Chapter 266: All Roads Lead to the Same Destination
Early the next morning.
Times Square.
Top floor of [American Forward].
The luxuriously decorated office had been completely emptied in the name of investigation. The only things Merson had left were a chair and a radio.
At this moment, he was taking small sips of coffee.
From the radio, President Garner's voice echoed through the empty office.
"Ladies and gentlemen, and all American citizens who hold gratitude for President Roosevelt, today I announce this sorrowful news to society and to America."
"President Roosevelt encountered an assassination on his way to his inauguration speech."
"He was a great, humorous, yet terrifyingly persistent President. He led the American people through the most difficult time, yet did not live to see America's best day."
"May he rest well in heaven."
The voice paused slightly.
Then the tone of grief suddenly rose.
"After thorough investigation, we have found that this was not a simple assassination born of personal will, but a political provocation."
"Similar provocations have occurred many times over the past year."
"We once thought that embracing others would bring peace."
"We once thought that missionary-like benevolence could influence the Americas."
"But we were wrong."
"We were completely wrong."
"Only force. Only the sword can bring them what they want, and bring us what we want."
"I swear as President of the United States, by my own life and honor, that after holding the state funeral for President Roosevelt, since they want war, then let war come."
Static crackled.
The radio was turned off.
Merson did not speak.
He merely stood by the window and finished the coffee in one gulp.
Behind him, Ford silently stared at him.
After a long while, Ford finally spoke.
"Mr. Merson, my debt to Mr. von Roman is cleared, is it not?"
"You have no idea how many people want to investigate you."
"I also paid a great price in Mexico to help you forge evidence."
Merson smiled and shook his head.
"Mr. Ford, do you know something?"
"One thing I have always liked about businessmen is that they always prioritize interests."
He looked at Ford through the reflection in the window.
"Just like small countries."
Three days later, New York, the city where Roosevelt had once served, held a grand memorial ceremony for the fallen President.
Slogans reading [Mexicans, Get Out of America] could be seen everywhere.
Roosevelt's death had evolved into a war between the Americas.
The winner was already foreseeable.
It would inevitably be America.
But there was only one true winner on the international stage.
Germany.
Almost at the same time, the trade embargo was abolished, and German-American relations returned to normal.
The American eagle, eager to use the President's assassination as a reason to pacify the Americas, was temporarily too busy to reach into Europe.
Too busy to reach into the world.
Aid to Britain was merely aid.
And this was exactly the result Jörg wanted.
The Internal and External Intelligence Department had turned the world into one small puppet after another.
And he was the puppeteer who held the strings.
Of course, Germany was not the only country to notice that the bald eagle was about to fall into a short-term quagmire of war.
Japan also began turning its gaze toward Southeast Asia.
Berlin.
Cardolan was chatting happily with several special agents from foreign trade companies.
"Mr. Cardolan, we can help Germany transport Brazil's iron ore."
One of the agents leaned forward and spoke with practiced sincerity.
"We can use American cargo ships to transport it to America first, then transship it to Norway."
"On the surface, everything will be legal and compliant. Norway is a neutral country. We are doing business with Norwegians, and the British Navy has no right to confiscate our goods under the pretext of war."
"Especially since the White House is currently transfusing blood to Britain as well. They would not dare offend American cargo ships."
The man smiled.
"Moreover, Mr. Cardolan, we also have many friends in American agriculture and industry. They are also very willing to do business with Germany."
The office was filled with smoke.
Both sides were shrewd men.
Cardolan naturally understood their purpose.
"What do you want?"
"Some mineral origins."
The lead agent answered without hesitation.
"Plus a few insignificant colonial markets previously controlled by the British."
Cardolan took a deep drag from his cigarette, then asked, "Actually, I have always had a question, Mr. Labute."
"You want so many things. Why not take them yourselves?"
"You have influence in the military, and you can speak in the current White House."
Labute smiled faintly.
"Because America does not like intervening in wars."
