mtl008 Chapter 4584 The Day of Brightest Day (43)
Chapter 4584 The Day of Brightest Day (43)
Chapter 4584 The Day of Brightest Light (Forty-Three)
“There should be surveillance cameras here.” Schiller stood up, looked around, and said, “But they probably won’t be in the same place as the museum’s surveillance room. Haivin has long regarded this place as his private vault, and he won’t allow outsiders to spy on it.”
"The surveillance system here is connected to one of his safe houses, the one he values most. Perhaps he's watching us from there right now, along with that mural."
“You mean, he saw how Hessinage was taken away?” Deathstroke said thoughtfully. “He’ll definitely send men after him. That French arms dealer is stupid and easily manipulated; he’s one of our few remaining bargaining chips. Shall we look for clues around here?”
“We can’t keep chasing these meaningless clues,” Schiller said. “If we keep following the trail, we’ll just be led by the nose. The way out is never there.”
"Looks like you'll have to use some espionage techniques," Deathstroke said, raising an eyebrow. "Would I have the honor of witnessing your brilliance?"
“It’s hardly clever,” Schiller said. “Nothing about the agents is clever. Let’s go to Suez and find a ship.”
They quickly got back into the car, but this journey was unusually silent. Clearly, this agent was never one for small talk. Deathstroke took the opportunity to rest briefly—even a cyborg needs rest.
Unfortunately, the Suez Canal is now at a standstill. An armed force that dares to control Cairo Airport will certainly not give up its assault on this most important transportation hub. In the past ten hours, there have been three rounds of fighting here, and almost all cargo ships are afraid to proceed.
Deathstroke lowered his binoculars and said, “Over there, that ship over there should be theirs. But are you sure you want to get on? It could be dangerous. Even if we manage to kill everyone on board, it’s unlikely we’ll survive multiple missile strikes.”
"We're there to negotiate, not to kill."
“If you could stop loading that cannon, I might believe a little.” Deathstroke glanced at Schiller, who was loading his revolver.
“A show of force is necessary. At the same time, we also need some tricks to attract their attention.”
"for example?"
"Bang!!!!!!"
A few minutes later, the two were brought aboard the ship. A bearded man with a gun frowned when he saw Deathstroke's uniform, clearly recognizing him. However, his gaze quickly fell on Schiller—had this guy just launched a missile with something?
“Hello,” Schiller said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
"It was you two who did this, wasn't it?"
"I just wanted to get your attention."
“I’m talking about Hegada,” the bearded man said, squinting. “You killed their leader, and we were about to negotiate.”
“You can’t be a peacemaker, otherwise you wouldn’t be in Suez,” Schiller said, turning to a chair. “Let’s sit down and talk.”
The other party did not refute. He sat down across the table and then had others stand behind the two of them with guns.
"I need you to do something for me, and you will certainly benefit from it."
"Watch your tone, American. We're not your subordinates."
“You still didn’t understand what I was saying.” Schiller tapped the table with his handcuffed hands and said, “I’m not talking about the benefits your organization will gain, I’m talking about yourself.”
The bearded man stared intently at him, his gaze icy. Schiller continued, "The Egyptian Museum's director, Haivin, is trapped in his safe house and won't be out anytime soon. And in the museum's underground storage room are artifacts he's smuggled out over the years. Some of them could easily be considered Egyptian national treasures. Don't you want them?"
The bearded man narrowed his eyes: "Are you trying to trick me?"
“I don’t want you to control the Egyptian Museum; I know that won’t work. After all, they’ve gone mad, and controlling the airport would be suicide. You just need to wait. What I want is for you to take the artifacts, and for me to get the Haiwen.”
"He will come out?"
“He definitely will. Those things are at least most of his possessions, and he won’t just stand by and watch you take them away.”
“The Egyptian authorities won’t allow it either,” the bearded man said. “Breaking into a museum is no different from breaking into an airport; they’ll treat us as terrorists anyway. Besides, that guy is a local tyrant and can get a lot of people to deal with us.”
“I’m not asking you to fight your way through,” Schiller said. “I’ll lead you in, grab the stuff, and leave before they can react. Of course, we’ll need people to draw attention, and that will involve some casualties. But you probably have plenty of people here who deserve to be sacrificed, don’t you?”
Deathstroke glanced at Schiller, seemingly unable to understand why he was so certain.
“You’re right about that,” the bearded man said, standing up. “Speaking of which, I should thank you for solving a big problem for me. If those guys had succeeded in negotiating in Hegada, we would have been tricked again and driven out of here because of the weakness of some people. Those who are too good at communication should go and talk to Death.”
Deathstroke now understood. This bearded man was likely a staunch advocate of war; as Schiller had said, otherwise he wouldn't be in Suez. If the Red Sea was a chaotic mess, then Suez was a veritable cauldron of hell. Anything that happened in this region would immediately impact Suez. That's the value of this strategically vital location—only the most resolute could fight to the very end here.
