"That's all we have to do to kill time? Mr. Scott. Sir Harrison put his cards on the table, drew a few from the stack of banknotes in his hand, counted them, and placed them in the middle of the table.

There are now dozens of pound sterling notes and fifty shillings in coins, which is not a small bet for a hand, but it is nothing at all for these participants.

"Don't worry, Mr. Sir, everything is going according to our plan, and nothing will slip through the cracks." Scott looked through his cards, pulled out a few bills, and placed them in the middle of the table.

"I'm not following." Dr. Siffer closed his cards, a respected scholar and a well-known investment advisor in London.

"I'm not going to follow either, the Association of Banks in London and the National Savings Council have come to a consensus, they don't want to pay for this stupid war anymore, and now it's time for them to have to make a choice, and it's clear that none of these people are stupid." Lord Claude threw down the cards in his hand, and he took the whiskey glass in front of him and drank it down, then picked up the crystal bottle on the table next to him and filled himself with another glass.

"Listen? What is the sound? There was a series of muffled thunderous noises overhead, and Dr. Shalfer swore he felt his chair tremble.

"It's a subway that transports supplies, rest assured, the Germans won't bomb the city center, and we're in a safe situation. Okay, let's deal, I have three nines for a pair of kings. Mr. Scott turned over his hole cards.

"Well, you won, what a lucky guy." Sir Harrison flipped his cards and he only had two sixes and a pair of jacks.

"Now the National Bank is clinging to its own reserves and does not let anyone interfere at all, and like us, they ignore Churchill's orders, and that madman thinks he is God. The earth must follow his baton. Sir Harrison picked up his cigar and took a hard breath.

"Again?" Scott asked.

"No, take a break." Lord Claude poured another glass of whiskey and spat out a sigh of contentedness.

"If you don't satisfy the Germans, no one will be happy, and I remind everyone that this must be borne in mind." Scott sorted through the penny coins and stacked them together.

"The city concentrates the best and wealth of the entire British Empire, how could the Germans not be satisfied." Dr. Shalfer picked up his glass of soda, took a sip, and continued.

"Sir Wood and Dalton had discussed this with me at dinner the previous two days and they were under a lot of pressure. If the plan goes awry, no one will let them go. ”

"Of course, no one will let them go, and when the time comes, without the Germans, we will end up with these two pieces of waste ourselves. They can't even do things that are within their purview, and what qualifications do they have to continue to live. Lord Claude slammed his glass on the table.

"This involves precious metals, foreign currency, government bonds, stocks, overseas investments, real estate, etc., which is an astronomical amount of money. The Germans are not going to wipe out the British, they are not idiots, they will definitely protect the value of the pound, and no one wants to spend so much effort. What you end up with is a pile of waste paper. Sir Harrison dusted off his cigarette ash and shoved his cigar into his mouth.

"We've done our best, and all that's left is God's arrangement. Our purpose is only one thing, not to allow those madmen to transfer London's assets under any circumstances. Want to send our money to those rude American nouveau riche on the other side of the river to continue this stupid war? They are simply pipe dreams. Scott sorted out the pokers and put them back in the box on the table.

"How long will we need to hold on." Lord Claude asked.

"By my estimate, forty-eight hours at most." Scott picked up a cigarette and held it in his mouth. He raised his arms and stretched out.

"Your Excellency, according to your request, they are all here." First Secretary of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs Richard Brown. Clifts placed his briefcase on the couch in the living room.

"Sit casually. Richard, wait until I'm done with that. "Lord Edward, Lord of Halifax, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. Wood was behind his desk, scribbling on a report.

"How's it going out there?" Lord Halifax asked casually.

"It's a terrible situation, there are so many rumors out there that people are a little confused." Cliffs replied respectfully.

"The Chief of Staff of the Army has proposed total martial law, and where can he muster so many troops. The Minister of the Interior also proposed that the Government withdraw to Birmingham, but feared being intercepted by the Luftwaffe on the way. "Edward. Wood signed the report at the end of the report, read it through, and after finding that there were no mistakes, folded the document and placed it in a crisp envelope.

"In fact, most of the people in the cabinet know very well that this war is over." Wood opened the drawer on the side of the desk and pulled out a wooden box from inside.

"Eight months ago, they were confident that the British Empire would win the war, and that the Germans would regret their stupid decision for the rest of their life, as they had done last time." The Foreign Secretary opened the wooden box and took out half of the candle from it, and he picked up a box of matches from the table and lit the charred wick.

