novelSusiti Chapter 16 This is not negotiation, this is kidnapping
Chapter 16 This is not negotiation, this is kidnapping
"Bankruptcy?"
Sir Harding paused for a full three seconds before finally squeezing out the word through clenched teeth.
He thought he had misheard.
Immediately afterwards, he let out a short, sharp laugh, full of undisguised mockery.
"Your Highness, please forgive my bluntness, but are you joking? Or is this the latest trend in Athenian court humor?"
In his view, it was the most absurd thing in the world for a country to declare to a diplomat from another country that it was about to go bankrupt.
It's like a gambler spreading their hands wide in a card game, telling their opponent that they've lost all their chips.
This is not negotiation, this is surrender.
Constantine ignored his taunts.
There wasn't even a hint of offense on that serious face.
He simply turned to the side calmly and pulled out a thick document from an inconspicuous folder beside him.
The document's cover was gray, with no title and only a Ministry of Finance stamp.
"Smack."
The document was pushed onto the coffee table in front of Sir Harding with a thud.
"This is the latest financial situation report compiled by our Ministry of Finance as of midnight yesterday."
Constantine tapped his finger on the document cover.
"I'm not joking, Sir. You can see for yourself."
Sir Harding's mocking expression froze.
His gaze fell on the document, and the slight displeasure at being offended was replaced by a sudden sense of doubt.
He hesitated for a moment, then reached out and picked up the document.
It's quite heavy.
He turned to the first page.
What he saw was a series of numbers that he was all too familiar with, yet which made his heart pound.
Fiscal deficit: 37 million drachmas.
Trade deficit: 52 million drachmas.
Foreign debt maturing next month: BNP Paribas, 8 million francs; Barings Bank, 300,000 pounds.
The government has been in arrears with civil servants' salaries for three months.
Army and Navy are in arrears on pay for four months.
……
Each cold number, like a row of tombstones, is neatly arranged on the paper.
Sir Harding's breathing became rapid involuntarily.
As a seasoned diplomat and former colonial official, he knew exactly what these numbers meant.
He quickly flipped through a few pages.
The report was followed by data on the gold reserve losses of several major Athens banks.
It was a steep, almost vertical downward curve.
The shadow of war has triggered the most terrible financial panic. All the wealthy people in the country with even a little bit of assets are frantically buying up gold and transferring their assets abroad.
Greece's financial system is bleeding at a visible rate.
Each number was like a nail, hammering into Sir Harding's temple and shattering all his arrogance and composure.
He finally realized that this might not be a bad joke.
This is a bomb about to explode.
Constantine's voice rang in his ears at just the right moment; it was calm, yet carried an almost sorrowful tone of statement.
"Sir, you see. This is the true state of our Kingdom of Greece right now."
"The Bulgarians' actions were like a stone thrown into water, but the waves they stirred up were enough to capsize our little boat."
"The threat of war has completely collapsed the domestic financial markets. People have lost faith in the government and in Drachma."
Constantine lowered his voice, as if narrating a tragedy that was already destined.
"If we cannot repay the principal and interest on the loan owed to BNP Paribas on time next month, Greece's national credit will be completely wiped out in the entire European financial market."
"By then, we won't even need the Ottomans to fire a single shot."
"This country will collapse completely on its own due to run, riots, and hunger."
Constantine's words were like a scalpel, calmly and precisely dissecting the bloodied entrails of a nation and then mercilessly displaying them to Sir Harding.
For a moment, Sir Harding even had a strange feeling.
He could almost smell the strong, acrid odor of banknotes being burned in the bank's furnace.
In my ears, I could hear the desperate screams and cries of the crowd as the bank doors were breached.
Before my eyes, I pictured soldiers mutiniing because they couldn't get their pay, taking to the streets with guns, and the city engulfed in flames in chaos.
Constantine's words made him truly "see" how a country could gradually fall into an abyss of no return.
This is so true.
It was so real that it made him feel dizzy and nauseous.
The report in his hand felt as heavy as a thousand pounds, making it almost impossible for him to breathe.
Sir Harding slammed the report shut.
He raised his head and stared intently at Constantine.
He finally understood.
He finally understood what the young man had been planning from the moment he entered the room.
The painting of the Battle of Salamis was meant to remind him that the Greek people, deep down, possess a spirit of mutual destruction.
The rough black pottery tea set was meant to tell him that we were so poor that we couldn't afford British porcelain, that we had nothing, and therefore we weren't afraid of losing everything.
And this damned financial report was like a gun handed to him!
Constantine told him the cruelest truth in the calmest way:
Greece, the most important pawn of the British Empire on the eastern coast of the Mediterranean, is about to die.
Once a piece dies, the balance of the board is completely broken.
The Russians will take advantage of the situation.
The French will take advantage of the situation.
The entire Balkans, this powder keg of Europe, will be ignited decades earlier than expected due to the collapse of Greece!
This is a situation that London absolutely does not want to see!
Constantine, he's not here to negotiate at all!
He did not come to beg for British help or to plead for any territory.
He came to...kidnap!
He used the fate of the entire Kingdom of Greece, the impending all-out war in the Balkans, and the core interests of the British Empire in the Mediterranean as hostages!
Then, they turned the gun on Britain's own head! This would make Britain readily "pay money" to Greece.
"Your Highness..."
For the first time, Sir Harding's voice became dry and strained.
He discovered that the card table had changed.
Constantine forcibly changed the poker table in a way that he could never have imagined.
He abruptly shifted the negotiation topic from the "geopolitical" game, which the British were most adept at and most comfortable with, into an area they both cared about, but found incredibly thorny and dirty—"financial stability."
Sir Harding looked at the young man opposite him.
Constantine's face had once again regained its polite smile, as if he were not the cold-blooded speaker from just moments before.
But there was something in those blue eyes that sent chills down Sir Harding's spine.
That's not the look an eighteen-year-old should have.
That's the look in the eyes of a madman standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to drag the whole world down with him.
Sir Harding's fingers unconsciously rubbed repeatedly on the silver handle of the ebony cane.
He realized he had fallen into a trap.
A meticulously designed trap that he never imagined he would encounter in a place like Athens.