Felix's response echoed through the War Department's corridors.
Colonel Bishop, the director of the Springfield Armory, looked at the businessman, who was even younger than his own son.
He had expected to see a speculative merchant eager to defend himself, but the other party's composure made a series of questions he had prepared get stuck in his throat.
"That sounds good, Mr. Argyle," Colonel Bishop snorted, resuming his posture as the leader of the official armory. "On the battlefield, a soldier's life depends on absolutely reliable weapons, tempered by a thousand trials, not on your merchants' sweet talk."
He gestured to his deputy behind him. The deputy immediately stepped forward and opened an equally exquisite wooden box. Inside, a rifle lay quietly. It looked very similar to the Federal Army's active 1861 Springfield rifle, but the metal parts of the gun body were better polished, and the lines of the wooden stock were smoother.
Colonel Bishop's voice was filled with pride for his creation, "This is the true progress that the Springfield Armory brings to the Federal Army."
"Our newest Militech 1863 improved rifle, based on the 1861 model, optimizes the firing mechanism and sights, increasing the effective range by fifty yards. More importantly, every single one of its parts is fully compatible with over a million active rifles in the entire army. This is a truly responsible upgrade."
Just then, Secretary Stanton of the War Department and General Halleck, the Army's General-in-Chief, walked out of the conference room. The intense arguments from before were gone from their faces, replaced by an expression of deliberation.
"Colonel Bishop," Secretary Stanton's voice interrupted the standoff, "we understand your intention. You believe the new Springfield rifle is a better choice."
"Undoubtedly, Mr. Secretary," Bishop replied confidently.
"I see," Stanton nodded, his gaze moving back and forth between Felix and Bishop. "Then, I propose we return to the firing range. Let's end this debate with a direct comparison."
...At the Washington Armory's firing range.
A true duel concerning the ownership of future orders worth tens of millions of dollars.
Colonel Dale, the head of the Ordnance Department, personally served as the judge.
"The rules are simple, gentlemen," he announced. "Two shooters will start simultaneously. Within three minutes, whoever can leave more and more precise bullet holes on the target will be the winner."
"For fairness," he added, "the representative of the Springfield Armory will be their best test shooter. As for Mr. Argyle's side..."
"I'll do it," Miller walked to the firing stand.
"Start!"
At Colonel Dale's command.
The Springfield test shooter immediately skillfully took a paper cartridge from the ammunition box, bit it open with his teeth, poured the gunpowder into the barrel, then used a ramrod to pack the bullet, loaded the percussion cap, and began to raise the gun, aim, and shoot.
"Bang!"
The entire process was smooth and took about twenty seconds.
However, just as he had completed his first shot and was preparing for his second reload, a continuous burst of gunfire, like a storm, erupted beside him!
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Miller's movements were extremely simple. Pull the lever, shoot, pull the lever again, shoot again. The crisp sound of ejecting shells and the deafening gunshots intertwined in a terrifying rhythm. In less than ten seconds, he had already emptied the first magazine.
Three minutes later, when Colonel Dale shouted the command "Stop," the result was already beyond doubt. Eight bullet holes were left on the Springfield's target. On Miller's target, however, thirty-eight bullet holes were densely clustered.
The performance gap was overwhelming.
However, just as General Halleck and others were once again shocked by the terrifying firepower of this gun, Colonel Bishop, unlike his test shooter, was not dejected.
He stepped forward, a look of regret and sympathy on his face.
"A very impressive performance, Mr. Argyle," he began, his tone sincere. "Your rifle is undoubtedly an engineering masterpiece. Its rate of fire is indeed astonishing."
"But..." he changed his tone, raising his voice to ensure everyone present could hear, "the value of a weapon is not only determined by its performance on the firing range. It also depends on whether our country can afford it."
His gaze turned to Secretary Stanton.
