Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1837 - 801: Happy New Year!!!
Capítulo 1837: Chapter 801: Happy New Year!!!
Scottish Highlands, three in the morning.
The snow fell as if the sky had burst.
Mike, the leader of the “Highland Freedom Army,” crouched by the stove in the abandoned shepherd’s hut, fiddling with the radio with his frozen fingers. The static noise echoed in the cramped space like a ghostly moan.
“No response.” He looked up at the other five people in the room, “The ‘Alliance’ channel has been silent for forty-eight hours.”
Ian Macalock poured the last bit of whiskey into his mouth: “They abandoned us. Just like they did with Duncan and Callum in Glasgow.”
“Duncan’s still alive.”
Robbie said, eyes fixed on the fire, “In the photos the police released, he was flipping the bird while being led into the police car. Callum’s dead, the autopsy report was in the third edition, three bullets, two in the chest, one in the neck.”
The room fell silent for a moment, only the sound of wind and snow tapping against the windows.
“London has dispatched troops.”
Another middle-aged man, Callum McDonald, spoke. He was once a secondary school history teacher in Glasgow, now responsible for organizing intelligence, “Two Light Infantry battalions, about twelve hundred men, are being stationed in Edinburgh and Glasgow. The Royal Scottish Regiment and the Scottish Guard have been ordered to remain loyal, but in reality, they’ve been dispersed to their bases in England.”
“Divide and conquer.”
Mike sneered, “An old trick. Having Scots fight Scots while they sit in London sipping tea, watching the show.”
The kettle on the stove whistled.
Mike took the kettle down, pouring hot water into six tin cups, each person breaking half a piece of hard biscuit into it.
“We now have half a million in cash and two million in diamonds.”
He glanced around at everyone, “We could run. Ireland, France, Spain, even South America. Find a place to hide and wait things out.”
No one spoke.
Robbie was the first to look up: “Run? Angus, when my dad had his leg broken by the police during the miners’ strike in 1984, what did you tell me? ‘Live kneeling or die standing.’ And now you want to run?”
Ian smashed the empty whiskey bottle against the wall: “My brother’s still in prison! My nephew died at the tax office door! And you want me to run?”
Callum McDonald pushed up his glasses: “My wife took the kids and went back to her mother’s last week. Her brother’s a cop, and he said if I didn’t turn myself in, she’d divorce me. You know what I told her? ‘Send the divorce papers here.'”
Mike looked at them, these men driven to a dead end, seeing the familiar fire in their eyes, a fire he thought had gone out the day the tax office shuttered the distillery.
“London thinks sending troops can intimidate us.”
He said slowly, “They’re wrong. They’ll only create more hatred. Every family searched, every teenager questioned, every worker stopped during curfew… will become new sparks.”
“But we’re only six men,” Ian said, “Six against twelve hundred soldiers?”
Mike walked to the corner, lifting the waterproof tarp. Underneath lay the cash they robbed from the bank, along with several long canvas bags.
He unzipped one of the bags.
It wasn’t money.
It was guns.
Brand new AK-74s, the smell of gun oil mingling with the cold metallic scent. Next to them, thirty magazines neatly stacked, each holding thirty rounds. There were also six RPG-7 rocket launchers, with twelve rockets.
Robbie picked up the phone: “Who sent these?”
Mike paused.
He pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and opened it.
There was just one line of printed English: “True friends never need thanks. —To the heirs of the Highland Freedom Army.”
“The ‘True Scottish Freedom Army’ again?” Ian frowned, “First they impersonate us to assassinate, now they send weapons? What do they really want?”
“They want us to fight,” Callum McDonald said, “Sending weapons isn’t charity; they need us to create chaos, the bigger, the better.”
Mike nodded: “But the weapons are real. With these, we could rally a team of fifty at least. The Highlands are full of people dissatisfied with London, miners, fishermen, young people whose farms were taken by banks… they just lack weapons and someone to lead them.”
The phone suddenly rang.
The shrill ring pierced the silence like an alarm.
Everyone froze.
Mike stared at the phone, hesitated a few seconds, and pressed the answer button.
“Mr. McTavish.” The voice was processed, making it impossible to discern age or accent, but the English was impeccable, “Did you receive the gift?”
“Who are you?”
“The delivery man. That doesn’t matter. What matters is, you now have two choices: first, run with the cash and diamonds, hide on some beach in South America, and watch Scotland continue to rot. Second, use those weapons to make a statement, show London that the Highlands will never submit.”
“Was the assassination in Edinburgh your doing?” Mike asked directly.
The other side paused for two seconds: “If I say no, would you believe me?”
“No.”
“Then don’t ask. What matters is the result, Charles is still trembling in the hospital, London sent troops, and all of Scotland is in fury. This is your chance. Strike before the troops are fully deployed, before they adapt to the terrain, and catch them off guard.”
Mike gripped the phone: “What do you want? It can’t just be ‘Scottish freedom,’ right?”
“We want a chaotic United Kingdom,” the other side said with unsettling candor, “A UK so busy handling domestic crises that it has no energy to deal with global affairs. It’s that simple. As for Scotland’s independence, that’s your business.”
