novelAbuy Chapter 46 Prohibitions and Choices
Chapter 46 Prohibitions and Choices
The rain in London always seemed to fall at just the right time, as if even the weather was creating the atmosphere for the empire's decision-making. In the MI5 basement, the cigar smoke was so thick it was almost impossible to breathe.
"The chain of evidence is complete."
Sir William Melville tapped the table, the sound particularly heavy in the confined space. As the head of MI5, he had seen far too many secrets, but the report before him still made his fingers tremble slightly.
Colonel Hall from the Naval Intelligence Office pushed three files over, the papers sliding softly across the table.
"First, French Navy Vice Admiral Dubois and his technical team traveled to Djibouti two weeks ago under the guise of a 'mining expedition,' but their destination was the Persian Gulf."
Holden paused, his gaze sweeping over the other five people in the room. Everyone stared at him, but no one interrupted.
"Secondly, we intercepted a coded telegram from Basra to Paris, which mentioned that 'the technical specifications were astonishing' and 'it is recommended to sign the contract immediately.'"
He took a deep breath and opened the last file.
"Third, our inside sources at the Port of Rotterdam confirmed that at least twelve ships carrying special machinery have been shipped to the Persian Gulf over the past three months. The shippers were all shell companies in Germany, and the consignees were listed as 'Lanfang Trading Company'."
Only the low hum of the ventilation system remained in the room.
The young mathematical genius, Charles Brent, adjusted his glasses, his voice soft yet piercing the silence like a needle: "This means three things. First, the Germans are arming that Chinese force; second, the French are joining the game; third…"
He looked up, his eyes behind his glasses gleaming with the light he only showed when analyzing data.
"Third, that man named Chen Feng is simultaneously doing arms deals with two major European countries. And he did it quietly, only to be discovered now."
Melville stubbed out his cigar and stood up, the chair making a screeching sound.
"No, there are four things." His voice was icy. "Fourth, in the heart of the Indian Ocean, the Royal Navy has an uncontrolled arsenal capable of building dreadnoughts."
He grabbed the report from the table.
"Hall, prepare a briefing. I need to see the Prime Minister within an hour. Brent, continue analyzing all the cargo ship data for the Persian Gulf; I need to know exactly how much cargo they've transported there."
"Yes, sir."
"Furthermore," Melville said, walking to the door and glancing back at the smoke-filled room, "this matter remains top secret. Not a single word is to be divulged until the Prime Minister makes a decision."
The atmosphere in the Cabinet meeting room at 10 Downing Street was even more somber than in the basement of MI5.
"I told you so!"
Lord John Fisher slammed his fist on the mahogany table, making several teacups clink. The First Sea Lord of the Royal Navy had bloodshot eyes, whether from lack of sleep or anger, it was hard to tell.
"I warned about this months ago! That corner of the Persian Gulf is turning into a powder keg! And now? The Germans have six Westphalian-class destroyers, the French are about to get new warships, and we—"
He grabbed the photos on the table and slammed them down in the middle.
"—We're still discussing the budget!"
The photo shows the HMS Intrepid in the Portsmouth shipyard, surrounded by scaffolding. Next to it is a photo of the German ship Westphalia receiving cheers from the crowds in Kiel.
The contrast is so stark it's almost blinding.
Chancellor of the Exchequer Herbert Henry Asquith rubbed his temples wearily, his voice filled with helplessness: "John, now is not the time to assign blame. The question is, what do we do?"
"What to do?" Fisher almost laughed. "It's simple, do two things. First, a complete blockade. Notify India, Australia, South Africa, Singapore—all imperial colonies and spheres of influence—to prohibit any strategic materials from flowing into the Persian Gulf. Steel, coal, rubber, precision machine tools…not even a single screw is allowed!"
Asquith's brow furrowed even more: "That would severely impact the colonies' trade revenue, and..."
"Second!" Fisher raised his voice, interrupting the Chancellor of the Exchequer. "Dispatch the fleet. Form a deterrent squadron centered around HMS Dauntless and immediately proceed to the Persian Gulf. Let that Chen Feng see for himself that the naval power of the British Empire cannot be challenged by a few secretly built warships!"
Foreign Secretary Marquess Langston shook his head: "This would trigger a conflict. If the Germans or the French get involved..."
“They won’t.” Fisher turned around, placed his hands on the table, and leaned forward like a lion poised to pounce. “The Germans want us and that Chinese force to weaken each other, while the French, not yet having the ships, dare not make any rash moves. This is the best window of opportunity—to nip it in the bud before it truly becomes a threat.”
Prime Minister Sir Henry Campbell-Bannaman remained silent, his fingers tapping lightly on the table. The Liberal leader, known for his moderate approach, now had a gaze as sharp as a knife.
"Lord Fisher, are you sure that 'Lanfang' really has the capability to build dreadnoughts? Or that the Germans have already built the ships and are just using their name to divert attention?"
“I’m sure.” Fisher pulled another document from his briefcase. “This is the conclusion of a joint analysis by MI5 and Naval Intelligence. The population on the southern coast of the Persian Gulf has increased from less than ten thousand to over three hundred thousand in the past three years, all of them Chinese. They’ve built power plants, steel mills, deep-water wharves, and are exporting crude steel and chemical products. Most importantly…”
He opened the document and pointed to the photos on it.
"This was filmed by our people at great risk. Although it's blurry, you can tell that it's at least two hundred meters long, in a dry dock. Its size far exceeds that of any active warship."
A low gasp filled the conference room.
Campbell-Bannaman slowly scanned the room, his gaze lingering on the faces of each cabinet member for a moment.
"Let's vote," he said calmly. "Raise your hand if you support the Fisher proposal."
Fisher was the first to raise his hand, his action as decisive as if he were issuing a battle order.
Lord Secretary of State for War, Sir Richard Burden, hesitated for a moment, then raised his hand. As the head of the Army, he knew all too well the immense pressure that would be placed on homeland defense if the Navy lost its superiority.
Trade Commission Chairman Joseph Chamberlain looked at the Prime Minister, then at Fisher, and finally slowly raised his arm.
All eyes were on Asquith.
The Chancellor of the Exchequer sighed, his voice weary: "I need to remind everyone of the financial costs of doing this..."
"Let's vote by raising hands, Herbert," Campbell-Bannaman interrupted him.
Asquith was silent for a few seconds before finally raising his hand.
"Five votes in favor, zero votes against," the Prime Minister announced. "Fischer, you are fully responsible for the blockade and deterrence operations. Lenstown, send a note to Germany and France, in strong but reserved language."
He paused, then added, "Tell the French that if they insist on going through with this deal, the British Empire will reassess cooperation in all areas."
A cold smile crept across Fisher's lips. He knew the weight of those words—they meant that Britain could change its stance on everything from the Moroccan question to colonial borders.
Meeting adjourned.