"Lightning Shaman" Franklin

"Ten million!" The middle-aged man with brown eyes was stunned, as if his brain's storage unit couldn't hold such a huge number. 😡🎀 🐊💚

After a moment, he suddenly burst into laughter. "Haha, I know! The person you're talking about must be the King!"

Marat immediately shook his head. "No, Valls, you're mistaken."

Ever since he gained access to government Finance data, he knew that even if the King wanted to, he could never embezzle tens of millions. In fact, most of the time, it was the King who was subsidizing the national treasury.

"It's Necker," Marat said in a deep voice, "Jacques Necker."

Valls paused for a moment, then burst into louder laughter. "Mr. Necker? Haha, you're saying Mr. Necker embezzled?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Marat! He's the Minister of Finance who cares most about the poor! He hardly raised taxes during his tenure."

Throughout his many years in France, Necker devoted considerable time and resources to cultivating an image as a friend of the poor and helping them resist the Royal Power. His efforts in this regard were remarkably effective.

"He didn't pay the tax increase," Marat nodded, "But that's probably just because the tax increase doesn't go directly into his pocket."

Before Valls could refute, he immediately continued, "Shortly after taking office, he signed a loan agreement with a Swiss bank for 5 Livre at an interest rate of 23%, citing the need to 'fill the Finance deficit'."

"At the same time, several banks were able to offer loans at rates far lower than that. I even saw in the documents that in the same month, the Brittany City Hall borrowed money from a bank at an interest rate of 19%."

Necker's reason was that "that Swiss bank has a more reliable reputation." Ha! A bank entrusts its Gold Coin to the government, and yet it still needs to worry about its reputation.

Marat looked out the window at the cleaners handling Fashion Week posters. "While you were enjoying the Fashion Week extravaganza, I went to Switzerland and found out that the bank that provided the 5 million loan was owned by Necker’s friend's. Oh, and they had also partnered to smuggle Grain from the United Kingdom before."

"Of course, this is just the first of the problematic loans I've investigated."

"During his seven-plus years as Treasurer of the Treasury, the French Government borrowed over 1 billion Livre from major banks and aristocratic Nobility. I suspect that most of these loans were problematic."

Valls frowned. "You mean, Mr. Necker profited from the bank through improper lending practices?"

"That's probably how it is. If he gets just 1% of those loans, that'll be over 10 million Livre!"

"No, impossible!" Valls shook his head, muttering, "Mr. Necker wouldn't..."

Marat was prepared. He took out several sheets of paper from his coat pocket, unfolded them, and placed them on the table. "These are the documents related to that 5 million loan that I copied down. You'll see for yourself. If you still don't believe me, I can take you to see the originals."

Valls turned the document upright with two fingers, tilted his head to look at it for a moment, then withdrew his hand as if bitten by a snake, and said in a low voice, "Why are you telling me all this?"

"You were once the most prominent journalist in finance and trade, and you have many friends in the Finance system. Perhaps you could provide me with some information about Necker."

Valls pursed his lips and pondered for a few seconds before shaking his head. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. In those years, I only paid attention to positive news about Necker; I really don't have anything of value to offer you."

Anything is fine.

"Indeed not..."

Valls suddenly stopped speaking, looked at Marat, and said, "Wait, there's someone who might have what you're looking for!"

Who is it?

"Calonne, the previous Minister of Finance," Valls said, "He had a significant conflict with Necker. It's said that his dismissal was related to Necker."

He once publicly said, "Don't think I don't know what you've been doing," because Necker attacked his tax policies. You know, often your enemies are the ones who know you best.

"Calonne," Marat nodded thoughtfully, "Where is he now?"

"Have you forgotten? He was exiled to Lorraine."

"Thank you so much!" Marat patted the middle-aged reporter hard, picked up his hat, and turned to leave.

In the Royal Armory office on the southeast side of the Versailles Palace, Joseph, having just finished a "Production Management course, rubbed his temples wearily and looked at the documents in front of him.

Beside him, a middle-aged man with a pointed chin pointed to the documents and said, "Your Highness, this is a routine work report. This is a special Investigation Report from officials related to Fashion Week. This is a special Investigation Report from the Police Intelligence Division. This is Mr. Marat's request for additional manpower..."

Joseph flipped through the signatures one by one, casually saying, "Thank you for your explanation, Mr. Cross. Oh, by the way, why isn't Mr. Marat here today?"

This task of submitting documents was usually done by Marat and was never changed, since these later Jacobin were somewhat resistant to the Royal House.

"Mr. Marat had an emergency and went to Lorraine last night," said Cross.

"Lorraine?" Joseph stopped writing. "Did he say what it was about?"

"It seems to be related to the official he's investigating."

Necker Joseph frowned. Marat hadn't even told him about something this big.

How many people did he take with him?

"As you know, the Fair Investigation Department Service is short-staffed; it only has him and Mr. Evans."

Joseph immediately sensed something was amiss— Marat had underestimated the ruthlessness of those capitalists. Perhaps it was because Necker had always been so adept at disguising himself, subconsciously giving the impression that he was a gentle and kind person, thus lowering one's guard.

He quickly turned to Eman, who was standing not far away, and said, "Count Eman, please inform Fouche immediately and have him send men to find Mr. Marat and protect him as soon as possible."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Philadelphia, United States.

West bank of the Delaware River.

Outside Benjamin Franklin's Manor, Thomas Jefferson watched as the French Envoy limped down from his Carriage and frowned slightly. The France sending such an unknown and somewhat disabled envoy seemed to be a sign of disrespect towards the United States.

However, as a diplomat from a small country, he knew exactly what to do. He immediately suppressed his displeasure, smiled, and stepped forward, bowing with his hand on his chest. "Welcome to Philadelphia, Your Excellency Archbishop Talleyrand."

He served as the ambassador to France for a long time and is fluent in French.

The elderly man in the wheelchair beside him seemed quite old; he raised his hand and waved weakly, saying, "Welcome, Mr. Envoy. When I was in Paris..."

Talleyrand merely nodded to Jefferson, then smiled at the elderly man in the wheelchair:

"You look very well, Mr. Franklin, may God bless you. Oh, I often hear about you in Paris. You were a famous figure then, and a good friend of mine even has a portrait of you in his family."

He knew very well that this octogenarian was the person who could influence United States policy the most today—if it weren't for his hard work, the United States Constitutional Convention last year probably wouldn't have even been able to proceed smoothly.

A short while later, in the three-story brick-red Villa on the east side of Franklin Manor, Jefferson looked at Talleyrand with delight and said, "You mean, the French Government is going to wipe out the Barbary Pirates?"

Talleyrand straightened his back, appearing very confident. "Indeed, His King deeply sympathizes with the plight of the United States in the Mediterranean Sea. To prevent your merchant ships from suffering further carnage, he disregarded the objections of several Cabinet Minister and decided to completely eradicate those wicked individuals!"