Philip Armour sat in his fortress-like office, holding two telegrams.
One, from Nebraska, was from his chief representative, Bado, who described in a tone bordering on humiliation the shooting that occurred in broad daylight and the ultimate change of ownership of the Platte River Ranch.
The other was an "invitation" from Felix Argyle in New York, full of mockery yet clearly pointing out his predicament in Philadelphia.
His Western Livestock Cooperative plan had completely collapsed due to a broken capital chain and the cash offensive from Argyle Company. His carefully laid out western front crumbled within a month.
"Argyle..." Armour slowly uttered the name, a chill appearing in his usually narrowed eyes.
It seemed he had encountered an unprecedented opponent—one who not only had money but also understood how to use intrigue and power better than him.
But Armour was not one to give up easily.
He accepted Felix's invitation for a meeting. The location was to be set by him—the Union League Club in Chicago, his own territory. He wanted to see his opponent's cards in this final game and secure his last bargaining chips... That evening, the top-floor private dining room of the Union League Club.
Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, Chicago's gaslights twinkled. Inside the room, only a few candles were lit, creating a somber and quiet atmosphere.
Felix arrived alone, precisely on time. He didn't bring Tom Hayes, nor any guards.
Armour watched him, trying to find a hint of tension or unease on the young man's face, but he failed. Felix's composure was as if he were waiting for dinner in his own home.
"Mr. Argyle, you are very bold," Armour said first, personally pouring Felix a glass of whiskey, "to dare to walk into my city alone and sit at my table."
"Mr. Armour, I'm not here to provoke," Felix took the glass, his tone relaxed and calm, "but to solve problems. After all, the problems you're facing are not small. Besides, Chicago isn't just your territory."
This frank, almost arrogant opening statement made Armour's pupils contract slightly.
"You're very good," he sneered, "cutting off my funds and seizing my cattle sources. A truly brilliant raid. But this won't break me, Mr. Argyle. I've been operating in Chicago for twenty years, and I have other banks and channels. But you should know that if this war continues, it will only become an expensive war of attrition, benefiting neither of us."
"I agree with that statement," Felix nodded, understanding that his opponent was also somewhat apprehensive. "A war of attrition is the least efficient business activity. But you started all this, didn't you? Of course, I'm not here today to continue the war, but to propose a peace agreement."
Felix gave Armour face, spreading the napkin on his lap as if what they were about to discuss wasn't a multi-million dollar business, but just an ordinary dinner.
"The premise is that the Western Livestock Cooperative must be immediately disbanded, and the price war on the prairie must end."
Armour said nothing, simply listening to the subsequent conditions.
Seeing this, Felix continued, "Secondly, my Metropolitan Trading Company will sign a three-year strategic supply agreement with your Armour Company. Metropolitan Company's cooperative ranches in Kansas and Nebraska will prioritize and sufficiently supply the highest quality beef cattle to the new slaughterhouses."
This proposal caused a genuine ripple in Armour's gaze; it was tantamount to delivering what he most desired directly to him.
"But in return," Felix stated his condition, "your processing plants will need to provide us with the highest priority slaughtering and cutting services, with prices based on a fair internal settlement price agreed upon by both parties. We can share the entire East Coast and all future new military orders market. I provide the cattle, you provide the processing capability, and we distribute the profits proportionally."
"A proposal that sounds very fair," Armour's tone held a hint of caution, "But, Mr. Argyle, why do you think I would need your charity? As I said, I have plenty of ways to find new cattle sources and funds."
"Because you're running out of time, Mr. Armour," Felix's reply was like a knife. "Your capital chains are indeed more than just the one in Philadelphia. But your largest loan should be from the Chicago Commercial Bank, backed by Mr. Sloan's friends, right?"
"And I," Felix looked at him, "am the owner of Argyle Empire Bank. My bank has enough cash reserves to make any bank in Chicago nervous. If I wanted to, tomorrow morning, the entire live cattle and commercial loan market in Chicago would welcome a new player, the most generous and most unconcerned with cost."
