Shortly after the sunset sank into the horizon, night began to fall. Although the former owner, who was prominent, had become a prisoner, the Venice Palace was still bright. Several guests from the United States moved in temporarily. With various thoughts, kingdom politicians and socialites took the opportunity to visit the temporary owners here, and held a series of cocktail parties with the acquiescence of a gentleman. ∽ Politicians, bureaucrats, bankers and unidentified foreigners all mixed in and wandered around in its hall. If they found their goals, some people would whisper together in the name of appreciating the works of art hanging on the walls of orange and light green. Obviously, the landscape paintings, portraits and images of Virone and Menadi were not as attractive as people thought.

Of course, this does not mean that the guests are not polite to the host. The facts prove that those small actions are completely harmless. What really hurts people are other guys who are confused about the charm.

"Kill the Americans!"

"For Italy!"

The slogan sounded violently, and then quickly returned to calm, without attracting the attention of the guests.

Just like the guys who often appear and disappear bizarrely during this period, there are always some ambitions who try to do something.

Of course, they failed without exception.

This time they failed to even break into the hall to scare the cute and ulterior motives guests. After finding that the former Prime Minister's followers sneak in, the caring owner came to the Italian courtyard in front of the palace to hold a farewell ceremony for these poor guys.

The pale limbs were still twitching slightly, and the red blood emerged from the small holes in the skull like a fountain. It soon soaked in the wet soil with the liquid flowing out of the compatriots during their lifetime. The warm breath of life gradually dissipated in the evening breeze, replaced by a sweet fishy smell that was different from sea water or fresh soil.

"Sir?" Tarbert had just rushed back from outside and saw his boss walking out of the garden, and immediately knew that something was wrong.

"I called out my brothers, it's so unreasonable lately." He said angrily. He was about to enter the hall to find other sailors.

But Eric stopped him.

"Don't be so nervous." He waved his hand casually, and the power reached behind him. After crossing his boss's shoulder, Tabert saw a dozen men in black lying on the ground quietly decomposing under the bright moonlight.

"Let them enjoy it as much as they deserve it. You must know that there will not be too many such scenes in the future." Eric said with some advice, and then saw Barry walking out of the hall alone and running to his side to act like obeying orders.

He was very eye-catching, which made him look up to the rude sailor.

There are buried geniuses everywhere in the world, and it is even harder for mediocre people to make a name for themselves. Only those who are good at seizing important opportunities and able to control their desires can go further. It is conceivable that if the guys in the hall are holding the halo of the Italian conqueror at this moment, if they do not have more achievements in making achievements and their abilities cannot be improved, the psychological gap after returning to China will naturally make them feel in pain, and use their second half of their lives to constantly recall the wonderful experiences they have experienced.

If you are smart, you should learn from Tarbert and Barry. Responsible and good bosses will naturally consider them, or open their eyes wide, and take the opportunity to find some reliable Italians to make friends with them. There will also be some gains. Even if you are shameless and climb onto a widowed romantic wife, it will be more meaningful than anesthesia for yourself with alcohol and cheap compliments.

But this has nothing to do with Eric. He has done everything he can for these people. Whether he should take his destiny into his own hands. Just look at his own thoughts.

Bringing the only two smart men back to the hall, Eric socialized with others, he was so popular that it took him almost ten minutes to walk through the short section from the side door to the meeting room.

When the door closed, he looked as romantic as the sailors outside who were addicted to pleasure. He had a few bright lip marks on his cheeks and a little disheveled shirt. In addition, the bottle of wine he had just picked up, if the unknown person saw it, he might think that this was a playboy who was mixed into a nightclub.

But Tarbert looked over carefully and saw that there was only clearness in his boss's eyes.

The amber liquid was injected into the crystal wine glass, and Eric slowly tasted it.

Now no one disturbs him, and the conscientious Tabert began to report to his boss what happened today.

"The Telegraph Office still hasn't received a useful reply." He said simply, the facts are more ridiculous than the novel.

After receiving Eric's clear telegram and the communiqué of the Italian king's dethronement of the prime minister, the Allied Command was almost in chaos, and they were completely disrupted by sudden changes. Both the British and American governments were desperately trying to know what was going on in Rome, and the State Department and the Pentagon asked the people here to report directly to them. After receiving feedback, the Army and the Admiralty also asked to include the place in their own leadership--they asked a lot, but there were almost no specific feasibility measures.

