novelSusiti Chapter 298 The Efficiency of the Empire
Chapter 298 The Efficiency of the Empire
Chapter 298 The Efficiency of the Empire
The Emperor's will is the law of the German Empire.
Krupp and von Siemens exchanged a glance, seeing the same helplessness in each other's eyes. But they both knew that disobeying this monarch's orders would have far more serious consequences than a risky investment.
Moreover, this emperor's impulsiveness was sometimes disguised by a keen business sense. A "private investment" from German industry did indeed lay a crucial piece in their future foray into the Balkan market, a market full of potential.
End of the meeting.
The entire industrial and financial machine of the German Empire began to operate with precision, in its unique, emotionless Prussian model.
Berlin. In von Bülow's office, an encrypted telegram is sent to Deutsche Bank headquarters.
Frankfurt. Von Siemens' instructions were transmitted to the Zurich branch via the telegraph network.
A huge "arms procurement advance payment" was quietly transferred from the accounts of Essen Krupp.
The funds were divided into dozens of portions of varying sizes and flowed silently through a series of complex methods that would give any auditor a headache, such as stock trading, commodity futures hedging, and internal account transfers within multinational corporations.
All the funds ultimately point to one place—Zurich, Switzerland.
On Bahnhofstrasse, an unassuming private bank called Helvetia Credit saw its newly opened anonymous account receive several inflows of funds from various sources within just twenty-four hours.
The machine operates in a cool, efficient manner, without emitting any unnecessary noise.
Meanwhile, in London, at the official residence of the Greek delegation.
The air was so oppressive it felt like you could squeeze water out of it. The continuous drizzle made the already dim room feel even more hopeless.
Venizelos, carrying a financial report, strode into Constantine's study. His steps lacked their usual composure, instead appearing somewhat hurried.
He placed the thin report on the desk with a soft thud.
"Your Highness," his voice was dry, his throat sounding as if it had been sanded, "all the funds we brought from the country, after paying for all expenses, can only last for ten days at most."
He paused, then added a more brutal reality.
"If we cannot reach an agreement here in ten days, we—we will not be able to afford the accommodation and meals for the entire delegation in London."
The subtext of those words, like a cold pair of pliers, gripped the throats of everyone in the room.
This means they will be forced to accept the British proposal, which is harsh and almost humiliating. They will not be victors, but rather groveling losers.
Constantine did not turn back.
He simply stood by the window, quietly watching the raindrops slide down the glass and the city outside shrouded in gray mist.
The real economic pressure is like an invisible rope, tightening round and round, making it hard for everyone to breathe.
He silently calculated the time in his mind.
Sofia's letter should have already reached Berlin.
But how will that impulsive cousin, the German Emperor, react? Will he, as in the past, fly into a rage and then let it go, or will he truly be driven by a sense of family honor and take concrete action?
He had no answer.
It's a gamble.
He staked his complete trust in his wife's wisdom and his accurate judgment of Wilhelm II's complex character.
But he didn't know if he could win this game.
Just when the atmosphere in the study reached its most oppressive point, there was a gentle knock on the door.
Captain of the Royal Guard, the newly appointed Director of the Royal Intelligence Bureau, Alexandros Dimitriopoulos, slipped in silently like a shadow.
He still had that expressionless look, but in his eyes, which were always as calm as a deep pool, there was a glimmer that was extremely difficult to detect.
He walked up to Constantine, without saluting or speaking.
He simply took a slip of paper from his inner pocket and handed it over.
The note was freshly copied from the codebook; the ink was still wet.
Constantine took the note.
The handwriting above is Dimitriopros's unique, meticulous font, as if mechanically engraved.
The message was very short, only two lines long.
Location of transmission: Zurich.
It came from a secret contact they had planted in the Swiss financial world.
"The gold of the Rhine has flowed into the Aegean Sea."
"The Nibelung treasure, amounting to five million gold marks, has been deposited into the designated account."
Constantine held the thin piece of paper, motionless.
Time slows down at this moment.
The lines on his face, which had been tense from days of anxiety and exhaustion, slowly, little by little, began to relax.
A bright smile bloomed on his face.
He closed his eyes.
The gloomy, foggy city of London seemed to be pierced by a ray of sunlight from the Aegean Sea.
He saw the blonde princess in the greenhouse of the Athenian palace, who was worried about him but comforted him with witty words.
"Sophia————"
He let out a murmur from deep in his throat, a sound that only he could hear, a voice filled with tenderness and pride.
"My Athena, you have not disappointed me."
He suddenly opened his eyes, and the gloom in them vanished.
A brand new, powerful force surged from every cell in his body.
He turned around and handed the fateful note to Venizelos, who stood bewildered beside him.
He now has enough leverage to slowly and steadily play this game with that arrogant Marquess of Salisbury.