"I might not be able to break you in a single day," Felix's tone remained calm, "but I absolutely have the ability to ensure you make no profit whatsoever in the coming year. And I, I only need to pay a small fraction of the interest."
"More importantly," he added, "war won't last forever. When the war ends and military orders disappear, who do you think those ranchers you 'rented' at high prices will choose to stick with—you, or me, a partner who already owns his own ranches, railroads, and banks?"
The room fell silent.
Every word from Felix precisely hit Armour's weak spot.
He painted a clear picture for Armour: either choose a war of attrition that would inevitably result in mutual destruction and his own certain defeat, or accept a peace agreement that, while appearing somewhat humiliating, would bring stable profits and a broader future.
Philip Armour, the King of Slaughter in Chicago, looked at the man twenty years his junior. He understood that he had lost, and he had lost completely.
After a long moment, he raised his glass.
"Mr. Argyle," he said, "you are a born businessman. Or rather, an elegant bandit in a suit, holding a bank draft."
He drained the whiskey in his glass.
"But I must admit, this is a good agreement."
He extended his hand to Felix.
"Pleasure working with you."
...The next day, when Felix returned to New York, Armour Company and Metropolitan Trading Company announced a strategic partnership.
The Western Livestock Cooperative, which had been established less than two months prior, announced its dissolution overnight.
Upon returning to New York, Felix listened to Tom Hayes' report in his study.
"Boss, reaching an agreement with Armour was a very wise move," Hayes commented. "This not only stabilized our most important supply chain but also allowed us to extricate ourselves from the quagmire in the West and focus our energy on the real opponent."
"Ha, exactly," Felix looked at the map. "Armour is just a businessman; he pursues profit. Sloan pursues control. Our war has just begun."
"Tom," Felix issued new instructions, "How is the Pennsylvania Railroad stock acquisition plan progressing?"
"Everything is going smoothly, Boss," Hayes replied. "We, under the name of Patriot Investment Company, have quietly acquired one percent of the circulating shares. The amount is still small, but no one has noticed."
"Good," a glint flashed in Felix's eyes. "Now that the conflict in Chicago has subsided, I need you to acquire a fleet as quickly as possible."
"Then, invest all available capital accumulated this year on Patriot Investment Company's books into Pennsylvania Railroad Company," Felix's directive was clear and firm. "I hope to own a significant stake with heavyweight voting rights before its annual shareholders' meeting."
New York, Central Railroad headquarters.
This granite building, located in the heart of Manhattan, was itself a temple of power. Inside the enormous office, the fireplace roared, but the air was colder than any previous winter day.
Mr. Sloan, the uncrowned king of the Eastern Railroad Alliance, was looking at an encrypted telegram from Chicago. An uncontrollable rage appeared on his usually composed face.
"Traitor!"
He crumpled the telegram into a ball and threw it fiercely into the fireplace. The paper ball quickly curled and blackened in the flames, just like his mood at that moment.
Charles Carter, one of his most trusted deputies, stood quietly by. He knew that any consolation at this moment would only add fuel to the fire.
"Philip Armour," Sloan's voice was squeezed through his teeth, full of betrayal, "I gave him capital and channels, even a perfect plan to strangle that Irish kid in the West. But he turned around and shook hands with our enemy, becoming his dog! Fuck you!"
"Sir," Carter finally spoke, his voice low, "Armour's telegram said that Argyle not only cut off his funding in Philadelphia but also used force in Nebraska. He… he had no choice."
"No choice?" Sloan sneered, "That's just an excuse for the weak. He was just scared witless by that young man's methods."
He walked to the window of the enormous office, looking down at the city below, which was firmly controlled by his rail network.
"I still underestimated him," Sloan said slowly, "Before, I thought he was just a bull who wandered into our forest. Now it seems he is a shark, a shark who knows how to use the unseen currents to hunt."
