The advisor immediately handed over the document, with a barely perceptible sense of relief in his tone: "A formal diplomatic note from the Mexican Ministry of Foreign Affairs, inviting you to attend their Independence Day celebrations on September 16 in Mexico City."
Little Bush grabbed the document, his bloodshot eyes swiftly scanning through the official jargon.
September 16?
Still more than half a month away? The flames of impatience flickered inside him again. Was this damned Victor deliberately stringing him along? But he quickly suppressed the emotion.
He understood that this was their way of controlling the pace and telling him: Why rush? The initiative is in my hands now.
His throat moved slightly, "Reply to them, I will attend on time."
"Yes, sir. I will arrange it immediately." The advisor nodded and turned to leave.
"Wait!" Little Bush suddenly called out to him, rubbing his aching temples as his mind raced even in extreme fatigue.
