Paris, France: "Mr. Prime Minister," a secretary addressed the figure leaning back in his chair, "the former Prime Minister, Mr. George Clemenceau, has passed away. Would you like to attend his memorial service?"
"Of course, arrange it as you see fit!" The French Prime Minister nodded. He then added thoughtfully, "I wouldn't want to be alone at my own funeral in the future." After a pause, he inquired, "Is the unemployment rate still high?"
"Yes, Mr. Prime Minister. President Dumague has ordered a reduction in the army, and now public complaints are boiling over, which is very unfavorable for us," the secretary replied while organizing documents on the table.
"Sir Sherlock hopes to see you outside the door," the secretary continued.
"What does he want at this time? Prepare the car; I'm heading to the president's residence," French Prime Minister André Taldieu frowned, then thought for a moment and added, "Let him come in, I'll talk to him for five minutes."
"Very well, Mr. Prime Minister." The secretary turned and left the room.
Shortly thereafter, Sir Sherlock entered with a smile. "Good afternoon, Prime Minister Andre. I know you are busy, so this time I brought a document I hope you can review."
Sherlock placed the document on the table and continued with a smile. Prime Minister Andre, noticing who it was, remarked, "You and my secretary are cousins. I wouldn't want him to embarrass you by calling you in."
"Well! You should be thankful you have such a secretary," Sherlock nodded. "That's why I came to you first, not the president."
"I know you have been liaising with the Germans recently. Although some German private enterprises have remained stable during this economic crisis, the German government is not as robust as ours. What documents could you possibly bring from the Germans?" Andre asked somewhat dismissively.
"Do I still have a few minutes?" Sherlock glanced at the clock on the wall.
"A little more than three minutes, so if you want to convince me, hurry up. I will be heading to President Dumague shortly," Andre responded, his interest piqued.
"The document is about a huge purchase contract from a German private consortium," Sherlock revealed with a deeper smile.
"What?" Andre rushed to the table, grabbed the contract, and began to read the contents in detail. The document outlined a proposal from companies like Mercedes-Benz Motor Company, Bavarian equipment manufacturing plant, and Krupp plant, planning to import 500,000 tons of steel, 500,000 tons of coal, 10,000 tons of gasoline, 90,000 tons of rubber to France. They proposed bartering potatoes and other grains for French steel and were also prepared to purchase French shipping companies in cash. The entire cooperation plan exceeded 1 billion US dollars, potentially a lifeline for the French financial industry during the economic crisis.
"Mr. Prime Minister, the car is ready!" The secretary entered, noticing the shocked Prime Minister and his cousin, Sir Sherlock, who was idly spinning the small globe on the desk.
"Go out! I'll call when I need you. The car is ready at the front door; I may use it at any time," the Prime Minister waved dismissively.
"What do the Germans want in return?" After reading the last page of the contract, Andre put down the document and looked at Sherlock, who was leisurely sipping the black tea provided by the secretary.
"They want the Rhineland Demilitarized Zone back," Sherlock replied with a smile. "They urge the French government to withdraw the troops stationed there and give full control to the German forces."
"It's impossible," Andre shook his head firmly. "I cannot betray the interests of France. Don't even think about it."
"Mr. Prime Minister, I understand your cabinet is already discussing the withdrawal of troops from the Rhineland, and you are definitely contemplating how to stabilize your country's economy. Since the troops will be withdrawn sooner or later, what difference does it make?" Sherlock pressed.
"There is a difference!" Andre retorted angrily. "Our withdrawal is our business! But allowing their army in? That's not safe for France! We may no longer control the entire Rhineland, but the Germans cannot be given full control either!"
"I'll take the contract with me," Sherlock said with a smile as he stood up. "I wish you and Mr. Dumague success in managing the situation and saving the French financial economy. And of course, I hope both of you get re-elected."
"These are private investments! Even without the German government's involvement, they will voluntarily invest in France as long as we offer some incentives!" Andre argued.
"How do you think such a contract could emerge at this time without the involvement of certain forces? Why would the Germans orchestrate such a substantial private capital investment to salvage the French market?" Sherlock questioned with a knowing smile.
As he spoke, Sherlock gathered the documents, placed them back in the bag, and nodded. "Since we can't cooperate this time, I'll see you next time, Mr. Andre."
With that, he walked towards the door and reached for the handle.
"Wait!" Behind him, Prime Minister Andre, sweating profusely, finally called out. "Come with me to the presidential residence. I want to discuss this with Mr. President, and then I can give you an answer."
"Prime Minister Andre, you truly are a wise politician," Sherlock said, opening the door with a smile. "Please, after you."
---
In another part of France, the economic strain was palpable among the common folk. "I heard my aunt's fashion store went bankrupt," a French soldier with a wide-brimmed steel helmet sighed deeply, taking a drag from his cigarette before tossing a document into the brazier before him.
"My dad, a mechanic in a factory for decades, suddenly finds himself unemployed," another soldier added morosely, throwing another sealed document into the fire and watching the flames consume it. "I heard the Germans acquired a steel factory in Lorraine and are hiring. If I end up unemployed, I might check it out."
The first soldier, frustrated, continued, "Damn bureaucrats! When they profit, it's all pocketed. Now, when disaster strikes, they're quicker to flee than rabbits. In the end, it's the Germans we depend on to save us!"
As they spoke, outside the window of the French garrison, a German under the knight statue on the street raised his right hand, shouting loudly while performing the German salute. "Long live the Great German Party!" he exclaimed, with a crowd around him echoing the sentiment and shouting, "Welcome the Defence Forces back to the Rhineland!"
Inside the headquarters of the French Garrison Army in Rhineland, a colonel spoke to his guest, a French official, with a bitter smile. "Have you heard the shouting outside? It's only a matter of time before the Germans return here. I've received orders; we're retreating to France tonight for reorganization."
"Yes, I heard. I'll be in charge of this reorganization," the guest, also a French official, replied with a reluctant smile. "I've been ordered to establish an independent French armored force to explore the feasibility of standalone tank combat."
"Why the sudden interest in this?" the colonel inquired as he packed up documents.
The guest didn't hesitate, feeling he could trust his friend with the confidential order. "The Germans are doing the same, investing heavily. There's also intel from Grudeau about the Germans equipping a new batch of tanks."
"We have Grudeau, the British, and mounting intelligence that the Germans are ramping up their armaments," the officer said angrily, tossing intelligence documents into the brazier. "The higher-ups are just turning a blind eye! It's infuriating!"
"No choice," Charles de Gaulle, the colonel, spread his hands helplessly. "We've been monitoring the Germans for years, and though it hasn't yielded much, it does prove they are equipping with tanks and aircraft. Yet, the British government seems to hope the Germans can handle the Soviets and help defend Europe."
"Ridiculous! Can't they see the collaboration between Germans and Soviets?" the officer scoffed.
"Don't rely on others! We are this country's hope!" de Gaulle declared, standing up. "I've changed my mind. No longer will I fret over preventing Akado's armor expansion. If the Germans are preparing for war, so will we!"
He gazed out the window at the setting sun. "Let's order! Let's go home!"