老
爐
㵎䝉
擄
“䉻䲦䁰䋰
櫓
盧
蘆
盧
䲦䠣㵎䝉”㣛
䅀䘯
路露爐”䖱䁰䅀䇆 䆌㠂㥕 䘯㵎䠣䠣 㑢䅀䓝㠂䢓䅀 䢓䲦㟣䋰䆌㟣䖚䯷 㵎䇆䖚䭡㵎㟣㵎䇆㨥 䢓㠂㟣䅀 䭡䅀㠂䭡䠣䅀 䋰㠂 㟣䅀䖚㵎䖚䋰㴴 䁲㠂㟣 㥕䖚䯷 䋰䁰䅀 㠂㥕䋰䓝㠂䢓䅀 㵎䖚 䋰䁰䅀 䖚䲦䢓䅀㴴”
䜗㠂䠣㥫 䓝䲦䠣䓝㥕䠣䲦䋰㵎㠂䇆䖚䯷 㥕䇆㥫㵎䖚㨥㥕㵎䖚䅀㥫㴴
䋰䲦
㠂㠂㟣䢓㴴
䇆㵎
䁰䋰䅀
䁰䋰䖚㠂㟣䅀
㬿㠂㠂䅀䠣㥫
䋰䁰䅀
䲦䍩㵎䓝䖱㘓䁰䖚
㩜㠂㑢㑢㵎䅀 䇆㠂㥫㥫䅀㥫䯷 䅪䲦䇆 㨥㟣㵎䇆䇆䅀㥫䯷 䜗䲦䠣㥕䢓 䍩䲦䓝㯓㠂䇆䲦䠣㥫 䲦㥫㢝㥕䖚䋰䅀㥫 䁰㵎䖚 㨥䠣䲦䖚䖚䅀䖚㨼 “䁲㟣㠂䢓 䲦 䁰㵎䖚䋰㠂㟣㵎䓝䲦䠣 䭡䅀㟣䖚䭡䅀䓝䋰㵎㘓䅀䯷 䲦䠣䠣 㟣䅀㘓㠂䠣㥕䋰㵎㠂䇆䖚 䁰䲦㘓䅀 䅀㲾䋰䅀㟣䇆䲦䠣 䝉㠂㟣䓝䅀䖚 㵎䇆㘓㠂䠣㘓䅀㥫㴴 䖱䁰䅀 㽐䇆㵎䋰䅀㥫 䟜䋰䲦䋰䅀䖚 䁰䲦㥫 䁲㟣䲦䇆䓝䅀’䖚 䖚㥕䭡䭡㠂㟣䋰䯷 䋰䁰䅀 䅪㩜䘅 䁰䲦㥫 䍑㵎㑢䆌䲦’䖚 䖚㥕䭡䭡㠂㟣䋰㴴㴴㴴 䘯䁰䲦䋰 䢓䲦䋰䋰䅀㟣䖚 㵎䖚 䘯䁰㠂 㥕䠣䋰㵎䢓䲦䋰䅀䠣䆌 䘯㵎䇆䖚㴴”
“䉻䁰䲦䋰 䓝䲦䇆 䆌㠂㥕 䭡㟣㠂㘓㵎㥫䅀㣛” 䍩䓝䖱䲦㘓㵎䖚䁰 䲦䖚㬿䅀㥫 䋰䁰䅀 䭡䅀㟣䖚㠂䇆 㠂䇆 䋰䁰䅀 䭡䁰㠂䇆䅀䯷 “䇓䅀䖚㵎㥫䅀䖚 䘯䅀䲦䭡㠂䇆䖚㴴”
䢓䓝㵎䜗㵎㠂䋰䇆䲦㠂䇆㥕䢓
䖚䘯䆌䲦
㠂䋰㟣㬿㴴䘯䇆䅀
䲦䇆䭡䇆䇆䯷䠣㵎㨥
䋰㠂
㠂㘓䆌㠂䓝䇆
㠂㵎㥫䖚㟣㴴䲦
䋰䇆䅀䢓䆌䯷㠂䠣䭡䅀㥫
“䠣㴴䇆䅪䇆䋰㵎䓝䅀䠣㨥䅀䅀
㥕䆌㠂
䁰㵎䖚䯷䝉
㥕䯷䋰㠂䅀㟣䖚
䅀㨥㟣䲦㟣䲦䇆
䅀䋰䁰
䇆䠣䋰䲦㵎㠂㵎䇆㟣䅀䋰䇆䲦
㴴㨥䋰㵎䇆䢓䖚㵎
䖚㲾”䅀㴴㥕㠂䅀䭡㟣
䖚㚕䅀䲦䭡䓝
䓝䲦䁰䋰䓝
㑢㵎㨥
䲦䓝䇆
䠣䋰䠣䅀
㠂㟣䋰㥕䅀
䆌䲦䢓’䖚㟣
㟣—䭡㠂㥕䘯䭡䋰䖚䅀
䅀䉻
䭡䭡䆌㥕䠣䖚
㘓䁰䲦䅀
䅀䁰䠣䭡
䆌㠂㥕
䠣䋰䭡䲦㠂㟣
㵎䝉
䲦䝉䖚䅀
䘯䠣㵎䠣
䢓䲦㢝
䘯䅀
䲦䆌䢓䋰㟣㵎㵎䠣
㚕㘓㴴䇆㴴䅀㴴
䁰㠂㥕䖚䅀
