Chapter 110: Shooting Again
A short while later, Lia arrived with a stack of documents in her arms.
For the past few days, she had spent nearly every waking hour, including what little free time she once had, working with the diplomatic team to draft the [US Germany Shipbuilding Agreement] according to Jörg's instructions. Late nights had become routine. Exhaustion, at this point, had become part of the job.
Jörg took the papers from her without a word.
His eyes moved swiftly across the pages. The pen in his hand never stopped, circling one line, striking through another, underlining clauses that left too much room for misunderstanding. In less than ten minutes, he had gone through a pile of documents nearly half a palm thick.
Lia had just begun to think she might have enough time to catch her breath before returning with the second revised draft when Jörg's next sentence dragged her straight back into the swamp of words.
"As for the military supervision section, there is no need to write it in such detail," he said calmly. "Do not list specific measures. Compress all of it into one sentence."
His pen tapped lightly against the page.
"Write this instead: The Weimar Republic shall be responsible for supervising any naval military expansion measures that violate the Treaty of Versailles, while the United States shall possess co supervisory authority."
He leaned back slightly and added, "We need to leave room for negotiation."
When it came to work, Jörg was always the same. Serious. Precise. Uncompromising. He never gave Lia special treatment because she was a woman, nor because she was beautiful, nor because Mandor stood behind her.
Though exhaustion tugged at her nerves, Lia did not complain. She merely nodded, placed the marked draft back into her briefcase, and turned to leave the suite.
The moment she stepped out, she found herself face to face with Dawes, who had just reached the top floor by elevator.
"Miss Lia," Dawes said, forcing a polite smile, "is Jörg in?"
Lia did not answer directly. Instead, she looked at him with perfect diplomatic restraint and asked, "May I ask what business brings you here, Mr. Dawes? Washington should have no shortage of urgent matters for you these days."
Because Jörg had already instructed Senna not to disclose their conversation in the car, Lia genuinely believed her superior had nearly been killed by a pack of incompetent Americans. In her eyes, Dawes might now be President, but that did not entitle him to warmth.
Her official tone made Dawes inwardly sigh.
He could hear the resentment in her voice. And truthfully, if their positions had been reversed, he suspected he would have felt much the same. After all, had the passengers' seats been exchanged that night, it would not be Coolidge lying in a coma, but Jörg.
No matter how one dressed it up, the failure of security and the leak of the route were unforgivable.
Had the situation been reversed, Dawes knew very well that most foreign diplomats would have made a public spectacle of it, exposing America's weakness to the entire world. Yet Jörg had chosen silence. He had even helped keep the matter from exploding into an international humiliation.
That alone was enough to tell Dawes something important.
Jörg still regarded him as a friend.
"I owe you an apology, Miss Lia," Dawes said at last. "This entire affair is the fault of the American government. We failed to provide adequate diplomatic protection."
His tone became more earnest.
"When this matter is concluded, I will personally issue a diplomatic letter to your government expressing our sincerest regret. But for now, I ask one favor. Please tell Jörg that I truly have something urgent that must be discussed with him."
Seeing the President of the United States lower himself that far, Lia could not press him any longer.
She gave a slight nod, signaled to the guards standing by the door to allow entry, then stepped into the elevator with her head lowered, already thinking about the revised draft waiting for her downstairs.
Inside the suite, Jörg was not surprised to see Dawes.
He had already expected him.
Without ceremony, he poured a cup of tea and gestured for Dawes to sit. Then his gaze shifted to the somewhat stout, middle aged man beside him.
"Mr. Dawes," Jörg said lightly. "Or perhaps I should say, Mr. President."
His eyes then moved to the other guest.
"And this gentleman is?"
The man immediately seized the chance to introduce himself.
"J. Edgar Hoover." He extended his hand with a smile too eager to be natural. "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Jörg. You are far younger than I imagined. You look more like a young man fresh out of university than a statesman. Very spirited. Very confident."
The moment he heard the name, Jörg already understood who stood before him.
Edgar Hoover, future godfather of the FBI.
But the man before him had none of the imposing shadow he would cast in later years. At present, there was no aura of iron control about him, only ambition hidden beneath ingratiating politeness.
He shook the offered hand once, then released it.
Dawes, meanwhile, had no patience for Hoover's habit of ingratiating himself with anyone useful. He took the tea Jörg handed him, gave a tired shake of the head, and said, "Do not tease me, Jörg. I came for two reasons. One is to understand the circumstances more clearly, though if it is inconvenient for you, we can let that go. The other is to apologize."
"No apology is needed," Jörg replied with an easy smile. "I have yet to thank you for helping advance the agreement. Though since you mention apologies, how is Mr. Coolidge?"
"He is still in a coma," Dawes said plainly. "The doctors are not optimistic."
He did not hide it. There was no point. Jörg had seen the blood with his own eyes.
But Jörg did not linger on the matter. Instead, he turned calmly toward Hoover.
"Director Hoover," he said, "what exactly would you like to ask?"
Hoover noticed the familiarity between the two men at once and silently elevated Jörg's political value another level in his mind.
"It is like this, Your Excellency," he began carefully. "White House staff stated that it was your suggestion to switch cars. At the time, you and the President were planning to go to Third Avenue for a late meal, is that correct?"
"That is correct," Jörg answered. "Though it was not merely for a meal. The President intended to accompany me back to the hotel afterward so that we could discuss the details of a certain document."
Hoover nodded. The first point had been confirmed.
He continued, "Then may I ask another question? It may be somewhat presumptuous, but it is necessary. How many people knew of your movements that evening? Specifically, your attendance at the banquet and the hotel where you were staying?"
"On my side?" Jörg rested the cup on its saucer. "Most members of the diplomatic corps knew both. As for your side, I cannot say with certainty. But since you raise the matter, I should mention something."
Hoover immediately straightened.
"At the banquet, there was one guest who specifically asked me what kind of car I drove and where I was staying."
Dawes's fingers tightened slightly around his teacup.
Hoover's voice sharpened despite himself. "Could you tell us the name?"
"Secretary Krag," Jörg said evenly. "The head of the Navy."
He paused just long enough to let the name land.
"He did not seem to have a particularly good opinion of me. We exchanged few words. Shortly afterward, he claimed to be drunk and left early."
The moment the name was spoken, Dawes felt a cold weight drop into his stomach.
A possibility he had been refusing to fully entertain now rose before him in solid form.
He immediately stood.
"That is enough, Jörg," he said. "You have already done more than enough. On behalf of the United States, I apologize to you once again."
His tone was polite, but urgency had already replaced the diplomatic mask.
"I have other matters that require my immediate attention. I will not trouble you further."
Jörg inclined his head as if none of this surprised him in the least.
After the two men left the hotel, Hoover immediately noticed the gravity in Dawes's face.
Though he hesitated, he still asked, "Mr. President, shall we continue the investigation?"
"Of course we continue it," Dawes snapped. "Immediately investigate whether there is any connection between those three gunmen and Secretary Krag. Their bank records, their mail, their contacts, everything."
He stopped and turned sharply.
"But do it quietly. Do not alarm him. The moment you find anything, you report directly to me."
"Yes, Mr. President."
Watching Dawes's car speed away, Hoover felt the pressure shift from merely political to mortal.
If he solved this, it would become the greatest success of his career so far.
If he failed, he would be crushed beneath it.
He immediately climbed into the vehicle waiting for him and barked at his subordinate, "Order every agent of team leader rank and above into the field. They have three days. I want this case dug to the roots."
Back in the suite, Jörg sat in silence for a while after their departure.
Then he reached for the half corrected draft again.
.....
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