Washington, D.C., Department of the Army.
In the office of Major General William Hammond, Surgeon General. On his desk lay a document that had just been transmitted via encrypted telegram from the office of the Chairman of the Senate Military Committee.
The document's header bore the emblem of New York Presbyterian Hospital.
The signatory was Dr. John Dalton—a name that represented absolute authority in the entire American medical community.
This was a clinical application observation report.
Major General Hammond had read it three times, but each time he finished, an irrepressible shock would appear on his composed face, accustomed to life and death.
At the beginning of the report, Dr. Dalton wrote with his usual rigorous style:
"At the request of Mr. Felix Argyle and the concern of the Senate Military Committee, I have led a small-scale, non-public clinical application observation of the 'Iodoglycerol' disinfectant developed by Umbrella Corporation over the past month. The location was the Seventh Field Hospital, behind the front lines in Virginia. The subjects of observation were thirty soldiers deemed 'beyond saving' due to severe injuries and serious infection symptoms..."
Hammond's gaze skipped to the core data section of the report.
"...Among the thirty observed subjects, fifteen in the control group continued with traditional debridement and carbolic acid therapy, and thirteen ultimately died from sepsis. For the other fifteen in the experimental group, after using 'Iodoglycerol' for wound debridement and subsequent treatment, fourteen successfully survived, and wound healing was good. The only death in this group was due to a shrapnel directly penetrating the lung."
"Conclusion: This drug has shown revolutionary, unprecedented effects in inhibiting post-operative infections. I, on my personal honor and professional integrity as a surgeon, urgently recommend to the Department of the Army and the President of the United States: immediately conduct a top-priority evaluation and procurement of this drug. Every day's delay means we are paying the price for bureaucratic inefficiency with the lives of our soldiers."
Major General Hammond put down the report. He knew the weight of Dr. Dalton's letter. This was no longer a commercial recommendation, but a call to war, written by America's top surgeon, backed by science and facts.
He went directly to Senator Clark's office... The next morning, New York.
Catherine had just finished her first morning meeting at the Umbrella factory. As the new president, she was diligently immersing herself in this new world full of chemical formulas and production processes.
"Madam President." Her former assistant, Peter Jenkins, now promoted to factory supervisor, knocked and entered. "An urgent telegram from Washington, from Senator Clark's office."
Catherine opened the telegram.
The content of the telegram instantly filled her heart, which had been troubled by factory capacity and raw material procurement, with immense joy and pressure.
"Dalton's report has exploded within the Department of the Army, reactions exceeding expectations. Major General Hammond fully supports it. I will immediately push an emergency bill in Congress to grant Umbrella exclusive wartime production patents and a long-term supply agreement. Your mission is to immediately turn the miracle of the trial into industrial reality. I need a detailed capacity expansion plan and timeline on my desk as soon as possible. Congratulations. — Thomas."
Thomas.
Catherine knew that when Senator Clark signed with this familiar address, it meant that Felix and the Argyle Company he represented had truly become part of this political giant's inner circle.
She immediately picked up the telegram, got into a carriage, and rushed back to the Fifth Avenue mansion as quickly as possible.
In Felix's study, he listened to Catherine's report, a knowing smile on his face.
"An invisible scalpel, Catherine," Felix said. "Dr. Dalton used his prestige to precisely cut open the Department of the Army's rigid bureaucracy for us. The operation was very successful, the patient is on the operating table, and now it's time for us, the lead surgeons, to step in."
"Felix, are we really going for a full expansion?" Catherine's tone carried a hint of worry. "We haven't even completed our first formal mass production."
"Precisely why we must expand immediately," Felix's answer was unequivocal. "Catherine, you are now the president of Umbrella. You must understand that what we are doing now is not ordinary business. We are producing necessities for a nation to win a war. Speed is life."
He walked up to her and took her hand.
"Congratulations, Madam President. Your first mission has arrived. Go tell Dr. Thorne to put down all non-essential research. I need him and his team to produce a standardized production process that can be replicated and scaled up within three days."
"Go tell Engineer Smith to have his team immediately start designing and building ten, no, twenty new stills and mixers. Money is not an issue; I want to see Umbrella's capacity reach five thousand bottles a day within a month."
"Also, the three hundred thousand military pre-payment Umbrella Corporation has deposited at Argyle Bank needs to be withdrawn immediately for expansion."
Felix's orders came one after another.
"I understand." She nodded emphatically. "I'll get to it right away."
"No." Felix held her back. "Not now."
"What?"
"Your task this afternoon is to accompany me somewhere."
"Where?"
"Wall Street." A playful curve appeared at the corner of Felix's mouth. "Our banker, Mr. Templeton, has just secured a very interesting piece of business for Argyle Bank."
"He acquired an eight percent stake in New York City Gas Company. Now, there is a seat on that company's board of directors that belongs to us."
"And I intend to personally attend its first board meeting." Felix looked at her. "You will attend the meeting as my representative."
"Felix, you..."
"Listen to me, my dear, an industrialist who only knows how to bury herself in production at the factory cannot build an empire." Felix looked at her very seriously and said, "I need you to learn with me how to use another weapon."
"Capital."
----
The headquarters of New York City Gas Company was located in an unassuming gray granite building on Wall Street.
There was no grandeur of a bank, nor the hustle and bustle of an exchange, but the underground pipelines extending from here, like the city's veins, delivered light to all of Manhattan's nights.
