novelSusiti Chapter 17 The Letter That Was "Mistakenly Taken" and the Shadow of the Polar Bear
Chapter 17 The Letter That Was "Mistakenly Taken" and the Shadow of the Polar Bear
Harding's brain at this moment was like an overloaded steam difference engine (the prototype of the most advanced computing device in the 19th century).
One terrifying word after another, like out-of-control gears, spun and collided wildly inside.
Greece goes bankrupt!
The Ottoman Empire disintegrates!
The Balkan Wars!
Russia moves south!
France intervened!
Suez Canal!
India routes!
Every single word is directly related to the core interests of the British Empire!
He instantly understood all the key points.
Once the Greek ship sinks, the power vacuum it leaves behind will be something that Britain alone cannot fill.
That damned polar bear, Tsarist Russia, dreams of having an ice-free port in the warm Mediterranean. They'll be the first to storm in under the banner of "saving our Orthodox brothers"!
France, one of Greece's largest creditors, will not hesitate to send its fleet to the port of Piraeus under the pretext of "protecting its own assets"!
At that time, in order to seize control of the "corpse" of Greece, the three great empires of Britain, France, and Russia will engage in the most intense and ugly game on this small Aegean Sea!
The result will inevitably be a catastrophe that sweeps across the whole of Europe!
The trigger for all of this was simply that this country couldn't repay its millions of dollars in loans due next month.
How absurd! And how deadly!
No!
This must absolutely not be allowed to happen!
Sir Harding made the judgment almost instinctively.
He had to keep this young man calm.
No, it's about stabilizing this madman who's already standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to drag the whole of Europe down with him!
"Your Highness!"
Sir Harding sat bolt upright, his arrogance and composure vanishing without a trace, as he tried to steer the conversation back onto a familiar track.
"Please calm down! The financial problems are indeed severe, but they are not without solutions! Her Majesty's government is very willing to..."
He was about to offer financial assistance to Greece, which was eroding its economic independence, to extinguish the fire.
However, at that moment...
Constantine, seemingly to emphasize a certain figure in the financial report, reached out again to take the gray folder.
Perhaps the action was a bit hasty, or perhaps the folder itself wasn't placed securely.
His elbow lightly touched the edge of the coffee table.
"Clatter".
The folder slipped from the corner of the table and landed on the thick Persian carpet on the floor with a dull thud.
The documents inside were scattered out.
Most of it was financial statements and the like, which Harding didn't care about at all.
But one letter in particular stood out.
It slid the furthest out of the folder and landed right at Sir Harding's feet.
The envelope was made of fine parchment, and the script on it was a Slavic cursive script that Hardin couldn't understand but was extremely familiar with.
The most crucial thing was the sealing wax stamp on the envelope.
A bright red, ferocious, and lifelike double-headed eagle emblem!
The Romanov Dynasty!
The private seal of the Tsarist Russian imperial family!
"ah!"
Constantine let out a short gasp, a perfectly timed look of panic on his face.
"Oh God, what an accident..."
He muttered to himself, then immediately bent down and frantically began picking up the scattered documents.
His movements were deliberately delayed by more than half a beat.
His body blocked the other documents, but the letter bearing the double-headed eagle seal (Constantine had specifically asked his mother for an unopened letter before the negotiations to use as a smokescreen) was completely exposed to Sir Harding's view.
At that moment, time seemed to slow down.
Sir Harding felt his blood rush to his brain in an instant, only to freeze into ice in the next second.
He didn't move.
He even forced himself to act as if he didn't care at all.
He picked up the now-cold herbal tea in front of him and turned his gaze to the window, as if admiring the afternoon scenery of Athens.
But out of the corner of his eye, his gaze was like two poisoned hooks, fixed on the letter on the carpet, and on the bright red double-headed eagle!
Russians!
The Russians have already made direct contact with the Greek royal family!
They skipped all diplomatic procedures and began interfering directly through marriage alliances between royal families!
Sir Harding's mind was once again stirred up by a monstrous storm.
Queen Olga Constantinenovna of Greece was a Russian Grand Duchess and a cousin of Tsar Alexander III!
Yes, they don't need the Ministry of Foreign Affairs at all; a simple "family letter" is enough! No wonder intelligence personnel in St. Petersburg never reported any recent frequent contact between the Russians and Greece.
A "family letter" from St. Petersburg, bearing the Tsar's personal seal!
What will be written in the letter?
Is it a promise to provide an emergency loan to help Greece through its difficulties?
It was also promised that if Greece went to war with the Ottomans, Russia's Black Sea Fleet would appear in the Dardanelles under the pretext of "protecting its citizens."
Harding couldn't even imagine it!
All he knew was that once the Russians seized this opportunity, their power would spread rapidly through the Balkans like a plague!
It took the British decades, countless sums of money, and the lives of soldiers to finally contain the Russians in the Black Sea during the Crimean War.
Is all of this going to be ruined because of Greece's mere few million dollars in debt?
A fine layer of cold sweat appeared on Harding's forehead.
He finally saw the whole game clearly.
Constantine's first card was "national bankruptcy," a card that threatened the stability of the whole of Europe and hijacked the interests of all the great powers.
And this letter that "accidentally" fell out is the second card!
This card was played specifically for Harding, and to send a message to the British Empire!
It silently proclaims:
I, Greece, am not the only choice for you!
Behind me stood an even hungrier and larger polar bear!
If you British are unwilling to provide a decent aid package, there are plenty of others who are!
At that point, what you'll lose won't just be a Mediterranean agent!
Constantine finally picked up all the documents, including the fatal letter.
He subtly, yet clearly, tucked the letter back into the deepest part of the folder, making it easy for Hardin to see.
He sat up straight again, a hint of apology and embarrassment on his face, as if he was still annoyed by his rudeness.
"I'm sorry, Sir, I'm sorry you had to see this."
He picked up his teacup, took a sip, as if trying to hide his embarrassment.
But he knew the bait had already been cast.
The proud, greedy, and wary lion had its jaws firmly on the hook.
Now, it's time to reel in the money.
A deathly silence fell over the reception room.
Sir Harding did not speak.
He slowly put down the teacup in his hand.
"despair."
This time, the sound of the cup clinking against the saucer seemed particularly heavy.
There was no trace of arrogance left on his well-preserved face.
His eyes, which always held scrutiny and disdain, now became incredibly solemn.
He looked at Constantine across from him, who, in his eyes, should have been a callow youth.
But now, he felt that he was facing a monster more cunning than a Siberian bear and more deadly than an Egyptian cobra.
Finally, he broke the silence.
His tone was no longer one of condescending advice, nor one of equal communication.
It was an inquiry tinged with three parts apprehension and seven parts probing.
"Your Highness," Sir Harding's voice was somewhat hoarse, "it seems... you are seeking 'help' from multiple sources?"