There was no answer to the issue of continuation of the political system that the Germans could launch at any time, or the issue of the continuation of the kingdom's top leaders.

In fact, this is nothing. The debate between the Allies on Italy in history continued until early 1945. Some people wanted to punish the country, while others believed that it was not necessary to be too harsh. Moreover, the fact that the nine people conquered a civilized country was too absurd. The people above were not shocked to have aphasia, which was a good sign. They did not know that the fruit had been ripe and were just waiting for the prepared people to pick it gently.

"Then don't worry about them. When the headquarters sends people, we will hand over all the place." Eric said lightly. "This is not a complete military operation, but an armed kidnapping or a beheading assault. Once the operation is successful, it no longer belongs to the military field. In order not to be taken away by others or even betrayed by dissatisfied guys, we'd better take the lead and sell this country to others first."

Tabert and Barry looked at each other and asked, "To whom?"

"British, the United States; Army, Navy; State Department, Pentagon---there are people everywhere, but there is only one final buyer, that is, the lucky Ike, who will not be able to deliver, except him, no matter how high the others bid," Eric said lightly, telling the benefits of doing so to both of them.

Mr. Dwight, who was promoted to Army General in February this year for North Africa's contributions, was promoted to an army general. He would have launched a Sicilian offensive in June, but now Eric has disrupted the situation in advance. Italy handed it over to him just to bridge the relationship. At the same time, Tabert and Barry can also board this big ship with a bright future and make arrangements for the future.

"We all know that we don't really have much to do. The Italian action ended when Mussolini got it, and the next political stage is the political stage. The Italians have a good attitude because they need to cooperate with us to express goodwill to the Allies, and the Allies also need to achieve greater political and military results. We are just a bridge at the right time, not that our strength is really enough to conquer a country. After successfully firing the first shot, the most critical issue is how to put a perfect end to this action."

Eric's advice is equivalent to an order. It is difficult for two people from sailors to express their opinions now, but since they are willing to seize the opportunity, the good commander is naturally willing to provide a platform for it.

In addition to the news from the Telegraph Office, Tarbert also brought a list, and the new cabinet seemed to want to do something with the Americans.

Eric had no interest in connecting this kind of thing. He glanced lightly and the paper list turned into ashes.

Seeing this strange phenomenon, Barry's eyes were both fearful and excited, so he leaned forward tighter.

"Do you know Glen?" Eric said, calling Tabert's name. "I died another person in Brooklyn yesterday. Although people die every day in this world, it is still unpleasant for a person I know to die. He is a good person."

"Maybe he could not have died. I could only move my fingers or say something to save his life--but I didn't. To ensure that he left the world as fate would have arranged, I pushed him behind. Although there was reason to be sure that his death was more meaningful than living, I still felt sad."

Speaking of this, he was silent for a while.

"Why can't you live easily? Why do you have to deprive others of your life to make yourself safer? Where is the problem? Or is it the world that is the case?"

Eric talked to himself, sounding a little tired of his tone, but his eyes were not turbid or vicissitudes, but instead condensed a nearly transparent depth.

"Maybe the world was like this."

The two sailors didn't know what he was talking about, but Tabert from Africa finally gave his own answer. Eric did not watch his heart. Perhaps the African-American recalled the law of the strong prey on the prairie of the East African hometown.

Thinking of the unprecedented war that has now engulfed the whole world, perhaps the cruel beast nature is not far from the human being who claims to be the spirit of all things-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I think you are right. It is impossible to dream of peace in the world and successfully replace the status that others are accustomed to. But today I will let me relax. I have been bleeding too much recently. If this is a must, let the Italians do it themselves."

As he said that, Eric stood up, and in his senses, strange guests flew past the distant sky.

At this time, a multi-purpose long-range military transport reconnaissance aircraft from Germany, Junker Ju-290, was quietly approaching the Italian capital.

Apart from a few armed personnel on the plane, there was only one black-haired man with blood-red skin.

"Mr. Asazzo, we can only send you here." Through the sound of the engine, a German agent shouted to the red-skinned man. "According to our reliable information, Prime Minister Mussolini is now guarded by heavy troops, and the Head of State needs your ability. If successful, we will meet at the agreed place."

After listening to the agent's arrangement, Azazo nodded. After he looked down, he turned into a stream of red smoke and dust dissipated in the void. (To be continued, please search for Piaotianwen, the novel is better and faster!
Chapter completed!