Chapter 357: Sell It, or It Will Be Bombed
James had a VIP reception room on the second floor, a luxurious space complete with fine wines, cigars, fruit, and assorted pastries.
Deyoka was seated in this VIP room, visibly tense as he sat stiffly on the sofa, nervously glancing around at the opulent decor, not daring to touch anything. As an ordinary citizen, he once looked up to James as an idol. James represented a level of success that Deyoka could never attain—he was, in a sense, from another world.
Yet here he was, in the VIP room, waiting to meet James to discuss business face-to-face. It all felt like a dream, one that Deyoka sometimes couldn't quite believe was real.
Suddenly, he heard footsteps outside. Quickly, he stood up to greet his host, nervously adjusting the suit he had bought specifically for this meeting—a suit that had cost him over fifteen hundred francs.
With the crisp sound of the door opening, James entered with a friendly smile, walking up and extending his hand. "Hello, Mr. Deyoka, I've heard so much about you! It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
"H-Hello, Mr. James," Deyoka stammered, his tone laced with a hint of apology. "I hope my visit isn't a bother."
"Oh, not at all, not at all," James said, gesturing for Deyoka to sit down with a playful smile. "You arrived just in time—I was looking for an excuse to end that dull meeting."
James then gestured towards the bar on his right and asked, "Coffee? Or perhaps some wine?"
"Coffee, please," Deyoka replied.
Paulina quickly served them coffee with sugar cubes, filling the room with a rich aroma.
Leaning back on the sofa, James took a sip, raising his cup towards Deyoka. "I envy you, Mr. Deyoka. You have a truly remarkable son!"
James meant it sincerely. His own sons were either idle heirs or "factory managers," who only worked hard to secure his approval and a shot at being his successor. He once thought a few of them were somewhat capable, but next to Charles, they seemed no better than beggars on the street.
"Yes," Deyoka replied, pride filling his face. "He truly is exceptional, far beyond my expectations."
Deyoka then remembered his purpose for being here and got straight to the point. "Mr. James, I came to discuss the three steel mills you own in the northeast."
"Northeast steel mills?" James looked at Deyoka with interest. "But they're under German control."
"I know," Deyoka replied. "But I'd like to buy them from you. What price do you think would be fair…?"
James shook his head with a smile. "If you came here for that, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. They're not for sale."
James understood what Charles was planning: to buy these mills at a low price while they were still under German control, then take ownership of them once France regained the territory. But things wouldn't be that easy.
James didn't need the money; he'd rather let those steel mills rot under his ownership than sell them cheaply.
But Deyoka's tone was firm. "No, you will sell them. I hope you'll give this serious thought."
James' expression darkened, his eyes showing a hint of displeasure. No one threatened him—not even Charles.
But he held back from speaking. If Deyoka was so confident, then there had to be a reason—specifically, Charles had to have a reason.
But what was it?
After a moment's thought, James shook his head firmly. "You can tell Charles that I'm certain he'll lead the Allied forces to victory and recover those steel mills for me. I have complete faith in him!"
"So do I, Mr. James," Deyoka replied as he stood, shaking hands with James before taking his leave, now much more at ease.
As Deyoka walked away, he realized James wasn't as formidable as he'd once thought. Compared to Charles, James was always a step behind. If he was going to have an idol, it might as well be his own son.
Watching Deyoka's retreating figure, James felt a lingering unease.
What could Charles do with those factories? What method could force him to sell them?
No, it was impossible! Selling the steel mills would free Charles from all restraints, including the pressure on Wells. Under no circumstances would he sell them—unless he'd gone mad.
However, Schneider had overlooked one possibility.
…
At the Paris City Defense Command, Charles handed Galliéni a battle plan.
"What's this?" Galliéni asked, flipping through it casually.
"It's the bombing plan for the upcoming month," Charles replied. "We already have over a hundred bombers, with more being added regularly. I believe they shouldn't just be used to bomb enemy airfields; the Germans are already prepared for that."
Galliéni nodded. "They've surrounded their airfields with heavy artillery and machine guns, and they're working to increase their aircraft speeds to catch up with our bombers."
"That's why I plan to shift the target to the steel mills," Charles declared confidently.
"Steel mills?" Galliéni looked up in surprise, then nodded slightly. "Makes sense. These steel mills are producing steel for the Germans, which is then turned into rifles, machine guns, bullets, and tanks to shoot at us!"
"Exactly," Charles replied, gesturing to the document. "At the beginning, you'll find detailed information on a few steel mills. With these, the Germans don't even need to transport supplies from their homeland. They're utilizing these mills and have set up a few armories in the northeast, which satisfies most of their Western Front needs."
This intelligence was accurate, sourced from "The White Lady."
If the French government doubted this, they could send spies from the "Deuxième Bureau" to investigate; they'd find the same results.
Galliéni glanced at the information and nodded.
"The plan looks sound, but…" He hesitated, "The steel mill workers—most of them are French. How do you plan to avoid their casualties?"
"And while these steel mills are under German control, they're still owned by capitalists, so this may cause some complications."
Charles had already anticipated this and answered calmly, "We can drop leaflets before the bombing to warn the workers to take cover. That's all we can do, after all—it's war."
Galliéni sighed, but he nodded in agreement.
If they refrained from bombing out of fear of casualties, the Germans only needed to bring a few French people along with them to the battlefield. Fighting with too many scruples was no better than surrendering.
"As for the capitalists," Charles continued, "if the lives of French workers can be sacrificed, what is their property worth?"
Galliéni instantly understood.
If the capitalists dared to object, they'd face the wrath of the French people!
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