"I always thought that Chamberlain's judgment was correct, but unfortunately no one believed it at the time, and the people in the parliament were like demons, fanatically clamoring for war, believing that the British Empire would be able to teach the arrogant Germans another lesson." Wood took a silver spoon from the wooden box, added a few grains of cut fire paint to it, and then took the spoon and heated it over the candle flame.

"They ousted Chamberlain and put that madman in the prime minister's office. At that time, we could still go back and negotiate diplomatically with the Germans, after all, it was not a war for the British. "The red fire paint had melted, and it shone like a jewel in the light.

"By the time of the Battle of Dunkirk, we still had room for manoeuvre, and Hitler threw an olive branch at us more than once. But Churchill was adamantly opposed to negotiating with the Germans, and he was going to fight the Germans to the end, with the result that 400,000 Imperial soldiers and the main forces of the Home Fleet were all cut off by this bastard.

I had to do my duty, it was my mission, and as Foreign Secretary of the British Empire, I had to obey the decisions of the wartime cabinet, both legal and moral. I can't oppose Churchill. I only have the power to admonish him, but this man is so stubborn that he doesn't listen to any advice that doesn't suit his heart.

I tried to resign several times, but each time I was denied at the end of the day, because I love this country, and I can't choose to run away from it at such times. Wood carefully dripped the melted paint onto the hinge of the envelope.

"After the defeat at Dunkirk, we have lost the possibility of victory. Then another opportunity came to us, and Hitler died suddenly, although I don't know the exact circumstances. But it must have something to do with the new Führer.

At that time, if we were to show goodwill to the new Führer, who was still busy with the change of power, it was quite possible that he would be willing to sign a mutually satisfactory armistice with Britain, so that the British Empire could withdraw from this hopeless war with dignity. Wood took his heraldic seal from the wooden box and pressed it hard against the fire paint that was about to set.

But Churchill objected, believing that it would damage his authority and reputation. What did he say at the time? The British Empire would never have made peace with an evil dictator. Ridiculous, he's not the same as a dictator now, look at his performance. Who would think that he is not evil. Wood set the envelope aside and began to gather the things on the table.

"Now it's time for us to make a decision, we have to save the country, not from the Germans. Rather, from the madman Churchill, to save our British Empire. This man has gone completely insane, and he is destroying everything we have sworn to defend.

The British people were tired of the war and everything that had to do with this stupid war, and they wanted three meals a day. Hard work pays off fairly, they want to be reunited with their families, and they want their children to be free from fear. They want to buy gifts for their wives and daughters, take their dogs for walks in the park as usual, and feed the swans in Lake St. York and the pigeons in Hyde Park with broken biscuits without being arrested by the police. Wood stood up and walked over to the couch and sat down.

"Britain needs peace, and although we have lost many chances, I have never given up trying. Now, this is our last chance, and we have to seize it. Wood opened the briefcase on the couch and pulled out a few papers from it to look at it.

"All the originals are here, all they took was copies. They also wanted us to hand over the internal files for the past two years, and I said that I would have to ask you before I could reply. Cliffs replied respectfully, full of admiration for his boss.

"Move all the documents and files to a safe place, and claim that we have destroyed them all." Wood put the papers back in his briefcase.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"Never let anyone know that these documents are with me, that Churchill's distant relative is already in a state of anger, and that he will never allow these secret agreements and diplomatic letters to fall into the hands of the Germans, and this is precisely the best gift we can give to the German Führer." Closing the bag, Wood stood up and walked over to the windowsill.

The foreign minister forcefully opened the thick velvet curtains, and the summer sun shone on his face, and he couldn't open his eyes.

"Cliffs, we still have a future, and I firmly believe that as long as the sun still rises, the British Empire will not fall." Wood closed his eyes and felt the warm sun shine on his face, and the Foreign Secretary took a deep breath, tears streaming down his cheeks.

On the last day of the year, I ask you to vote for the final sprint of the year, no matter what the final result is, at least we have tried. I thank everyone for their continued support, regardless of the final rankings, this is by no means the end, but only the beginning. In the new year, I will work harder to keep this story told.

Finally, I wish you all a happy new year, in 2016, all the best, learning and progress, smooth work, rich financial resources, and happy family. Thank you all for your support of this book, thank you. (To be continued.) )