Chapter 176: Terrible Spain
"Let him in."
Seeing that a guest was about to enter, Heydrich did not linger. He gathered his documents, bowed slightly, and quickly left the office.
Outside the door, José Sanjurjo stood facing the wall, repeatedly practicing his rusty German greeting in a low voice.
"Your Excellency von Roman, the situation in Spain is already..."
He stopped, frowned, and shook his head.
"No, no. Your Excellency von Roman, I am José Sanjurjo. We met at the wedding. The situation in Spain is already..."
He cursed softly.
"Damn it. No, that is still not respectful enough. More respectful. It must be more respectful."
Leah, standing by the door, had long since grown accustomed to such scenes.
Not long ago, when representatives of the surrendered Czech government came to report, they had also made frequent use of this wall. Those men had stood here practicing their words like students about to face a severe examiner.
"Mr. José," Leah said, "you may enter."
"Thank you for your trouble, Miss Leah."
José nodded respectfully, smoothed the wrinkles from his shoulder, took a deep breath, and stepped into the office.
The first thing he saw was the desk.
Documents were stacked upon it like small mountains. Reports, military files, industrial summaries, diplomatic cables, and intelligence briefs nearly buried the surface, temporarily blocking his view of the young president seated behind them.
José was just about to offer his greeting when the man behind the desk spoke first, as though he already knew him well.
"José Sanjurjo, correct? Follow me."
With a precise movement, Jörg opened a drawer and pulled out a file concerning José Sanjurjo. Then he stood, tapped the desk lightly, and the waiting attendant immediately understood.
Moments later, two cups of freshly brewed coffee were brought in.
Jörg had too many matters to handle every day. Even his memory, though far sharper than most, was not something he trusted blindly. To reduce the possibility of error, he occasionally used his limited free time to record information from his previous life into classified files, arranging them for convenient retrieval when needed.
Spain was one of the countries he had already marked for future attention.
José took the coffee from the attendant and followed Jörg to the sofa.
After sitting down, he could not help asking, "You know me?"
Jörg nodded.
He glanced through the file a few times, then revealed his usual faint smile.
"How could I forget a guest who attended my wedding, Mr. José? Now, let us speak plainly. Why did you wish to see me?"
José had prepared official phrases before entering the room.
He had rehearsed formal explanations, diplomatic euphemisms, and carefully measured requests. But under Jörg's direct gaze, all of that vanished from his mind.
What came out instead were grievances.
"It is like this, Your Excellency. You must have heard what happened in Spain last year. The Spanish Communist Party came to power, expelled the king, and claimed it would rebuild the country. But since taking office, they have turned Spain into a complete mess."
His voice grew sharper the more he spoke.
"No one is satisfied with the reforms they are forcing through, except themselves. Those anarchists are lunatics. Last year alone, there were already two large scale riots. Our patrol soldiers were murdered and dismembered in the streets."
José clenched his jaw.
"On the surface, it appears to be a confrontation between the right and the left. But from what I know, the internal struggle for power among the extremists is just as fierce."
He took a breath, trying to steady himself, but anger still leaked into every word.
"Last month, the Spanish Communist Party hanged five monarchists in Madrid Square. Just a few days ago, a priest whose church was being rebuilt went completely mad and opened fire indiscriminately in the streets of Seville."
He spread his hands.
"Now they want to push for Catalan autonomy. God, the situation in Spain is absolutely terrible."
His expression became more complicated.
"If I held no government position, perhaps I could simply watch all of this from Portugal with indifference. But I am still part of the government. Even if I now hold only an idle post, I still hope to do something for Spain."
Jörg ignored most of the emotional preamble.
He focused only on the last part.
A marginalized general.
An idle post.
Dissatisfaction with the current Spanish government.
Those two points were enough.
"So, Mr. José," Jörg said calmly, "you wish to obtain German assistance in order to change Spain. Is that correct?"
He lifted the coffee cup and took a sip.
The bitterness spread across his tongue.
In truth, even without José's explanation, Jörg already had a rough understanding of Spain's current situation.
After the Spanish Communist Party came to power, it had not chosen a gradual approach. Instead, it had attempted to accelerate reform with excessive force, pushing democratic, regional, social, and military changes all at once.
The result was predictable.
Every faction became dissatisfied.
The monarchists saw betrayal.
The conservatives saw destruction.
The military saw humiliation.
The Church saw persecution.
The regional separatists saw opportunity.
The radicals saw the reforms as insufficient.
And the Spanish Communist Party regarded nearly all dissatisfaction as anti regime behavior, responding with violence whenever compromise failed.
Political assassinations had become commonplace. Almost every party had begun resolving disputes through illegal force. Violence bred more violence, and each act became more extreme than the last.
Worse still, the Spanish Communist Party itself was severely divided.
One faction leaned toward a republican line and remained relatively conservative.
The other leaned toward socialism and pursued the Soviet Russian model with far greater enthusiasm.
Spain was no longer a country walking toward reform.
It was a powder magazine with every faction holding a torch.
"That is correct, Your Excellency!"
José leaned forward immediately.
"I want to apply to your country for a batch of military aid. Preferably weapons suitable for urban warfare in large cities. With them, we can strike those political idiots directly."
His eyes burned.
"We must drag Spain out of this chaotic cesspit and restore the stability it once possessed."
He forced himself to slow down, then added, "Please rest assured, Your Excellency. Once Spain regains stability, I will remove tariffs and economic restrictions to repay Germany's generosity."
Now that the conversation had opened, José became bolder and spoke his thoughts without much restraint.
Jörg, however, was not in a hurry to accept this plan of intervention in Spanish politics.
José's intended use for the weapons was already obvious.
An armed coup.
But from Jörg's perspective, such a coup would almost certainly fail.
"Let us not rush to discuss the future, Mr. José."
Jörg picked up a piece of chocolate and chewed it slowly.
"How many people do you have? How much of the army do you truly control?"
José's fingers twitched slightly.
He clearly wanted a cigarette but was suppressing the urge because he was in Jörg's office.
Jörg noticed and waved casually, signaling that he did not need to be so formal.
José immediately took out a cigarette and lit it. After taking a deep drag, he seemed to calm down.
Although he was somewhat confused by the question, he still answered honestly.
"We have the support of some monarchists, as well as an infantry battalion controlled by conservatives in Madrid. We also have the backing of several republican members within the government. As soon as we control Madrid, we will announce to the entire country the restoration of order and reopen..."
Before he could finish, Jörg raised a hand and interrupted him.
"With all due respect, Mr. José, you cannot succeed."
José stiffened.
"One infantry battalion cannot move all of Spain."
José immediately grew unconvinced.
"Your Excellency, you may not understand my influence in the military. I served in Cuba and Morocco. I have held the posts of commander of the Army in Morocco and Director General of Civil Defense. I am one of the pillars of the Spanish Army."
His voice carried the pride of a soldier who had once held real power.
"As long as I light the fire, the army will respond."
Jörg smiled and shook his head.
"An army not in your hands is not your army."
José's face changed slightly.
Jörg placed the file on the table.
"Of course, if you disagree with my assessment, you may try. But I suspect what will respond to your fire will not be the Spanish Army, but the bullets of the Spanish Communist Party."
The words were calm, but they struck José heavily.
Jörg leaned back against the sofa and continued, "However, if you agree with my view and are willing to cooperate deeply with the German government, then I have a way to pull Spain out of the mire."
His gaze settled on José.
"And I have a way to return you to politics."
José did not agree immediately.
He was impulsive, but not stupid. If he had come this far, he had to know what price Germany would demand.
"Could you explain your idea, Your Excellency?"
Jörg nodded.
When he spoke again, his voice carried a persuasive calm, like a man laying a path across a swamp and inviting another to step onto it.
"My idea is to wait."
José frowned.
"Wait?"
"Yes. You do not need to wait too long. The Spanish Communist Party will make mistakes by itself. Its reforms are too hasty, its internal divisions too deep, and its methods too crude. It will lose support without anyone needing to push it too hard."
Jörg's fingers lightly tapped the armrest.
"During this period, Germany will provide you with sufficient funds and political support. You will use them to build a party with real appeal."
He paused for a moment.
"Let us call it the Spanish Forward Party."
José's eyes gradually narrowed, not in rejection, but in concentration.
Jörg continued, "Next year, I am confident that the Spanish Communist Party, after repeatedly making mistakes, will lose voter support and suffer serious losses in parliament."
His voice remained steady.
"At that time, the Spanish Forward Party under your leadership will seize enough seats to control parliament."
He leaned forward slightly.
"With that political foundation, Mr. José, you will no longer be a general begging foreign countries for weapons before launching a desperate coup."
Jörg's smile deepened.
"You will be the man Spain legally chooses to restore order."
The office fell silent.
José held the cigarette between his fingers, but for several seconds, he forgot to smoke.
Outside the window, Berlin remained cold and orderly beneath the winter sky. Snow rested on rooftops, automobiles moved along widened roads, and the machinery of a new Germany continued to run without pause.
Inside the office, Spain's future had quietly been placed upon the table.
Not as a battlefield.
Not yet.
But as a chessboard.
.....
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
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