Without waiting for the other side to respond, he hung up the phone, panting heavily.

The assistant carefully handed him a glass of water. "Professor, will they agree?"

"They have no choice but to agree."

Oluchi took a sip of water to steady himself. "Scotland's knife is at their throat, England's hair is already on fire, and their European allies are scheming behind their backs. This is when they're at their weakest, like a fat sheep knocked to the ground, with wolves all around rushing in to take a bite. We're not wolves, we're creditors here to collect. If we don't turn the IOUs into real gold and silver now, there won't be another chance."

He walked to the Africa map on the wall and ran his finger across those regions that had once been painted pink. "Notify our brother organizations in Tanzania, Uganda, Nigeria, Ghana, and South Africa. The signal sent by the United Kingdom's collapse is this: the weakness of the old colonizers is real. They can be defeated, they can be held to account. Now it's time to unite and collect the historical bills, one by one, principal plus interest, all of it."

"About India…" The assistant hesitated. "Will it make the Western countries more vigilant, make them close ranks instead?"

"Vigilant? Close ranks?" Oluchi laughed, with a chill in his voice. "India got itself killed by its own stupidity. We, on the other hand, have reason, organization, and a just cause that is winning more and more support. More importantly…"

He looked out the window. The streets of Nairobi were jammed with traffic, and in the distance new high-rises were under construction.

"We have new options. Mexicans, Chinese, even Turks are all ramping up their investments in Africa. They bring money, they bring technology, but they rarely lecture us about 'democracy' and 'human rights'. The world is no longer a forced choice between two sides. We no longer have to look at that arrogant British face."

At the same time, Middle East, Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.

The Crown Prince's private drawing room was gilded and resplendent, the carpet so thick it could swallow your ankles, the air heavy with the scent of ebony oud and coffee. But there was no warmth in the conversation.

"British Pounds can no longer serve as a major reserve currency."

The Chancellor of the Exchequer's tone was firm and final. "In the past month, confidence in the Bank of England has fallen by 40%. Scotland is on the verge of Independence, England itself might fragment, the political risk is extremely high. More importantly…" He lowered his voice. "We've received some hints from 'friends' that London's Gold reserves…may have issues."

The Crown Prince leaned back on the cushions, playing with a string of finely crafted amber prayer beads in his hand, his expression calm. "What about the Mexicans? Their new settlement system?"

"Still under testing, but progressing very quickly. They promise the system will be completely independent of the US Dollar and Euro architecture, with fast transaction speeds, low fees, and…'flexible' regulatory requirements for 'partners'." The Chancellor paused. "They've hinted that if the Gulf states are willing to shift part of their oil trade into settlement through that system, we could obtain 'founding member' status, share in the system's profits, and secure priority in the future 'energy–digital currency' linkage."

"The Americans' reaction?"

"They've privately expressed 'concern', but that's all. Right now they're more worried about their domestic economy and…the President's troubles. Besides, the military power the Mexicans have displayed in North America has made Washington somewhat wary of provoking them. They don't want another strong enemy rising in the Americas, in their own backyard."

The Crown Prince was silent for a moment, the beads slowly turning between his fingers. "What about Egypt, the United Arab Emirates, and Qatar?"

"They're all in contact with Mexico, and also talking to Europe. But they've generally run out of patience with the United Kingdom. The Delhi incident was the last straw. A country that can turn something as simple as a sporting event into that kind of mess—who would trust it to safeguard financial stability?"

By now everyone is convinced India is just a shit pit!

"Then start gradually reducing our positions."

The Crown Prince finally gave the order. "Within the next six months, cut our exposure to British government bonds and financial institutions by at least 50%. Shift part into Euro and RMB, and part…can be tentatively channeled into Mexico's new system. But do it in batches, carefully. Also, contact the Russians and the Chinese to explore expanding local-currency settlement in oil trading. You can't put all your eggs in a basket that's about to collapse."

"And…London's Financial City?" the Chancellor asked.

The Crown Prince's lips curved into a faint, meaningful smile. "London will cool off, but it won't die completely. There's still too much talent and infrastructure there. Tell our people in London they can start approaching those financial elites who might be losing their jobs, especially those familiar with Islamic finance and energy trading. Riyadh, Dubai, Doha all need them. Offer salaries 30% higher, villas, and…a 'tolerant social environment'."

He stood up and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the brilliantly lit nightscape of Riyadh.

"The old order is collapsing, and the new order is fighting over who gets to define it. We may not be seated at the main table, but we can't just sit on the sidelines either. Place more bets, on different games. As for the United Kingdom…let it stand as a monument reminding us that 'if you don't change, you decay'."

Night of August 5, 1997, London, 10 Downing Street.

The Prime Minister's televised address began on time. He wore a dark suit and a dark red tie, trying to project a solemn air, but the puffy bags under his eyes and the overly pale complexion gave him away.

The speech was long, stuffed with phrases like "historic moment", "shared future", "flexible framework", "the will of the people". The core message was wrapped in layers of bureaucratic language, but anyone with even a faint political instinct understood: the United Kingdom, as a unitary, centrally controlled state, was about to become history.