Chapter 390: The Long-Range Cannon
Insurance sells fear and anxiety about the future: people transfer their fears and anxieties to the insurance company, and if those fears materialize, the company compensates them with abundant money. Of course, the insured must pay for this service.
Thus, the more fearful and anxious people are, the better business is for the insurance company.
However, Djoka had a meticulous perspective.
“Good business doesn’t necessarily mean profit, Charles.” Djoka held a pencil in his hand, his eyes tinged with concern. “If things go as people say and the Germans launch a massive bombing campaign on Britain with a fleet of airships…”
The outcome would be self-evident; the insurance company might go bankrupt, and Charles would lose everything overnight.
However, Charles knew this wouldn’t happen.
“I know how to handle it,” Charles said confidently. “I just haven’t invented the equipment yet.”
Djoka instantly understood.
Charles was using his military genius to manipulate the market.
It was a clever idea—on one hand, he was using the insurance industry to amass wealth from British civilians, while on the other, he was inventing equipment to sell to the British government.
When the British government bought equipment to defeat the Germans, they would, in turn, be serving Charles’ insurance company.
A perfect cycle, with profits that wouldn’t be in the tens of millions but easily in the billions.
Thinking of this, Djoka’s eyes sparkled with excitement as he nodded. “No problem, I’ll send someone to London immediately.”
At this point in the company’s development, Djoka no longer needed to handle everything personally.
After finishing the call, Djoka smiled at Charles. “You know, the hardest place for us to break into the insurance business is Paris.”
“Paris?” Charles’ expression turned wary. “Is someone interfering?”
Charles’ first reaction was the capitalists who opposed him, especially Schneider.
“No.” Djoka shook his head. “They don’t seem willing to compete with us in the insurance business.”
Charles’ advantage in this field was unmatched due to his military genius. He controlled the outcomes of wars, which directly influenced insurance results—no one dared follow him lightly.
“Then what is it?” Charles asked curiously.
“It’s because of you,” Djoka said, raising an eyebrow.
“Me?” Charles was puzzled.
“Yes.” Djoka smiled and nodded. “Everyone believes that as long as you’re here, there’s no way the Germans can threaten Paris’ safety, so they’re at ease. In fact, they’re more concerned about when the French army will march into Berlin!”
Charles let out an “oh” of realization.
Without anxiety, the market remained inactive. The insurance company could live comfortably but wouldn’t be willing to sell at low prices.
The solution was to make the insurance companies feel the threat—to believe that losses might be imminent. Only then would they consider selling.
However, making Paris appear “at risk” wasn’t easy. The Germans occupying Paris again would take decades.
After some thought, Charles came up with a plan.
“Get the funds ready, Father,” Charles said. “Something might change in the next few days.”
“Change?” Djoka looked at Charles in shock. “You mean the Germans might attack Paris?”
Before Charles could answer, Djoka exclaimed, “My God, airships? They’ll bomb Paris with airships?”
Charles shook his head but didn’t answer Djoka directly. Some things wouldn’t sound right coming from him.
People would say, “That’s just a rumor spread by the insurance company to scam us out of our money.”
Instead, Charles needed an authoritative institution to release the information to shake the seemingly stable Parisian insurance market.
“Leave it to me,” Charles instructed Djoka before leaving. “Also, we’ll need to buy some land nearby to build a factory—about 7,000 square meters.”
“Seven thousand square meters?” Djoka was stunned by the number—it would be a massive factory.
Charles nodded casually. “I’ve purchased five artillery production lines from Britain. They’ll be arriving in the coming days.”
At first, Djoka didn’t think much of it. France needed artillery, and purchasing production lines was perfectly normal.
It wasn’t until Charles left that it hit him: “My God, artillery production lines—for producing artillery!”
He rushed to the window, intending to call out to Charles, but the car was already driving away.
Djoka felt a mix of helplessness and realization. Producing artillery meant direct competition with Schneider, intensifying their rivalry. Their mutual existence might threaten each other’s survival, as the military often chose one artillery design and abandoned the rest.
Watching the car disappear down the road, Djoka thought, this day would come sooner or later—it was inevitable.
...
Back in Paris, Charles visited the City Defense Command.
“How have you been, General?” Charles saluted Gallieni.
Gallieni glanced at Charles and feigned nonchalance. “I’m fine!”
Lieutenant Colonel Fernand made a subtle face, and the other staff officers smirked silently.
The truth was that Gallieni seemed to be missing something whenever Charles wasn’t around. He was often inexplicably irritable, his decades-old routines disrupted. He frequently stayed up at night working and was so tired during the day that he would doze off at his desk.
Lieutenant Colonel Fernand once suggested to Gallieni, “Why don’t we bring Charles back? The police training base isn’t far; he could easily handle both without any conflicts during peacetime.”
“No.” Gallieni shook his head firmly. “He must stand on his own, Lieutenant Colonel. This is his chance to grow.”
Gallieni knew very well that leading a unit independently was different from commanding forces at the City Defense Command, even if it seemed similar in form.
Charles handed Gallieni a book. “I heard you’ve been struggling to sleep. Perhaps this could help you relax instead of working late into the night.”
It was Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Charles hoped Gallieni could immerse himself in another world to relieve his constant war-related stress.
Gallieni was taken aback before rolling his eyes. “This is children’s stuff, Brigadier. It just shows you haven’t grown up!”
Though he said that, there was a smile in the corners of his eyes.
“Maybe so!” Charles replied, placing the book on Gallieni’s desk. Then he got to the point. “I’ve received information, General. The Germans are planning to build a long-range cannon—capable of directly shelling Paris!”
Everyone froze, turning their shocked gazes toward Charles, including Gallieni.