Silence settled over the reception room.
No one spoke. No one even reached for a glass. Every eye remained fixed on Jörg, waiting for him to reveal the talent and the "sincerity" he had promised.
Jörg did not keep them waiting.
"As everyone here knows, the enormous sums banks have lent to the public and to speculators have not fully flowed into the stock market to drive capital circulation," he said calmly. "A great deal of it has instead been absorbed by the real estate market."
As he spoke, he snapped his fingers.
Senna, who had been waiting outside, imdiately stepped forward and handed him the report he had prepared over the past two days.
He opened it and laid several sheets across the table.
A sharply rising curve of economic growth, a second curve showing the inflation of land and property values, and a third set of figures comparing actual industrial returns with speculative real estate returns.
Combined with his composed tone and precise command of financial language, the effect was imdiate. Even the n who had co here prepared to bargain with him found themselves leaning in despite themselves.
"In the past five years, housing prices in Miami have risen five to six tis over," Jörg continued. "And that is not an isolated case. Similar patterns are appearing in state after state as this real estate frenzy spreads."
He tapped the report lightly.
"But real estate is not the sa as the stock market. It does not circulate in the sa way. It does not generate the sa kind of visible comrcial vitality. In essence, what is being traded at present is not stable value, but a growing cluster of bubbles that may burst at any mont."
Then he raised his hand and made a sharp bursting motion with his fingers.
"If this trend is allowed to continue across the United States..." he said.
Bang.
The gesture landed like a gunshot in the room.
Astor's expression changed first.
He had heavy real estate exposure in Miami. Had he not attended tonight's eting, he might well have continued marching straight toward ruin without realizing it until the ground vanished beneath him.
Jack Morgan's face also grew more serious.
He understood imdiately what the collapse of a real estate bubble could an. Money driven from one speculative arena would not disappear. It would seek another. And that ant the stock market.
Benjamin Strong's gaze sharpened.
"I will have this investigated thoroughly, Mr. Jörg," he said after a pause. "Your judgnt is unusually farsighted. If the matter proves true, then I will owe you a favor."
Jörg rely shook his head.
"There is no need for favors, Mr. Benjamin. Bursting the real estate bubble is only the first step. If we want to push the stock market into a new phase of expansion, we must also show the public enough sincerity to keep confidence intact."
He closed the report and folded his hands.
"The collapse of the bubble would inevitably damage public confidence and trigger a chain of reactions. Therefore, I would suggest, and only as a suggestion, that the Federal Reserve adopt an active posture afterward. Ease credit. Lower the discount rate. If necessary, quietly purchase a batch of equities to serve as the opening move."
He let the sentence breathe before finishing it.
"In short, rekindle public enthusiasm."
No one interrupted him.
Even those who had co here intending only to evaluate Germany's proposal now found themselves seriously asuring the potential gains buried inside his words.
Jack Morgan was clearly interested. His family held positions across a broad range of companies. A more explosive stock market ant another imnse wave of profit.
Yet Benjamin Strong remained cautious.
After a long silence, he finally said, "Your proposal is bold. Practical, perhaps, but bold. Tell , Mr. Jörg, how do you ensure that the stock market does not simply beco another inflated bubble?"
His eyes held steady on Jörg.
"And more importantly, why are you suggesting this at all? You are German."
Jörg smiled, rolled up the report, and answered without the slightest embarrassnt.
"Because, Mr. Benjamin, the German and Arican economies are no longer separate matters. They are already intertwined."
"I want Germany's unemploynt crisis resolved quickly. I want our fiscal holes filled quickly. And I believe part of the capital released by such a shift could be guided into shipbuilding equities, especially those connected to the agreent we are discussing tonight."
He leaned back slightly.
"Of course, you are under no obligation to follow my advice. As I said, it is only a suggestion."
Benjamin did not respond at once.
He was old enough, experienced enough, and cautious enough to distrust any solution that looked too elegant. His duty demanded suspicion.
But Jack Morgan saw things differently.
In his eyes, high profit had always been inseparable from high risk. Jörg's proposal was dangerous, yes, but the danger was precisely what made it valuable. It suggested that the Arican market still had far more room to run than most people imagined.
He gave Benjamin a look.
Benjamin caught it imdiately. He knew what that look ant. Morgan was interested. More than interested.
"Well," Benjamin said at last, exhaling slowly, "I will have the real estate situation examined. And I will also raise the question of rate cuts and expanded credit before the Federal Reserve."
Jack turned at once.
"Then, Mr. Rockefeller, since Mr. Jörg has shown his sincerity, shall we show so of our own?"
Rockefeller stroked his chin and replied in an easy tone, "I can speak with a number of congressn. But tell first, where are shipbuilding stocks now?"
Jack picked up the market paper beside him and glanced at the figures.
"Below twenty dollars."
Rockefeller smiled faintly.
"I have a feeling they could reach three hundred within two years."
Benjamin heard that and said nothing, but in that mont, a shadow of unease settled in the back of his mind. He was already beginning to think about contingency asures, about what would happen if such a tide one day turned. What he did not know was that his aging body would never endure long enough to see the full storm.
On the other side of the suite, Jörg had already stepped into a separate private room with Astor.
The mont the door closed, Astor spoke first, gratitude almost spilling out of him.
"Mr. Jörg, I..."
Jörg waved it aside.
"There is no need to thank , Astor. Tell instead, are you interested in taking your family further than rely surviving?"
Astor's breathing almost stopped.
A few words from this man had already saved him from walking blind into a financial trap. At this point, Jörg seed less like a politician and more like the very hand of fate reaching down to drag the Astor family back from decline.
"Mr. Jörg," he said at once, "please tell what you require."
Jörg's expression remained calm.
"You understand that if the shipbuilding agreent passes, I will have considerable influence over which shipbuilding enterprises establish the first branches in Germany. I can let you know that list ahead of ti."
Astor nodded repeatedly. Of course he understood. Early knowledge of that list ant advance positioning, advance speculation, advance leverage. It ant profit. It ant restored standing. It ant survival.
"Yes," he said quickly. "I understand completely. What do you want from ?"
Jörg turned slightly and glanced toward the bearskin mounted on the wall.
"I dislike the word repay, Mr. Astor. I prefer win win."
He looked back at him.
"At a certain mont, when I instruct you to do so, you will liquidate the stocks you are holding. In addition, you will provide certain assistance in the spheres of politics and public opinion."
Astor's expression stiffened.
He had expected a price. Still, hearing it stated so plainly made him instinctively tense. It sounded simple, but only on the surface. Beneath it lay sothing far closer to alignnt, perhaps even complicity.
Jörg saw the hesitation imdiately and laughed softly.
"I know what you are thinking. Relax. This will not bring trouble down upon your head. On the contrary, it will bring you and your family sothing far more valuable than imdiate profit."
.....
[If you don't want to wait for the next update, read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon.]
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