March 1, 1998, Mexico City, National Palace.
Victor stood by the window, watching the sparse traffic on Paseo de la Reforma.
A week had passed since the Ecuador incident.
The protesters had dispersed, discussions on TV had cooled, and even the few old guys in Congress had quieted down. Everything had returned to normal—the kind of orderly normality he had personally established.
But behind the normalcy, something was moving.
Bramo pushed the door open and entered, his face looked unpleasant.
"Victor, there's trouble in Congo."
Victor turned around.
"Speak."
"Gals' men tracked down a new base of the 'Black Sea Wolf' by Lake Tanganyika. When they rushed in, it was already empty. Only a subordinate of the Russian Ivanov, named Andrei, was left tied to a chair with a cloth stuffed in his mouth."
Victor waited for more.
"His eyes were gouged out."
The room was silent for a few seconds.
"Who did it?"
Bramo shook his head.
