Near the Suiseide Iron Bridge in Plach Town, in the southern suburbs of Munich.
This is the address of the famous German Federal Intelligence Agency.
Inside the Director's office at this time.
Several high-level Germans were sitting stiffly, their gazes uneasy or dissatisfied, or as if they were watching a clown while looking at the Israeli in front of them.
"You persecuted millions of our brethren, and now you plan to let the blood of Israelis drench this land!"
That statement was a bit harsh.
A middle-aged man around his early forties knocked on the table, "Watch your language, Mr. Gurian."
"Language?! We don't need to mince words in Germany! You owe us on this land." The Mossad consul in Germany banged on the table, visibly upset, "If you can't catch the perpetrators, just you wait!"
After cursing, he proudly walked out and even slammed the door!
Everyone in the office remained silent.
There was nothing they could do.
If it had been that Bavarian boy, this guy who just stormed out might have been thrown out as easily as if he weighed nothing.
But since World War II, Germany, as a defeated nation, had been relatively "successful," always looking to the West, Europe, and Israel for cues.
After all, Little Mustache had offended too many people.
Being publicly chastised and still managing to keep composed, that is a true German.
"Alright, have we found any clues?" Director Hans Fritz Scholl asked like a Maitreya Buddha, his hands crossed over his chest, looking at his subordinates.
"Mexicans," a deputy director said gravely.
"After killing him, the Mexican Intelligence Department leaves a symbol on their bodies, a symbol we've found in several cases."
"They never hide their methods."
The deputy director frowned, "They're so arrogant!"
But these arrogant people had ground for their arrogance...
To this day, the Germans hadn't discovered where they were settling.
Hans Fritz Scholl took a deep breath, "Find them! Along with the Mossad, catch them!"
Indeed, Germany held no grudge against Victor, but they needed to cling to powerful allies. Seeing the Soviets about to fall, and with German forces stationed but unable to last many more years, the Americans were about to become the new overlords.
They had to make a show of their dedication.
Just as Director Hans Fritz Scholl finished speaking, a massive explosion was heard.
People in the office panicked and ran to the window, poking their heads out.
They saw a billow of black smoke rising in the distance, accompanied by screams.
A subordinate rushed in, a look of terror on his face, "It exploded! It exploded..."
"Be clear, what exploded!" Hans Fritz Scholl shouted, a sudden unease overtaking him.
"The Mossad consul's car was attacked in Germany."
The office suddenly fell silent!
Hans Fritz Scholl, with his mouth half open in panic, led people rushing downstairs; perhaps too "excited," his forehead smashed directly into the door.
The explosion site was only three to four hundred meters away from the Intelligence Bureau building.
By the time they arrived, the car was completely burnt out.
The air was still filled with a "fragrance."
The heads of the German Intelligence looked at the carnage, their faces ashen.
After extinguishing the fire, the bodies were already charred. Hans Fritz Scholl's face nearly twisted.
"We must catch the Mexicans!"
The bombing of the Mossad consul in Germany was no small matter, reported by dozens of German media and newspapers.
Even a TV station brought in a retired intelligence expert who discussed the premeditated nature of the bomb attack on the program, proposing that the bomb had been detonated from both sides as the vehicle approached.
Just as the female host was about to speak, she saw the director urgently signaling with a hand wave; a phone call was being transferred.
"Okay, thank you very much for the insights. We have a call here, let's listen."
A distinctly altered voice came through the phone, "Pleased to meet you all. Regarding the bombing of the Mossad consul's car in Germany, it's quite simple; we just placed a bomb in his car."
Everyone in the studio perked up.
The female host, trying to sound diplomatic, "You mean, this was done by you..."
"We sternly warn Mossad; shut your mouths, this era isn't yours yet. The next target we'll choose..."
"To the ambassador in Germany, beware, the wolf is coming."
"Oh, right, we would like to thank the German and American intelligence departments for their great support, providing us with the information, and thanks to certain individuals for helping us install the bomb under the car, thank you."
Like an awards ceremony?
But the broadcast news was shocking!
Were the United States and Germany involved?
The female host struggled to produce a smile, but it just looked strained; she was nearly in tears.
The "qualified expert" was dumbfounded.
Meanwhile, at a church in the center of Berlin.
A sound of a bubble popping.
Augustine Przybylski finished his Pepsi in one gulp, feeling a cold thrill.
Watching the dazed looks on the TV, he felt a bit of a kick.
Of course, he had arranged for the call to be made.
Not arrogant enough? Could this not be the work of the Northern Army?
I'll turn you into a Samoyed!
He crushed the empty can, squinted his eyes, and split his mouth into a grin.