As evening settled over Paris, a soft moonlight illuminated the city. Tijani held a grand party on the rooftop of the Ritz Hotel in the 1st arrondissement, attended by military officers who Charles had saved in the Cape Town campaign, as well as various aristocrats and notable figures.
When Charles entered the ballroom, the atmosphere felt foreign to him: officers laughing, speaking animatedly, women dressed in finery, and servers moving fluidly among guests, offering drinks to those who needed them. Couples swayed together to the music in the center of the room, adding to the air of warmth and carefree elegance.
Tijani, standing with a group of fashionable ladies, saw Charles enter. He lifted a glass and tapped it with a spoon, catching everyone's attention as he raised his voice, "Gentlemen, let us toast to Charles!"
"To Charles!" A chorus rang out, and the eyes of the entire hall turned to Charles.
As Charles made his way through the room, nodding politely to officers and ladies he didn't recognize, Tijani approached, smiling, and shook his hand. He glanced at the gold threads on Charles's cuff and joked, "Congratulations, Colonel!"
Charles's expression soured slightly. "I thought I told you that you didn't need to flatter me over the rescue."
"I know," Tijani replied with a disarming smile. "But this isn't my doing—it was their idea. They wanted to meet you, to thank you in person."
Sure enough, several officers came forward, introducing themselves, some even mentioning their units. Charles found himself at a loss; there were so many names, and he knew he'd forget them as soon as he turned around.
"Next time, you could just leave me out of this," Charles remarked. He had initially thought this might be a meeting arranged by Welles, only to realize it was an actual party.
"Understood!" Tijani readily agreed, though the faint smile on his face suggested he felt differently. It was as if he was saying, You should come out and experience life, Colonel; this is what life is about!
He handed Charles a glass of wine as they casually strolled through the crowd. In a low voice, he added, "My father was very pleased with your proposal, Colonel. He's already begun developing destroyers and torpedoes."
Charles merely nodded, understanding that this was Welles' response, marking the first step in their cooperation. From now on, there would be a tacit agreement: Welles would support Charles in Parliament and other possible arenas, while Charles would occasionally offer suggestions to help the shipyard's development.
As they walked, a burst of hearty laughter caught Charles's attention. The sound came from a woman in her twenties, her cheeks flushed. Surrounded by officers, she seemed perfectly at ease, occasionally interjecting in their conversations. Noticing Charles looking at her, she boldly waved and called out, "Hello, Colonel, my little hero!"
Charles didn't respond, turning instead to look at Tijani.
"You don't know her?" Tijani asked, clearly surprised.
Charles didn't answer, his gaze shifting as he headed toward the food area. In this banquet hall, the only thing that really interested him was the large red lobster on display.
"Her name's Hélène," Tijani explained, following Charles. "She's a burlesque dancer and quite the sensation in Paris. Many people would love to be in her good graces."
Charles, tearing a claw from the lobster, replied sarcastically, "I suppose you're one of them?"
"No, Colonel!" Tijani shook his head. "But you'd never guess who did win her over."
"Who?" Charles asked, chewing on the lobster meat.
Tijani leaned in close and whispered, "The Minister of the Navy."
Charles stopped, staring at Tijani in disbelief.
The files he'd read back at the command center noted that the Navy Minister was well over sixty. Could he really still have an interest in that?
Tijani nodded with a knowing look, adding quietly, "She's his mistress."
Charles slowed, thoughtfully chewing his lobster.
Now that he thought about it, he vaguely recalled hearing about a woman like her—someone who mingled with officers, playing the role of an innocent girl afraid of war.
In her presence, officers often became protective, eager to reassure her:
"Don't worry, we have five divisions stationed there!"
"Yes, and two artillery regiments. They'll handle anything that comes their way."
"They'll be victorious; a new offensive is just around the corner!"
The Minister of the Navy himself had confided numerous secrets to her, and it was estimated that, due to her, France had lost as many as three divisions—forty or fifty thousand men. Even the British Army Commander, Lord Kitchener, had fallen victim to a German submarine ambush because of a leak involving her.
Looking back at Hélène, who was now playfully chatting with officers without a care in the world, Charles was struck by how this scene encapsulated France's intelligence system.
In the Third Republic, checks and balances were strictly enforced to prevent any department from gaining too much power. Unfortunately, this also meant that military secrets often lacked proper protection.
Gallieni's command center, for example, was technically the second-highest military office in France, yet it was rife with the spies of industrialists. If these capitalists could easily obtain command center intelligence, then enemy agents could obtain it from the capitalists, reducing "military secrets" to a mere illusion.
That's why Gallieni insisted on discussing serious matters with Charles in the privacy of the rest area.
Tijani noticed Charles's darkened expression and asked, "Is something wrong?"
"No, nothing." Charles refocused on his lobster.
Charles returned to the command center just after ten that night. The light in Gallieni's office was still on, which was unusual—he was normally asleep by now.
As he climbed the stairs, he could hear Gallieni talking to someone. He was about to approach when Gallieni, hearing his footsteps, called out, "It must be him!"
Before Charles could respond, a familiar figure rushed into the light, and upon seeing him, wrapped him in an enthusiastic embrace. "It's been too long, my friend!"
Charles looked closer and saw that it was Albert I.
"Your Majesty!" Charles exclaimed. "What brings you here?"
Albert I patted Charles warmly on the shoulder. "I had some matters to attend to in Paris and thought I'd take the chance to visit you. How have you been?"
"Very well, Your Majesty," Charles replied.
"A foolish question!" Albert I laughed. "I read about your exploits in the papers nearly every day. It's hardly a secret."
Gallieni, who had followed them out, interjected, "Colonel, there are some things we need to discuss."
Charles felt a chill; something about this situation seemed off.
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