Chapter 46

London's rain always falls just right, as if even the weather were crafting an atmosphere for this empire's decisions. In the basement of MI5, cigar smoke hung thick, almost impossible to disperse.

"The evidence chain is complete."

Sir William Melville tapped the table, his voice sounding especially heavy in the confined space. As the head of MI5, he had seen too many secrets, yet this report still made his fingers tremble slightly.

Colonel Hall of the Naval Intelligence Service pushed three files across the table; the paper slid with a faint sound.

"First, French Navy Major General Dubois and his technical team, under the guise of a mineral survey two weeks ago, went to Djibouti, but their itinerary's endpoint was the Persian Gulf."

Hall paused, his gaze sweeping over the other five people in the room. Everyone stared at him, no one interrupting.

"Second, we intercepted a coded telegram from Basra to Paris, mentioning 'shocking technical parameters' and 'recommend immediate signing.'"

He took a deep breath and opened the last file.

"Third, our source in Rotterdam port confirmed that over the past three months, at least twelve ships carrying special machinery have been headed toward the Persian Gulf. The shippers are all German shell companies, and the consignee is listed as 'Lanfang Trading Company.'"

Only the low hum of the ventilation system remained in the room.

Young mathematical genius Charles Brent pushed up his glasses, his soft voice cutting through the silence like a needle: "This means three things. One, the Germans are arming that Chinese faction; two, the French are joining the game; three..."

He lifted his head, the eyes behind his lenses flashing with the light that comes only when analyzing data.

"Three, the man named Chen Feng is simultaneously doing arms business with two major European powers. Moreover, he does it so silently that we only discovered him now."

Melville stubbed out his cigar; as he stood, the chair let out a harsh screech.

"No, there are four things." His voice ice-cold: "Fourth, the Royal Navy in the heart of the Indian Ocean has seen an uncontrolled shipyard capable of building dreadnoughts."

He grabbed the report on the desk.

"Hall, prepare the briefing. I need to see the Prime Minister within an hour. Brent, continue analyzing all data on merchant ships coming and going to the Persian Gulf; I need to know exactly how much they're shipping over."

Yes, sir.

"Moreover," Melville walked to the door, glanced back at the smoke-filled room, "This matter remains top secret. Before the Prime Minister makes a decision, not a word may be leaked."

In the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street, the atmosphere was even more solemn than the basement of MI5.

I told you so!

Sir John Fisher's fist slammed onto the mahogany long table, making several teacups clink. The eyes of this First Sea Lord of the Royal Navy were bloodshot, whether from lack of sleep or anger.

I warned months ago! That corner of the Persian Gulf is turning into a powder keg! Now? The Germans have six Nassau-class ships, the French are about to have a new battleship, and we——

He snatched the photo from the desk and slammed it down in the middle.

——we're still discussing the budget!

The photo showed HMS Dreadnought in Portsmouth dockyard, surrounded by scaffolding. The other photo showed the German SMS Westfalen being cheered by crowds in Kiel harbor.

The contrast was stark and glaring.

Chancellor of the Exchequer Herbert Henry Asquith wearily rubbed his temples, his voice full of resignation: "John, now is not the time to assign blame. The question is, what do we do?"

"What do we do?" Fisher almost laughed, "Simple, two things. First, a total blockade. Notify India, Australia, South Africa, Singapore—all imperial colonies and spheres of influence—no strategic materials may flow to the Persian Gulf. Steel, coal, rubber, precision machine tools… not even a single screw may pass!"

Asquith's brow furrowed even tighter: "That would severely impact colonial trade revenues, and……"

"Second!" Fisher raised his voice, cutting off the Chancellor of the Exchequer directly, "Dispatch a fleet. With HMS Dreadnought as the core, form a deterrent squadron and head immediately to the Persian Gulf. Let that Chen Feng see for himself that the Royal Navy's strength isn't something a few secretly built warships can challenge!"

Foreign Secretary Lord Lansdowne shook his head: "This would provoke a conflict. If the Germans or French intervene……"

"They won't." Fisher turned, hands braced on the table, leaning forward like a lion ready to pounce, "The Germans want us and that Chinese faction to both lose; the French haven't gotten the ship yet and dare not act rashly. This is the best window—crush it there before it becomes a real threat."

Prime Minister Sir Henry Campbell-Bannerman remained silent, his fingers lightly tapping the tabletop. This Liberal Party leader, known for his moderation, now had eyes sharp as a blade.

"Sir Fisher, are you sure that Lanfang really has the capability to build dreadnoughts? Or did the Germans just build the ships and are using their name as a smokescreen?"

"I am certain." Fisher pulled another document from his briefcase, "This is the joint conclusion of MI5 and Naval Intelligence. Over the past three years, the population on the southern shore of the Persian Gulf has grown from under ten thousand to over three hundred thousand, all ethnic Chinese. They have built power plants, steel mills, deep-water piers, exporting pig iron and chemical products. Most importantly……"

He opened the document and pointed at the photo above.

"This was taken covertly by our people. Although blurry, you can tell—it is a hull at least two hundred meters long, in a dry dock. Its size far exceeds any active warship."

A low intake of breath sounded in the meeting room.

Campbell-Bannerman slowly scanned the room, his gaze lingering momentarily on each cabinet member's face.

He said calmly, "Let's vote. Show of hands for the Fisher plan."

Fisher was the first to raise his hand, his action decisive as if issuing a combat order.

Sir Richard Burden, the Secretary of State for War, hesitated a moment, then raised his hand. As the officer in charge of the army, he knew all too well the pressure that would be placed on home defense if the navy lost its supremacy.

Joseph Chamberlain, Chairman of the Board of Trade, glanced at the prime minister, then at Fisher, and finally lifted his arm slowly.

All eyes turned to Asquith.

The Chancellor of the Exchequer sighed, his voice full of fatigue: "I need to remind you all of the financial cost of doing this…"

"Show of hands, Herbert." Campbell-Bannerman interrupted him.

Asquith fell silent for a few seconds, then finally raised his hand.

"Five in favor, none against." The prime minister announced, "Fisher, you will have full responsibility for the blockade and deterrent operation. Lansdowne, notify the German and French governments, wording… strong but leaving room for maneuver."

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."

Fisher's lips curled in a cold smile. He knew the weight of those words—it meant that from the Moroccan question to colonial borders, Britain might change its position.

"Adjourned."