Mirzaoglu didn't sleep in the middle of the night, and kept thinking about the photo.
I racked my brains but couldn't figure out where this photo came from or what its purpose was. In the end, I could only attribute it to a threat from my political opponents.
But this is not the time for an election, why threaten him?
The story did not end there. The next day, Mirzaoglu saw another photo. This photo showed a man and two almost naked women who seemed to be smoking something.
On the third day, the photo of a man and a little girl came into his hands again.
The person who sent the photos was always creative and always put the photos in his hands without his knowledge, and he had no idea who the other person was.
Although he didn't know who the other party was, he knew clearly that if these photos were made public, his career and his family would collapse.
These photos are now like a knife hanging behind his neck, threatening to fall and separate his head from his body at any time.
Mirzaoglu did not want to sit there and wait for death. He tried to resist and fight back, but with the gun in his hand his eyes were blank. He didn't know where his opponent was.
On the fourth day, he waited anxiously for the photo that would appear in front of him at any time.
But unexpectedly, nothing happened that day.
Just when he was secretly relieved and thought that no more photos would appear, at ten o'clock in the morning on the fifth day, a note was passed to him.
There were very few words on the note, which meant that someone wanted to see him at noon and asked him to wait on the street after get off work at noon.
Finally, I reminded him not to tell anyone.
Mirzaoglu was nervous. He knew that the person who wanted to see him must be related to the photo, and he didn't know whether to go or not.
Is there any danger to one's life? Is safety guaranteed?
But if he doesn't go, the other party obviously has other photo evidence in their hands, and if they release it, he will be worse than dead.
Mirzaoglu felt that he had no choice. If he stuck his head out, he would be killed. If he hid his head, he would also be killed.
So during the lunch break he walked out of the State Department as usual.
In front of the Ministry of State is a street next to a square, and on the other side of the square is another street.
Mirzaoglu walked across the square and stood under a tree on the other side of the square, as if waiting for a bus.
He didn't stay here for long, about five or six minutes, and then a Mercedes-Benz stopped in front of him.
There was only one driver in the car, who was obviously a local and spoke fluent Turkic.
"Are you Mr. Mirzaoglu?"
Mirzaoglu nodded.
"Someone asked me to pick you up, get in the car."
Mirzaoglu hesitated for a moment, then gritted his teeth and got into the car.
The driver's skills were very proficient. He was able to navigate the streets of Yisitanbul and go through the alleys and streets.
Mirza Olu, who grew up in Yisi Tanbul since childhood, was confused. Only then did he realize that there were so many places in Yisi Tanbul that he had not been to.
The driver circled the street for about half an hour and finally stopped the car in front of a house.
"My job is to take you here, you can get off." The driver said expressionlessly.
Mirzaoglu got out of the car and looked around. He had definitely never been to this place before.
But it is certain that this place is far away from the city center and there is not a single iconic building of Carbonbury to be seen here.
Mirzaoglu took a deep breath and walked into the yard of the house with his head held high.
Someone came out to greet Mirzaoglu, shook hands and hugged him like an old friend, and then invited Mirzaoglu into the house.
To Mirzaoglu's surprise, there was only one person in the room, a white man who looked to be in his thirties.
He was not sure if the other person was Tuerqi, but he could speak Tuerqi fluently.
"Hello Mr. Mirza Olu, I'm very happy to meet you. I'm the manager of a company that helps people deal with problems. You can just call me Abbas."
Abbas is a very popular name in the Middle East.
"Hello, Mr. Abbas."
Although Mirzaoglu was very nervous, he was a person who had been in a high position for a long time and he could not forget the necessary etiquette.
"Mr. Mirza Oglu, please take a seat."
Mirza Olu sat down opposite Abbas.
There was a pot of brewed tea on the table. Abbas picked up the teapot and poured a cup of tea for Mirza Olu and himself.
"Mr. Mirza Oglu, let's get straight to the point. I'm sure you've seen those photos, right?"
Mirzaoglu nodded.
"Mr. Mirza Oglu, a foreign client has asked me to solve a troublesome matter that is related to you."
"Mr. Abbas, just tell me what you have to say."
"Then let's not beat around the bush. Five or six days ago, you refused a large ship's request to pass through the Prussian Channel. This was commissioned by the ship's owner, and those photos were provided by him."
Chinese people!
Mirzaoglu's heart was instantly filled with anger and hatred, and a fierce light flashed in his eyes.
"Mr. Mirzaoglu, now is not the time to act rashly. I can tell you that I have hundreds of these photos and negatives, and even videotapes. If these were made public, Mr. Mirzaoglu would undoubtedly know the consequences. You should consider this carefully."
Mirzaoglu took a deep breath. Abbas' words made him completely sober.
Mirza Olu picked up the teacup and took a sip of tea.
The tea is good tea, with just the right amount of sugar added, and it tastes fragrant and sweet in the mouth.
"What is the other party going to do?"
"Oh, Mr. Mirzaoglu, you are just pretending to be confused. Of course we should let that ship pass."
"This is not okay. This is against the rules." Mirza Olu's attitude became tough when he mentioned this.
"Mr. Mirzaoglu, let's stop playing dumb. Although it's an aircraft carrier, it has no power and no weapons. It's just a civilian ship. Doctor, the Prussian Strait isn't international waters, but according to international treaties, these civilian ships have the right of passage. Your refusal to allow it to pass isn't against the rules, but for your personal reasons. As for what those reasons are, I'm afraid only you know."
"This is not my personal matter. Even if I agree, I still need the approval of the State Department and the Ministry of Defense."
Abbas smiled. "This still requires your negotiation. The Chinese said that if you can help get this big ship over, the Chinese will give you a reward of 500,000 yuan."
After Abbas finished speaking, he leaned over and picked up a bag from the ground, and took out five bundles of rice dollars with a face value of 100 yuan.
"This is fifty thousand, which is considered a deposit. The balance will be deposited into your account after the deal is completed."
Mirzaoglu was in hesitation.
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