Chapter 53: Seeing Is Believing
Even under tight security at Hamburg Port, the crowd had not been fully dispersed. A fair number of laborers still mingled with the reporters outside the cordon, craning their necks and pressing forward in curiosity. Their lives were dull, stagnant, repetitive. A spectacle like this was enough to stir their blood. Some even entertained the absurd fantasy that, one day, they too might become important men in tailored suits.
Little did they know, the chance to climb upward was standing right in front of them.
"Buck, what are you staring at?"
A shaggy, broad-shouldered man grabbed him by the arm and tugged him out of the crowd.
"I don't want to waste the holiday the company finally gave us just standing here like idiots."
Buck, dressed in a Siemens work uniform so heavily patched it was more patch than cloth, let himself be dragged away in a daze. The two of them walked toward a fishing boat moored by the shore. Only after a while, as if something had finally clicked into place in his head, did Buck suddenly ask,
"York, did you see the flags on that ship clearly just now?"
York paused in the middle of straightening his fishing line. He gave it some thought, then shrugged.
"There were too many of them. I couldn't make out half. Why?"
He glanced at Buck, then smirked.
"Oh, I know that look. You're daydreaming again, aren't you?"
He jabbed him lightly with an elbow.
"So what is it this time? The tall one with the gun, or the handsome blond fellow?"
Usually Buck would have laughed that off or muttered a curse in reply.
This time he didn't.
Instead, he asked with an unusual seriousness, "York, do you remember what the supervisor was muttering before the holiday? About some important people coming to inspect the company?"
York nodded vaguely, not seeing where this was going.
Buck's eyes were lit with something feverish now.
"I think those people are here to invest."
York stared at him for a second, then burst out laughing.
"Invest? In us?"
He shook his head as if Buck had said something truly ridiculous.
"It's only been a few years since the war ended. Where would foreigners get the spare money to pour into Germany? I'm telling you, this is probably just some official visit. All show, no substance. Boring as hell."
He climbed partway into the little boat, then looked back.
"That bespectacled gentleman who got off the ship, maybe he's some prince or banker or whatever. Makes no difference to us. Come on already. Catch a few fish, earn a little extra for the house. Your wife just had a baby, didn't she? Money's leaking out of your pockets from every direction."
He pushed the boat loose.
Water slapped against the hull and splashed onto Buck's face. But instead of cooling him down, it only poured oil onto the fire already burning inside him.
He took a deep breath.
Then another.
Finally, as though he had made a decision that would either ruin him or save him, he set down his fishing rod and shook his head.
"I'm not coming."
York blinked. "What?"
Buck looked at him squarely.
"I'm going to take a gamble."
His voice grew firmer with every word.
"I don't want to spend my whole life rotting in a factory and fishing on holidays. Siemens stock is dirt cheap right now. If I mortgage everything, even the house, I can buy a lot."
He extended a hand.
"Come with me."
For a moment York froze.
On one side was the little fishing boat drifting farther from shore.
On the other was Buck's outstretched hand.
The six-foot laborer stood there looking more helpless than a child. He looked at the boat. Then at Buck. Then back at the boat again.
In the end, fear won.
"My son is still in school," he muttered. "I can't. I just… can't."
Buck studied him for a moment, then slowly nodded. He did not argue. He did not try to persuade him again.
Instead, he turned and ran.
Within moments, he vanished into the crowd.
York remained where he was, one hand still gripping the side of the boat, staring blankly after him.
Then he looked down at the tiny vessel bobbing on the gray water and felt, for reasons he could not quite explain, as though he had just let something enormous slip through his fingers.
…
Once the inspection team formally settled in, economic investigations were launched across Germany's major industrial cities.
The giant web of lies Jörg had woven was now entering its final test. Would it catch a whale, or merely a shrimp?
Siemens Factory.
Dawes moved slowly through one cavernous assembly hall after another. The deeper he went, the stronger the strange feeling in his chest became.
Something was off.
