"Pragmatic man," Victor said lightly, "knows what is truly useful. Let him see, let him ask. Arrange an 'informal' meeting after the opening ceremony, I will meet him."
"Yes."
Victor walked towards the center of the venue, standing at the heart of the giant Olympic logo. He closed his eyes, as if listening to the breath of this soon-to-be-boiling building, or perhaps feeling the history and future carried by the land beneath his feet.
"Nobles of the Old World," he whispered to himself, a cold smile playing at his lips, "come attend the coronation of the new king. The ticket is the humiliation and helplessness you bring."
On the same day, London, Heathrow Airport VIP lounge.
The atmosphere here was in stark contrast to the heat of Mexico City, cold as a morgue.
