Wasn't what I gave enough?
Or perhaps they want even more!
Cuauhtémoc sighed, softly, but it echoed deafeningly in the empty, desolate office.
After all, Victor was here on a business trip.
The United Nations was quite generous, directly booking an entire castle hotel that was established in the year 1155.
Since they were so polite, it was nothing but the Governorship of Northern Mexico donating 6 million US dollars for humanitarian relief.
Oh, this news hit the headlines in Mexico, broadcasting for three days straight!
Spending money, but foregoing an advertisement.
Wouldn't I, Victor, be just giving away money for nothing then?
This Castle Hotel was really something, as the convoy arrived at the hotel's entrance, the bodyguards got out of the car, naturally forming two circles, inner and outer, and Jason Bourne opened the car door for Victor, who stepped out in his sharp suit.
And at the entrance, the Castle Hotel had even prepared four knights; upon his arrival, they commanded their horses to perform an equestrian display for him.
Victor didn't get it...
What a crock of horse tricks!
Watching it made his head hurt; if you could make the horse run a couple of laps with you on its back, Boss Wei would think you're impressive.
But after all, as a notable figure and certainly not a "country bumpkin" like Colonel Ka, Victor politely clapped after the performance and smiled, giving them a thumbs-up.
"Mr. Victor, hello, I am the manager here, Makarova," a woman with her hair up, wearing a form-fitting uniform, over 1.7m tall, in black tights, introduced herself.
Victor glanced at her bust and quickly shifted his gaze away, shook her hand, and smiled, "Hello."
"Please follow me, I've arranged your accommodations," she said.
Victor nodded and was about to walk ahead when Jason Bourne pulled him back; he immediately understood, nodded, and let the latter walk in front of him, between himself and the female manager.
The interior decoration really was glitteringly golden!
Of course, that's an exaggeration, Guzman's house was truly glittering with gold, according to frontline reports, even the toilets in his home were made of gold!
Even the floors were laid with gold Disney figures because his daughter liked them.
But he died, and it all became a windfall for Victor.
The bodyguards took over the security downstairs, while others were scattered on each floor, and when Victor finally ascended to the top floor of the castle, only four or five close protection bodyguards remained.
"This is your room," Makarova said, pushing the door open.
Walking inside, there were Persian carpets, precious hardwood, and European aristocratic-style decorations, and the space was vast, about 60 square metres.
Victor nodded in satisfaction.
"Rest for now, the chef is preparing dinner, if you need anything, you can call me," Makarova said respectfully, bowing slightly, her red bra peeking out.
She had obviously been trained not to back out of the room, but to walk backwards, and after she had gone out, she closed the door.
Victor sat down in a chair and said to Jason Bourne and the others, "Help me check if anyone grew a third ear."
The group then began to search every nook and cranny.
Victor dared not smoke the prepared cigars—don't carelessly consume what's from outside.
He lit a cigarette he had brought with him and quietly watched outside.
About half an hour passed.
Jason Bourne came over, "Sir."
Victor turned his head and nearly jumped at the sight of Bourne holding a dozen different types of listening devices.
He couldn't help but laugh, "Clearly, many people are quite interested in how many women I call to my bed at night."
"Should we contact the hotel?"
"Do you think they don't know?" Victor said meaningfully, "Makarova, a Soviet name, serving as a manager in Vienna, ha!"
"Leave them be, take someone to retrieve the weapons and ammunition we brought, I can't sleep soundly without a gun in hand."
"What about these listening devices?"
"Leave them, I'll personally hand them over to them at tomorrow's meeting!"