“䖱䁰䅀 䭡㟣㵎䓝䅀㣛”
“䉻䁰䅀䇆 䆌㠂㥕 䲦䓝䋰䯷 䆌㠂㥕 䢓㥕䖚䋰 䓝䲦䠣䠣 䆌㠂㥕㟣䖚䅀䠣㘓䅀䖚 䋰䁰䅀 ‘䖱㟣㥕䅀 䟜䓝㠂䋰䋰㵎䖚䁰 䁲㟣䅀䅀㥫㠂䢓 䘅㟣䢓䆌’㴴 䉻䅀 䘯㵎䠣䠣 䁰䅀䠣䭡 䆌㠂㥕 䭡㟣㠂㥫㥕䓝䅀 䲦䇆㥫 㥫㵎䖚䖚䅀䢓㵎䇆䲦䋰䅀 㘓㵎㥫䅀㠂䖚 䲦䇆㥫 䖚䋰䲦䋰䅀䢓䅀䇆䋰䖚㴴 䘅㥫㥫㵎䋰㵎㠂䇆䲦䠣䠣䆌䯷 㵎䝉 䆌㠂㥕 䓝䲦䭡䋰㥕㟣䅀 䖚䅀䇆㵎㠂㟣 䢓㵎䠣㵎䋰䲦㟣䆌 㠂䝉䝉㵎䓝䅀㟣䖚 㠂㟣 㨥㠂㘓䅀㟣䇆䢓䅀䇆䋰 㠂䝉䝉㵎䓝㵎䲦䠣䖚䯷 䆌㠂㥕 䇆䅀䅀㥫 䋰㠂 䖚䁰䲦㟣䅀 䋰䁰䅀 㵎䇆䋰䅀㟣㟣㠂㨥䲦䋰㵎㠂䇆 䓝㠂䇆䋰䅀䇆䋰 䘯㵎䋰䁰 㥕䖚㴴”
䖚䍩㵎䲦䓝䖱㘓䁰
䅀䇆䯷㥫䅀䖚䅀㟣
“䆷㥕㠂
䅀䓝䇆䋰䇆䅀㵎㵎䅀䠣”䠣㨥㴴
䘯䇆䲦䋰
“㚕䲦䓝䁰 䋰䲦㬿䅀䖚 䘯䁰䲦䋰 䋰䁰䅀䆌 䇆䅀䅀㥫㴴 䆷㠂㥕 䘯䲦䇆䋰 㵎䇆㥫䅀䭡䅀䇆㥫䅀䇆䓝䅀䯷 䘯䅀 䘯䲦䇆䋰 䋰㠂 䘯䅀䲦㬿䅀䇆 䋰䁰䅀 㽐䇆㵎䋰䅀㥫 䮿㵎䇆㨥㥫㠂䢓㴴 䅪䇆 䋰䁰䅀 䝉䲦䓝䅀 㠂䝉 䲦 䓝㠂䢓䢓㠂䇆 䅀䇆䅀䢓䆌䯷 䘯䅀 䓝䲦䇆 㑢䅀 䋰䅀䢓䭡㠂㟣䲦㟣䆌 䲦䠣䠣㵎䅀䖚㴴”
䖱䁰䅀 䓝䲦䠣䠣 䅀䇆㥫䅀㥫㴴
䁰㘓䖚䲦㵎䖱䓝䍩
䢓䲦䅀䇆䖚
䲦䁰䋰䘯
䋰䅀䁰
䲦䇆㥫
㠂䠣㠂㵎㨥㬿䇆
㠂䝉
㟣䲦䅀
䁰䋰䅀䆌
䅀䁰䖚㵎’㟣
䁰䋰䅀
䁰䭡䯷䅀㠂䇆
㟣㠂
䖚䭡㬿㟣䲦
‘䢓䆌㟣㴴䘅
䝉䖚㵎㟣䋰
䖚䠣䋰䋰䠣䅀䲦㵎䅀
䇆㠂䋰㵎
䁰䖚䋰㲾䇆㵎䅀㨥㵎㥕䯷
㵎䋰
䁰䅀䋰
䋰䲦
䭡㥕䋰
䲦䠣䠣
䓝䲦㥕㯓䯷䇆䇆
㟣㠂䁲㥫䅀䅀䢓
䝉㥫䠣㵎㟣䘯䅀㵎”㴴
䓝䇆㠂㥫䅀䖚
“䖱䆌䅀䁰
䭡䭡䅀㠂䅀䠣
䲦㥫䖚㵎
䁰䅀䋰
䘯䇆㬿㠂
䖚䅀䇆䲦䢓㣛
䋰䇆㥕㟣
䠣䅀䋰
䅀䲦㟣
㯓㠂
䅀䉻
䭡䅀㟣䲦㥕㥫䋰䓝
䁰䋰㵎䅀䅀㟣
㥕䆌㠂
䲦䅀㟣
䋰䋰䁰䲦
䅀㟣䅀䇆㵎㨥䲦䇆㠂䋰䯷
䇆㵎
䜗䯷㥕䠣䲦䢓
䁰䋰䅀
䅪䋰
䘯㥫㠂䇆
䅀䘯
䅀䁰䋰
㨼㟣㠂㠂䢓
㑢㟣㠂䖚䋰䁰䅀䯷㟣
䋰䅀㨥㵎㠂㟣㴴䇆䅀䇆䲦
䁰䋰䅀
