"They did it?"
"Yes."
"I see."
Carmen Rothschild hung up the phone, then tossed it on the table. He picked up the goblet full of red wine on the table, and cast his sights on the garden outside. It just snowed. The edge of the window was dotted with fine cones of ice, the white fluffy scene in the garden perfectly painted the serenity of the season.
It was Rothschild's manor in Finland.
Yes, he was not in Sweden, but in Northern Europe.
Just half an hour ago, a fire broke out in the Pilsner Church in Czech Republic. The 13 Level 33 members of the Freemasonry were all killed during their secret meeting.
Looking at the reflection on the window, Carmen's finger tapped on the glass, he listened to the crisp sound, but his thought already drifted elsewhere.
Sure enough, his instinct was correct.
