While Yuan Shikai and Meng Tian were forging their unholy alliance in the gilded cage of the Maraclad Estate, Michael Abernathy was playing a different, grander game on the global chessboard. His chosen venue was not a country mansion, but a quiet, discreet drawing-room in his Washington D.C. safe house, a room insulated from the prying ears of his American allies.
His guest was a man who was ostensibly his rival, a key player for another ambitious empire seeking its "place in the sun." Count Hermann von Speck-Sternburg, the German Ambassador to the United States, was a man of immense charm, sharp intellect, and a reputation as one of Kaiser Wilhelm II's most trusted foreign policy minds. He and Abernathy had circled each other for years at diplomatic functions, two professional sharks in a sea of oblivious fish, and they shared a mutual, grudging respect.
The Ambassador had requested this highly unorthodox, secret meeting, and Abernathy, sensing opportunity, had immediately agreed.
"My dear Abernathy," Speck-Sternburg began, settling into a leather armchair with a glass of sherry, his demeanor one of friendly, collegial concern. "A terrible business in St. Louis. Truly shocking. One feels the world is becoming rather… unstable."
Abernathy gave a noncommittal murmur. He knew this was not a social call.
The German Ambassador got straight to the point. "My government, and indeed the Kaiser himself, has been observing the unfolding situation in the Far East with great interest. It seems our American friends have rather overplayed their hand. This clumsy attempt to blackmail Minister Yuan, this public incident with their Secretary of War… it all speaks of a certain… amateurishness, does it not?"
He took a sip of his sherry. "We have also noted, with some concern, that the Americans' new agreement with Minister Yuan appears to give them an exclusive and highly preferential position regarding the industrial development of Manchuria. A position that seems to exclude other… interested parties. Like Great Britain. And, of course, Germany."
He was laying his cards on the table. He knew the British had been cut out. He was here to see if that betrayal had created an opportunity. He made his offer. "Perhaps it is time that the older, more established powers of Europe considered a new policy of cooperation. A secret, Anglo-German understanding to counter the… naive ambitions… of the Americans in the Pacific."
Abernathy feigned a polite, diplomatic disinterest. It was a tempting offer, but he needed to test the Ambassador, to see how much he truly knew, and to demonstrate his own unique value in this potential new partnership. He decided to use a small, carefully selected piece of the intelligence Yuan had provided him.
He swirled the brandy in his own glass. "A fascinating proposal, Count. Though one wonders what true interests we share. China is, after all, a primitive, backward nation. Their military is a joke, their industry nonexistent." He paused, then delivered the subtle probe. "Though I must admit, we have heard some rather remarkable rumors about the quality of the new steel being produced in their state arsenals near Wuhan. Our sources claim it is nearly the equal of your own famous Krupp steel from Essen."
The effect was instantaneous. The German Ambassador's friendly, conspiratorial demeanor vanished, replaced by a look of cold, deadly seriousness. The industrialist had just emerged from behind the diplomat's mask.
"So," Speck-Sternburg said, his voice now a low, hard baritone. "You have heard the rumors as well."
He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "My government's industrial intelligence confirms your report. The Chinese have, somehow, made a technological leap of several decades in less than a year. Our agents have been unable to acquire a sample, but the reports are consistent. It is a direct and profound threat to Germany's interests. We are the world's primary exporter of high-grade steel and artillery. A technologically independent China, one capable of forging its own advanced weapons, is not a customer. It is a competitor. It changes the entire strategic calculation in the Far East."
Abernathy now knew he had his full attention. The time for probing was over. It was time to show his hand.
"My sources are… more than just rumors, Count," Abernathy said, a hint of superiority in his tone. "I have a source. A new one. A man at the very highest level of the Qing government, at the center of their new industrial and military apparatus. A man who is… willing to share information."
Speck-Sternburg stared at him, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and naked avarice. An asset of that caliber was the dream of every spymaster.
Abernathy now played his masterstroke, offering the German Ambassador a partnership built on the bedrock of Yuan Shikai's treason. "Let us be frank, Count. The Americans have betrayed my government's trust. We no longer share a common interest with them in China. Therefore, I am prepared to offer you a new arrangement. I will share the intelligence from my asset with you. We will both be privy to the secrets of China's military modernization."
"And in exchange?" the German asked, his voice a whisper.
"In exchange," Abernathy replied, "the German government will use its considerable diplomatic and financial influence to obstruct American and Japanese interests in China at every turn. You will be our silent partner in dismantling their new Manchurian enterprise. We will work together to ensure that the Pacific remains a chessboard for the great powers of Europe, not the private playground of upstart colonials."
It was an offer to carve up the future, a cynical, classic piece of 19th-century imperial power politics.
The German Ambassador, his mind racing with the immense possibilities, agreed in principle. But he was a shrewd man. He needed proof. "This is an extraordinary proposal, Abernathy. But I will require a sign of good faith. A sample of this priceless intelligence your new asset can provide."
Abernathy had anticipated this. He had the perfect, poisoned offering ready. He would give the Germans a piece of intelligence that was both incredibly valuable and one that served his own long-term goal of isolating and analyzing Meng Tian.
"Very well," Abernathy said. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near-inaudible whisper. He told the German Ambassador a single, explosive secret gleaned from Yuan Shikai's report. "Our mutual asset informs me that the celebrated Chinese war hero, General Meng Tian, is not the stable, heroic figure he appears to be. He is, in fact, a man of profound psychological volatility, prone to what my asset describes as 'battle-induced seizures' and collapses, often accompanied by physical symptoms like nosebleeds."
Speck-Sternburg's eyes lit up. He instantly understood the immense strategic value of such a piece of personal, discrediting information.
"This information, should it be discreetly leaked to the international press at the right moment," Abernathy suggested with a thin smile, "could be very useful in undermining the General's reputation on the world stage, should he become too… influential. It paints a picture of a brilliant but unstable commander, not a reliable partner for any Western power."
The German Ambassador smiled, a slow, predatory expression. He understood perfectly. Abernathy had not just given him a piece of intelligence; he had given him a weapon, aimed directly at the heart of China's most respected military leader.
"Your good faith is accepted, my dear Abernathy," Speck-Sternburg said, raising his glass. "I believe we have the foundations of a most profitable partnership."
Abernathy had done it. He had successfully drawn Germany, the most aggressive and ambitious power in Europe, into his secret web. He had used Yuan's betrayal of Meng Tian as the bait, and the German had taken it without hesitation. The Great Game being played out on American soil was no longer a simple two-sided affair. It was now a four-way Mexican standoff between the Americans, the British, the Germans, and the fractured, warring factions of the Chinese themselves.