***

Once Jones and Daniel were gone, Gallo closed the doors to the conference room and ordered the staff to leave. He was left alone with Castell, who had a nervous twitch in his eye and leg.

“What is it, General?” Castell asked, his voice slightly higher than normal.

Castell was still seated in his chair at the end of the table. From what Gallo could see of him, it seemed like he wanted to evaporate through the back of the chair and disappear.

“After you sign the treaty, my men will attack the United States Pacific Fleet and make our way north to the Washington and Oregon Coast, where we will invade and establish a forward operating base,” Gallo answered.

“General, this is mad—”

Gallo held up his hand. Castell went mute.

“The Americans are bleeding from the inside out. That’s the only reason they’re here,” Gallo answered.

“And are we not, General? Are our men not bloodied? Is our country not dry? Are our people not hungry?” Castell asked.

“Yes. But if we make this agreement with the Americans, we will stay that way,” Gallo answered. “I know you’re not a man with much of a spine, Castell, so I’ll explain it in a way I think a politician would understand.”

Gallo slid to the edge of his seat, his face inching closer to Castell’s until the president could smell the lingering cigar smoke on Gallo’s uniform.

“You’ll put on your political smile. Make your unnecessary speeches. You will be the puppet that you have acted like since your birth, and I will execute what needs to be done. If you don’t do this, then I will still have my men attack, and there won’t be a hole on this earth deep enough for you to crawl down and hide where I can’t find you. Do you understand me?”

Castell quickly nodded.

“Good,” Gallo said.

Gallo turned to leave, and Castell exhaled. Before Gallo made it to the door, he called out to Castell without turning around. “Do your job, Presidente, and I’ll do mine.”