"Mr. Secretary, I just asked Colonel Dale. Mr. Argyle's rifle is quoted at forty dollars. And my Springfield Militech 1863, because its parts are compatible with older models, has extremely low costs, and our quote is nineteen dollars."
This figure once again caused a stir among the generals.
Bishop pressed his advantage, his voice full of incitement, "This means that for every 'Pioneer Rifle' we equip, we could equip two other Federal soldiers with our equally reliable weapons! In a time when war funding is so tight, can we really afford such an expensive luxury?"
"This is not the most crucial point," he glanced at the pile of shining brass casings at Miller's feet. "This gun uses a brand new type of brass-cased ammunition, of which we don't have a single round in our armories. Our Springfield, on the other hand, uses the Minié ball, which is standard throughout the army."
"Gentlemen," his voice was like a heavy hammer, striking the hearts of every logistics officer, "can you imagine? On the future battlefield, our logistics system will need to simultaneously supply two calibers and two completely different types of ammunition. This will be an absolute disaster! When a regiment of soldiers runs out of their 'special' bullets, what they hold in their hands will just be an expensive fire poker!"
"Expensive, independent logistics, non-interchangeable parts." Bishop's gaze swept across the room, finally looking at Felix. "Mr. Argyle, your rifle is indeed excellent. But it does not belong on the battlefield; it only belongs to a few wealthy gentlemen for expensive recreation on private firing ranges."
A faint murmur of discussion began across the firing range; Bishop's words were deadly.
And they directly transformed the Militech 1863's greatest advantage, its technological advancement, into its biggest practical drawback—its cost and logistical infeasibility.
Secretary Stanton's brows also furrowed tightly. Every word Bishop said was a realistic issue he, as Secretary of War, had to prioritize.
Just when everyone thought the outcome of this duel had been decided.
Felix came up with a way to break the deadlock and stepped forward.
"Colonel, your analysis is very brilliant and entirely correct."
He looked at everyone present and admitted frankly.
"Yes, my rifle is expensive. And it requires new ammunition and a new logistics system."
"But," a smile played on his lips, "who said I was going to sell it directly to the army?"
Felix's last words plunged the entire shooting range into an eerie silence.
Everyone was momentarily stunned, their minds filled with confusion.
Colonel Bishop, director of the Springfield Armory, watched as the expression on his face rapidly shifted from initial shock to a humiliated fury.
"Not selling to the army?" He practically roared, "Mr. Argyle, are you toying with the Federal Government? You've invited the Secretary of War and the General-in-Chief of the Army here, wasted all our time, just to show off your new toy, and then tell us it's not for sale?"
Even Secretary Stanton, the Secretary of War, showed clear displeasure for the first time.
But he did not express it directly. Instead, he looked at Felix, awaiting a reasonable explanation.
He believed that since the other party had contacted the military through Clark, he certainly wouldn't be so frivolous.
Felix ignored Bishop's roar. He walked to the center of the two side-by-side shooting platforms.
He pointed to Bishop's exquisitely crafted Springfield rifle.
"Colonel, your rifle is an excellent industrial product. Its advantages are low cost and logistical compatibility. But its performance is clearly outdated."
Then, he pointed to the Pioneer rifle in Miller's hand, which had just performed a miracle.
"And the advantage of my rifle is its outstanding performance, capable of giving Federal soldiers the power to fight five against one. Its drawback, as you just pointed out, is its high cost and independent logistics. It would plunge the army's logistics department into a complete disaster."
Felix looked at all the generals and officers present, frankly admitting the "fatal flaw" of his product.
Subsequently, Felix made a conclusion that surprised everyone: "So, these two guns, viewed individually, both have insurmountable problems. Neither of them is fit to be the Federal Army's ultimate choice to win this war."
"Then, what is your solution, young man?" General Halleck, General-in-Chief of the Army, finally couldn't help but speak, his tone carrying the scrutiny of an old-school military man.
"My solution is actually very simple, General. The application of new technology is unstoppable. Even if the States doesn't use it, will the South not use it?" Felix looked at him and spoke the truly astonishing words, "So, stop viewing them as two competing rifles."