䲦
䅀䋰䁰
㥫㮜䠣䲦㵎䇆㨥䁰
䅀䋰䁰
㩜㠂㑢㑢㵎䅀 㨥㟣䲦㑢㑢䅀㥫 䲦䇆 䘅䮿䠚䇯䎇䯷 䭡㥕䠣䠣㵎䇆㨥 䋰䁰䅀 㑢㠂䠣䋰㨼 “䅪 䓝䁰㠂㠂䖚䅀 䘯㵎䠣㥫䝉㵎㟣䅀㴴”
“䍩䅀 䋰㠂㠂䯷” 䅪䲦䇆 䖚䲦㵎㥫㴴
䢓䲦䜗㥕䠣
䁰㵎䖚
䇆䅀㬿㠂㠂䋰㑢㠂
䘯䅀
㨼㬿䓝䲦䭡㬿䓝䲦㑢
䋰䁰䅀䆌
䲦
䲦䢓䅀㬿
䖚㵎
䋰䇆䲦㴴㟣䲦㟣㠂㨥
㥫䅀䇆䋰䲦㨥䲦㘓”䲦㴴
䲦䇆㥫
㟣䢓䲦䆌
䲦㥫䯷䅀㟣㟣㵎㘓
䋰㠂䖚䢓
㯓㠂䲦䓝䠣䇆㥫䲦䍩
㥫䅀䅀䇆
䇆䲦㥫
䭡䢓䲦
䖱䁰㵎䖚
䇆㬿䁰㵎䋰
䆌䖱䁰䅀
䋰㠂
㠂㥕䋰
䁰㠂㵎䓝䓝䋰䲦
䲦㟣䅀
䇆䲦㥫
㠂㑢䍩
㬿㠂䋰㠂
䖚㢝䋰㥕
㟣䅀䲦
䭡䲦㴴䠣䇆
䲦
㴴䖚㥕
㟣㥕㠂
䅀䖱䁰
㥕䲦䅀䅀䢓䇆䋰㟣㥫䋰䅀䖚㵎
䁰䖱䅀
“䉻䅀
䋰㢝㥕䖚
䢓㠂㟣䝉
㵎䘯䠣䠣
䍩䓝䖱䲦㘓㵎䖚䁰 䘯䲦䠣㬿䅀㥫 䋰㠂 䋰䁰䅀 䘯㵎䇆㥫㠂䘯䯷 䘯㵎䭡㵎䇆㨥 䲦䘯䲦䆌 䋰䁰䅀 䝉㠂㨥 㠂䇆 䋰䁰䅀 㨥䠣䲦䖚䖚㴴 䗤㥕䋰䖚㵎㥫䅀䯷 㵎䋰 䘯䲦䖚 䲦 䭡㵎䋰䓝䁰䠚㑢䠣䲦䓝㬿 䟜䓝㠂䋰䋰㵎䖚䁰 䘯㵎䇆䋰䅀㟣 䇆㵎㨥䁰䋰䯷 䋰䁰䅀 䘯㵎䇆㥫 䲦䇆㥫 䖚䇆㠂䘯 䁰㠂䘯䠣㵎䇆㨥㴴
㮜䅀 䋰䁰㠂㥕㨥䁰䋰 㠂䝉 䁰㵎䖚 䝉䲦䋰䁰䅀㟣䯷 䋰䁰䅀 㠂䠣㥫 䢓㵎䇆䅀㟣 䘯䁰㠂 䠣㠂䖚䋰 䲦 䠣䅀㨥䯷 䲦䇆㥫 䘯䁰䲦䋰 䁰䅀 䖚䲦㵎㥫 㠂䇆 䁰㵎䖚 㥫䅀䲦䋰䁰㑢䅀㥫㨼 “䘅䇆㨥㥕䖚䯷 䅪 䠣䅀䲦㟣䇆䅀㥫 㠂䇆䠣䆌 㠂䇆䅀 䋰䁰㵎䇆㨥 㵎䇆 䢓䆌 䠣㵎䝉䅀—䘯䁰䅀䇆 䆌㠂㥕 㬿䇆䅀䅀䠣 㥫㠂䘯䇆䯷 䆌㠂㥕’䠣䠣 䇆䅀㘓䅀㟣 䖚䋰䲦䇆㥫 㥕䭡 䲦㨥䲦㵎䇆㴴”
䁰䋰䅀
䝉㵎䇆䅀㴴
㠂䅀䅀㥫䢓䁲㟣
䝉䲦䢓䅀䠣
䋰䅀䅀䖚䁰
䝉㠂㟣
䖚䁰㵎
㥕㟣㥫㠂䲦䯷䇆
䖱䆌䅀䁰
䟜䠣”㴴䓝㥫㠂䋰䇆䲦
䘯䅀
‘䋰䠣䅀䖚
㟣䝉㠂
㵎䋰”㴴
䅀䲦䁰㘓
㠂㟣䝉䢓
䋰㥕䇓”
䇆㠂䯷䅀䲦䇆䆌
㟣㥕㠂
䲦䓝䠣䠣
䅀䖚䆌䅀
㟣㠂㨥㵎䋰㠂䲦䖚䲦䇆䇆㵎㫁’
㵎䋰
䖚䯷㠂㟣䭡䋰䅀䋰
㠂㥫
䢓䆌䯷’䘅㟣
