Chapter 659: Stokes's Dilemma
The blueprints and data Charles gave to Tijani were from the "Agile-class" destroyers developed by France nine years later. Everything else was the same, except that the two single-barrel 37mm anti-aircraft guns had been replaced with ten 20mm autocannons.
Although construction of the Agile-class began in 1925, the original 37mm guns were known as "hand-cranked French guns," with a maximum rate of fire of just 30 rounds per minute and an actual combat rate of less than 15.
(Note: The Agile-class destroyers were built just after WWI, when the French Navy had no real concept of air defense.
The two 37mm guns were installed more for show than actual utility.) The Oerlikon 20mm autocannon, by contrast, had a combat rate of fire of 320 rounds per minute. Everyone knew that anti-aircraft defense depended on creating a dense wall of fire—rate of fire directly translated into hit probability. That's why Charles had no hesitation about replacing the old 37mm with Oerlikons to enhance air defense.
(Image: French Agile-class destroyer, laid down in 1925, standard displacement of 1380 tons, full load 2000 tons, max speed 33 knots.)
…
London, England. After work, Stokes walked home like he always did. It wasn't about saving money—it was just his habit to think while walking. The original concept for the mortar had come to him during one such stroll.
Now his mind was occupied with Charles's recent assignment: shortening the breech of a gun to make a dedicated tank cannon. It wasn't easy.
The breech held the hydraulic recoil mechanism, and shortening it meant redesigning nearly the entire system—everything except the barrel. Lately, Stokes had been mentally consumed with optimization schemes, sometimes dreaming about them.
The real headache was that the lab was in France while his company and staff were in Britain, so everything had to go through telegrams. One message could take over an hour to send and reply, and miscommunications were frequent due to technical jargon and poor transmission quality.
As he walked, Stokes suddenly felt something was off—like someone was following him. The thought sent a chill down his spine. In these times, it wasn't unusual for someone to be robbed—or worse—at gunpoint. To test it, he quickened his pace and turned down a side street, pretending to stop and light a cigarette at a windbreak.
Sure enough, a man in a black cloak and a bowler hat followed close behind. When he realized Stokes had stopped, the man hesitated, then looked around casually before continuing on. Alarmed, Stokes changed direction and hurried toward his villa.
The man followed him to the gate but didn't enter—instead he lingered outside, pacing and watching the house.
Inside, Stokes didn't remove his hat right away. He went straight to the window, peeked through the curtain, and saw the man still loitering. At the dining table, his wife was setting the silverware. "What's wrong, Stokes?" she asked, confused by his behavior. Stokes hesitated. Should he tell her? He didn't want to frighten her, but if she had no idea, she'd be unprepared for any real danger. He carefully helped her into a chair and whispered, "Don't worry, Laura. There's something you should know."
"What is it?" she asked, visibly puzzled. She'd never seen him like this—not even when German zeppelins flew over London.
"We're being followed," he said.
Laura froze, then laughed nervously. "You're being paranoid. Maybe it's a coincidence…"
"No, no," Stokes interrupted. "It's real. Trust me. And I think I know why."
"Why?" she asked. "Did you offend someone?"
Stokes was well liked. He rarely made enemies.
"I may have…" he sighed. "I may have offended the British government."
Her mouth fell open. "You… What? The British government?"
"Listen to me, Laura," he said urgently. "I didn't mean to. I'm working with Charles—you know that. Others know, too. I think the government knows now as well."
She caught on quickly. "You mean... you're collaborating with Charles on an invention?"
Stokes nodded.
"A secret invention?"
Another nod.
"Something military?"
A resigned sigh. "Yes. Just like you guessed."
Her face turned pale. "You're mad, Stokes. You're a British citizen."
"I know," he replied anxiously. "But the idea was Charles's. Technically it's his invention. I'm just helping him make it work. I thought it was just business. And besides, Britain and France are allies, right? I didn't think it was illegal…"
She cut him off, fear in her eyes. "They don't care about legality. They don't want France surpassing Britain—never have, never will."
"You're right. But what can I do now?" Stokes slumped, clutching his head. "Turn myself in?"
He immediately rejected the idea. "No. They don't want a confession—they want what Charles and I are building. They'll try to turn me into a spy…"
He shook his head in frustration. He was a businessman, not a secret agent. He didn't want to live in fear. Laura thought for a moment and said, "Why don't you talk to Charles? If it's a joint project, he should take responsibility. Or… you could quit."
Stokes's eyes lit up. Yes—if he quit the project, he had nothing to worry about.
But just as he stood up, he hesitated.
His company was on the verge of collapse. Wartime inflation had made raw materials like steel prohibitively expensive. Their collaboration with Charles involved manufacturing tank cannons. Every future tank would need one. This deal could make him richer than he ever imagined.
If he quit, he'd get nothing—and bankruptcy would be inevitable.
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