"He first donned a hard armor for himself in New York with a 'hero' reputation and military contracts. Then he went to Chicago, acquired a railroad company with money and schemes, and then began to expand, preparing to contend with me for control of the railroads. Now, he has tamed Armour, turning my most important agent into his own supplier."
Taking a few deep breaths, Sloan turned around, his eyes regaining their cold decisiveness.
"It seems the second encounter has failed again," he said, "Since the proxy war in the West has failed, then let's bring the battlefield back to my own territory. I want him to understand who is the true master in this Eastern ocean."
He issued new instructions.
"Notify all our shipping allies in the Great Lakes Region, Hudson Shipping, Erie Merchant Fleet… all shipping companies that have business dealings with our alliance. Send them a letter."
"From today on," Sloan's voice was devoid of any warmth, "any vessel that dares to transport even one pound of cargo for Argyle & Co. Foods, or Charles Reeves's broken railroad, will be placed on the permanent blacklist of our entire Eastern Railroad Alliance. Their goods will never be allowed on one of our train cars again."
"I heard he wants to play multimodal transport, right?" Sloan's lips curved into a cruel arc, "Then I will completely seal off all his docks leading to the waterway."
…Meanwhile, on the shore of Lake Erie, in the city of Buffalo, New York State.
This port city, which rose to prominence because of the Erie Canal, was now shrouded in the bleakness of winter. Tom Hayes was wrapped in a thick wool coat. He had been here for almost a week.
His current task was to quickly find a fleet that could immediately set sail for Felix's grand "multimodal transport" plan.
After several days of investigation, he set his sights on a small shipping company called "Erie Star."
The company's office was in a creaky wooden building by the dock, buffeted by the lake wind. When Hayes pushed open the door, a strong scent of pipe tobacco and coffee wafted out.
An old man was wearing reading glasses, marking something on a nautical chart with a pencil. He was Captain McAllister, the owner of Erie Star.
"Mr. Hayes," the old man looked up, his voice loud and hoarse, like someone who had been exposed to the wind on deck for half a lifetime, "My secretary said a gentleman from Wall Street, New York, wants to buy my ships?"
"Not just the ships, sir," Hayes sat opposite him, his tone full of respect, "My Boss is very interested in your entire company and yourself."
"Hmph." Captain McAllister blew a puff of thick smoke from his pipe, "My ships are a bit old, Mr. Hayes. But they are good ships, built under my personal supervision. I won't sell them to those Wall Street speculators who only want to dismantle them for scrap metal."
"My Boss is not a speculator either," Hayes pushed a document over, "He is a man who needs ships. A man who needs a fleet that can transport goods from Cleveland to New York safely and on time."
It was an asset valuation and acquisition intention letter issued by Argyle Bank.
"My Boss, Mr. Felix Argyle," Hayes continued, "is willing to fully acquire your Erie Star Shipping Company for a cash price of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars, including your five steam freighters and all your dock leases in Buffalo and Cleveland."
"More importantly," Hayes looked at him, "He not only wants to buy your ships, but he also wants to continue employing you and all your crew. He has authorized me to invite you to serve as the first director of our company's newly established 'Great Lakes Shipping Department.' He needs your experience to manage and expand this new fleet."
Captain McAllister was stunned. He had thought this would be another shameless transaction full of calculations and price reductions. He never expected that the other party would offer an invitation for cooperation full of respect and sincerity.
He looked at the offer, then thought of his old comrades who were idle at home due to lack of business.
"Your Boss… I heard he bought a shipyard before," he spoke after a long silence, "Why would he do that? He could build new ships himself."
"Because of time," Hayes replied, "Our goods are stuck on the road. So we need ships that can set sail immediately. And you, Captain, are one of the few independent fleets on the entire Lake Erie that does not belong to that damned circle of the Eastern Railroad Alliance."
Just then, the office door was pushed open, and a young telegraph operator ran in, out of breath.
"Captain! News just received!" the telegraph operator shouted, "The Eastern Railroad Alliance has issued a joint announcement to all shipping companies! They… they are going to blockade that Argyle Company from New York!"