"They should be viewed as a system that can be combined."
His gaze then shifted to Colonel Bishop.
"Colonel, the Springfield Armory has the largest production lines and the most skilled workers in the entire United States. You excel at manufacturing barrels, stocks, triggers… these technically mature, common components, correct?"
"...That's right." Bishop, though puzzled, instinctively replied.
"Precisely. My Militech, under the leadership of Mr. Rhys Griffiths, possesses the only capability in this country to produce 'Prometheus Alloy Steel' and precisely machine it into complex components."
"Therefore, I propose that the Militech 1863 rifle be jointly produced by our two companies."
"My Militech can give up the production of all low-tech components. We will focus on producing 'core component packages'—that is, its most critical receiver and bolt assembly—precision-manufactured from new alloy steel. We can sell this to you, and I promise that the price of this core package will not exceed fifteen dollars."
"And all the remaining parts," his gaze returned to Bishop, "barrels, stocks, triggers, and so on, will all be mass-produced by the Springfield Armory."
"This way," Felix's thinking became incredibly clear, "Springfield will not only avoid being eliminated but will instead become the most important production and support base for the new rifle. Your production lines will be upgraded, and your workers will continue to be employed. And the final price of the assembled rifle can be controlled at around twenty-five dollars. A price that is only six dollars more than your current improved model, but with five times the performance."
The entire shooting range once again fell into a prolonged silence.
Colonel Bishop stared blankly at Felix. His proud military-industrial brain was, at this moment, completely blanked by this unheard-of "cooperative production" model.
All his attacks—regarding cost, logistics, and tradition—became pale and powerless in the face of this plan. Felix not only didn't destroy him but instead offered the armory a path to a better future.
"What about… ammunition?"
Colonel Dale, head of the Ordnance Department, asked the last and most critical question, "That would be an equally catastrophic logistical problem."
"I also do not intend to directly sell a single bullet to the military," Felix said.
Felix looked at Secretary Stanton, "I propose that Argyle Company and the War Department establish a brand-new 'Federal Joint Ammunition Company'."
"Our side will provide all technical patents, production equipment blueprints, and management team for the '.44 caliber brass cased ammunition'."
He continued, "And the military will provide the land next to the Frankfurt Armory, some existing factory facilities, and, most importantly, official production permits."
"Together, we will establish the most advanced metallic cased ammunition factory in the United States. The profits of the factory will be distributed proportionally between our two parties."
This was an overt strategy that could not be refused.
Felix not only did not abandon the most lucrative piece of the pie—bullets—but, through a joint venture, completely transformed himself from an external supplier into an internal partner of the military-industrial system.
Secretary Stanton looked at the young man before him, and in his eyes, which were always filled with sharpness and prudence, a profound sense of shock emerged.
He had figured it out.
What this young man was promoting here today was no longer just a rifle, nor was it just a ration.
What he was promoting was a brand-new public-private partnership, an unprecedented "war industrial system" that perfectly combined the innovative efficiency of private enterprise with the massive production capacity of national armories.
After a long pause, Secretary Stanton slowly stepped forward. He did not touch the two rifles but walked up to Felix and extended his hand.
"Mr. Argyle, I believe that in the face of your plan, discussions about risk and cost are completely meaningless."
He looked at Felix, and then at all the generals present, "So I propose we return to the meeting room immediately."
"We need to discuss how to establish this new cooperative relationship between us."
The atmosphere in the War Department conference room had become completely different from before.
Felix's proposal for cooperative production had disrupted everyone's original plans.
Secretary Stanton of the War Department scrutinized everyone present. Felix's proposal was unprecedented, a tempting gamble that could change the future federal military-industrial system.
"Gentlemen, you have all heard Mr. Argyle's proposal. Now, I need to hear your opinions. General Harlech, you first."