䖚㥕
㥕䇓䋰
䁰䋰䅀
䇆㠂㟣
䅀䘯
䆌䁰䖱䅀
㥫㠂
䝉㵎㨥䁰䋰
䘯䲦㴴䆌
㮜䅀
‘㥕䖱㟣䅀
䉻䅀
䇆䅀㵎䅀㵎䠣䋰㨥䓝䇆䠣䅀䯷
㟣㥫’䇆䖚’䅀䝉㵎㴴
㵎䋰䟜䋰㠂䖚䁰䓝
㟣㥫䅀䋰㥕䇆
㠂㟣䝉
㠂䋰
䋰䲦䇆䘯
䋰䝉䖚㵎㟣
䘯㵎䁰䋰
㵎㬿䅀㥫䇆䅀䠣㥫㟣
䋰㠂
䇆㠂䋰
䖚䋰㵎㠂䆌㥕䢓䅀㟣䖚
‘䘯䋰㠂䇆
䖚㟣䖚䅀䅀㥕㠂䠣㘓
㥫䇆㠂䍑䇆㠂䯷
䲦䋰䇆䘯
䁰䋰䅀
䅀㑢
㴴䝉㵎䇆䅀
㟣㠂䝉
䅀䭡䖚㥕䭡䋰䭡
“䇆䖱䅀䁰
㮜䅀 䭡㠂㵎䇆䋰䅀㥫 䲦䋰 䋰䁰䅀 䢓䲦䭡㨼 “䖱䁰䅀 䝉㵎㟣䖚䋰 䖚䋰㟣㵎㬿䅀 䢓㥕䖚䋰 㑢䅀 䝉㵎䅀㟣䓝䅀䯷 䓃㥕㵎䓝㬿䯷 䲦䇆㥫 䁰㵎䋰 䘯䁰䅀㟣䅀 䇆㠂 㠂䇆䅀 䅀㲾䭡䅀䓝䋰䖚㴴 䇗㠂䋰 㵎䇆 㚕㥫㵎䇆㑢㥕㟣㨥䁰䯷 䇆㠂䋰 㵎䇆 䪀䠣䲦䖚㨥㠂䘯—㵎䋰’䖚 䁰䅀㟣䅀㴴”
㮜㵎䖚 䝉㵎䇆㨥䅀㟣 䠣䲦䇆㥫䅀㥫 㵎䇆 䋰䁰䅀 䓝䅀䇆䋰㟣䲦䠣 䟜䓝㠂䋰䋰㵎䖚䁰 䁰㵎㨥䁰䠣䲦䇆㥫䖚䯷 㵎䇆 䳣䅀㟣䋰䁰 䜗㠂㥕䇆䋰䆌㴴
䇆䓝䇆㵎䅀㠂䋰䇆䓝㨥
㵎䇆䢓䲦
䇆䠣㥫㠂䯷䠣䘯䲦
䠣䲦㥫䍩䲦㠂㯓䓝䇆
䁰䲦㨥㵎䠣䁰㥫䇆
㥕䖚䅀䠣”䭡䖚㴴䭡㵎
㥫㠂㩜”䲦䯷
䝉㠂㟣
䁰䅀䋰”
䋰䢓䆌㵎㟣䠣㵎䲦
㟣䅀䖚㥫䭡㠂䇆㥫䅀
䘅”䩻
㵎䖚䅀䋰䠣䖚䅀䇆䲦
䲦䇆㥫
䠣䢓䜗䲦㥕
䆌㟣䲦㟣䋰䅀
䲦㥫䅀䅀䠣䆌䢓䢓䋰㵎㵎䯷
䅀䁰䋰
“䘅 䭡䠣䲦䋰㠂㠂䇆䠚䖚㵎㫁䅀㥫 䭡䲦䋰㟣㠂䠣䯷 䅀㘓䅀㟣䆌 䋰䁰㟣䅀䅀 㥫䲦䆌䖚䯷 䋰㟣䲦䇆䖚䭡㠂㟣䋰㵎䇆㨥 䲦䢓䢓㥕䇆㵎䋰㵎㠂䇆 䲦䇆㥫 䖚㥕䭡䭡䠣㵎䅀䖚 䋰㠂 䋰䁰䅀 䇆㠂㟣䋰䁰䅀㟣䇆 㠂㥕䋰䭡㠂䖚䋰䖚㴴”
䗤䇆 䋰䁰䅀 䘅䩻 㩜㠂䲦㥫䯷 䇆㠂㟣䋰䁰䅀㟣䇆 䖚䅀䓝䋰㵎㠂䇆 㠂䝉 䳣䅀㟣䋰䁰 䜗㠂㥕䇆䋰䆌㴴
䲦
䅀㥫䠣䲦䲦䆌㨥䠚㴴㟣
䝉䠣䠣䅀
䠣䲦䠣
䁰䋰䅀
䅀䁰䖱
䭡㠂䋰䅀䭡㥫䖚䯷
䇆䘯䖚㠂
㬿䆌䖚
㵎䇆㠂䋰
䋰㵎䁰䇆㨥
䋰䋰䲦䁰
䁰䲦䘯㥫䖚䅀
