The statement of showing weakness does not mean that he is a surrender in his heart.

"What are you afraid of? Let them come! Who should I scare with cannons? Do they think we don't have cannons?" The tax director roared and wanted to do a battle.

People with high tone may not be real hardliners.

"If you can't make up your mind, the minority will obey the majority. How about anonymous collective votes above the director?"

Oh? There is another guy here who wants to take advantage of the chief executive.

Hurd sat behind his desk, enjoying the tobacco calmly.

He is fifty-eight years old now, and he is already in his twilight years.

His thinking is no longer quick, his body is no longer flexible, his temples are already gray, and his cheeks are beginning to have old spots.

But his heart was as clear as a mirror. He sat on this chair of the Customs General Office and saw everyone's little thoughts clearly.

What is it to catch the wrong warrant officers? This is just seeing that he is about to retreat, so a little bit of a big deal can make the demons dance around.

He had already made a decision in his mind. Now he just wanted to finish smoking the pipe cigarette quietly and see what his men were like.

The next Chief Executive of Customs, if any accidents, will be selected by the fifteen-member committee responsible for finance from several current directors.

Hurd must ensure that the Venetta Republic Customs, a place where he devoted his life to the hard work, was handed over to the right people.

"I'll solve it." This is a voice that can be rarely heard in the director's meeting, calm and calm.
Chapter completed!