"And the military prefers to subdue the mad dog of Mexico first."
On the other side.
The President's office.
The relaxed international environment gradually smoothed the wrinkles at the corners of Jörg's eyes.
Now, Germany only needed to solve the last trouble.
Britain.
The resilience of a vast empire was terrifying.
Before surrendering, it would definitely make almost insane attempts to seek an opportunity to break the deadlock.
And when it finally saw no hope, its collapse would also be particularly thorough.
To be honest, even Jörg had not expected Churchill to hold on for this long.
But as he looked at the map, he understood that if Britain lost the wars in the Middle East and Spain again, Churchill would have nowhere left to retreat.
Behind him was a bottomless cliff.
No matter what he did, he could not stop the day of collapse from arriving.
What would happen then?
Would Britain, like France, elect a surrender Prime Minister to lead the British Isles?
Where could the resistance faction and the royal family go this time?
Iceland?
Australia?
Or Canada?
Jörg did not know.
He only felt that the similar endings of Britain and France were particularly interesting.
Supporting himself with both hands on the map table, he looked down.
The location of the tungsten mining region in Spain was particularly eye-catching.
Churchill had invested heavy troops in Portugal.
And those heavy troops had already arrived.
Spain, Madrid.
After years of reconstruction, the wounds of the civil war were still aching.
Now, Spain had welcomed another war.
Manstein sat in the back of a military vehicle, quietly observing Madrid through the window.
Churches.
Breezes.
Posters and statues praising José could be seen everywhere.
Words such as [Great Savior] and [Messiah] appeared so frequently that Manstein had to desperately suppress the corners of his mouth.
Although Berlin also had political propaganda, it was far less exaggerated than Spain's.
The Führer had always disliked this sort of theatrical personal praise.
In Heinz Guderian's words, the Führer always knew what he needed, where the limits of his abilities lay, and what he could bring to Germany.
He rarely needed such groundless things.
If the Führer was a dictator, then at the very least, he was a low-key and enlightened dictator.
Manstein tightened the collar of his military uniform.
The annual replacement of uniforms should have taken place by now, but war with Britain inevitably led to shortages of materials, especially wool.
However, Manstein had heard that this problem was already on its way to being solved.
Seeing this military expert from Germany staring silently out the window, José, who was also the commander in chief, could not sit still.
He kept introducing the current situation.
"Mr. Manstein, two British armored divisions captured two important strongholds in the tungsten mining region yesterday evening."
"The Portuguese are very good at taking advantage of trouble."
"While our main force was assisting in the defense of the tungsten mining region, they launched attacks from both Salamanca and Seville."
"In recent days, we have gradually lost air superiority."
"The British have dispatched a large number of aircraft to concentrate on bombing the tungsten mining region."
José's expression became solemn.
"This is Germany's resource, and even more so, Mr. von Roman's property."
"For the sake of friendship between Spain and Germany, we are still holding on even under enemy air attacks."
José put on an expression of sacrificing everything for Germany, as if Spain could abandon the tungsten mining region at any moment if not for Germany's sake.
Manstein gradually built a map in his mind.
He waved his hand.
The adjutant in the front seat immediately passed him a map.
Portugal did not possess Spain's strategic depth.
Its narrow, straight shape was like a baguette.
If the First and Second Armies of the Western Front were sent to the tungsten mining region to clash head-on with the British, it would not change the fact that the mining region could not resume production.
Instead, they would fall into a long and bitter battle, further delaying the reopening of the mines.
But if one jumped out of this thinking of "you attack, I defend," then everything would become different.
Starting from Salamanca, occupying Porto, then driving south straight toward Lisbon.
Manstein did not believe the British Army would refuse to return and defend.
As long as they returned to defend, it would be equivalent to withdrawing from the tungsten mining region.
And as long as they withdrew, the Spanish troops closing in around the tungsten mining region would turn the Lisbon area into a new encirclement.
.....
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