Chapter 151: Uninvited
The moment Chicherin saw who had entered, he quickly stood and greeted him.
"Chancellor von Roman, how long has it been since we last met?"
Jörg smiled and extended his hand.
"Five years, Mr. Chicherin. We last met in Saint Petersburg. No, I suppose I should call it Leningrad now."
"Five years," Chicherin sighed, clasping his hand. "Time truly does not wait for men. I never imagined that the young diplomat sitting across from me at the negotiating table back then would now become the Chancellor of a great power. A Chancellor not yet thirty years old. You must be the only one in the world."
This was not empty flattery.
It came from the heart.
Chicherin studied the young man before him for a moment, then continued, "You should visit Leningrad one day. It is breathtaking now. The factories are alive with whistles, the workers are producing automobiles, and those automobiles now race along widened roads. Fields are giving way to iron, and the world is being remade."
He spoke the last sentence with the cadence of an old Russian proverb.
"If I have the chance, I will certainly witness its beauty for myself," Jörg replied. "But Mr. Chicherin, did you come this time because of the German Communist Party?"
Unlike many diplomats from the East, Chicherin had never been fond of empty slogans or roaring declarations. In international diplomacy, he was far more pragmatic than many of his Slavic colleagues. His success in breaking Soviet Russia's diplomatic isolation and establishing relations with several countries had already proved that.
On such a sensitive matter, he clearly had his own method of handling things.
He did not answer directly. Instead, he approached the question from another angle.
"Yes and no. Herr Chancellor, allow me to state once again that although the cooperation and relationship between Germany and Soviet Russia are no longer what they once were, we still maintain respect for Germany."
He paused for half a second.
"I admit that the German Communist Party's mistakes resulted from irrational decisions made by certain comrades within our party. But that does not mean Soviet Russia intended to interfere in German domestic politics."
Seeing that Chicherin was about to continue circling the matter, Jörg raised a hand and interrupted him.
"But you still came for them, Mr. Chicherin. I have always believed one thing. People do not do meaningless things."
Chicherin looked at him for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"I like your directness, Herr Chancellor. Very well. We wish to take away several members of the German Communist Party for investigation. There may be Trotskyist elements hidden behind them, and we must clarify the matter."
His wording was subtle.
But Jörg saw through it at once.
The other party wanted to use this excuse to protect several senior cadres of the German Communist Party.
After all, if they offered no protection at all, Soviet Russia's influence over Bolshevik parties across different countries would suffer a serious blow. Maintaining direct control over foreign communist parties required Moscow to prove that it would not casually abandon its people.
"No problem, Mr. Chicherin," Jörg said calmly. "Out of friendship, you may choose two German Communist Party members and take them away immediately. But if you want more than that, I believe you must offer something of equivalent value."
Chicherin knew very well that Jörg was not someone who could be fooled with a few diplomatic phrases.
After a moment of thought, he asked, "What do you want, Herr Chancellor?"
"Soviet Russia must cease all political infiltration inside Germany, stop supporting left-wing parties in Austria, and support German-Austrian integration."
Jörg's tone remained even.
"In return, I will provide you with a joint investigation list of one hundred people."
That sentence revealed a piece of information that was both surprising and reasonable.
Germany had not been satisfied by reclaiming Silesia.
Austria would inevitably be its next target.
But in Chicherin's eyes, even without German pressure, the merger between Germany and Austria would likely be completed by referendum under the force of the economic crisis. Agreeing to a commitment that cost Soviet Russia almost nothing in exchange for senior German Communist cadres was a worthwhile bargain.
"No problem, Herr Chancellor. I will convey your conditions."
Their hands met lightly in the air.
Jörg had originally intended to invite Chicherin to a private family dinner, but Lia leaned close and whispered a few words beside him. His brows tightened slightly.
Someone had arrived uninvited.
After giving Chicherin an apologetic look, Jörg quickly left for another reception room.
The moment he entered, he saw a familiar face.
Benito Mussolini.
Having just stepped off the plane, Mussolini was clearly dissatisfied with the reception he had received. He was leaning to one side, accusing the diplomat before him of failing to welcome him in advance and repeatedly declaring that such treatment was disrespectful toward the leader of a foreign nation.
Of course, he never mentioned that he had not notified anyone before coming.
When Jörg entered, Mussolini restrained his temper slightly. He scrutinized the young Chancellor for a moment, then sneered.
"Herr von Roman, it seems the Progress Party's method of factional struggle is to send military aircraft to bomb the gathering places of opposing parties into rubble."
Jörg's expression did not change.
"What does this have to do with Italy, Mr. Mussolini? A dictator who sent armed forces to Rome and dissolved Parliament hardly has the moral authority to say that my methods are excessive."
Seeing that he could not gain the upper hand with ridicule, Mussolini stated his purpose directly.
"Release Hill. Now. Immediately."
His voice sharpened.
"Many members of the Workers Party hold Italian nationality. You have no right to try them, much less execute them. This is an atrocity. A massacre."
"It is a trial against democratic forces."
Mussolini had originally planned to further support Hill's rise to power. For this purpose, he had sent a considerable number of Blackshirt cadres to Germany to help Hill organize and train the Brownshirts.
The loss of those people in Germany was not minor.
More importantly, it would damage his personal prestige.
For some reason, when Jörg heard Mussolini say the words "democratic forces," he nearly laughed.
"Mr. Mussolini, if you came all this way merely to interfere in another country's internal affairs, then I believe there is nothing for us to discuss."
His tone cooled.
"You have no right to demand that I change my decision. Even if I hang Hill today and send every extremist to the firing squad, that remains Germany's internal affair."
"If Italy wishes to interfere, there is only one path."
Jörg looked at him calmly.
"War."
A trace of embarrassment flashed across Mussolini's face.
He realized that pressure would not work. He wanted to soften his tone, but he could not bring himself to lower his head before a man so much younger than himself.
Thinking of his own status, he ultimately refused to yield.
"So there is nothing to discuss? You will regret this, young man. Do not think that winning one war means you can dominate Europe."
His eyes turned hard.
"The British may tolerate you. That does not mean France and I will."
With that, Mussolini flung his hand and stormed out.
Jörg watched him leave and shook his head.
He had never intended to establish a sincere relationship with Italy, nor did he hold any favorable impression of Mussolini. The other party's hostile attitude was entirely within expectations.
From the moment Jörg decided to eliminate the Workers Party, any real alliance between Germany and Italy had become impossible.
Not to mention, Jörg himself had territorial ambitions concerning Italy.
Only after Mussolini had gone far did Jörg turn to Lia.
"Lia, go to Austria and meet Karl Renner, the Father of Austria. Tell him that Germany supports Austria's renewed claim to Trieste and the Istrian Peninsula, which Italy seized."
His voice was calm, but every word carried weight.
"As long as Austria joins Germany, I will help him reclaim a Mediterranean port and turn Austria into both a land and maritime nation."
Lia nodded and rose to leave.
At that moment, Heydrich hurried over and whispered into Jörg's ear.
"Chancellor, the storm stirred up in America is beginning to take shape."
As he spoke, he handed a newspaper to Jörg.
Across the front page, a bold headline stood out with startling force.
"The Financial Culprits Behind the Economic Crisis!"
And this was not one of Ford's self-indulgent fringe tabloids.
It was the famous New York Times.
.....
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