I Became a Tycoon During World War I: Saving France from the Start

Chapter 44: The Kidnapping Incident

Charles and Deyoka, along with a team of workers, had spent the entire night at the motorcycle factory. Converting motorcycles into sidecars was just one part of it; they had also been discussing tactics with Major Bronny and handling the complexities of restarting production at the factory. Time passed quickly amid a constant stream of unexpected issues to resolve.

Camille had stopped by earlier, relieved to see that the two were hard at work. Before leaving, she worriedly urged Deyoka, "Charles is still young; don't let him get too worn out!"

Deyoka responded absentmindedly, then added a bit helplessly, "You have no idea how capable Charles is. So many things need his direction! Making things easier for him... that might be difficult!"

Camille felt a mix of pride and concern, ultimately smiling as she accepted it. Charles was growing up—this day was bound to come.

After sending Major Bronny and his troops on their way in the early morning, Charles finally had a moment to rest in the workers' dormitory, where he promptly fell asleep. He was only roused in the afternoon by the sound of cheering.

Before Charles could process what was happening, a large crowd of workers, including Guillaume, had burst into the room, each shouting excitedly:

"We won, Master Charles!"

"They fought a huge battle and drove the Germans back!"

"Rumor has it that thousands of enemies were killed or wounded! God, they destroyed over ten times their number with hardly any losses!"

"Once again, it's thanks to you, Master Charles!"

Charles, still groggy, sat up and looked around at the crowd, slowly realizing they were talking about Major Bronny's motorcycle battalion.

"A battle already happened?" Charles asked. "How's Major Bronny? Is he all right?"

"He's fine!" Guillaume answered. "He called and said to thank you, Master Charles. They followed your instructions, and it proved invaluable!"

Deyoka entered the dormitory, seeing the weariness on Charles's face. "It's all settled now, Charles. You should go home, have a proper meal, and get a good night's sleep. I'll take over here."

The workers echoed him:

"Yes, Master Charles, go and rest!"

"We've got things covered!"

"We brought in an extra team for the next shift, and we'll be heading off for some rest soon ourselves!"

Realizing there was nothing more he needed to do, and still overcome by waves of exhaustion, Charles agreed to their suggestion.

As he walked along the town's streets, the setting sun cast a long shadow beside him. Unaccustomed to the all-nighter, Charles felt as though he was in a strange, dreamlike state, his steps even a bit unsteady.

Before he knew it, two men had appeared at his sides—both middle-aged, in black suits and hats, one on each side.

"Master Charles?" said the man with a handlebar mustache on his left, glancing his way.

"Yes, and you are…?" Charles asked, puzzled.

In that instant, he realized his mistake. If they were here to kidnap him, this simple reply had just confirmed his identity.

"Someone wants to see you, Master Charles," the mustached man said, nodding toward a car parked up ahead. His tone was more a command than a request. "Come with us."

Without waiting for an answer, the two men each grabbed one of Charles's arms, steering him toward the car.

A chill ran down Charles's spine, fully waking him up.

Was this really a kidnapping?

Did they want ransom? Or were they hired killers sent by some capitalist enemy?

The fact that they'd encountered him here suggested they'd been waiting outside the motorcycle factory for a while, just in time to catch him alone.

What now?

Just as panic started to set in, he heard a young voice call out, "Murderers! Bad men! They're trying to kidnap Master Charles!"

It was Teddy's voice. Charles felt a surge of relief and gratitude, suddenly willing to forget all his complaints about Teddy. In his mind, Teddy's plumpness was now downright endearing.

The two suited men hesitated upon hearing the cry. They exchanged a look, as if considering a response, but then moved faster instead.

This only convinced Teddy further of their "villainy," and he shouted even louder:

"They're men sent by the capitalists! They're taking Master Charles!"

"Help! Somebody save Master Charles!"

A few nearby residents heard the cries and quickly rushed over.

The baker brandished a bread knife, workers grabbed their wrenches, women came out wielding kitchen knives and eggs, and even Aunt Carla arrived with an impressively long rolling pin in hand.

"Stop them!"

"Don't let them take him—they're trying to kidnap Master Charles!"

"Shameless scoundrels, trying to snatch Master Charles right in front of us! They're asking for trouble!"

The two men realized things were going south fast. Desperate, they dragged Charles into the waiting car, but as they tried to start the engine, Uncle Antony grabbed one of them and yanked him out.

Uncle Antony was a sturdy mason who could jog with a 50-kilo sack of lime on his shoulder without breaking a sweat. Remaining calm, he held the others back and looked to Charles for confirmation:

"Do you know these men, Master Charles?"

"No, I don't," Charles replied truthfully.

With that, the suspicion of kidnapping was confirmed.

Antony let go of his hold, and the furious neighbors surged forward. Armed with their makeshift "weapons," they laid into the two suited men, beating and cursing them, venting their anger:

"Beat them! Heartless thugs!"

"Damn capitalists, they can't stand to see someone else succeed!"

"They must be after Master Charles because he's cutting into their profits!"

"My missing chickens—they must've taken them too!"

The two men tried to shout their explanations, but nobody listened. The crowd closed in, even smashing the car's windows.

Then, bang! A gunshot sounded.

Startled, the neighbors stepped back momentarily, gasping in shock.

Antony instinctively shielded Charles behind him.

The crowd, however, only paused for a moment before regrouping, undeterred. After all, the men only had a single revolver—how many could they possibly shoot?

Unfortunately, this brief distraction was all the suited men needed. They scrambled back into the car, slammed on the gas, and, with a screech of the horn, sped through the crowd.

The neighbors pursued them, hurling stones, curses, and even shoes after them. A few women's shoes sailed through the air in graceful arcs, landing squarely on the driver's face.

"Charles! Charles!" Camille came dashing from the other end of the street, her face pale with worry and still wearing her apron. Clearly, someone had gone to fetch her.

"I'm fine, Mother!" Charles emerged from the crowd and hurried toward her.

The instant Camille saw him, she exhaled in relief, slowing her pace before wrapping him in a tight hug, tears of joy streaming down her face. After a few moments, she turned to the neighbors, brimming with gratitude:

"Thank you all! Thank you so much!"

"Without you, I don't know what would've happened!"

(End of Chapter)

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