The discrepancy between his own estimates and what he was seeing with his own eyes was simply too large. Too large to dismiss as error. If sight truly was the best evidence, then Siemens alone seemed to possess nearly twice the industrial capacity he had expected.
That was not merely surprising.
That was absurd.
Had he misjudged Germany so badly?
With a lift of his hand, he signaled the accompanying Siemens personnel to halt. Then, ignoring the eager explanations already forming on their lips, he walked on alone toward a sealed production line.
Through the window, he could see rows of machine tools inside, many of them rusting, many looking half dead, little better than scrap.
His suspicion deepened.
He stopped a uniformed doorman nearby and asked casually, "Those machines in there look like they're rotting into junk. You still keep them in service?"
Behind him, several Siemens managers stiffened at once.
The doorman, however, did not panic. He shook his head naturally.
"No, sir. Those were originally transferred in from the border districts. They were damaged during the war and never fully repaired, so they were stored here. Once management approves the funds, they'll be brought back into operation."
It was a clean explanation. Too clean.
Dawes looked at him closely and asked, "You're a doorman. You know all that?"
The question struck like a hammer.
The executives behind them nearly stopped breathing.
But the doorman only smiled with the tired weariness of a worker used to surviving by doing everything.
"Of course, sir. The company is too poor to let anyone keep to one task anymore. Men like me have to do three jobs if we want to eat. If you like, I can even take you inside and show you. I know every machine number in that hall by heart."
Then he added, with just the right measure of bitterness, "That's what this damned economic crisis does to people."
His confidence, his tone, even the resentment in his voice, all of it felt genuine.
Dawes could only nod slightly.
Whether he liked it or not, the facts in front of him forced him, at least for the moment, to accept the result.
"No need," he said at last.
He turned and walked back to the delegation, casting one last look at the smokestack in the distance, black smoke still billowing steadily into the sky.
The dinner invitation offered by Siemens was politely declined. A moment later, he stepped into his car.
The auditing secretary seated beside him looked just as perplexed.
"Zealand," Dawes said after a pause, "what do you make of it?"
The secretary adjusted his spectacles and shook his head.
"I dislike admitting it, sir, but based on what we've seen, their capacity really does appear to be that high. I suggest we inspect several more firms the same way. If all of them exceed our estimates by this margin…"
He hesitated briefly before finishing.
"Then the two hundred million reserve will be nowhere near enough. We may need to double it."
Dawes did not answer immediately. Instead, he voiced the suspicion that had been gnawing at him from the start.
"What if Germany is faking all of it?"
The secretary rejected the idea almost at once.
"But why would they?"
He leaned forward slightly.
"We are providing loans, not gifts. Every dollar must be repaid, with interest. If they exaggerate their capacity and force up the loan amount, they will only be deepening their own debt burden."
He spread his hands.
"What would be the logic in that?"
Could it be that they never intended to repay it?
The thought crossed Dawes's mind for the briefest instant, then vanished again. In the present international order, unless Europe descended into complete chaos, Germany would never dare openly default.
No.
The simpler answer was that he had underestimated them.
That conclusion settled uneasily in his mind, but it settled all the same.
After a moment, he added a safeguard.
"Zealand, verify the schools as well. If Germany truly possesses this scale of industrial base, then it must also possess a correspondingly large educated labor force and consumer population. If those numbers match…"
He looked out the window for a moment before continuing.
"Then it is our estimate that is wrong."
He turned back sharply.
"Call Jack Morgan. Then send a telegram to the President. We need more capital held in reserve. Five hundred million would be a safer figure."
The secretary nodded, taking down every instruction, then stepped out and entered another vehicle to begin the work.
Back at the factory entrance, the Siemens managers watched the departing cars until they were certain the inspection party was truly gone.
Only then did they exhale.
Their shoulders loosened. Their expressions thawed.
Several of them turned toward the doorman who had just carried their entire deception on his back.
One of them stepped forward, clapped him heavily on the shoulder, and said with a grin,
"You're not a doorman anymore."
Another laughed and added, "Report to headquarters tomorrow."
.....
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