Captain McAllister took the telegram and quickly read it. His face became unusually grave.
He looked at Hayes, his eyes filled with complex emotions.
"It seems your Boss has gotten into big trouble."
"Perhaps," Hayes admitted calmly, "But my Boss has always believed that trouble also means opportunity."
He looked at Captain McAllister.
"Now, Captain, you have two choices," Hayes's voice was unhurried, "You can reject my offer, continue to guard your small independent fleet, and then slowly be squeezed to death. Or," he pointed to the contract, "you can choose to join us and challenge that enormous monster together."
Captain McAllister looked out the window at Lake Erie, where he had sailed for half a lifetime, and thought of many things.
Finally, he picked up the pen on the table.
"Mr. Hayes," he said, "Go back and tell your Boss. I hate monopolies, and I especially hate those bastards who sit in their offices and try to decide a ship's course."
"This acquisition," he signed his name heavily on the contract, "I accept."
That night, two telegrams arrived at Felix's study almost simultaneously.
One from Reeves in Chicago: "Alert! Sloan has initiated an industry-wide boycott. All major shipping companies in the Great Lakes Region have refused to serve us. Our new route is blocked on the water."
The other, from Hayes in Buffalo: "Erie Star Shipping Company acquired. Captain McAllister agrees to remain in position. Fleet can begin operations immediately."
Felix looked at these two telegrams, one announcing a blockade, the other announcing a new beginning.
A calm smile appeared on his face.
He walked over to Catherine, who was adding new firewood to the fireplace.
"My dear," he said softly, "The war has begun."
Catherine looked up, and after reading the letters, there was some worry in her eyes, "Sloan's actions are so fast; he wants to trap us by the lake."
"Indeed, very fast."
Felix looked at the flames, his eyes sparkling, "But he doesn't know yet that we have already raised a new flag on that lake."
"Reply to Hayes and Reeves," he instructed, "Tell them the plan remains unchanged, and have Captain McAllister's 'Erie Star' prepare. Its first cargo will be beef from our Western ranch."
"Sloan wants to blockade a shipping lane," he said finally, "And I will bring a new player to the Great Lakes Region."
----
New York, Central Railroad Headquarters.
Inside the luxurious office, Sloan looked at the encrypted telegram his most trusted subordinate, Charles Carter, had just brought back from Buffalo, and a rage even greater than the one he felt when Armour betrayed him previously appeared on his face.
"Erie Star Shipping Company… has been wholly acquired by that kid's Patriot Investment Company," Sloan's voice was squeezed out from between his teeth, full of frustration. "And that old geezer McAllister actually agreed to stay on, becoming Argyle's fleet manager in the Great Lakes Region."
"Sir," Carter's voice was low, "it seems our boycott plan… failed before it even began. The other party was a step ahead of us."
"He wasn't a step ahead, Charles," Sloan slowly walked to the huge office window, overlooking the city below, which he firmly controlled with his railway network. "He is playing chess with a new way of thinking. We are blocking his path in the east, but his pieces have already landed in the west and north."
A hint of seriousness flashed in Sloan's eyes. "We tried to use the power of a business alliance to isolate him, but he used Argyle Bank to turn himself into a self-sufficient alliance. The methods we used in the past against ordinary competitors are completely ineffective against him now."
"So what should we do?" Carter asked. "Commercially, it seems we can't curb him in the short term. His capital… is too flexible."
"If not commercially, then we'll switch battlefields," Sloan turned around. "He has Tammany's support in New York City, and General Reed's connections. But in Albany (the capital of New York State), he is just a parvenu with shallow roots."
"If he wants to play multimodal transport, he must pass through the Erie Canal. And who holds the management rights of the Erie Canal?"
Carter's eyes lit up. "In the hands of the State Government's Canal Management Committee."
"Precisely," A cruel arc appeared at the corner of Sloan's mouth. "And in the committee, there are quite a few old friends of ours."
