Chapter 68: Undercurrent
Soft snowflakes drifted onto President Ebert's shoulders.
As he settled into the back seat, the distinct scent of leather filling the car drew an involuntary yawn from him. The moment the engine started, an inexplicable wave of drowsiness swept through his mind.
He leaned against the car door, his head tilting to one side, and then his vision went completely black.
"Mr. President? Mr. President?"
At first, the secretary assumed Ebert had merely fallen asleep. He leaned closer and called out several times, but when there was still no response, a chill ran down his spine.
His hand touched Ebert's forehead.
The burning heat startled him so badly that his face changed at once. He immediately shouted at the driver, and the car sped toward the hospital.
Two days later, evening fell over the outskirts of Berlin.
A brown Mercedes rolled to a slow stop in front of a wooden house.
As Bogg looked at the cavalrymen mounted outside, he drew in a deep breath. To be honest, he had never expected Drew to invite him to such a gathering.
A senior officer of the Army and the Mayor of Berlin ought to have had little to do with one another. More importantly, he had heard enough rumors about Drew to know one thing clearly. The old man deeply disliked another figure whom Bogg now had no choice but to take seriously: Jörg.
From that alone, Bogg had already guessed the purpose of tonight's meeting.
Drew most likely wanted to draw him into his camp.
Bogg had neither affection nor hatred for Jörg. His reason for coming was far simpler than ideology. He had merely chosen a side after weighing the balance of power.
In his eyes, a young man like Jörg could never truly contend with an old Army giant like Drew.
In short, after measuring the risks and benefits, he had chosen to stand with Drew.
He stepped out of the car and, under the guidance of an attendant, approached the wooden house. The moment the door opened, the rich aroma of roast meat mixed with a trace of beer drifted into his nose.
He went farther inside.
A whole roasted suckling pig had been laid across the square table. Its skin, baked to a crisp, had already been split open by a hunting knife, and the glistening fat made it almost impossible not to salivate.
Yet despite such an irresistible dish, not one person at the table had touched a fork.
Only Drew stood there, a carving knife in hand, calmly slicing the pig.
"Mayor Bogg. You're late."
As he glanced around, Bogg immediately recognized several faces.
There were a few radical right wing royalist members of parliament, two provincial governors, and three senior figures currently serving in government. The rest he did not know well, but judging by their demeanor, they were almost certainly officers aligned with Drew's faction.
For the first time, Bogg felt not excitement, but a crawling nervousness.
"My apologies, Mr. Drew. The snow has been unusually heavy this year. It delayed the road."
"It's fine. Sit down. You are one of the main guests tonight."
Drew pulled out a wooden chair himself and motioned for Bogg to take it.
Such treatment from a man of Drew's stature would have delighted many people. To Bogg, however, it felt more like stepping onto thin ice.
"I'm honored to receive your invitation, Mr. Drew. I only regret that I came in such haste that I wasn't able to bring a proper gift. Next time I certainly…"
Drew lifted a hand and cut him off.
"There's no need, Bogg. You are a smart man, and everyone at this table is a smart man. The moment you accepted this invitation, you had already made your choice. You are standing against Jörg."
He carved another slice of meat as he spoke, his tone casual, almost conversational.
"Some of the people here cannot tolerate his behavior. They believe his reckless rise threatens their interests, and that his absurd theories will drag Germany into the abyss.
"Others simply want political gain."
His eyes settled on Bogg.
"I think you belong to the second category. Don't you?"
Bogg gave an awkward smile.
The bluntness of it shattered the speech he had prepared on the way over. He sat down, accepted the carved meat Drew placed before him, and decided there was no point pretending otherwise.
"You're right, Mr. Drew. In that case, let me ask directly. What can you offer me?"
"Your son just graduated from university, didn't he? Let him enter the Army. I guarantee his rise will be no slower than Jörg's was.
"As for you, once this matter is finished, there will be a ministerial seat waiting for you in the cabinet."
The meat in Bogg's mouth instantly lost its flavor.
The offer was indeed tempting.
Too tempting.
But more than the reward, he wanted to know the cost.
Drew seemed to read his thoughts without effort.
"Don't worry. Your task is the simplest one here. In Army terms, it's no more difficult than using mules to haul ammunition."
He placed the knife down.
"I want you to remove Vito from his position as head of the Berlin Police."
The moment he heard that, Bogg shook his head almost violently.
"If it were anyone else, perhaps. But not him. The Berlin police no longer answer to me the way they once did. And Vito is not someone I can casually dismiss.
"Jörg served in the Berlin Police Department for a time. Vito used to be his subordinate. Their relationship is extremely close. He will not obey."
"It is precisely because he will not obey that I want you to issue the order."
Drew's voice remained as calm as before.
"Only by escalating the matter can we draw in people with enough weight to push this to its conclusion.
"It does not matter whether the police obey or not. You need not concern yourself with that. Call the Reichswehr General Staff Headquarters immediately and have them connect you to Seckt."
He leaned slightly forward.
"Say nothing unnecessary. Just report the following. The police are refusing government orders, and they are attempting a coup. Request Army intervention."
By now, Bogg could more or less see Drew's intended direction, and it made his scalp prickle.
"Mr. Drew… you cannot possibly be thinking of seizing power?"
He lowered his voice instinctively.
"I must remind you, any serious Army deployment still requires President Ebert's approval."
"No," Drew said flatly. "Not seizing power. Only cleaning up a few particularly irritating cockroaches."
Then his eyes narrowed.
"And who told you President Ebert is still in a position to refuse?"
For the first time that evening, Bogg felt his heart tighten.
"Don't you find it odd," Drew continued, "that there has been almost no public news of the President for two days?"
Bogg stared at him.
Drew's tone did not rise, yet each word seemed heavier than the last.
"To be frank, Bogg, the President is gravely ill. According to the doctors, he may not live to see Christmas. Besides me, only the leaders of a few parties in parliament know this.
"This is our window."
"I can use the confusion to remove Jörg from the board while he is still in Norway, and you can collect your reward."
After a long silence, Bogg still shook his head.
"But Seckt values him highly. Everyone knows that. Why would Seckt suddenly abandon him?"
Drew smiled faintly.
"You do not need to concern yourself with Seckt. You only need to finish your part.
"So answer me one question. Do you accept?"
Bogg swallowed the last bite of meat with some difficulty.
Then he asked his final question.
"When?"
"The day before Christmas."
Silence settled over the table like frost.
After some time, Bogg finally nodded.
"I'll do as you asked."
He stood.
"I won't stay to eat. During this period, it is best if we have as little contact as possible. Goodbye, Mr. Drew."
Drew watched his back as he departed, and the corners of his mouth flattened.
"Coward."
He turned to a trusted subordinate standing nearby.
"Have someone keep an eye on him."
Then, after a pause, he added,
"And confirm once more. Jörg is still in Norway, correct?"
The subordinate immediately placed a newspaper before him.
"Yes, sir."
Drew lowered his head and looked at the paper.
Across the page was a photograph from the Nobel ceremony, accompanied by one of the more ridiculous descriptions the press had recently come up with.
Angel.
A trace of disdain flashed through Drew's eyes.
"Angel? What nonsense."
He gave a cold snort.
'Exiled angel' would suit him better."
He folded the paper shut.
"I hope he is clever enough to realize that his only path now is to remain abroad. If he foolishly returns, then he can hardly blame me for being ruthless."
His voice turned colder.
"Make sure the news remains suppressed. Under no circumstances is he to learn of the President's condition."
The subordinate bowed his head at once.
"Yes, sir."
.....
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