Chapter 389: Another Battlefield
Negotiations went smoothly. Charles traded 30 "Camel" fighter planes for five artillery production lines, three of which were dismantled and shipped from England.
Of course, Charles wouldn't deliver all 30 "Camels" at once. He specified in the contract that until the three production lines arrived in Paris and were successfully operational, the planes would remain in a "training state," used to teach British pilots and maintenance crews.
After all, the person he was dealing with was the First Lord of the Admiralty, whose infamous ruthlessness was recognized worldwide. It was this very man who, post-World War II, caused the deaths of nearly ten million Indians through starvation.
When negotiating with such an unscrupulous and formidable individual, Charles had to exercise extra caution.
...
The afternoon following the contract signing, Charles returned to the small town of Davaus.
Instead of going home, Charles headed directly to the tractor factory to find Djoka.
Perhaps out of habit, Djoka treated the tractor factory as his headquarters, even though there was also an aircraft factory and a newspaper office in Paris.
Djoka left the management of Steed’s armament factory largely untouched, trusting that as long as Charles maintained his military dominance, Steed wouldn’t "turn coat."
Still, the combined responsibilities of the various factories kept Djoka extremely busy. Recently, he was also managing acquisitions of bankrupt or struggling insurance companies to enter the insurance industry. This left him no time even for a sip of coffee. Some days, he worked overnight without going home, despite living just a stone’s throw away.
Camille couldn't help but complain:
"I’ve heard our assets have surpassed hundreds of millions. Don’t you think that’s enough?"
"Why do we need so much money? It’s not like we’re eating different food or living in different houses."
"This will never end. I don’t understand the point of it all!"
...
Seated at the dining table, Djoka sipped onion soup while flipping through a newspaper. To enter the insurance industry, he needed to stay updated on every social event, even a single fire.
As for Camille's words, they went in one ear and out the other.
Noticing this, Camille angrily snatched the newspaper from his hands and raised her voice: "Did you hear me? You both—Charles and you—should take a break!"
Djoka stared at Camille, dumbfounded. It took him a while to process what she had just said.
"Take a break? Earned enough money?" Djoka shook his head solemnly. "No, Camille, it will never be enough. And now is certainly not the time to stop. You don’t understand; we’re fighting on another battlefield."
"Another battlefield?" Camille asked, puzzled.
"Yes," Djoka explained. "Many capitalists, both openly and secretly, are targeting Charles, even plotting against him. We’ve only just started gaining momentum. Charles has worked hard to intimidate those capitalists, and we must use this opportunity to grow stronger. And you’re asking us to rest?"
Djoka concluded, "We’re not doing this just for money, Camille. Or, you could say it is for money, but more importantly, it’s about fighting the capitalists. Do you understand? This battlefield is no less perilous than the real one Charles faces—it’s even more treacherous!"
Camille nodded hesitantly. She could sense the danger, realizing Djoka wasn’t exaggerating.
After some hesitation, Camille silently handed the newspaper back to Djoka and began clearing the dishes.
The competition among capitalists could indeed be called another battlefield. It was just as ruthless and bloody, only without the smoke of gunpowder.
Coming from a family of merchants, Djoka knew this all too well. That’s why he poured his heart and soul into managing the factories.
Sometimes, even Djoka himself found it ironic. He had distanced himself from the business world precisely because he despised its deceitfulness, yet now he had been unwittingly dragged back in—and was deeply entangled.
Was it because of Charles?
Perhaps at first.
But now, Djoka realized he was enjoying it.
It gave him a sense of self-worth. Watching those once-dominant capitalists fall behind and be defeated by him brought an inexplicable pride and satisfaction.
...
One day, while Djoka was busy directing the acquisition of Ninette Insurance Company over the phone, he was surprised to see Charles, in full military uniform, enter the office and wave at him.
Djoka quickly wrapped up his call and greeted him with a smile. "Finally have time to visit your own factory?"
As he spoke, Djoka glanced at Charles's rank insignia—two stars. It was the first time he’d seen Charles wearing a brigadier general’s insignia, and he couldn’t help but feel a mix of pride and envy.
The heights Charles had reached were ones he could never hope to attain in his lifetime.
(Originally, the French military had a one-star rank for brigade commanders, while the two-star brigadier general was often referred to as "Camp Marshal." Later, the one-star rank was abolished, and the two-star brigadier general became the rank for brigade commanders, skipping directly from the golden epaulettes of colonels to the two stars of brigadier generals.)
Near Djoka’s desk was an empty spot—Charles's desk. On it sat the lamp Charles had picked out when he first moved in.
If it weren’t for the books Charles often read still stacked on it, one might almost forget it was his desk.
Charles took the coffee handed to him by an assistant, sat down in his chair, and casually asked Djoka, "How’s the insurance acquisition going?"
"Very smoothly!" Djoka replied. "We’ve acquired three insurance companies at low prices—all based in Dunkirk. They were eager to sell after being terrified by German bombings."
As he spoke, Djoka grabbed a report from his desk and handed it to Charles.
Charles glanced at it. The total acquisition cost for the three companies was just over ten million francs—a real bargain.
But Charles wasn’t interested in the numbers. He tossed the report back on the desk, sipped his coffee, and asked, "Have you heard about the Germans bombing London, father?"
"Of course," Djoka nodded. "It happened last night; the news has spread across all of France."
Charles hummed and continued sipping his coffee.
Djoka suddenly understood. He turned to Charles and asked, "You’re not thinking of entering the insurance market in London, are you?"
"Why not?" Charles countered. "Now is the perfect time to buy in!"
Djoka considered it and agreed.
German airship bombings over London had left the British helpless.
Rumors suggested Germany had hundreds of airships ready to bomb London simultaneously.
In this climate of fear, opening an insurance company in London would surely attract desperate customers willing to throw their money at it.