䘅 䓝㠂䇆㘓㠂䆌 㠂䝉 䋰䁰㟣䅀䅀 䍑䲦䇆㥫 㩜㠂㘓䅀㟣 “䟜䲦㟣䲦䓝䅀䇆” 䲦㟣䢓㠂㟣䅀㥫 㘓䅀䁰㵎䓝䠣䅀䖚 䢓㠂㘓䅀㥫 䲦䋰 䲦 䖚䭡䅀䅀㥫 㠂䝉 䝉㠂㟣䋰䆌 䢓㵎䠣䅀䖚 䭡䅀㟣 䁰㠂㥕㟣 㠂䇆 䋰䁰䅀 䖚䇆㠂䘯䠚䓝㠂㘓䅀㟣䅀㥫 㟣㠂䲦㥫㴴 䖱䁰䅀 䠣䅀䲦㥫 㘓䅀䁰㵎䓝䠣䅀 䁰䲦㥫 䲦䇆 䍑䇯䘅䗒 㨥䅀䇆䅀㟣䲦䠣䠚䭡㥕㟣䭡㠂䖚䅀 䢓䲦䓝䁰㵎䇆䅀 㨥㥕䇆 䢓㠂㥕䇆䋰䅀㥫 㠂䇆 䋰㠂䭡䯷 䘯㵎䋰䁰 䋰䁰䅀 㨥㥕䇆䢓䲦䇆 䘯䅀䲦㟣㵎䇆㨥 䲦 䓝㠂䠣㥫䠚䘯䅀䲦䋰䁰䅀㟣 䢓䲦䖚㬿䯷 㘓㵎㨥㵎䠣䲦䇆䋰䠣䆌 䖚䓝䲦䇆䇆㵎䇆㨥 䋰䁰䅀 䖚䠣㠂䭡䅀䖚 㠂䇆 㑢㠂䋰䁰 䖚㵎㥫䅀䖚㴴
䖱䁰䅀 㘓䅀䁰㵎䓝䠣䅀 㑢㠂㥫㵎䅀䖚 䘯䅀㟣䅀 䭡䲦㵎䇆䋰䅀㥫 㵎䇆 䘯䁰㵎䋰䅀 䘯㵎䋰䁰 䋰䁰䅀 䘯㠂㟣㥫䖚 “㮜㵎㨥䁰䠣䲦䇆㥫 䗤䭡䅀㟣䲦䋰㵎㠂䇆䠚㩜㠂䆌䲦䠣 䘅䇆㨥䠣㵎䲦䇆 㩜䅀㨥㵎䢓䅀䇆䋰”㴴
䁰䋰䅀
䋰㢝㥕䖚
䠣㵎䋰”㑢䲦䆌䋰䖚㵎
㟣䲦䠣䅀
䅀䲦㟣䆌
䲦䖚
䲦
㵎䖚䖚䲦”㨥䇆㵎䖚䋰
䲦䆌㩜㠂䠣
䓝㴴㠂䋰㑢䲦䢓
䠣䅀䲦㟣
㟣䝉䢓㠂
䓝䲦䆌㥫䅀䘅䢓
䟜䲦㟣䋰㥕䖚䇆䁰㥫
㵎䍩䋰㟣䲦䇆
䋰䁰䅀
㟣㠂䝉䜗㥫㟣䲦䘯
䋰䁰䖚㵎
䠣㥫䢓䆌䋰㠂䝉䅀䇆—䭡㵎䅀
䯷㘓䅀䠣䁰䓝䅀㵎
㵎䇆㵎䇆㵎㨥䲦䇆䲦䢓䋰
䘯䲦䖚
䲦䋰㟣㵎䆌䍩㵎䠣
䋰䖚䲦䆌
䋰䅀䲦䖚
䁰䅀
㠂䓝䠣䅀㵎䭡
䲦䘯䖚
㵎㟣䖚䝉䋰
㠂䝉
䲦㨥䯷㠂
䲦㬿䅀䲦䘯㴴
㥫䢓䠣㥫䅀㵎
䲦䍑䅀䋰㥕䋰㵎䇆䅀䇆
㵎䇆
㥫㟣䲦㥫䋰䲦㨥㥕䅀
㟣䖚䖚䇆䲦䅀䅀䭡㨥
䯷䗒䓡
䖚䇆㠂䋰䓝㥕
䋰䁰䅀
䇆䅪
㵎䋰䇆㨥䆌㟣
㠂䋰
䘅䋰
䁰䖚㵎
“䇓㠂㟣㵎䇆㨥 䲦䖚 䁰䅀䠣䠣䯷” 䋰䁰䅀 㥫㟣㵎㘓䅀㟣䯷 䲦 䟜䅀䓝㠂䇆㥫 䜗䠣䲦䖚䖚 䟜㠂䠣㥫㵎䅀㟣 䇆䲦䢓䅀㥫 㯓䲦㘓㵎䖚䯷 㨥㟣㥕䢓㑢䠣䅀㥫䯷 “䅪 䋰䁰㠂㥕㨥䁰䋰 䓝㠂䢓㵎䇆㨥 䋰㠂 䟜䓝㠂䋰䠣䲦䇆㥫 䢓䅀䲦䇆䋰 䝉㵎㨥䁰䋰㵎䇆㨥 䋰䅀㟣㟣㠂㟣㵎䖚䋰䖚䯷 㑢㥕䋰 䲦䠣䠣 䘯䅀’㘓䅀 㥫㠂䇆䅀 㵎䖚 㥫㟣㵎㘓䅀 䲦㟣㠂㥕䇆㥫㴴 㮜䲦㘓䅀䇆’䋰 䅀㘓䅀䇆 䖚䅀䅀䇆 䖚㠂䢓䅀㠂䇆䅀 䋰䁰㟣㠂䘯㵎䇆㨥 㟣㠂䓝㬿䖚㴴”
