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Chapter 182: Industrial Espionage

The Bank of France was now a major shareholder in the seven banks, including Ludot's, and could access their accounts at any time.

Joseph happened to recall that a few months prior, a somewhat eccentric young woman had mentioned to him that several French banks were heavily investing in the British textile industry. He decided to check, and sure enough, these seven banks were among them.

Upon hearing this, Marquis Ludot sprang from his chair.

He had been so in a terrible fix with Necker's case recently that he had completely forgotten about his investments in Britain!

Even the vagrants of Paris knew that France and Britain were rivals, and that France's colonies in India and North America had been seized by the British. Now, he was investing French money in Britain; to put it harshly, it was practically treason.

Marquis Ludot wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, staring nervously at the tip of his shoe. "Your Highness, th-this is a mistake. I will immediately withdraw all investments from Britain."

"Oh, and I'll invest it all in the Industrial Development Fund!"

Joseph, flipping through the documents in his hand, gestured for him to sit down. "Hmm, with a fixed annual interest of 15% plus profit sharing, the returns would certainly exceed 20%."

Ludot's face paled with fright. Just as he was about to plead further, he heard the Crown Prince add, "There's no rush to withdraw such a good investment for now, but we must make the most of it."

Joseph again motioned for him to sit. "You don't need to be so tense.

"You and the Comte de Kaunitz, among others, have invested over 20 million livres in the British automatic loom industry. You are definitely major shareholders."

"With such a substantial investment, it's quite reasonable for a shareholder to visit Britain and inquire about the operational situation, wouldn't you say?"

Marquis Ludot tentatively perched on the edge of the chair, nodding. "Yes, it's very reasonable."

"Excellent," Joseph said with a faint smile. "I need you, in your capacity as a shareholder, to bring back several of the latest automatic looms from Britain for me, along with some technicians familiar with their structure, and workers skilled in operating them."

Marquis Ludot's mouth dropped open. After a long moment, he finally managed to stammer, "You... you want me to be an industrial spy?"

Joseph waved a hand. "It's not appropriate to put it that way. France has invested a great deal of money in Britain; it's only natural to confirm whether the technology we've invested in is truly as advanced as claimed, isn't it?

"Oh, and I'll send agents from the Police Intelligence Bureau with you. You merely need to use your shareholder status to gain a clear understanding of the British factories' situation; they will handle the specific details for you."

Ludot had spent his entire life counting money in his bank; he'd never done anything like this. As he hesitated and struggled internally, he saw the Crown Prince's gaze turn cold.

'He might get caught trying to get the British looms, and at worst, he'd spend a few years in prison, perhaps even be bailed out. But if he didn't go, he'd be thrown into the Bastille right now.'

Marquis Ludot swallowed hard, then reluctantly nodded. "Alright, Your Highness. I'll go to Britain immediately and bring back what you need!"

When he returned home, heavy-hearted, the Comte de Kaunitz and others immediately gathered around him, asking what the Crown Prince had wanted.

Marquis Ludot was about to become an industrial spy, and naturally didn't want too many people to know, so he merely claimed it was about some bank accounting issues.

The other banking magnates had no suspicions. Instead, they presented their drafted plan to deal with Necker, asking him to review it with them.

Marquis Ludot's mind was completely preoccupied with the British looms; his thoughts weren't truly on the discussion, and he merely nodded, his mind not at peace.

...

Four days later, three unassuming carriages rolled out of the Bastille. After circling Paris extensively, they finally departed the city from the east under the cover of night.

Trailing behind them, a man dressed as a postal carrier rode at a distance, leaving occasional markers.

The three carriages eventually headed northeast. Inside sat Necker and his family.

He had ultimately decided to go into exile in Lorraine, as it was relatively close to Switzerland, where his friends might be able to look after him.

The hot, dry wind blowing through the carriage window irritated him deeply. After so many years of struggle, he was now scurrying out of Paris in the dead of night like a rat.

'It was all that scoundrel Calonne!' He gritted his teeth, a fierce vow forming in his mind: 'I swear, I will make you suffer pain far worse than mine!'

The following evening, the escort convoy arrived in Sommerville. Lange, the Police Intelligence Bureau agent commanding the escort, checked the time and, seeing they wouldn't reach the next town, instructed his subordinates to rest at the municipal inn.

After settling Necker in, Lange and his men began playing cards in the outer room.

Before long, a Police Intelligence Bureau agent entered the room and whispered a few words into his ear.

Lange nodded, grabbed a wine bottle from nearby, and began drinking with a few of his subordinates. Simultaneously, the agents assigned to guard the back of the house also started drinking.

After night fully descended, a dilapidated carriage stopped on the road opposite Sommerville's town hall, and several men dressed as merchants disembarked.

The 'postal carrier' from before immediately approached, head bowed, and whispered, "Good opportunity. The secret police are all drinking."

The 'merchant' nodded, motioned for his companions to take their weapons and exit the carriage, then scaled the wall on the east side of the town hall.

The streetlights had already been extinguished by the 'postal carrier.' The three 'merchants' smoothly pried open the main door and crept into the town hall.

These men were all experienced assassins. They silently located Necker's room, then saw the secret police agents swaying drunkenly.

The leader's face lit up with pleasure. He lit a torch, swiftly bypassed the guards, and winked at his companions behind him.

The men drew their swords, gently pushed open the inner room door, and then rushed in, stabbing Necker on the bed over a dozen times before stopping.

The lead assassin brought the torch close to the bed, confirmed it was Necker, and immediately signaled his subordinates to retreat.

They hadn't expected the mission, worth a hefty thirty thousand livres, to be completed so easily. As they pondered how to enjoy their immense reward upon their return, they were already outside the town hall's main door.

"Wait!"

The leader suddenly stopped. Years of experience as an assassin made him detect a hint of danger. Before they could react, dozens of torches suddenly flared to life around them.

In the flickering light, all they saw were the gaping muzzles of flintlock muskets.

...

Marquis Ludot hadn't anticipated his operation going so smoothly.

Just two days after arriving in Britain, he was enthusiastically guided by a textile factory manager on a complete tour of the automatic loom industry.

He then spent a considerable sum to bribe two technicians responsible for repairing the looms.

After making preparations, Prosper from the Police Intelligence Bureau led his men to secretly steal an automatic loom overnight—a device fixed to a water wheel that would be impossible to dismantle intact without professional technicians. They then transported it via Britain's inland waterways to Dover port, where it was loaded onto a ship already waiting there.