"What era do you think it is? You're still pretending to be the colonial overlord?"
Casare saw the other side about to speak and walked toward George Smiley, the latter rushing over with a grim expression.
"Don't say another word. Follow me and take your seat. If you mess around, I'll stitch your mouth to your ass."
The Brit's face turned green instantly. Seeing the coldness in George Smiley's eyes, he shuddered and shut his mouth.
This man, known in MI6 as "Fierce Dog," was a major figure in Mexican intelligence, with a typically rugged and heroic persona.
Reluctantly, he shrank back, taking a seat at the rear with representatives from some Latin American and African nations. The Brit mumbled under his breath, and for a moment, it looked like he was casting a spell.
Dong!
At precisely 9 a.m., the sound of Big Ben rang out. The clear chimes echoed far and wide, audible for kilometers. Everyone in Mexico could hear it, and all simultaneously looked up.
