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Chapter 446 Daimler's Weakness

The first round of negotiations was destined to fail, especially given the significant differences between the two sides.

Back at his hotel in Detroit, Allen walked to the window, looking down at the bustling streets below. His mind raced as he mentally replayed the entire negotiation process from the daytime.

He then dialed Ernst's number and reported the negotiation process to him.

"I understand. Wait for news. Someone will contact you later." Ernst's voice came through the receiver, calm and brief, revealing little emotion.

Hearing the busy tone from the receiver, Allen held the phone, paused for a moment, and then hung up.

He had assumed that the person Ernst had mentioned who would contact him would appear soon, but as time ticked by, from evening until late at night, the waiting phone call never rang.

He thought there wouldn't be any news today and was even planning to go to bed.

Just as he lay down, before his head had even fully touched the pillow, the telephone on the bedside table suddenly rang sharply, shattering the silence of the room.

The urgent ringing sounded particularly jarring in the quiet of the night. Alan's heart tightened, and he sat up abruptly in bed, quickly reaching for the phone. "Hello, this is Alan Grant."

"I am Stant."

The voice wasn't loud, and even carried a hint of nonchalance, but when the name Stant reached Allen's ears, it was like a thunderclap, causing his eyes to widen instantly and all the nerves in his body to tense up.

Allen knew all too well the power, resources, and complex background behind that name, because the former deputy director of the CIA was named Stanton Hardaway.

Before Allen could recover from his shock, the other person's next words confirmed his suspicions.

"I heard you're doing business with the Germans? There might be something I can help you with." The other person's tone was calm, yet it conveyed a sense of confident control.

"Half an hour later, at the Crete Cigar Bar in Georgetown, find a stranger. Don't go there."

Before Allen could even respond, the phone went dead, clearly indicating that the call had been disconnected.

He quickly threw off the covers, took a dark bathrobe from the closet and put it on, then picked up his phone and dialed his assistant, David.

An hour later, the living room of the hotel suite was brightly lit, and the members of the negotiation team were all dressed and sitting on the sofa, each with a look of solemnity, anticipation and a hint of fatigue on their faces.

Allen reached out and slowly opened the brown paper envelope that David had brought back. Inside was a copy of an encrypted telegram. The edges of the paper were rough, and it had an old feel to it.

He picked up the copy, his eyes quickly scanning the contents, his expression constantly shifting.

A moment later, Allen handed the document to David, who was sitting next to him, and gestured for him to pass it on to others.

Many people gasped in shock after reading the document, their eyes filled with astonishment.

The documents reveal that Daimler Group had been secretly in contact with Iran and was involved in the export of auto parts.

"Could this really be true?" A team member couldn't help but break the silence, his voice filled with obvious doubt and disbelief.

The United States and Europe are imposing severe sanctions on Iran, prohibiting their own and other countries' companies from engaging in trade with Iran in sensitive areas.

Exporting auto parts, especially those that may be used for military purposes, undoubtedly crosses a red line.

As a world-renowned automotive giant, Daimler must be well aware of the consequences that would result if this matter were to be exposed.

Upon hearing this question, Allen's lips curled into a meaningful, cold smile. He leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and slowly said, "If Americans can do it, why can't Germans?"

While the United States has consistently raised the banner of sanctions against Iran, claiming to prevent Iran from developing sensitive industries and to maintain international security and order, some American companies and forces have been selling equipment and technology to Iran through various clandestine channels for their own benefit.

"How many years has the US sanctioned Iran? Where did Iran get the equipment to develop its nuclear program?"

While telling the world that they cannot export related equipment and technology to Iran, they themselves take advantage of the sanctions to sell equipment to Iran at high prices.

Once the equipment has been sold and enough profit has been made, they will immediately file a report, exposing the evidence of Iran's nuclear program to the public.

At that point, it doesn't matter who reported it; the US can then legitimately claim to have evidence of Iran's nuclear test, thereby instigating a war and reaping more benefits.

Americans are very familiar with this process, and it's something they like to do.

Compared to these devices, Daimler's sales of car parts are nothing.

Moreover, given Germany's position in Europe and Mercedes-Benz's importance to Germany, even if this document were published, the most that would happen is a fine.

David picked up his coffee, took a sip, trying to ease the tense atmosphere and suppress his shock. "The men on Capitol Hill hate this the most, especially the Senate Armed Services Committee. If this document is released, Daimler's acquisition of Chrysler will definitely be ruined."

Whether Daimler can acquire Chrysler is none of Allen's concern; his job is to win this negotiation.

The release of this document will not cause Daimler to be dismantled like Toshiba, but it is certainly enough to make people feel disgusted.

Compared to Chrysler's remaining defense business, this bargaining chip is more than enough.

