novelSusiti Chapter 136 Black Tuesday
Chapter 136 Black Tuesday
on Monday.
A typical Athenian morning. The cafes along the street wafted out rich aromas, and newsboys waved the latest newspapers on street corners, calling out their wares.
But today, there's an unusual smell in the air.
The Athena Proverbs, a newspaper that has always represented the interests of the old aristocracy and oligarchs, today devoted its entire front page to a shocking article.
The article, written in an extremely worried tone, meticulously "calculates" the staggering costs of the Phoenix Hill steel plant project and "quotes" the views of an unnamed "senior banker," suggesting that the royal-led radical industrial policies have pushed the national treasury to the brink of bankruptcy.
How far are we from the catastrophe of 1843?
The article concludes with a thought-provoking question, which, like a poisonous thorn, pierced the hearts of all the citizens of Athens.
At 9:00 a.m. sharp, the bells of the Athens Stock Exchange rang.
Without warning, a sell order for 50,000 pounds drachma was dumped into the trading pool.
This would normally be a huge order that could cause market volatility.
But today, this is just the beginning.
Then, the second stroke, the third stroke...
A massive influx of sell orders, like a flood bursting its banks, poured in from all directions. Most of these sell orders originated in London and were executed through the trading seats of the old National Bank.
The drachma began to fall at a visible rate against the pound.
25:1…
26:1…
27:1…
The atmosphere in the exchange suddenly became tense. All the traders stopped what they were doing and stared blankly at the numbers that kept plummeting.
Panic, like a virus, began to spread.
Merchants who owned drachma assets began a frantic sell-off, trying to convert them into pounds or gold before the exchange rate completely collapsed.
At the entrance of the National Bank of Athens.
President Stretter, surrounded by a group of reporters, delivered an "emergency address."
With a solemn expression and a pained tone, he announced that in order to "curb malicious speculation in the market" and "stabilize the national financial order," the National Bank of Greece had decided to tighten monetary policy immediately, raising the commercial loan interest rate from 8 percent to 12 percent!
The news spread rapidly throughout Athens via journalists' pens and telegraph lines.
If the newspaper article was the fuse that lit the fuse, then Stretter's speech was the powder keg that exploded.
Raising interest rates is tantamount to draining the market of liquidity.
This not only failed to stabilize the market, but also sent the clearest signal to everyone – even the banks themselves couldn't hold on!
"My God, the bank is going bankrupt!"
"Quickly withdraw your money and exchange it for gold!"
Someone in the crowd shouted something, and the wave of protests erupted instantly.
Long lines stretched as far as the eye could see outside every bank in Athens. People's faces were filled with fear as they waved their deposit slips and frantically tried to force their way through the bank doors. The police officers guarding the banks were jostled and pushed about.
A perfect financial panic was precisely created by Sir Harding and Sterett.
At the height of market turmoil, Alexius Mavrokodatos, president of the National Development Bank, appeared before the public in a state of "panic".
He looked like he hadn't slept all night; his hair was disheveled and his eyes were sunken.
Facing countless flashes of light and reporters' questions, he delivered a passionate yet somewhat unconvincing speech.
"This is an attack on Greece! A despicable sabotage of His Highness the Crown Prince's hard work!"
"I, Alexius Mavrokodatos, swear by my honor and the glory of my family, that the National Development Bank will use all our reserves to defend the dignity of the drachma!"
After saying that, he rushed into the stock exchange.
Soon, buy orders from the National Development Bank appeared in the market. They began selling pounds and buying drachmas.
In the first round, they invested £50,000.
The downward trend was briefly halted.
But just five minutes later, a sell order for £100,000 came from London, easily silencing all their resistance.
The exchange rate continued to fall.
Mavrokodatos, looking "ashen-faced," ordered another £50,000 to be invested.
As a result, just like last time, it was like a pebble thrown into the ocean, not even causing a decent ripple.
Inside the British Embassy.
Sir Harding and Sterett were listening to real-time battle reports from the exchange via a dedicated telephone line.
"Sir, Mavrokodatos is out of ammunition!" The voice on the other end of the phone was filled with excitement. "He only produced £100,000 in total! Exactly as our intelligence suggested! Their vault is empty!"
A cruel smile appeared on Strett's face.
Sir Harding then elegantly picked up a bottle of 1878 Lafite and poured a glass for himself and Sterett.
"It seems our young crown prince has turned all his money into a pile of useless steel bars and cement." He raised his glass. "Now, it's time to deliver the fatal blow."
He gave the final instructions over the phone.
"Inform London to commit all reserves. Target: 30-1!"
at the same time.
The National Development Bank, a secret room on the top floor.
The atmosphere here is completely different from the panic outside.
There was no noise, no shouting, only the ticking of the telegraph machine and Professor Andreas's calm, almost ruthless, instructions.
"Group A, place a buy order for 5,000 pounds at the price of 28.5, and take it."
"Group B, abandon the 28.7 defense and let them pass."
"Group C, analyze the frequency and amount of each attack. I need to know the rhythm of their every breath."
Andreas stood in front of a huge blackboard. The blackboard was covered with intricate curves and numbers drawn in different colors of chalk.
This refined scholar, who once taught economic history in university classrooms, now had bloodshot eyes and bluish stubble on his chin, but his whole being was like a drawn sword, its sharpness fully revealed.
The bloodshed at Phoenix Hill, Sir Harding's arrogance, and Constantine's trust completely ignited the fighting spirit within him, a spirit that had been dormant for millennia, a spirit inherent in the Greeks.
He wasn't on defense.
He was using the most precise calculations to control the pace of the decline, depleting the enemy's ammunition at the lowest possible cost, while simultaneously luring the enemy step by step into the perfect slaughterhouse that had been prepared for them.
Inside the stock exchange.
The drachma's exchange rate has finally fallen below the 29 mark.
The short sellers cheered in victory.
They could sense that the resistance from all sides was dwindling. Victory was within reach.
If we just put in a little more effort and break through the 30 mark—a psychological barrier for all the Greeks—the war will be over.
Streat was ready to open the bottle of champagne he had treasured in his office.
Sir Harding had already drafted a telegram to the Foreign Office in London: "...The Greek financial system has collapsed, Crown Prince Constantine's prestige has been tarnished, and it is expected that within three days, the Greek government will request the intervention of the British Empire to stabilize the situation..."
Just then, a massive sell order totaling £300,000, gathering the last strength of all the short sellers, slammed down on the price of £29.8 like a giant battering ram!
This is the final, fatal blow!
Just when everyone thought Drachmar was about to completely collapse—
Inside the secret room of the National Development Bank, the door was suddenly pushed open.
A royal guard messenger rushed in. He didn't even have time to salute, and handed Andreas an urgent telegram with the German Imperial eagle emblem sealing wax on it.
Sofia, you did it!
Andreas tore open the telegram.
There was only a short line of German text on it, a pre-arranged code between him and Sofia.
Deutsche Bank has secretly deposited a short-term credit loan of up to two million pounds into the secret Berlin account of the Panhellenic Business Settlement Union just five minutes ago!
Andreas's hand did not tremble at all.
He picked up the switchboard phone on the table that connected all the trading seats.
The entire room fell silent instantly. All the traders stopped what they were doing, looked up, and stared intently at him.
Andreas spoke only one word into the microphone.
"Let's do it!"