Kapitel 664: Chapter 664: I Heard You Like Cigars
Hussein glared at me with menacing eyes, but his words betrayed an unsettling calmness.
"You think you can threaten me using my daughter? Do you honestly believe I care about bloodlines? Do you think I'm some kind of good person?"
The more power someone has, especially dictatorship, the stronger their attachment to blood ties seems to be.
Whether it's a method to pass on everything they have or just human nature, I can't say. Still, the only weakness dictators have is their blood-related kin.
You could see it clearly in the behaviors of North Korea's Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il.
Closer to home, look at the chairman of Cheon Tae-san. Even my grandfather couldn't let go of his attachment to blood ties until the day he died.
"Misunderstanding, you say? Then I'll take that to mean it's alright to kill your daughter."
"You'd kill an innocent girl just because she's my daughter? How do you plan to handle the international backlash? Even if America is a gang state, do you really think you can manage that?"
He wasn't wrong. I nodded, signaling my agreement with his words.
Yes, the U.S. would never dare do that.
"The U.S. might not, but I can. As President Hussein mentioned earlier, I have enough military force at my disposal. Just look at the people behind me; you get a sense of it, don't you?"
Hussein referred to Manager Ma as a human butcher.
Manager Ma had lived as a mercenary for a long time.
While the blood on his hands has decreased since meeting me, whether by choice or not, there were many days stained with blood.
Hussein couldn't know that, judging only by Ma's eyes and actions. He had a keen eye for people.
In normal countries, not dictatorships, one must rely on laws to punish someone. But that's not my way. If I can persuade, I will; if that doesn't work, I'll use force to get my way. That's why I've reached this position.
Hussein continued to stare at me in silence.
"If you were still the dictator of Iraq, I wouldn't even think of using force. But now you're nothing but a war criminal about to face trial, stripped of power. I know it, you know it, and everyone here knows it. Even if I kill your daughter, you wouldn't be able to touch me."
As soon as war broke out, Hussein's first wife and eldest daughter, along with his second daughter, sought asylum with the Jordanian royal family.
The Jordanian royal family accepted their request, and the mother and daughters had been hiding in the sanctuary they provided.
While their whereabouts were shrouded in secrecy, both the U.S. government and I had already pinpointed their location.
"Oh, by the way, I heard your third daughter entered Qatar. Did you know that?"
Hussein's face froze further. Despite his efforts to hide his family, being exposed like this elicited a reaction he couldn't suppress.
"The U.S. has already gathered all the information. They're letting them be since they can't prove their crimes."
Whether my threat would have the desired effect was uncertain. Even if it failed, I had no intention of going out of my way to kill them.
But for now, I needed to convince him I was capable of such actions.
And that belief would stem from Jessica's reaction.
"Charlie! Are you really thinking of killing Hussein's daughters? How… how can you even handle that?"
At Jessica's shock, I smirked.
"You think they'll find evidence that I did it? Hussein has many enemies. One of them might just take the blame."
"…You're truly insane."
As Hussein listened in on my conversation with Jessica, he observed her actions as if testing the waters.
"I can't just pretend I didn't see this happen."
"Do as you wish. Report it, whatever. I've made sure you won't be held accountable."
"That's about the responsibilities involved with this hostage situation."
"All this is yet another method in the hostage rescue process. So just listen quietly. And then decide whether or not to report that upstairs based on what you hear."
I brushed off Jessica's words and turned back to Hussein.
"When I contact you, your eldest daughter will die within 24 hours. Wherever she is, no one will be able to protect her. If you refuse to act, I'll kill your second daughter as well. Remember, I am the owner of Black Bear."
Hussein gritted his teeth.
With a relaxed smile, I leaned closer to Hussein.
"If the hostage dies, I will kill your entire family. No matter how long it takes, I'll make it happen."
"You're right—you're completely insane. Out of your mind. You're a bigger lunatic than I am."
Hussein's words only brought a wider smile to my face; to be called a lunatic by this devil of the Middle East was something else.
"That's a possibility."
For a while, Hussein and I remained silently locked in a gaze.
But the victor had already been decided.
Back when he wielded absolute power, that might have been different, but now he was just a man trapped in a bunker of his own making, while I had the military might of Black Bear at my side.
Hussein understood better than anyone who held the upper hand.
He sighed and finally posed the question.
"So, the group that's abducted the Koreans is called The Monotheistic Group and Holy War?"
"Yes, that's what I've gathered. The initial kidnappers were rebel forces from the Iraqi army, but they handed them over for money."
Hussein frowned at my response.
"I don't know these people."
"Is there a power in Iraq you don't recognize?"
"To be precise, I've heard of them, but they're not connected to me. To be blunt, they wouldn't care even if I mentioned their name."
As I gazed intently to judge the truth of his words, Hussein spoke firmly.
"The lives of my daughter and those bastards cannot possibly be equal, can they? I'm sincere. I have no connection to that group."
There was no need to ask what mattered more—the answer was obvious.
I came here without much hope, but now I found it a bit disappointing.
Well, I guess I'll have to be satisfied just meeting Hussein.
Concealing my true feelings, I continued our conversation.
"It's hard to believe."
"Whether you believe it or not is up to you. But even if I ordered them to release the hostages, they wouldn't listen. No, they might even kill me just for having been threatened."
"Is there no way? I'm not saying this just to threaten you. I'm serious. If the hostages die, so does your daughter. Isn't that what they call blood vengeance? I understand it's a culture deeply ingrained in Islamic society, even codified within the law."
"…"
"So I'm willing to exchange the hostages' lives for your daughter's life."