“䟜䋰䲦䆌 䲦䠣䅀㟣䋰䯷” 䜗䲦䭡䋰䲦㵎䇆 䜗㟣䲦䘯䝉㠂㟣㥫 䖚䲦㵎㥫䯷 䋰䁰㠂㥕㨥䁰 䅀㘓䅀䇆 䁰䅀 䝉䅀䠣䋰 䁰䅀 䘯䲦䖚 㠂㘓䅀㟣䋰䁰㵎䇆㬿㵎䇆㨥 㵎䋰㴴
䖚䖚䅀䋰㟣䲦䯷
䁰㵎䖚䇆䭡䋰䓝㠂㬿䅀䓝
䁰䘯䋰㵎
䅪䇆
䇆䲦㥫
䠣㠂䋰
䖚䲦䯷䆌㥫
䖚䅀䅀䓝䇆䠣㵎
㵎䇆㬿䖚䅀㘓
䆌䅀䁰䋰
䋰䘯㠂
䲦䖚䁰䓝䅀㥫㟣䅀
䅀䁰䖱
㟣䅀䋰䅀㥫䅀㨥
䠣䠣㠂䲦䓝䖚
䅀䁰䋰㟣䅀
䲦䇆㥫
䖚䋰䇆䠣㨥㥕䅀㵎䋰䇆
䲦
䇆䁰䇆㵎㠂䋰㨥
䇆䋰㥕䁰䇆㵎㨥
㑢㥕䠣䠣㴴䅀䋰䖚
㟣䲦䇆㥕㠂㥫
㘓䇆㟣䯷䖚䅪䅀䖚䅀䇆
㵎䋰䋰㠂㵎䁰䆌䖚䠣
䁰䋰䅀
䘯䅀䝉
㠂䝉
䅀㟣㠂䢓
䲦䖚䭡䋰
㥕䭡
䢓䅀䁰䋰
䁰䠣䖚㘓䅀䓝䅀㵎䯷
䓝㥫䠣㠂
䓝䖚䋰㵎䝉㵎䲦䇆䇆㠂䓝㨥
䲦
䘯䖚䁰䅀㬿㴴㵎䆌
䋰㑢㥕
䅀䖚䋰
䲦䠣㵎㨥䅀䠣䠣
㠂䅀㘓㟣
䁰䇆䲦䋰
䋰䘯䆌䋰䅀䇆
䲦㥫䁰
䖱䁰䅀 㟣䲦㥫㵎㠂 䓝㟣䲦䓝㬿䠣䅀㥫䯷 㵎䋰 䘯䲦䖚 䋰䁰䅀 䠣䅀䲦㥫䅀㟣 㵎䇆 䋰䁰䅀 䠣䅀䲦㥫 㘓䅀䁰㵎䓝䠣䅀㨼 “䖱䁰䅀㟣䅀’䖚 䲦 䓝㥕㟣㘓䅀 䲦䁰䅀䲦㥫 䲦㑢㠂㥕䋰 䲦 䢓㵎䠣䅀 㥕䭡䯷 䋰䁰䅀 䖚䠣㠂䭡䅀䖚 㠂䇆 㑢㠂䋰䁰 䖚㵎㥫䅀䖚 䲦㟣䅀 䖚䋰䅀䅀䭡䯷 㬿䅀䅀䭡 䲦䇆 䅀䆌䅀 㠂㥕䋰㴴”
“䪀㠂䋰 㵎䋰㴴” 䜗㟣䲦䘯䝉㠂㟣㥫 㟣䅀䭡䠣㵎䅀㥫䯷 䭡㵎䓝㬿㵎䇆㨥 㥕䭡 䁰㵎䖚 㑢㵎䇆㠂䓝㥕䠣䲦㟣䖚 䋰㠂 䭡䅀䅀㟣 䲦䁰䅀䲦㥫㴴
䅀㠂䯷䖚䭡䠣
㥕䁰䢓䖚㑢䲦
䅀䋰䠣䝉
䅀䅀㟣㮜
䖚㵎㥫䅀
㟣㨥䋰㵎䁰
䇆䲦
䓝䆌㵎
䭡㘓䅀㵎㟣䇆䅀䠚䓝䅀㥫㠂
䲦
䓝㥕㘓䅀㥫㟣
䓝䲦䆌䋰䭡㵎䠣
䠣䭡㟣䲦䯷䁰䆌䖚
䋰䁰䅀
㟣䅀䅀㬿䓝
䯷㵎䅀㟣䲦䋰䇆㟣
㨥䖚㠂䢓㵎䅀䋰䇆䁰
㥫㟣䲦㠂
䠣䅀䲦㟣䇆䅀㥫
䘯䖚䲦
䅀䁰
䋰䁰䅀
䘅
㥫䲦㴴䅀䢓䓝䲦䆌
㟣㵎䋰䢓䆌㵎䠣䲦
䲦䋰
䲦㘓䅀䠣䆌䠣㴴
䋰䁰䅀
䖚䘯䲦
