novelSusiti Chapter 307 A High-Stakes Gamble in the Air
Chapter 307 A High-Stakes Gamble in the Air
Chapter 307 A High-Stakes Gamble in the Air
Constantine tapped his fingers lightly on the map.
The sound was exceptionally clear in the quiet study.
"Eat every single bloodstained piece of paper they throw out, clean and whole!"
The order was given, and the study fell into a deathly silence.
Treasurer Aristide stared blankly at the Crown Prince, mouth agape, unable to utter the words "We're out of money."
The old count stopped wailing, and he leaned on his attendant's arm, staring at Constantine with an expression as if he were looking at a madman.
purchase?
What will we use to buy it?
Should we take Greece's empty treasury?
Without the slightest hesitation, Alexandros Dimitriopoulos bowed to the crown prince, turned and strode away, his back view resolute.
Constantine didn't look at anyone else in the room. He walked back to the window and gazed at the gray London sky.
An invisible war has begun.
In London, in an unassuming red-brick office building near the Thames docks.
This is the London office of Antonio Petaras' shipping company, and also his secret command center for this financial war.
The room was filled with smoke, a mixture of cigar smoke, sweat, and tension.
A dozen or so traders, hastily transferred from all over Europe by Petaras, crammed into this small office. The ringing of telephones and the ticking of telegraph machines mingled together, sharp and piercing, assaulting the nerves of everyone present.
"Hold on! Price 70! Give me as much as you can!"
Antonio Petaras' eyes were bloodshot. He unbuttoned his collar and roared into the phone receiver.
On the wall in front of him was a huge blackboard. The price curve of Greek government bonds drawn on it in white chalk resembled the electrocardiogram of a dying patient; every drop it made gripped the heart.
"Boss! Another sell order of 200,000! It's from Barings Bank!" A trader's face turned pale and his voice trembled.
"Buy it!" Petaras roared, spitting onto the receiver. "If you don't have enough funds, take them from Deutsche Bank's reserve funds! Now!"
It's a big gamble.
A crazy gamble using a secret loan provided by Kaiser Wilhelm II to challenge the old financial empire of Europe.
Behind Petaras, in a safe, was a secret letter of credit for £500,000 issued by Deutsche Bank. This money was "borrowed" by Princess Sofia from her headstrong royal brother through her private channels.
This is all their ammunition.
Their enemies, the Rothschild family, could mobilize ten or even a hundred times that amount of funds.
The massive sell orders, like wave after wave of tsunamis, relentlessly assaulted the fragile defenses they had built with money.
The price dropped from 70 to 68.
Petalas gritted his teeth and ordered the purchase.
The price was then slashed from 68 to 65.
Petalas, his eyes bloodshot, continued to order purchases.
This was a bloody aerial battle.
Every second, tens of thousands of pounds evaporate in the market.
No one dared to utter a sound in the command center; only Petaras's roars and the clatter of machinery filled the air. Everyone knew that trying to hold out with such limited resources was like trying to hit an egg against a train running at full speed.
An atmosphere of confusion and unease permeated the London Stock Exchange.
Everyone thought this financial strangulation of Greece would be a one-sided massacre. That poor and weak country would be torn to pieces within half a day.
However, the battle unfolded in a way that surprised everyone.
A mysterious yet tenacious buying force, like a giant whale lurking in the deep sea, opened its mouth wide.
No matter how many chips the Rothschild family's agents threw out, this whale accepted them all without the slightest hesitation.
Although the price of Greek government bonds continues to fall, the rate of decline has been greatly slowed.
The price has been firmly held above the 60 support level, preventing it from falling completely below it.
"Damn it! Where did these Greeks get so much money?"
In the trading room of Rothschild Bank, the manager in charge of this operation felt for the first time how difficult the situation was.
The telegraph machine in front of him kept spitting out the latest transaction data.
-
They have already sold more than £300,000 worth of bonds, but their opponents' funds seem inexhaustible.
This is not normal.
This is completely inconsistent with their assessment of Greece's financial situation.
"Investigate! Find out exactly where this money came from!" the manager growled in a low voice to his subordinate.
This is no longer a simple financial crackdown.
This turned into an encounter battle.
The study of the Greek delegation's official residence.
Constantine stood before a huge world map.
He had already dismissed the treasurer and the ministers. Only he and Venizelos remained in the study.
On the table were more than a dozen telegrams spread out.
Each one was a real-time battle report sent back from the command post in Petalas by Alexandros's men, using the highest level of encryption.
Speed of capital depletion, purchase price, and scale of selling pressure from the other party —
Every cold, hard number was clearly displayed before his eyes.
Venizelos looked at the data, his brow furrowed.
"Your Highness, we can't hold out much longer," he said, his voice hoarse. "Five hundred thousand pounds sounds like a lot. But in a confrontation of this magnitude, we can only last two days at most."
Constantine did not turn back.
Two days is enough.
He knew this was a war of attrition he was destined to lose. The money the German king had was merely his "starting capital," a lifeline he would use to survive if he were eliminated from the poker table without betting.
He must find a real, heavyweight ally before the money runs out.
A player who can rival the Rothschild family.
His gaze moved across the map.
England, no good. France, no good. Germany has entered the fray, but its strength is limited. Russia, a giant with feet of clay, can barely save itself.
These old European nobles, deeply entrenched and sharing interests, would never risk offending the Rothschilds for the sake of a small country like Greece.
Constantine's fingers crossed the turbulent Atlantic Ocean.
Ultimately, it landed on that thriving and vibrant new continent.
United States of America.
A young nation not controlled by the old powers of Europe, a nation that only believes in money and power.
Only it has the potential to be the game-changer in your own game.
A name came to mind for Constantine.
A name that will resonate through the ages, representing money, steel, and power.
J.P. Morgan.
The King of Wall Street.
Constantine turned around and rang a bell on the table.
Alexandros Dimitriopoulos silently pushed open the door and entered.
"Find out where J.P. Morgan is now."
Constantine's orders were brief and clear.
"Then, I'll try to find a way to see him through the US embassy."
He paused for a moment, then added a sentence.
"Not in his capacity as Crown Prince of Greece."
"Instead, as a business partner."
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