He gave Carter his orders.
"Charles, you personally go to Albany tomorrow. Go see our friends in the State Assembly, especially the chairman of the Canal Committee, Assemblyman Hamilton."
"Tell him," Sloan's voice was devoid of warmth, "I need a new Canal Wartime Security and Transportation Act. We will, in the name of ensuring priority passage for military supplies and preventing Southern sabotage, grant the Canal Management Committee the power to conduct the strictest security inspections and cargo origin audits on all independent fleets that are not alliance members."
"I don't even need to sink his ships," Sloan's eyes gleamed with conspiracy. "I just need every one of his ships to be 'legally' detained for two or three days when it enters the first lock of the canal. I want to make his new shipping route the slowest and most expensive joke in the world."
...At the New York headquarters, the atmosphere in Felix's study was relaxed and pleasant. He and Catherine were reviewing the latest progress reports from various branch offices.
"Reeves sent a telegram from Cleveland," Catherine reported with a smile. "He has successfully persuaded Mr. Caldwell. Argyle Bank's lawyers are processing the final acquisition documents. That railway leading to Lake Erie will officially belong to us in three days."
"Good news also came from Hayes," Catherine continued. "He has also completed the acquisition of 'Erie Star Shipping Company' in Buffalo. Captain McAllister is a very upright and experienced old captain, and he is very happy to work for us. The new fleet can begin sailing within a week after simple repairs."
"Have Hayes tell Captain McAllister," Felix added, "that not a single one of his most experienced sailors can be lost."
Felix leaned back on the comfortable sofa, picking up a glass of brandy. "You see, sweetheart. All problems, in the final analysis, are problems of money and people. As long as there is enough money and the right people are found, there are no troubles that cannot be solved."
Felix enjoyed this moment of tranquility. He knew very well that Sloan would never give up. In fact, he didn't really want to conflict with these old-established forces, but conflicts of interest have always been like this, and the other party clearly felt threatened.
In the business world, one is not one's own master.
But two days later, an urgent report from Flynn shattered this tranquility.
That night, the lights in Felix's mansion study were burning brightly.
Flynn placed a report in front of Felix. Unlike the usual rumors from the streets, this intelligence came from an informant Flynn had planted in the Albany State Capitol, working as a cleaner.
"Boss," Flynn's voice was low, "there's a situation in Albany."
"Speak."
"The Vice President of New York Central Railroad, Charles Carter, has been frequently active in the State Assembly for the past two days. Last night, he secretly met with Assemblyman Hamilton, the chairman of the State Canal Management Committee, at a private club."
"Our informant," Flynn continued, "found some fragments of a draft from their discarded wastebasket. After piecing them together and analyzing them, I believe they are brewing a new bill regarding 'strengthening wartime security management of the canal'."
Felix's gaze instantly became serious.
Catherine, listening nearby, immediately realized the seriousness of the problem. "They want to use the law to blockade us. The commercial boycott failed, so they switched to a bureaucratic barrier."
"Yes," Flynn confirmed her guess. "Once this bill passes, the Canal Committee will have the right to conduct indefinite 'safety inspections' on our fleet. Our waterway transportation will be completely paralyzed."
Silence fell in the study.
Felix looked at the map of New York State on the wall, his gaze moving back and forth across the Erie Canal, which was like a blue ribbon.
This was a trap more deadly than any commercial blockade, because it was cloaked in the legitimate guise of "law" and "patriotism." It could not be directly countered with money, and even less with force.
"It seems I still underestimated Sloan," Felix finally said softly after a long time. "I thought he would panic after experiencing betrayal and being preempted, but I didn't expect him to choose to counterattack from my weakest point."
Felix knew very well that his rapid rise over three years had not given him many opportunities to make political connections within the state, only some with Tammany in New York City and the military. As for Assemblyman Clark, those opportunities were initially given fairly and justly, but he could only offer help in Congress and would not have much effect in the state government.