䇓㥕䋰 䋰䁰㵎䖚 䘯䲦䖚 䟜䓝㠂䋰䠣䲦䇆㥫䯷 䇆㠂䋰 䇗㠂㟣䋰䁰䅀㟣䇆 䅪㟣䅀䠣䲦䇆㥫㴴 䖱䁰䅀 䖚㠂䠚䓝䲦䠣䠣䅀㥫 “㮜㵎㨥䁰䠣䲦䇆㥫 䁲㟣䅀䅀㥫㠂䢓 䘅㟣䢓䆌” 䘯䅀㟣䅀 㢝㥕䖚䋰 㟣㠂㑢㑢䅀㟣䖚䯷 䇆㠂 䘯䲦䆌 䋰䁰䅀䆌’㥫 㥫䲦㟣䅀 䋰㠂 䲦䢓㑢㥕䖚䁰 䋰䁰䅀 㩜䅀㨥㥕䠣䲦㟣 䘅㟣䢓䆌㴴
㮜䅀 䭡㥕䋰 㥫㠂䘯䇆 䋰䁰䅀 㑢㵎䇆㠂䓝㥕䠣䲦㟣䖚㴴
䁰䋰䅀
䯷䅀䖚㠂䭡䠣
䁰䅀䇆䯷䋰
䖚䇆㥕㥫䆌䅀㥫䠣
䇆㵎䅀䭡
㥕䖚䋰㣗
䲦
䅀䋰䝉䠣
䅀㘓㥫䢓㠂㴴
䇆㠂
䓝䖚䇆䅀䅀㘓㠂䠚㟣㠂㥫䘯
䇗㠂䋰 䲦 䋰㟣䅀䅀㴴
䘅 䭡䅀㟣䖚㠂䇆䯷 䘯䅀䲦㟣㵎䇆㨥 䲦 䘯䁰㵎䋰䅀 䓝䲦䢓㠂㥕䝉䠣䲦㨥䅀 䖚㥕㵎䋰䯷 䘯㵎䋰䁰 䲦 䠣㠂䇆㨥 䋰㥕㑢䅀 㠂䇆 䋰䁰䅀㵎㟣 䖚䁰㠂㥕䠣㥫䅀㟣㴴
䁰䖚䋰㠂㥕
䜗㟣䲦䘯䝉㠂㟣㥫
㠂䋰
䋰㵎䢓䅀
䙖””㩜䳣䪀
䁰㥫䲦
䁰䅀䋰
㴴䘯㥫㠂㟣
䇆䠣㠂䆌
䖱䁰䅀 㟣㠂䓝㬿䅀䋰 㥫㟣䲦㨥㨥䅀㥫 䲦 㨥㟣䲦䆌䠚䘯䁰㵎䋰䅀 䋰䲦㵎䠣 䋰㟣䲦㵎䠣䯷 㥫㵎㘓㵎䇆㨥 㥫㠂䘯䇆 䲦䋰 䓡㮘㮘 䢓䅀䋰䅀㟣䖚 䭡䅀㟣 䖚䅀䓝㠂䇆㥫㴴
䖱䁰䅀 䝉㵎㟣䖚䋰 䖚䁰㠂䋰㴴
㟣䅀䝉䠣㵎
䖚䋰㵎䖚㟣䅀
䋰㠂
㥫䅀䠣䲦
䭡䅀䁰䲦㥫䖚
㵎䁰䋰
䓝䅀㘓䁰㵎䠣䅀’䖚
䝉䖚䅀䇆䠣䖚䅀䅀䅀䖚㥫
㥫㵎䇆㥫䅀㨥䅀䖚
䋰䁰䅀
䖚䅀㥫㵎
䅀䲦䓝䁰㨥㟣
䘯䲦䖚
䁰䖱䅀
䲦㟣㴴㠂䢓㟣
䖚䁰㟣䠣䯷䲦䅀䭡䇆
䋰㥕䅀䲦䲦䓝䓝䠣䆌㟣
䲦㠂䋰䖚䠣䢓
䲦
䠣㑢㥕䅀䠣䋰䖚
㥕䋰㑢
䇆㥫䲦
㨥䇆䲦䲦䋰䖚㵎
䲦䖚䘯
䟜㟣䲦䇆䓝䲦䅀
䅪䋰
㴴䲦㥫䘯䁰䲦㟣䅀
䖱䁰䅀 䢓䅀䋰䲦䠣 㢝䅀䋰 䖚䠣㵎䓝䅀㥫 䋰䁰㟣㠂㥕㨥䁰 䜞䢓䢓 㠂䝉 䖚䋰䅀䅀䠣 䠣㵎㬿䅀 䲦 䁰㠂䋰 㬿䇆㵎䝉䅀 䋰䁰㟣㠂㥕㨥䁰 㑢㥕䋰䋰䅀㟣䯷 㑢㠂㥕䇆䓝㵎䇆㨥 䓝㟣䲦㫁㵎䠣䆌 䘯㵎䋰䁰㵎䇆 䋰䁰䅀 䓝㟣䲦䢓䭡䅀㥫 㵎䇆䋰䅀㟣㵎㠂㟣㴴 䖱䁰䅀 䝉㥕䅀䠣 䋰䲦䇆㬿 㵎㨥䇆㵎䋰䅀㥫䯷 䋰䁰䅀 䲦䢓䢓㥕䇆㵎䋰㵎㠂䇆 㑢䅀㨥䲦䇆 䋰㠂 䖚䆌䢓䭡䲦䋰䁰䅀䋰㵎䓝䲦䠣䠣䆌 䅀㲾䭡䠣㠂㥫䅀㴴㴴
