Chapter 58: Joke
The next day, on Unter den Linden, entire apartment buildings had been requisitioned and assigned by the German government. As a result, the famous boulevard, already crowded with celebrities, aristocrats, and fashionable Berliners, had in recent weeks become even more congested with foreigners speaking in every imaginable accent.
After finishing the last telegram from New York, Dawes rubbed his tired eyes and set the needle on the phonograph. Soft piano music drifted through the room at once.
As the head of the delegation, his residence had been arranged at the junction between the eastern and western districts, where the view was among the best in the city. He removed his glasses and pushed open the window.
The faint sweetness of walnut trees drifted in with the evening air, easing some of the strain in his head.
Looking up, he saw hazy moonlight piercing the clouds and falling upon the equestrian statue of Frederick the Great, as though the old king still stood watch over the history of this country.
If the rising United States was an ambitious merchant dressed in splendid clothes, then Germany was a ruined old aristocrat. It still preserved a kind of dignity through sheer habit and inherited posture. Though faded and fraying, that elegance was something America, for all its wealth, still could not imitate.
"Mr. Dawes, the two guests have arrived."
Dawes nodded.
"Let them in. If this matter can be settled tonight, then our trip to Germany will finally be nearing its end, Brian. I hope that next time I return here, it will be in a very different capacity."
"You will, Mr. Dawes," his secretary said at once. "If this treaty succeeds, your name will be written into the record of history. It is too large an achievement for the Republican Party to ignore."
A match flared in the half dark.
Dawes lit a cigarette, switched off the phonograph, and gave a slight shrug.
"I hope so."
At the same moment, in the lobby downstairs, Jörg sat cross legged on a sofa near the entrance, while Jack Morgan, seated not far away, studied him with open curiosity.
According to the information Lohan had given him, a nobleman of Prussian blood and obvious talent ought, by temperament, to be proud, impulsive, and quick to anger. Yet the man sitting before him looked unnervingly composed.
Then Jörg opened the conversation first.
"Mr. Jack, do I look like a film actor to you?"
Jack was briefly caught off guard, then laughed.
"Mr. Roman, if you will allow me to speak frankly, you are far more handsome than a film actor. To be entrusted by a nation at your age, however, suggests that you are not an opponent to be taken lightly."
Their voices were low, almost casual, yet beneath the surface each word carried the feel of a probe. Even the faint crackle of burning tobacco seemed oddly loud between them.
"Merely good fortune," Jörg said.
Their exchange had lasted barely a few moments when the door opened again. Dawes's secretary stepped forward and gestured toward the stairs.
"Please come in, gentlemen. Mr. Dawes is waiting upstairs."
They rose together and followed him.
Up the wooden spiral staircase they went, until they reached the innermost study. The door had been left open.
Three glasses of red wine were already waiting on the round table. Three chairs had been arranged around it with almost ceremonial precision.
No one needed to ask why they were there.
Dawes, too tired to waste time on formalities, went straight to the point.
"Mr. Roman, since you came, I take it that Germany is prepared to make concessions regarding the State Bank."
Jörg nodded lightly.
"That is correct, Mr. Dawes. Although there is one small error in your wording. Our concession is not on the State Bank itself. It is on seats within the State Bank."
"Seats?" Dawes repeated.
He had barely spoken when Jack Morgan leaned forward and cut in.
"Mr. Roman, what we are asking for is not seats. We are asking for control of the German Bank. That is the entire point of this meeting. It seems youth is not always an advantage. Your hearing, at the very least, appears worse than mine."
The words were wrapped in humor, but the contempt in them was unmistakable.
Jack had expected at least a flicker of irritation. What he got instead was immediate retaliation.
"Forgive me, Mr. Jack," Jörg said smoothly, "but I speak German in Germany. My knowledge of Hebrew is, regrettably, not as refined as yours. Since you want the German Bank itself, then very well, from this moment onward, the German Bank is yours."
Dawes nearly blinked in surprise, but before the thought had even settled, Jörg calmly continued:
"As it happens, we have already decided to transfer the currency issuance rights to another institution. So yes, that building in the financial district may be yours, Mr. Jack. As for the remaining funds, I trust you will honor your promise?"
Jack's face stiffened instantly.
The contempt with which he had entered the room was cut in half by the sheer coldness of the response. He opened his mouth, clearly intending to drag the matter back to seats, voting rights, and technicalities, but Jörg merely smiled and gave him nothing to work with.
Seeing the air in the room tighten, Dawes hurriedly stepped in.
"It is possible," he said, forcing a diplomatic tone, "that I did not communicate the issue clearly enough. Mr. Roman, allow me to apologize. Let us return to the question of seats in the reorganized German Bank."
He turned toward Jörg.
"Mr. Jack is asking for one hundred seats. Can Germany accept that?"
Jörg lifted his glass and nodded almost at once.
"Certainly. One hundred seats is no problem at all. We were, in fact, considering expanding the total number of seats to one thousand. Since Mr. Jack seeks only one hundred, that is an extraordinary display of generosity."
"Mr. Roman," Dawes said with a pained expression, "please do not make jokes at a time like this."
Jörg looked at him over the rim of the glass.
"Was it not Mr. Jack who joked first? Still, if we are to be serious, Mr. Dawes, would you mind stepping outside for a while? I think Mr. Jack and I might speak more productively alone."
Dawes, who had long since grown exhausted by being battered between the two of them, seized the chance without hesitation.
"No problem at all. I will wait outside and look forward to hearing good news from both of you."
The door closed behind him.
Now only the two of them remained in the study.
Jörg set his glass down and looked at Jack with quiet precision.
"Mr. Jack, if I am not mistaken, you are not the only man interested in the German Bank. Mr. Lohan, I imagine, is the grey wolf hiding behind the curtains."
Jack did not answer directly. He only smiled.
"Could it not simply be that I myself am interested in entering the German banking world?"
Jörg returned the smile faintly.
"The German Bank is a fine piece of meat, but those most eager to seize it are usually those standing closest to the table."
He took another sip of wine, then continued in an even tone.
"To be perfectly candid, one third of the seats is our absolute limit. If anyone demands more than that, a different bloc of capital inside Germany will produce funds of its own in order to defend its dignity."
His voice remained calm, but the meaning was clear enough.
"At that point, whether you invest or not ceases to matter."
"So," Jack said, sitting up straighter, "you are telling me there is nothing left to discuss."
"That depends on you, Mr. Jack."
Jörg rested his chin lightly on one hand.
"I do not know exactly what Mr. Lohan has promised you. But I do know this. He cannot possibly give you more than one third of the seats. He does not control enough to do so."
Then his gaze sharpened, and his next words came with deliberate weight.
"But I can offer you something else. Something greater, something more profitable, and something far more expensive than whatever promise he placed before you."
.....
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