Catherine looked at Felix's face, which appeared in fluctuating light and shadow under the lamp, and she also felt a chill in her heart.
This was perhaps the most dangerous and challenging test Felix had faced since starting his business.
In the study of the Fifth Avenue mansion, the fire in the fireplace burned brightly, but it couldn't dispel the heavy atmosphere in the air.
The intelligence Flynn brought was like a huge rock weighing on everyone's hearts.
Sloan's chosen battlefield was not in business, but in politics. He attempted to silently strangle Felix's newly launched "land-water intermodal" system in the Erie Canal's locks, using a vast net woven from bureaucracy and legal provisions.
"We must immediately send people to Albany," Catherine's voice carried undisguised urgency. "Go and negotiate with those legislators, using money or leveraging Bank President Templeton's connections, to find a way to prevent that Bill from passing."
"No, Catherine."
Felix spoke to stop her. He stood up from the sofa and walked to the huge federal map.
"That's the battlefield Sloan set for us." He slowly shook his head as he looked at the map. "We have no foundation in Albany, and we know nothing about the operation rules of the state legislature. To fight him there, we would be like a blindfolded boxer stepping into our opponent's most familiar home ground. We are bound to lose."
"When your opponent designates the battlefield for you," Felix turned around, a calm light of wisdom flickering in his eyes, "your only correct choice is to shift the battlefield to a place he never expected and cannot control."
His finger moved from Albany, the capital of New York State, all the way south, heavily pointing to another city.
"Washington."
"Our battlefield is here."
Catherine looked at him, her eyes full of doubt.
"Isn't Sloan trying to use wartime security as an excuse?" A cold arc formed on Felix's lips. "A good move, but I'll show him what a real 'wartime security' threat is."
He looked at Catherine and began issuing a series of instructions, each one like a loaded bullet.
"You immediately return to Umbrella Corporation. I need you and Dr. Thorne to work overnight to prepare a report. A professional 'medical assessment report' full of detailed data and medical terminology."
"The core of the report is only one thing," Felix's Ideas was crystal clear. "That is to simulate and deduce how many unnecessary amputations, deaths, and cases of sepsis will be caused to soldiers on the Virginia front in the next three months if our Iodoglycerol and canned raw materials cannot be delivered on time due to the existing, inefficient, and deliberate transportation delays of the Eastern Railroad Alliance."
Catherine's heart trembled violently; she understood Felix's intention.
"At the same time," Felix then turned to Flynn, who had been waiting nearby, "send telegrams to Bill and Reeves in Chicago. I need them to provide another piece of evidence. A detailed list of how their goods were 'legally' delayed and damaged at the Pittsburgh transfer hub. I need it precise down to every spoiled head of cattle and every pound of coal lost."
"Finally," his gaze returned to Catherine, "send a telegram to Carter in the Quartermaster Department. Tell him I need him to provide us, in an official capacity, with specific data on the backlog and spoilage of food and medicine at various transfer stations due to the inefficient transportation of the Eastern Railroad Alliance. I need the most authoritative voice from within the army."
"Felix..." Catherine looked at him. "Are you going to..."
"Yes." Felix's answer was firm. "Sloan wants to fight a local lawsuit with me in the state legislature regarding 'canal management.' Then I will go directly to Capitol Hill in Washington and launch an accusation of 'treason' against him and his entire railroad alliance."
...Three days later, Washington, D.C.
In Senator Clark's office, the Chairman of the Military Committee was looking at the reports Felix and Catherine had personally presented.
There was no one else in the office, only the three of them.
Clark read very carefully, his finger lingering for a long time on the report full of shocking medical predictions, prepared by Dr. Thorne.
"This is no longer a commercial competition, Mr. Chairman," Felix's voice was low and powerful. "In wartime, any act of deliberately delaying or damaging critical military supplies, using a monopoly position as a weapon, is tantamount to aiding the enemy."