Hussein inhaled sharply, letting out a hollow laugh.
"I never thought I would be lectured on Islamic law by an Oriental. Why go this far? Most countries, including the U.S., don't negotiate or concede to terrorists, do they? That's what I thought."
He was right; the principle was that there should be no compromises with terrorists.
Paying a ransom or fulfilling any demands was simply out of the question.
The U.S. was the country that upheld this principle most stringently.
The U.S. government even stopped families of hostages from paying ransoms.
In order to prevent any attempts to force their will through violence, most countries adhered to this law.
"I'm an individual; I'm not a country."
"But the man beside you is from the U.S. Do you realize how contradictory that is?"
"That's why I'm intervening. The U.S. has no authority to stop me."
Hussein appeared deep in thought after hearing my response.
He soon closed his eyes tightly as if he were pondering intensely and tapped the book in front of him.
He seemed desperate for something. Watching Hussein like this, I gestured to Manager Ma.
Manager Ma leaned closer to me as if waiting for this moment.
"Manager Ma, please hand me the gift we prepared."
Manager Ma pulled out a cigar box and a lighter from his possessions.
It was a Cuban brand favorite of Hussein's.
When I opened the cigar box, Hussein's eyes widened at the sound.
"That's… a cigar, isn't it?"
"Yes. I heard you like cigars; I brought this as a gift."
"Oh, those cheap cigars everyone here gave me didn't sit well with me."
Hussein's childlike delight at a single cigar was evident.
I took a cigar from the box and offered it to Hussein.
Hussein accepted it and took a long whiff.
"Hmm…"
For a while, there was no trace of worry in Hussein's expression as he savored the cigar's aroma.
At first glance, he didn't look much like the ruthless dictator devoid of emotions.
"Good! Very good!"
Hussein opened the drawer beside him and pulled out a cigar cutter.
Rather than cutting it immediately, he gazed at the cigar cap and mumbled.
"You should really cut it with a knife for the best flavor. A cigar cutter lacks the flair. I asked for a knife, but the fuss they kicked up was ridiculous."
Hussein continued to grumble, clearly unhappy. I turned to Manager Ma.
"Please, get me a knife."
"Boss, a knife…?"
Manager Ma looked at me with concern, but I shook my head slightly and extended my hand.
"Just give it to me."
Manager Ma reluctantly handed over a knife hidden in his possession.
"Use this to cut it."
I stabbed the knife onto the table.
Jessica's eyes widened in horror as she stared at me, but I ignored her.
Hussein set aside the cigar cutter and drew the knife from the table.
"Oh… this is a good knife. It has a proper edge."
The knife glimmered menacingly under the chandelier's light. Hussein fiddled with the blade.
"Thank you. But tell me… are you sure it's okay to lend me this knife? What if I use it to commit suicide?"
Trying to unsettle me with a jest he didn't mean. I chuckled softly, meeting his gaze.
"Don't make empty threats, Mr. President. If I'm going to die, I at least want to speak my mind before I go, don't you think?"
Hussein looked straight at me, a smirk tugging at his lips.
He was a man of great greed; such a person would never consider suicide.
Instead of responding, he toyed with the knife and roughly cut the cigar cap.
Then he pulled out matches meant specifically for cigars from the drawer.
"Cigars should be lit with matches. Torch lighters, Zippos—those aren't respectful to cigars."
Cigars enjoyed by the upper class demanded a lot of etiquette, almost to the point of being tedious.
After lighting the cigar, Hussein slowly rotated it, waiting for the foot to make contact, before peeling off the cigar band.
Then he finally brought it to his mouth, taking a deep puff.
He released a thick cloud of smoke, nodding in satisfaction.
His disheveled appearance contrasted strangely with the elegance he tried to maintain while smoking the cigar, like a scene from a play.
"Do you like my gift?"
"Like? It's a tease! If only the Americans had taken me hostage with cigars, maybe I would have considered negotiating. They don't seem to grasp my value."
Though he said that, everyone in the room knew it would never happen.
"I'm glad you liked it," I replied.
I slid the cigar box towards him.
"Feel free to smoke more. I would have liked to bring more, but I had to prepare in a hurry and couldn't bring a lot."
Hussein nodded and began smoking the cigar in silence.
After burning halfway through, he placed the cigar in the ashtray and spoke up.
"Thanks to you, I can finally enjoy a good cigar after a long time."
Hussein seemed genuinely pleased as a smile blossomed on his face.
Both of us understood that the cigar was merely a pretext.
I gave him a gift, and by receiving it, he had a reason to provide me with assistance, rather than succumbing to my threat.
"Could I have a pen and paper?"
At my words, Manager Ma retrieved a notebook and fountain pen, placing them on the table.
He opened the notebook and began writing something.
A short while later, he tightly closed the notebook, placed the pen on top, and pushed it towards me.
"Contact that dude and ask him to set up a meeting with them."
"Who are you referring to?"
"A man named Kamis. On the surface, he works for the Red Crescent Society, but behind it, he has connections to terrorist organizations. By reaching out, you might at least start a dialogue with them."
Finally, I gained a method to contact the terrorists.
Once I tucked away the notebook, Hussein added in a sharp voice.
"This is your last warning. Don't ever touch my family. I've already lost two sons. No more of my family should die. Remember my words."
Indeed, family was a significant weakness for dictators.
As I gazed quietly at his trembling hands, which had clenched and then unclenched into fists, I replied.
"If this man you mentioned proves to be instrumental in this negotiation, I would guarantee the safety of your family. I'll hire Black Bear's mercenaries to provide security."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein