“10 million!” The middle-aged man with brown eyes seemed paralyzed, as if his brain’s storage unit could not accommodate such a large number.
After a moment, he burst into laughter, “Haha, I know, it must be the King you’re talking about, right?”
Mara immediately shook his head, “No, Valois, you’ve guessed wrong.”
Ever since he’d had access to the government’s financial data, he’d known that even if the King wanted to, he definitely couldn’t embezzle tens of millions. In fact, most of the time, it was the King who was subsidizing the treasury.
“It’s Necker.” Mara said gravely, “Jacques Necker.”
Valois was stunned for a moment, then let out an even bigger laugh, “Mr. Necker? Haha, you’re saying Mr. Necker embezzled?
“Don’t joke around, Mara! He was the Finance Minister who cared most about the poor! He hardly raised taxes at all during his term.”
Throughout his many years in France, Necker had invested considerable effort and resources to craft his image as a friend of the poor, helping them confront the monarchy. His efforts in this regard were exceedingly successful.
“He didn’t raise taxes,” Mara nodded, “but that might just be because the taxes couldn’t go directly into his pocket.” Discover hidden stories at mvl
He didn’t wait for Valois to retort and quickly continued, “Not long after he took office, under the pretext of ‘filling the financial gap,’ he signed a loan contract for 5 million livres with a Swiss bank at an interest rate of 23%.
“And at the same time, there were multiple banks that could offer loans at far lower rates. I even saw documents showing that, in the same month, the Brittany city hall secured a loan from a bank at an interest rate of 19%.
“Necker’s justification was that ‘that Swiss bank’s credibility was more reliable’. Ha, the bank hands over its gold coins to the government, and yet we’re supposed to worry about the bank’s credibility?”
Mara looked out at the cleaner handling the Fashion Week posters by the window: “While you were enjoying the glitz of Fashion Week, I took a trip to Switzerland and found out that the bank that provided the 5 million loan was owned by Necker’s friend. Oh, and they had partnered before to traffic grain from England.
“Of course, that’s just the first of the questionable loans I’ve investigated.
“In the over seven years that he served as the head of the treasury, the French Government borrowed more than a billion livres from major banks or grand nobles. I suspect most of those loans have issues.”
Valois frowned and said, “Are you suggesting that Mr. Necker is profiting from these unreasonable loans from banks?”
“It might be just like that. He only needs to benefit 1% from these loans to exceed 10 million livres!”
“No, it’s impossible!” Valois shook his head, murmuring, “Mr. Necker wouldn’t…”
Mara was prepared and pulled several papers out of his coat pocket, spreading them on the table, “This is the copy of the documents related to that 5 million loan I took, take a look for yourself. If you still don’t believe it, I can take you to see the originals.”
Valois took the documents with two fingers, tilted his head to read for a while, then recoiled as if bitten by a snake, his voice subdued, “Why are you telling me all this?”
“You were once the most formidable journalist in finance and trade, and you have many friends in the financial system. Perhaps you can provide me with some information about Necker.”
With tight lips, Valois pondered for a few seconds, then shook his head, “I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m going to disappoint you. Those years, I only focused on the positive news about Necker, I don’t really have anything of value for you.”
“Anything will do.”
“Really, there’s nothing…”
As Valois was speaking, he suddenly stopped and looked towards Mara, “Wait a minute, there’s someone who might have what you’re looking for!”
“Who?”
“Carolina, the former Finance Minister,” Valois said, “He had a significant conflict with Necker. It’s said his dismissal even involved Necker.
“He once publicly remarked in response to Necker’s attack on his tax policy, ‘Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve been up to.’ You know, often your enemy is the one who understands you best.”
“Carolina.” Mara nodded thoughtfully, “Where is he now?”
“Have you forgotten? He was exiled to Lorraine,”
“Thank you so much!” Mala said, patting the middle-aged journalist heartily before picking up his hat and turning to leave the room.
…
In the office of the Royal Armory located southeast of the Palace of Versailles, where Joseph had just finished a “production management” class, he rubbed his temples wearily and looked at the several documents in front of him.
The middle-aged man with the pointed chin next to him pointed at the papers and said, “Your Highness, this is the routine work report. This is the special investigation report concerning Fashion Week. This is the special investigation report from the Police Affairs Department. And this is Mr. Mala’s application for additional personnel…”
Joseph flipped through and signed the documents one by one, saying casually, “Thank you for your report, Mr. Kross. Oh, by the way, why didn’t Mr. Mala come today?”
It was usually Mala who did this job of submitting documents; it had never been anyone else, as the Jacobins that came later all had a certain disdain for the Royal Family.
Kross said, “Mr. Mala had urgent matters and left for Lorraine last night.”
“Lorraine?” Joseph put down his pen, “Did he say what the matter was?”
“It seems to be related to the official he is currently investigating.”
Necker? Joseph frowned; this was a significant development, yet Mala hadn’t mentioned a word to him.
“How many people did he take with him?”
“As you know, Your Highness, the Justice Investigation Department is short-handed, so it’s only him and Mr. Evans,”
Joseph felt something was amiss—Mala was underestimating the ruthlessness of those capitalists. Perhaps it was because Necker had always managed to disguise himself too well, making people subconsciously think he was a gentle and genteel good man, thus lowering their guard.
He quickly turned to Count Eman, who was standing nearby, and said, “Count Eman, please immediately notify Fouche to have someone locate Mr. Mala and protect him.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
…
United States, Philadelphia.
On the west bank of the Delaware River.
As Thomas Jefferson watched the French envoy limp down from the carriage outside Benjamin Franklin’s mansion, he couldn’t help frowning slightly. That the French sent such an obscure and somewhat disabled envoy seemed a slight to the United States.
However, as the diplomat of a small country, he knew well what he must do. He immediately suppressed the displeasure in his heart, greeted the envoy with a smile, and bowed, “Welcome to Philadelphia, your reverence, Archbishop Talleyrand.”
Having served as ambassador to France for a considerable time, he spoke French very fluently.
The elderly man in the wheelchair beside him appeared to be too old, barely managing to lift his hand and wave, “Envoy, welcome. When I was in Paris…”
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Talleyrand merely nodded at Jefferson, then turned to the old man in the wheelchair with a smile:
“You look in good spirits, Mr. Franklin, may the Lord bless you. Oh, I often heard about you in Paris. You were a notable figure at that time; a good friend of mine even keeps your portrait in their home.”
He was well aware that this octogenarian was the person who could currently wield the most influence on American policy—if it weren’t for his tireless efforts last year, the American Constitutional Convention might not have even proceeded smoothly.
Before long, inside the brick-red three-story mansion on the east side of Franklin Manor, Jefferson looked towards Talleyrand with a surge of elation, “Are you saying that the French Government intends to eliminate the Barbary pirates?”
Talleyrand straightened his back, exuding great confidence: “Indeed, His Majesty the King deeply sympathizes with the plight of America in the Mediterranean. To lessen the carnage suffered by your merchant ships, he has decided to completely eradicate those evildoers, despite opposition from several Cabinet Ministers!”