water Resource Allocation."

Hassan was the first to sign. He wrote slowly, stroke by stroke, like inscribing a monument. After signing, he handed the pen to Barak. Barak signed faster, with a few swift strokes, like reviewing documents. Sanchez signed last, at the bottom, and stamped it with the seal of the Mexican Expeditionary Force next to his name.

After signing, the three stood up.

Hassan extended his hand. Barak hesitated for a moment, then also extended his hand. The two hands clasped tightly, forcefully, as if wrestling, yet also affirming something.

Sanchez did not extend his hand. He simply stood by, watching the two hands clasp and then release and withdraw.