At three in the afternoon, Felix's four-wheeled carriage, pulled by four black horses, stopped punctually in front of the building.
The carriage itself was a silent calling card, announcing its owner's wealth and status.
Felix stepped down from the carriage; he was wearing a dark gray wool suit, well-tailored and without any superfluous decoration. Catherine followed behind him, having changed into a professional skirt suit of the same color, holding a leather folder containing company documents.
"Felix, I still feel a bit… nervous," Catherine said softly before they stepped onto the stairs. "I know nothing about gas."
"You don't need to understand gas, Catherine," Felix's voice was calm. "You just need to remember that we're not here today to learn engineering. We're here to learn how to observe, to observe how power flows at the poker table."
In the company's boardroom, the long mahogany table was already filled with people.
Most were elderly men, with white hair and arrogant expressions. They were representatives of New York's oldest families; their wealth was built upon the city's most fundamental public utilities.
When Felix and Catherine walked in, guided by Bank President Templeton, all eyes turned to them. These gazes were mixed with curiosity, scrutiny, and a hint of imperceptible hostility.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Bank President Templeton introduced them. "This is our Argyle Bank Chairman, and also the new shareholder of City Gas Company, Mr. Felix Argyle."
"Mr. Argyle," the company's Chairman, an elder from the Astor family, said with a forced smile, "Welcome to our little club. To be honest, we're all quite surprised that an industrialist like yourself, focused on canned goods and pharmaceuticals, would be interested in our iron pipes buried underground."
"Mr. Astor, I am interested in all endeavors that bring light and progress to New York," Felix replied with a smile, taking his seat in the spot Templeton had reserved for him.
The meeting then began, with topics as dry and tedious as Felix had expected: the budget for replacing an aging pipeline, the wrangling with the city government over street excavation permits, and the purchasing price of coal for the next quarter.
The directors argued endlessly over these issues, each wanting to secure more benefits for the family he represented. Felix remained silent, simply listening and observing.
Catherine, at his instruction, quickly took notes in her notebook. She wasn't recording financial figures, but rather each person's speaking habits, their vested interests, and the subtle eye contact and power dynamics between them.
Felix's silence made the old men present feel somewhat uneasy. This young lion, who had just entered their territory, seemed more patient than they had imagined.
Finally, as the meeting was about to conclude, Chairman Astor turned his gaze to Felix.
"Mr. Argyle, as our new partner, do you have any good suggestions for the company's future development?" This was a polite question, but also carried a hint of probing.
"Please excuse my ignorance, but I actually don't understand gas," Felix finally spoke, his voice not loud, but it instantly drew everyone's attention. "However, while listening to your discussions just now, I noticed a small issue that might affect all of our profits."
"Oh?"
"It's about coal," Felix said. "I heard that all of the company's coal currently comes from the same supplier in Pennsylvania. Furthermore, the purchasing price seems to be five percent higher than the market price."
The atmosphere in the boardroom instantly became somewhat delicate.
Chairman Astor coughed. "Mr. Argyle, this is a long-term cooperation agreement between us and an old friend; it guarantees the stability of our supply."
"Stability should not be bought at a higher cost," Felix's reply was direct. "Especially during wartime, every penny should be spent wisely."
He glanced at Catherine. Catherine immediately understood; she stood up and handed a document to each director present.
"Gentlemen," Felix continued, "my other company, Mississippi and Eastern Railroad, recently opened a dedicated coal transportation line from Ohio to New York. The quality of Ohio coal is no worse than Pennsylvania's, but because of lower transportation costs, its landed price will be at least fifteen percent lower than our current purchasing price."
"My proposal is simple," Felix looked at Chairman Astor. "I suggest that the company establish a new purchasing committee to introduce a competitive mechanism, allowing us to buy better coal at a lower price. I believe this is in the best interest of everyone present."
This proposal was like a stone thrown into stagnant water.
The directors exchanged glances.
They, of course, knew about the illicit benefits exchanged between Astor and that Pennsylvania coal supplier. But this was an unspoken secret within their circle.
Now, this young man, in his first board meeting, had mercilessly torn open this secret.
Chairman Astor's face turned somewhat grim.
"Mr. Argyle, your suggestion is good. However, changing suppliers is a major decision, and we… need time to study it."
"Of course," Felix nodded. "I am very patient."
He stood up; the meeting was over.
"Mr. Templeton, Catherine, let's go."
When they walked out of the building and got back into the carriage, Catherine finally let out a long sigh of relief.
"Felix, you just… declared war on all of them."
"No, Catherine," Felix shook his head. "I was merely exercising my power as a shareholder, and also teaching those old men a brand new set of rules."
"In my world, efficiency and profit are above so-called favors and connections, unless they become my companions."
The carriage slowly drove through Wall Street, heading towards Fifth Avenue.
"How does it feel?" Felix asked.
"Very… exciting," Catherine replied. "I think I'm starting to understand what you mean by capital. It's not just numbers on a ledger; it's a kind of… power to change the rules."
"You learn quickly," Felix smiled. "Well then, Miss President. Now, let's return to our own battlefield."
He handed her a document. "This is the latest telegram just sent by Senator Clark."
Catherine opened the telegram; it read:
"Reporting time set: next Wednesday at ten AM, Capitol Hill. The Department of the Army Secretary, Surgeon General, and President's medical advisor will personally attend. — Thomas."