He was also somewhat shocked, not expecting that even the CIA had been dragged onto his ship by Ernst.

In this typical military-industrial complex operation, collusion between government and business has never been a secret.

Lockheed Martin spends more than $20 million annually on lobbying, while Boeing and Raytheon have never spent less than $10 million annually on lobbying.

If Cass Defense wants to make a living in this industry, it must learn these rules.

But Cass Defense is very small, and currently has nothing at all.

He never imagined that Ernst could connect with the former deputy director of the CIA and form a community of interests.

He picked up the document from the table again, his fingers tapping lightly on the surface, making a clicking sound. He was quickly calculating in his mind how to use this document to gain the greatest advantage in the negotiations.

A moment later, he looked up at the team members present, his eyes gleaming with confidence. "Perhaps we can get those historical supply records and maintenance contracts without paying that extra $200 million."

The next morning, Detroit sunlight streamed through the hotel's floor-to-ceiling windows, bathing the suite's living room in warmth.

As Allen sat at the dining table enjoying the hotel breakfast, the phone on the table suddenly rang, breaking the tranquility.

"3800 million, sold." Schneider's voice came through the receiver, his tone clearly suppressed, as if he was trying his best to control the anger in his heart.

Upon hearing the price, Allen's lips curled into a slight smile. He put down his knife and fork, picked up a napkin, slowly wiped his mouth, and then said in a calm yet undeniable tone, "Mr. Schneider, I believe this price should include historical supply records and outstanding maintenance contracts."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, followed by noticeably heavier breathing. Clearly, Schneider was thoroughly enraged by Allen's words, but he was helpless to do anything about it.

Even if he wanted to tear Allen apart right now, he had to agree first.

The other party delivered the document to Jürgen Schremp's home early in the morning. This document didn't even need to be exposed by the media. Once the contents of the document reached Chrysler's ears, Chrysler would definitely use it as leverage in the merger negotiations with Daimler to put pressure on Daimler and demand more say and control.

"But you must sign a confidentiality agreement." Schneider's voice was still filled with anger, but he had no choice but to concede and make his final demand.

All I can tell you is that we can keep it a secret.

The signing process went very smoothly, and the two parties quickly finalized all the details and signed the relevant agreement within a morning.

That afternoon, accompanied by staff from the DaimlerChrysler Group, Allen traveled by car to the old factory in Ohio.

The factory gate was rusted and the signboard was long since blurred, with only a few incomplete letters vaguely visible.

Stepping inside the factory, a pungent smell of rust and dust hit him, causing Allen to wrinkle his nose involuntarily.

The massive machinery stood silently in place, its surface covered with a thick layer of dust, without even a tarpaulin.

The ground was covered with oil stains and debris, some rusty tank tracks were piled up haphazardly in the corner, and deep ruts left by the tank tracks were still visible on the ground.

Looking at the scene before him, he suddenly remembered visiting his father's factory when he was a child.

"Mr. Grant, these devices haven't been maintained for at least ten years." A gruff voice rang out beside Allen, interrupting his thoughts.

Allen turned around and saw a tall, dark-skinned middle-aged man standing behind him. He was wearing a work uniform stained with oil, his hands were rough and calloused, with black machine oil stuck between his fingers, and his face showed a hint of restraint and unease.

After being introduced by the Chrysler staff, I learned that the middle-aged man was Thomson, the manager who remained at the factory.

He's called a manager, but he's really just a gatekeeper.

Allen's gaze returned to the equipment in the workshop. He slowly squatted down and stroked a piece of armor from an M1 tank covered in dust. The low temperature of the metal surface instantly spread through his fingers to his entire body.

"Is this production line still usable?"

Thomson was stunned, not understanding what Allen meant, and reminded him, "This is a tank production line."

Military vehicle conversions don't require this production line at all; otherwise, the factory wouldn't have been idle for over a decade.

As for tank and armored vehicle production, General Dynamics has almost monopolized the market.

"You just need to answer my question: Is this production line still usable?" Allen asked, his gaze fixed on him, repeating the question once more.

Thomson's throat bobbed, a vague guess forming in his mind, but he wasn't sure. "We'll have to do a thorough check-up to find out."

Looking at the machines inside the factory, Thomson said with a hint of emotion in his eyes, "But there shouldn't be any major problems. After replacing some parts and doing some proper maintenance, it should be ready for use."

Allen nodded, turned and left the factory, heading towards the administration building not far away.

"Mr. Grant," Thomson called out, watching Allen's retreating figure, "Is this old factory going to be put back into production?"

Allen could hear a tremor in the other person's voice; as a Detroit native, he could understand that feeling.

"Who knows? Maybe."