111: Chapter 111 The Undercurrents in Egyptian Politics

Lin Zhou's decision immediately stirred up the situation in Cairo.

The Egyptian Ministry of Defense.

General Mubarak slammed the intelligence report in his hand onto the table, making a dull "thud."

"January 1st? He also chose January 1st to establish a Police Force? What is the meaning of this? This is a blatant provocation!"

The several high-ranking officers in the conference room exchanged glances, none daring to speak first.

Deputy Minister Saleh adjusted his glasses and spoke in a steady tone: "General, could this... just be a coincidence?"

"Coincidence?" Mubarak snorted coldly. "Saleh, when did you become so naive? We just issued the notice about stationing troops, and he immediately announced the inauguration ceremony on the same day, right across from our military camp! If this isn't a provocation, what is?"

"What kind of combat capability could a Police Force that was just cobbled together have?" an Army Brigadier General said disdainfully. "They're just a bunch of mercenaries; putting on police uniforms doesn't change the fact that they are a disorganized mob. Our 'Desert Spear' company could crush them in a single charge."

"I'm not worried about their combat capability!" Mubarak's fingers tapped heavily on the table. "I'm worried about Lin Zhou's attitude! He is showing us, and the whole world, that he will not obediently be a puppet under our protection! He wants to stand toe-to-toe with us on his own territory!"

These words left the officers present in silence.

They had originally thought that stationing one company would be enough to completely choke the throat of this newborn nation.

Now it seems that this young head of state has much tougher bones than they had imagined.

"This reminds me of Germany before World War II," Saleh's voice lowered. "The Treaty of Versailles limited Germany to having only 100,000 ground troops, but they secretly trained several times that number through various police and militia organizations. Once the time was ripe, these people could immediately take up arms and become a regular army."

"Hiding troops among the people?" Mubarak's gaze suddenly turned sharp; Saleh's analogy hit the deepest worry in his heart.

"This Lin Zhou must absolutely not be underestimated," Saleh concluded. "Every step he takes is watertight. Establishing a Police Force is an internal affair of a sovereign state; we have no reason to oppose it. But the time and place he chose disgust us just right, making us suffer this silent loss without any way to vent."

Mubarak paced back and forth in the conference room, finally standing still.

"Order! The commander of the stationed troops must be someone we trust most! I don't care what method he uses, whether it's drills or friction; after moving in, he must maintain constant military high-pressure on that Police Force!"

He turned to the Army Brigadier General: "I want those so-called 'police' to see the dark muzzles of our tanks the moment they open their eyes every day! I want them to understand who the real master is in Bir Tawil!"

"Yes, General!"

...

Cairo, inside an inconspicuous cafe.

A middle-aged man in a crisp suit with an elegant appearance was quietly stirring the coffee in his cup.

Opposite him sat an officer wearing desert camouflage combat fatigues, with the rank of Colonel on his shoulders.

He was the commander about to lead troops into Bir Tawil, Abdel Fattah.

"Fattah, you should have already received the General's order." The man in the suit's voice was not loud, but his words were clear.

He was none other than Hassan, the leader of the largest opposition force in Egypt.

"Received," Fattah replied in a flat tone. "To keep high pressure on that small nation and make them recognize reality."

"Then what do you intend to do?"

"I will strictly execute the order." Fattah's reply was watertight.

Hassan smiled and pushed an envelope over. "This is some operational funding from the organization. Once you get there, you will need money to grease some palms."

Fattah did not touch the envelope.

"Mr. Hassan, what exactly do you want me to do?" He raised his head, his gaze directed straight at the other person. "Our plan did not include dealing with this Cyber Republic."

Hassan leaned forward and lowered his voice: "Plans cannot keep up with changes, Fattah. This Lin Zhou and his nation are an unexpected variable, but they could also be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."

"Opportunity?"

"Yes." Hassan's tone revealed irrepressible excitement. "Our ultimate goal is to control all of Egypt; since elections cannot achieve this, we can only implement military control! This small nation that suddenly popped up is our best opportunity!"

"Think about it, that area of Bir Tawil is isolated from the world and legally self-contained. If... we could turn it into our personnel training base, a logistics transfer station, or even... a future command center, how much would our odds of winning increase?"

Fattah's breath suddenly hitched.

This idea was too bold and too outrageous.

"Will Lin Zhou agree? He doesn't look like someone who is easy to get along with."

"Therefore, that depends on your abilities, my friend." Hassan's smile held a bit more depth. "You must first follow Mubarak's order to apply pressure on him, make him feel pain, and let him know that he cannot fight against a sovereign state on his own. When he is pressed to the point of being unable to breathe, you then quietly extend an olive branch to him."

"Tell him we can help him get rid of the Egyptian Government's control and let him become a truly independent nation. And all he needs to pay is to provide us with some 'convenience'."

"We give him the independent sovereignty he dreams of, and he gives us a secure rear base. This is a win-win deal."

Fattah remained silent for a long time, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the table, calculating the pros and cons in his mind.

In the end, he reached out and tucked the envelope into his pocket.

"I will find an opportunity to contact him."

"Very good." Hassan nodded approvingly. "Remember, before reaching a substantial cooperation, you must play the role of a 'vicious dog' from Cairo well. The harder you bite, the more he will crave our friendship."

"I understand." Fattah stood up, gave a military salute, turned, and left the cafe.

Hassan watched his receding figure, picked up the coffee that had already gone cold, and drank it in one gulp.

The liquid in the cup was murky, just like the current political situation in Egypt. But he believed that he and that young man from the East would be the two catfish stirring up this stagnant pool.