The negotiations were disrupted, which was good news for the pro-war faction. However, as long as those wavering individuals remained alive, the bearded man couldn't rest easy. He couldn't execute them directly, but he could find ways to send them to their deaths.
If their deaths could yield many valuable artifacts, it would be well worth it. Because the bearded man could use these to acquire more weapons and supporters. This is what Schiller meant when he said, "Not for the whole organization, but for yourself—not for the bearded man personally, but for their staunchly pro-war faction."
Throughout the Arab world, an unchanging ironclad rule prevails: heretics are more detestable than infidels. Countless conflicts arise from this, providing too many with opportunities to exploit and manipulate others. Schiller also grasped this point.
Although the bearded man kept saying he hated people who were too good at communicating, the communication process with him went relatively smoothly, and the plan was quickly finalized.
“You wait here,” the bearded man said. “Soon, I will arrange for my companions to meet with you. One of you will take them back to Cairo, and the other will come with us later.”
Schiller nodded, looked at the death knell, and asked, "Which one will you take?"
“On the ground,” Deathstroke said. “I’m better at making a scene than sneaking in. I’ll take them first.”
“Deathstroke,” the bearded man called out his codename. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
Deathstroke pulled out his business card and handed it to him, then said, "If one day you really can't stand your brothers anymore, call me, and I'll ask Allah to bless them."
The bearded man grinned, put away his business card, and said nothing more. The two waited on the boat for a while, and soon another group of people came aboard.
They seemed quite hostile towards Deathstroke and Schiller, probably because Deathstroke had sabotaged the negotiations and completely ruined their plans. However, the bearded man managed to persuade them to sit down and talk.
This time, according to Schiller, their plan had changed again. It wasn't a feint, a covert maneuver, where they used the looting of artifacts to force the Egyptian authorities to sit down and talk—which was certainly what those who wanted to negotiate wanted.
Deathstroke watched as Schiller spoke eloquently: first, set a trap to arouse the other party's curiosity; then throw out the real bait to force them to show greed; stimulate their emotions and induce their anger; then show enough strength and control to force them to give in.
These people, who were all very good at communication, were clearly not as good at it as Schiller. He wasn't the kind of agent who only knew how to shoot. Deathstroke realized this even more deeply. What he was good at was what lay beyond the muzzle of a gun. In that sense, Wonder Woman did give him a good gun—but he couldn't just fire it indiscriminately, forcing him to think of other ways.
After several rounds of exchanges, the negotiations were finally completed. Deathstroke stood up, straightened his equipment, and said, "Let's go. I guarantee that by the time you arrive, Cairo will be in complete chaos."
Schiller watched him leave, without doubting his words. Deathstroke was undoubtedly adept at creating chaos. But that wasn't all he wanted.
“Your people are in there, aren’t they?” Schiller turned to look at the bearded man.
"That's right, so what?"
"Keep a close eye on that mercenary and see who contacts him."
"You don't trust him?"
"Don't worry, this has nothing to do with our plans. It's just my personal suggestion. Consider it a favor you're asking for."
“I’ll ask around for you,” the bearded man said. “I can’t say that to his face. But actually, I’d rather have your business card.”
"Sorry, I don't accept private commissions."
Then they also set off from Suez. However, unlike the grand spectacle of the Deathly Hallows, they kept their manpower as small as possible, traveling in only one vehicle, bypassing every checkpoint they could, and heading straight for their destination as quickly as possible. Then, led by Schiller, they entered the museum's underground.
On the way, they had already discovered that the Death Knell had perfectly fulfilled his promise. Central Cairo was in complete chaos, especially around the Egyptian Museum. Whether it was an attack or something else, there were many police cars surrounding the area. It seemed more difficult to get in, but in reality, they weren't the only ones being stopped; Haivin's men were also blocking their way.
This is exactly what Schiller wants. If Haivin remains hidden in his safe house and refuses to show himself, his men will likely have no chance of breaking through such a defense. Only if he personally intervenes will anyone allow him in, given his position as director of the Egyptian Museum. This is the only way to protect his treasured artifacts; now it's a matter of whether he values money or his life.
Schiller led the bearded man and his group silently into the museum, then quickly descended to the underground. To Schiller, there was nothing of importance here; but to the bearded man and his companions, it was a treasure trove.
Those Egyptian sculptures, murals, and masks were all priceless. Although the lack of official documentation might have resulted in a discount, the sheer quantity more than compensated for it. Moreover, most of these items were quite small and could be easily carried in a bag, and they happened to have brought quite a few bags with them.
“Go and take more, my friends,” Schiller said. “If your pockets are full, come to me and I’ll tell you which is more valuable.”
"You know this? American?" The bearded man picked up a mask that looked like it belonged to a pharaoh. He examined it closely and tried to stuff it into his pocket. "I thought you guys weren't very cultured."
"Actually, I don't understand either. It's just that when your hands touch the most valuable one, there should be screams coming from..."
"Let go of that thing! You damned robbers!! Bastards!!!"
"Oh, Haivin, you've come." Schiller turned around and gave the figure in the doorway a cold smile.