"Mr. Sloan and his alliance are risking the lives of thousands of our soldiers for their own commercial interests. They are delaying our goods in Pittsburgh under the guise of 'safety inspections.' Now, they want to use the same pretext to block our new route on the Erie Canal."
Felix also placed on the table the copy of the "Canal Safety Bill" that Flynn had obtained from Albany, which was being secretly drafted.
"Mr. Chairman," Felix looked at him, "I am not here today as a businessman to ask for your help. I am here as a federal citizen and a core military supplier to issue the most serious warning to you and Congress."
Senator Clark slowly put down the documents in his hand. He looked up, and his eyes, which always seemed tired, showed a sharp keenness like an eagle.
He knew that Felix Argyle had brought him a great gift. A heavy cannonball that would allow him to launch a fatal attack in Congress against political opponents supported by railroad oligarchs.
It should be known that the fees approved by Congress for railroad transportation companies were not low. Now, they were causing trouble by leveraging their monopoly, and even targeting their allies in the business world, so there would be no mercy.
"Argyle," he began, his voice steady, "the data you provided me is excellent. I will take charge of this matter, rest assured."
He pondered for a moment.
"But launching an accusation directly in Congress is too big a stir and easily delayed by procedural issues. We need a faster and more destructive stage."
He rang the bell on his desk and said to the assistant who entered, "Immediately issue an emergency notice to Mr. Stanton, the Secretary of the Department of the Army, and all committee members, in my capacity as Chairman of the Military Committee."
"Next Wednesday at ten in the morning," he said, word for word, "the committee will hold a closed-door emergency hearing on 'the impact of wartime transportation monopolies on logistics security.' Please have Mr. Sloan of New York Central Railroad, a representative of Pennsylvania Railroad, and..."
He glanced at Felix.
"Mr. Felix Argyle of Argyle & Co. Foods, as a core supplier representative, attend on time."
When Felix and Catherine walked out of that office and stood again on the steps of Capitol Hill, a light rain was falling in Washington.
"We succeeded." Catherine let out a long sigh of relief. "Chairman Clark is on our side."
"This is just the first step, Catherine." Felix opened an umbrella for her. "The Washington hearing is just a stage to put the spotlight on them. This stage still lacks the most important audience."
He looked at the street in the distance, known as "Newspaper Row."
"Now," he said softly, "it's time for the media and the voice of the public to join this chorus."
The drizzle in Washington made the white marble steps of Capitol Hill exceptionally slippery.
Felix held an umbrella for Catherine, and the two walked down the steps in silence, getting into the private carriage that was already waiting by the roadside.
Inside the carriage, heavy velvet curtains blocked out the outside noise, leaving only the dull sound of wheels rolling over the wet cobblestones.
Catherine poured two cups of hot tea for them.
She looked at Felix, her usually clear blue eyes holding a hint of unresolved confusion.
"Felix, I don't quite understand," she said, breaking the silence in the carriage.
"Oh? Tell me about it."
"Chairman Clark," Catherine chose her words carefully, "didn't he say that directly accusing Sloan and the Railroad Alliance in Congress would be 'too much of a stir'?
Then why do you still want to launch a media war that will inevitably ignite public opinion nationwide? This… this sounds a bit contradictory."
Felix looked at her, a gentle smile appearing on his face.
"Catherine, you might have misunderstood Thomas's meaning."
After organizing his thoughts for a moment, Felix explained, "What Thomas meant by 'too much of a stir' wasn't the clamor of public opinion, but political ineffectiveness."
"Think about it, what would happen if I, as a businessman, asked Chairman Clark today to directly accuse Sloan and his alliance of 'colluding with the enemy' in a full congressional session?"
Catherine pondered for a moment and replied, "Sloan's friends in Congress would immediately stand up and define this accusation as baseless business defamation and malicious partisan attack.
Then, the matter would be dragged into countless investigative committees, undergoing months of hearings and wrangling, ultimately coming to nothing."
"Absolutely correct."
Felix nodded approvingly, "That would be like using a cannon to bombard a solid fortress on open ground.
