Chapter 529: The Truth of Monopoly

"Something is approaching!" the sonar operator's voice was tense, "Two targets, from the northeast, speed eight knots, Distance... 1,500 meters, rapidly approaching!"

"What model?"

"Too small, doesn't look like a ship. Could be... a submarine? Or a large fish?"

"At this depth there are no large fish." Harris's face darkened, "Prepare emergency ascent. Is the cut complete?"

"Still missing the final copper core!"

"Never mind, cut off the existing part. Ascend immediately!"

The operator thrust the control lever hard. The cutter increased power, the serrated disc emitted a harsh, high‑pitched whine. The cable was brutally severed, the cut end exposing dozens of copper wires, like torn nerve endings.

"Cut complete! Ascend!"

The work boat discarded its ballast, injected compressed air into the ballast tank, and began a rapid ascent. In the deep sea, a fast ascent is dangerous—could cause decompression sickness, could lose control—but there was no choice at this moment.

On the sonar, the two unidentified targets had already closed to 800 meters.

Surface, "Albian."

Colonel Turner stood on the bridge, staring at the work boat's submergence position. Thirty‑five minutes had passed; according to plan, it should have begun its ascent.

"Any signal?"

"None, Captain. The radio is silent, and the acoustic communication has no response."

Suddenly, the sonar officer shouted, "Underwater explosion! Depth about 150 meters! Two explosions!"

Turner rushed to the sonar screen. It displayed two bright acoustic signals, located right near the work boat.

"Explosion? Deguo submarine?"

"Uncertain, but definitely not a natural phenomenon."

At that moment, the surface erupted a column of water. "Sea Monster No. 3" was hurled out of the sea by a giant hand, flipped in the air, then slammed heavily back into the water. The hull had already warped, the portholes shattered, and seawater was raging inward.

"Rescue team! Quickly!"

The lifeboat was lowered, the sailors rowed desperately. Turner, using a telescope, saw the work boat's hatch open, several people climbing out and jumping into the sea. Four, five... only five? There had been six when it submerged.

The lifeboat hauled the survivors aboard, winching them back to the mother ship. Lieutenant Harris was drenched, his face pallid, and collapsed on the deck as soon as he stepped on.

"Deguo people..." he gasped, "It was a Deguo submarine, equipped with small explosives. They discovered us..."

"Was the cable cut?"

【5】 "It was cut, but... the other side may have recorded our acoustic signature. This is no longer a covert operation, Captain."

"It's cut off, but… they may have recorded our voiceprint. This is no longer a secret operation, Captain."

Colonel Turner's face turned ashen. The plan was a secret cable cut, creating the illusion of "natural damage." Now it had been discovered; the Deguo will surely protest, perhaps even retaliate.

"Return to base," he finally ordered, "Full speed return. Send a telegram to the Navy Department: Mission complete, but exposed. Recommend cutting the other two cables immediately, before the Deguo can react."

"Albian" turned its bow and sailed east through the storm. Behind it, the severed cable lay quietly on the seabed, like a dead giant serpent. Communication between Berlin and the Americas was thus cut off a vital artery.

But this is only the beginning.

Three days later, December 18, New York, the Associated Press headquarters building.

Editor-in-chief Edwin James sat in his office, staring at three telegram drafts on the desk that were almost identical in content. One came from London Reuters, one from Paris Havas Agency, one from Berlin Wolf Agency—more precisely, the Wolf Agency's pre‑war telegram line, now actually forwarded after review by Yingguo.

The three telegrams reported the same incident: Degjun used poison gas on the French front, causing civilian casualties.

But the details differ completely.

Reuters' version: "Degjun yesterday employed mustard gas on a massive scale at the Verdun front; the gas cloud drifted toward villages behind the French army positions, killing at least two hundred civilians, including many women and children. Survivors described the horror, sobbing uncontrollably..."

Havas Agency's version: "The barbaric Deguo army again violated international law, releasing poison gas in civilian areas of no military value. According to the Red Cross report, the afflicted villages resembled a hell on earth, bodies piled like mountains..."

Wolf Agency's version: "French artillery mistakenly hit its own front line, detonating a chemical weapons depot and causing civilian casualties. Deguo's Foreign Ministry expressed regret and called on the international community to investigate the truth."

James removed his glasses, rubbed his sore eyes. The fifty‑five‑year‑old veteran journalist had lived through the Spanish‑American War and the Russo‑Japanese War, but had never seen such systematic information manipulation.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

The door opened, International News Department chief Tom Wilson entered, his face solemn.

"Editor-in-chief, it's happening again," he placed a telegram on the desk, "Yingguo Navy Department notice: due to a submarine cable 'technical fault,' the Atlantic telegram line can temporarily only be routed through London. All telegrams originating from Europe must first be sent to London, reviewed by the Yingguo Post Office before forwarding."

"Technical fault?" James sneered, "The sixth 'technical fault' in three years, each time occurring when Deguo has the upper hand. Which cable this time?"

"North Atlantic Seven, one of Deguo's main cables to Meilika. The other two: one was 'accidentally' snapped by a fishing trawler last week, the other 'damaged by a storm.' Now, ninety percent of telegrams from Europe to America must pass through London."

James stood up, walked to the window. Outside was New York's winter street scene, pedestrians hurrying, streetcars clanging. The city's residents read about the European war daily from the New York Times, the New York World, and the New York Forum, yet they had no idea how many layers of filtering those reports had passed through.

"Tom, what's wrong with the recent dispatches from our correspondent in London?"

Wilson pulled several original manuscripts and their printed versions from his briefcase for comparison.

"The problem is huge. This is McCarthy's full report from London on the Somme battle," he said, pointing to the original. "It contains casualty figures for both sides, analysis of Deguo's new tanks, details of British Army command errors. But the printed version..." He opened the newspaper, "only the line 'British Army heroically repelled the Deguo offensive, achieving a strategic victory' remains."

"Who deleted it?"

"Yingguo News Review Office. Every telegram sent from London must pass their review. Anything not conforming to the 'war effort' is deleted or altered. If we insist on sending uncensored pieces, they will cut our telegram line and even expel the reporters."

James walked back to his desk, staring at the three contradictory telegrams.

"So now, the war in Europe that Meilika's people see is the war the Yingguo want them to see."