Chapter 552: A Calculated Move

[Chapter 640: A Calculated Move]

On November 14, the investigation report into the Lockerbie disaster was released as expected. According to the findings from both British and American investigations, Gaddafi was the prime suspect.

This news stirred up quite a storm, but the so-called heavyweights weren't surprised. From their perspective, the U.S. had been targeting Gaddafi for quite some time. The current evidence? It seemed rather flimsy.

For William White, finding the real culprits was an impossible task. The loss of 270 lives? A senseless tragedy.

Speaking of which, what's taking that damned plane so long to be ready?

"Lisa, can you check with Boeing on the status of my plane?"

"Sir, I asked them yesterday. They're conducting flight tests now."

"Is that so? Well, let's have Tanner send a team over to see what's going on with it."

William White had little faith in planes; that was no secret. After all, his parents had perished in a crash. It would be a lie to say he wasn't scared. But for him to be this on edge? That was quite unusual.

Since the Lockerbie disaster, accidents in commercial aviation had drastically reduced. Other than a few deranged individuals, nobody was making jokes about flying commercial jets anymore.

And yet, there was still a lot to consider.

Ahem, while flying in a piece of metal up in the sky might seem risky, there's no denying that the safety of air travel was high. The number of people who died in car accidents outweighed those who died in plane crashes by a long shot.

...

Knowing that the U.S. was already gunning for him, Gaddafi wasn't particularly flustered. The evidence they had was, frankly, quite questionable.

Timers? There were way too many people who owned those. Just because we have one doesn't mean we're guilty. And it's not like we're the only ones with intel personnel on our payroll.

Nowadays, Europe was overflowing with intelligence agents. If that's a problem, why not go after Israel instead? Besides, what's with NBC blowing this up into a special report?

"Moussa Koussa, this NBC, isn't it owned by that billionaire?"

"Yes, Mr. President. He and we have never seen eye to eye. Right now, he's the biggest diamond supplier in the U.S."

"So, did they orchestrate the chaos in Africa?" Gaddafi asked indignantly. Seriously, was this all done out of sympathy for the victims' families? Please.

"There are suspicions, but it doesn't seem likely. While they've returned to Congo, they've lost their previous stronghold. Reports suggest they're struggling to maintain what territory they have due to severe manpower shortages. Plus, not selling arms is a significant weakness for them."

Gaddafi was curious. To him, business was ruthless. As long as there was profit to be made, what business couldn't one undertake?

"What is this, playing the saint? If it weren't for these greedy bastards, Africa wouldn't be in this mess."

People were like that, only realizing who their friends really were when they were in trouble. Enemies, on the other hand? There always seemed to be plenty of those.

...

In most cases, NBC rarely endorsed anything openly. So when they clearly took a stance, a lot of people tended to believe it.

This time was no different; both America and Europe were riled up. If Gaddafi didn't hand over those two individuals, economic sanctions would follow.

Fine, they'd just directly go to war. A single airplane seemed insufficient weight in this argument. To put it plainly, their evidence was weak at best.

Since Gaddafi denied any knowledge of wrongdoing, it was a personal matter. Unless those two fessed up in court, nothing would stick.

This era of civil aviation was a disaster. Didn't America bring down a plane a few years back?

After 9/11, such incidents had become rare.

"Director, are they planning to seize Gaddafi's assets by doing this?" The current head of the CIA ignored his subordinate's sarcasm.

To be honest, he was busy protecting his own position at the moment and couldn't afford to make enemies right now. He was well aware that next year was an election year. During such a sensitive time, provoking a media mogul would only lead to his own downfall.

If William White wanted to back someone for a position, well, that might be a long shot. If he was determined to take someone down, forget about it.

That's how things worked in the world; some people may struggle to make things happen while excelling at wrecking them. No doubt, William White fell into that category.

Neither side relied on him, and neither dared to provoke him lightly. It was almost a miracle. By the time someone reached his level, they typically had to pick a side. Otherwise, if anything went wrong, nobody would come to their aid.

Only he was so out of sync. How on earth did you balance being chummy with the Bush family, yet support that Bill guy?

In fact, a lot of the old-timers were waiting to see how things would play out. Betting on both sides usually meant nobody wins.

"Let's put the Africa situation on hold; it's chaotic enough as it is. By the way, what's going on with that Leo Wanta?"

Mentioning this matter made the CIA executives visibly uncomfortable. They had tried every method available, yet to no avail. The guy seemed determined to stand his ground. Even if they were to eliminate him, he showed no signs of compromise.

"Director, if it comes to that, maybe we should just bring him back. If that doesn't work, can we use some kind of drugs?"

"Idiot, are you out of your mind? What if he dies? What happens to the money then? It's not just a password; you don't even know the accounts. Have the accountants figured out how much he's stashed away?"

"Director, the numbers vary greatly, but the least we're talking about is a few hundred billion dollars."

As seasoned politicians, they all understood this was a complicated situation. Such a staggering amount? Anyone with half a brain would know what that implied. Hand over the cash, and he'd be on his way to meet his maker.

"A bunch of incompetent fools, send someone to check in Soviet Union. And those banks? See if there's any chance."

This group of idiots at the CIA was truly clueless; didn't they realize they were dealing with an immense sum? Were all those bankers really that stupid?

If you could take him out, we'd be immensely grateful.

...

"How's the new equipment treating you, Max? No one bullying you now, right?"

Max didn't mind his boss's jabs; he was well-prepared and strong now. There was no one around to push him around anymore.

"Sir, this stuff is extremely practical and not nearly as finicky as the old gear. Haha, as long as it runs on oil, it'll work."

"Good. Gaddafi is in hot water, so no holding back on this. I think at this point, he should know to throw in the towel."

"Understood, sir. We'll move in three days. Let's hope they get the hint."

"They will. They've become the target, and holding onto their turf is all they can do. If they still hope for more, that's just tempting fate."

*****

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