It would be grand in scale, but besides wasting ammunition and exposing our intentions too early, it would have no practical effect.
This is what Clark meant by an ineffective 'big stir'."
"However, a closed-door emergency hearing initiated by the Military Committee is completely different."
A glint sparkled in Felix's eyes, "Its pretext is national logistical security, a 'great cause' that no congressman would dare openly question during wartime.
It can legally drag Sloan and the representatives of the Railroad Alliance from powerful behind-the-scenes capitalists directly to the witness stand, making them swear to testify before God and the law."
"It's not a clumsy cannon, Catherine," Felix concluded, "but a precise and sharp scalpel."
Catherine suddenly understood, "I see, so the hearing is the real killing blow."
"Yes, but this scalpel also needs enough light for everyone to clearly see what it's cutting."
Felix took over, "So, Thomas and we have an unspoken division of labor."
"He is responsible for setting up this most deadly stage within the political system, in that small conference room on Capitol Hill, and personally serving as the chief interrogator."
"And we," Felix looked at her, "are responsible for shining countless spotlights on this stage from outside the system.
We must make the people of the entire States the jurors of this trial."
"Our weapons are newspapers and public opinion, the anger of those who have been oppressed by the Railroad Alliance for too long."
"These two things are complementary."
Felix's explanation was very clear, "Media reports will ignite public anger.
This anger will become Chairman Clark's strongest backing at the hearing, silencing anyone who wants to defend Sloan.
And Mr. Chairman's official hearing will give every one of our reports undeniable authority.
Sloan will have nowhere to hide."
Catherine completely understood.
This was not a contradictory plan at all, but a meticulously designed, multi-dimensional strangulation campaign with official and civilian cooperation.
"One in the open, one in the dark."
She murmured softly, "Capitol Hill and Newspaper Street.
Felix, you and Chairman Clark are like hunters dividing their prey."
"No, sweetheart."
Felix corrected, "We just happen to be 'Patriots' who both want to make this country a little better."
The carriage stopped in front of the Willard Hotel where they were staying.
That evening, in the hotel suite, Felix did not rest first, but began to dictate a series of telegram instructions, sent from here to New York, Chicago, and Philadelphia.
The first was sent to Flynn, the head of intelligence in New York.
"Flynn, immediately organize all negative materials about the Eastern Railroad Alliance collected by the intelligence department in the past six months with the highest priority.
I need facts, not rumors.
This includes specific cases where they maliciously raised freight rates using their monopoly position, leading to the bankruptcy of small businessmen; records of accidents resulting in casualties due to forcing workers to work in hazardous conditions during severe weather; and internal data on large-scale losses of military and civilian supplies during transportation due to chaotic management.
The more, the more detailed, the better.
After organizing, encrypt and send it to Chicago."
The second was sent to Fowler, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Truth in Chicago.
"Get your pen and your biggest front page ready, Fowler.
A national storm is about to kick off in your column.
Flynn will provide you with enough ammunition to completely ruin Mr. Sloan's reputation.
I need your words to be like bullets, shooting into the hearts of every countryman who can read English."
The third was sent to Tom Hayes on Wall Street.
"Tom, the cover of public opinion is about to be in place.
Have Patriot Investment Company prepare all available funds.
The moment the news of the Washington hearing gets out, the stock price of the Railroad Alliance will inevitably experience its first sharp fluctuation.
That will be your signal to act.
Remember, your appetite can be bigger this time."
When Catherine finished organizing the last telegram draft, the rain outside had stopped.
"Felix, this… this is a huge gamble."
She looked at the few telegram drafts on the table that were about to stir up the entire country, and said softly, "You are simultaneously declaring war on a massive business alliance and a deeply entrenched political lobbying group."
"No, sweetheart."
Felix walked to her side, gently embraced her, and looked out at the Washington night sky, clear after the rain.
"This is not gambling."
"When I hold all the cards in my own hand," he said softly, "this is called… business."