Chapter 65: Political Investment
A month later, at Oslo City Hall in Norway.
As one of the old Viking lands of Northwestern Europe, Norway no longer possessed the brilliance the Nordic world had once carried, nor did it command much weight on the stage of world politics. Compared with its neighbor, Soviet Russia, it seemed almost quiet, almost modest.
But the cold here was anything but modest.
It was only the beginning of December, yet heavy snow had already buried every corner of Oslo beneath a vast white silence. Smoke rose from chimneys into the pale sky, and the tall birch trees surrounding the city stood like sentries wrapped in frost. The whole place looked as though it had been lifted straight from the brush of Alfred Sisley, a living fragment of Snow at Louveciennes.
Jörg wiped the mist from the window with the back of his glove and quietly tightened the black wool sweater beneath his thick overcoat. The glass was crusted with tiny ice crystals. Looking at it alone was enough to make one's nose ache from the cold.
He knew little about Norway.
In his memory, the country was not defined by politics, which were far less dramatic than those of the great powers surrounding it. Only two things truly stood out to him.
The Northern Lights.
And the Nobel Peace Prize.
Everyone knew that the Nobel Prizes were awarded in two cities. Stockholm, the capital of Sweden, hosted the scientific honors, the prizes that carried the highest prestige in chemistry, physics, and medicine. Oslo, on the other hand, hosted the Nobel Peace Prize, an award that often resembled a political performance more than anything else.
Noticing Jörg's gaze lingering outside the window, Mandor assumed the young man was tense and lightly patted his shoulder.
"Do not worry."
Jörg turned his head and smiled faintly.
"Don't worry, Herr Minister. I'm not nervous. I was only thinking."
Mandor nodded, but his own bearing remained impeccable despite the subzero weather. He still looked every inch the Minister of Commerce, as composed and polished as ever. His suit was immaculate, his tie properly fastened, his leather shoes polished to a mirror sheen, and the gold inlaid cane resting at his knee seemed less a walking aid than another emblem of rank.
Jörg studied him for a moment, then asked the one question that had genuinely been on his mind.
"Herr Mandor, aren't you cold?"
The older man clearly had not expected that.
A smile touched his otherwise serious face.
"Instead of worrying about my health, you should worry about what you'll say to the reporters later. Dawes invited quite a few of them."
He clicked his tongue in annoyance.
"A perfectly respectable ceremony has been turned into a press conference by that man."
His tone was full of disdain. He had always disliked such unannounced theatrics. To him, Americans were all rather alike in that regard.
Unpredictable. Restless. Forever dressing opportunism up as boldness.
The British would have called them uncultivated barbarians who had accidentally become rich.
And yet, those same barbarians had now become the world's leading power, and Germany's single greatest source of investment.
History had a vicious sense of humor.
"It's understandable," Jörg said calmly. "Herr Dawes worked very hard for his inspection tour in Germany. And with the 1924 American election approaching, he needs enough political capital to secure the vice presidential nomination."
He shifted his gaze back to the frozen city beyond the window.
"A Nobel Peace Prize, by itself, is not what matters. What matters is making sure every American remembers that he won one."
Mandor gave a low hum of acknowledgment, but Jörg continued before he could speak.
"And besides, Herr Mandor, the more famous Dawes becomes, the more people will buy Dawes Stock. The more people buy Dawes Stock, the more foreign exchange flows into Germany. And the more foreign exchange Germany receives, the faster the economy develops."
He smiled slightly.
"That is what one would call a win win."
At that, Mandor leaned back against the seat and folded both hands over the head of his cane.
"I see," he said. "So you are not truly pleased about the economy at all. You are pleased about the army."
Jörg accepted the offered cigarette, leaned forward, and lit it. Smoke curled up between them.
"It is all the same thing, Herr Mandor. A strong economy allows the military to develop. A strong military protects the economy. They depend on one another."
Mandor said nothing for a moment. Then he tilted his head and studied him in silence, like a man weighing not merely a reply, but a final test.
"You are very persuasive," he said at last. "And you have your own way of looking at international affairs. Tell me, what is your view of American politics and the American economy?"
"As for politics, there are too many variables," Jörg replied. "I would rather not speak carelessly."
He tapped ash into the tray.
"But as for the economy, I believe that after today America will truly enter the Roaring Twenties."
Mandor's expression shifted slightly.
"And Britain's position as the center of the world economy," Jörg continued, "will be replaced by America."
Mandor slowly nodded.
"As I thought."
He had been about to offer some comment of his own, but Jörg's tone changed.
"However, when something reaches its extreme, decline begins."
Mandor looked at him sharply.
"This prosperity is not limitless. Economic overheating will make people increasingly addicted to speculation, increasingly intoxicated by the fantasy that stocks can transform clerks into millionaires overnight."
Jörg's eyes grew colder.
"The balloon will only grow larger, and the larger it grows, the more devastating the collapse will be. When it bursts, the abyss beneath it will not swallow America alone. It will pull the whole world down with it."
Mandor fell silent.
"Which is why," Jörg said, "I have one request. Dawes Stock must be subject to purchase limits inside Germany. The economy can run hot, but someone must still think to open the windows."
Mandor did not answer immediately.
At first there was disbelief in his eyes, but then calculation began to replace it. He turned the idea over and over in his mind until the doubt gradually sharpened into astonishment.
"How did you come to that conclusion?" he asked quietly. "An instinct? A guess? And even if America's economy overheats, how does that drag the whole world down with it?"
But even before he finished the question, the answer had already begun forming in his own head.
Credit.
Capital flows.
Linked trade.
Foreign markets.
His expression changed.
"Genius," he murmured.
Then, after a pause, he gave a helpless shake of his head.
"I almost regret not letting Lia pursue you more aggressively. But perhaps that chance never really existed for the Mandor family in the first place."
There was a certain resignation in his tone now.
"The moment you began revealing your true ability, your marriage was no longer something private. It became something political. Perhaps even dynastic."
He drew a slow breath.
"Let me remind you of something, Jörg. There are people in the Reichswehr who want to bring you down. There are quite a few in the government as well."
"I know," Jörg replied.
"Caution is always the better path," Mandor said. "If one day you encounter something you cannot resolve, or if you need someone to move on your behalf, come to me. I still have some influence in the government, and I still have ties to several major industrial families and landowners."
Jörg did not miss the meaning behind the offer.
One more investor meant one more ally.
And one more ally meant one more shield.
That was valuable from every angle.
But he also knew that no political investment came without a price.
He turned his head and asked with a small smile,
"And what would you like in return?"
Mandor seemed unsurprised by the question. At this point he was already accustomed to Jörg's almost unnerving political instincts.
"No," he said. "Not much. I have only one request."
His eyes did not leave Jörg's face.
"I do not dare hope that Lia becomes your wife. But in time, I want her to become your right hand in the Foreign Ministry."
He paused.
"Do you agree?"
Jörg took the cigarette Mandor offered him, lit it, and answered with a faint laugh.
"I agree."
.....
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