Chapter 147: Left and Right
"I'm afraid I do not need your recognition, Mr. Hill."
Jörg's voice remained calm.
"And we are hardly lacking in senior Workers Party members willing to exchange a confession for a chance at survival. To be honest, Mr. Röhm is being held in the cell beside yours. He is not quite as firm as you imagine."
For the first time, panic appeared on Hill's face.
The photographs, the timing, the precision of the arrest, everything suddenly connected in his mind. If the evidence had been taken from such a close angle, then there was only one possible explanation.
"You planted a mole?"
His expression twisted.
"Traitors! Damned traitors!"
His voice rose into something close to a scream.
"Germany lost because of traitors! The Workers Party lost because of traitors too!"
Jörg ignored the torrent of curses.
He waited until Hill's strength drained away and the man slumped back into the iron chair. Only then did he speak again.
"It is not too late, Mr. Hill. You can admit your crimes in court and give yourself a dignified end. Or…"
Vito, whose anger had been burning since the incident on Kant Avenue, stepped forward and finished the sentence for him.
"We can arrange a lobotomy for you. This asylum will become your prison for the rest of your life."
Hill went still.
He had truly lost.
After a long silence, he did not answer the question directly. Instead, he lifted his head and asked in a hoarse voice.
"Tell me who the traitor is. Was it Hermann?"
Jörg nodded.
"Yes."
"When did he become one of yours?"
"When you fled to Italy."
Hill's heart seemed to stop for a beat.
For a moment, disbelief, fury, and something almost like relief crossed his face at the same time. Then he let out a faint laugh, as if even he found the answer absurd.
"I choose dignity."
He paused, then asked the last question he still dared ask.
"Can I live?"
Jörg shook his head.
"Politics is not a game, Mr. Hill. It is life and death. If I were the one chained to this chair today, would you let me walk off the stage?"
Hill's lips trembled.
"No."
That single word seemed to drain the last of his resistance.
Understanding that this was the end, Hill leaned back in the iron chair and stared at the pitch-black ceiling above him.
He thought of the trenches.
He thought of mud, blood, gas, and the sound of shells tearing men apart.
He thought of the British soldier who had once spared his life.
For so many years, he had believed himself chosen by fate. He had crawled out of the trenches, survived humiliation, imprisonment, exile, and failure. He had endured everything and still climbed to the position of Leader.
He once believed God favored him.
Only now did he understand.
His luck had merely given him the qualifications to stand opposite a genius like Jörg von Roman.
Jörg did not disturb those final memories.
Before leaving, he glanced one last time at Hill, at the man who in another world had once shaken all of history.
Then he closed the iron door.
Click.
The lock fell into place.
With that crisp sound, the history of the Workers Party in Germany came to an end.
Judged purely by strength, crushing the Workers Party was as simple as crushing an ant.
But in meaning, it was different.
Compared to manipulating an economic crisis, compared to moving gold, capital, armies, and ministries, this experience gave Jörg something unique.
He had truly severed the future of an extremist party.
He had cut off one of Germany's wrong answers.
From now on, the name Hill would gradually lose its weight.
How would history describe him?
An extremist destroyed before he could rise?
A fanatic erased by a stronger dictator?
Or would later generations dress him in false colors and claim he had been a martyr who dared oppose power?
Jörg did not know.
He only knew that history's judgment of himself would not be kind either.
He was neither left nor right.
He served only Germany's interest, his own design, and the future he intended to build.
And, of course, he was the man who would marry the Emperor's daughter.
Seeing his superior lost in thought, Vito lowered his voice and reported respectfully.
"Sir, the order to purge the Workers Party in all major cities has already been issued to the Internal and External Intelligence Department. The police will fully cooperate. Their newspapers and books will be confiscated and burned. Their offices will be sealed. Key personnel will be arrested."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"The British spy has also been captured. Interrogation has begun. If there is any additional intelligence, I will report it to you immediately."
Before Vito could finish, an intelligence officer approached quickly and spoke in a low voice.
"Sir, something has happened at the university."
Hamburg University.
The student protesters held their banners high, their voices echoing across the square with the reckless strength of youth.
"Down with the dictator!"
"Jörg von Roman must step down!"
"No war criminal in government!"
"Dissolve the Progress Party!"
Behind the student ranks, organized coal miners gathered under Thälmann's leadership and shouted in unison.
"We demand better treatment!"
"Oppose the oppression of workers!"
Security police formed a line in front of City Hall, separating the crowd from the building. In ordinary times, such a scene would already have ended beneath police batons.
But today was different.
Their orders were clear. As long as the crowd did not use force, the police were not to act.
Thus, Thälmann was allowed to stand in the open space the crowd had made for him and deliver his speech.
"Everyone!"
His voice rang across the square.
"Jörg von Roman is nothing more than an aristocratic capitalist. He has never once intended to surrender benefits to the workers. Every promise he has made has served only one purpose, dictatorship."
He raised his arm and pointed northward.
"But we are different. Look to the north, comrades. Soviet Russia's political system has allowed it to maintain rapid development even amid the global economic crisis. That is a systemic advantage. That is the only road capable of saving Germany's fragile economy."
"We should learn from Soviet Russia. Let them become our example."
Although his address included "gentlemen and ladies," there were not many women among his supporters.
Jörg and the Progress Party had, after all, truly appointed a woman as Minister of Foreign Affairs. Compared to empty slogans, many women trusted practical action more.
A short while later, an Imperial Eagle stopped at the entrance of City Hall.
Joseph, second-in-command of the Progress Party, stepped out and looked at the surging crowd before him.
He removed his hat, walked toward the podium hastily prepared by the city government, and faced Thälmann directly.
"Mr. Thälmann, are you speaking for German workers, or for the Soviet Russian government behind you?"
His voice was not loud at first, but it carried cleanly across the square.
"You oppose everything about the Progress Party. Does that mean you also oppose women's equal rights?"
The crowd stirred.
Joseph continued without giving him time to answer.
"You accuse Chancellor Jörg von Roman of being a dictator. Then what of Mr. Stalin in Moscow?"
Joseph was not a physically imposing man, but his words landed with unusual force.
"I dare say this before all of Hamburg. The Progress Party is a party founded by Germans, led by Germans, and controlled by Germans. It obeys no foreign country and submits to no foreign force."
His eyes fixed on Thälmann.
"Do you dare say the same of the German Communist Party?"
Thälmann, who had been preparing to refute him, froze.
After a brief pause, he replied with barely concealed resentment.
"As long as we are not controlled by aristocrats, then we are controlled by…"
Joseph cut in sharply.
"So your party does have foreign intervention?"
A murmur spread through the crowd.
Joseph pressed forward at once.
"Then how can you claim to speak for the German people? If you became President of Germany, would you invite the Soviet Russian Army in the very next day?"
"Would you announce Germany's incorporation into Soviet Russia? Would you abandon our sovereignty?"
His tone grew colder.
"If so, what legitimacy do you have? Your protest is not the voice of the German worker. It is a platform built for foreign power."
He looked across the students, the miners, the police, and the silent citizens watching from the edges of the square.
"Mr. Thälmann, to speak more seriously, you are betraying the interests of your own country. You are betraying the interests of the German people."
"You constantly say you do not want war. But if the Russians come, will that not provoke war?"
.....
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