General Harlech, the Commander-in-Chief of the Army, a cautious old-school military man, pondered for a moment before saying, "Mr. Secretary, from a military perspective, this proposal is very attractive. It allows us to acquire a weapon with performance far superior to anything before, at the fastest possible speed, without completely overturning the existing logistics system. Theoretically, I can find no reason to object."
"Theoretically?" Stanton caught the reservation in his words.
"Yes." Harlech nodded, his gaze turning to Colonel Bishop, the director of Springfield Armory.
"I'm just worried whether Colonel Bishop and Springfield Armory can accept this... completely new method of cooperation."
Everyone's eyes focused on Bishop.
The Federal Armory Director's expression was grim. He had recovered from his initial shock and seen through the commercial logic behind Felix's seemingly "win-win" proposal.
"Mr. Secretary, General." Bishop stood up, a hint of suppressed anger in his voice, "I must point out that Mr. Argyle's proposal, while seemingly generous, is actually turning Springfield Armory into a... assembly workshop for his private company."
"He controls the most core material and component technology," he said, pointing at Felix, "and we become a contract manufacturer that can only produce simple parts like wooden stocks and triggers. The experience of all the factory's craftsmen will be reduced to a link in his production system that can be replaced at any time. If this continues long-term, the Federal Army's most core weapon manufacturing capability will be firmly throttled by a private company."
"This is a very dangerous situation." Bishop's tone became agitated, "I absolutely cannot accept such terms!"
He turned to Secretary Stanton and presented his counter-proposal.
"I believe that if Mr. Argyle truly wants to serve the States, then he should fully license the so-called Prometheus alloy steel formula and the manufacturing technology for core components to our Springfield Armory at a reasonable price!"
"We have the best craftsmen and engineers in America! We are fully capable of independently producing entire rifles once we master the technology! This is the truly correct path to make the Federal military-industrial system stronger and more independent!"
This was a very powerful counterattack.
Bishop skillfully portrayed himself not as someone refusing to cooperate, but as a patriot considering the nation's long-term interests.
The atmosphere in the conference room became tense again.
After all, everyone knew the truth about this matter, but making such a demand depended on the person, and it was clear that Felix Argyle was not the kind of businessman who could be easily manipulated.
Felix's face showed exasperation.
"Colonel, your patriotic fervor is truly admirable. But with all due respect, your proposal is simply terrible."
"My chief metallurgist, Mr. Rhys Griffiths, and his team spent several months and a large amount of R&D funding to finally perfect the Prometheus alloy formula and heat treatment process.
This is not a simple recipe, and you, Colonel, are technically knowledgeable. It is a complex system that includes special equipment, strict procedures, and extensive empirical data. This system cannot be simply licensed or transferred."
"Even if I were foolish enough to agree, you would need at least half a year, or even a year, to learn, explore, and rebuild this system. I would like to ask all the generals present, can the soldiers on the front lines wait another year?"
This rhetorical question silenced all the military personnel present.
"As for commercial fairness," Felix's lips curled into a sneer, "Argyle Central Laboratory is my personal investment, and all its technological achievements are my private intangible assets. I am willing to share its fruits with the States through cooperation. But I am not obligated to give away the seeds from my orchard as well. I hope Colonel will review the Federal Constitution."
"You..." Bishop was rendered speechless by the rebuttal.
Just as Bishop was at a loss, Secretary Stanton rapped on the table.
"Alright, Colonel Bishop. I understand your concerns. But Mr. Argyle is not a businessman who only cares about profit; he is a patriotic businessman, and Argyle & Co. Foods has consistently performed perfectly in its logistics contracts with the military for two years, and Umbrella Corporation has also begun mass-producing Iodoglycerol to treat injured soldiers. He is a friend of our army, and you should not question a patriotic businessman like that. Besides, Mr. Argyle is right, war waits for no one."
"The War Department, in principle, agrees to Mr. Argyle's cooperation proposal. Your Springfield Armory will be responsible for the production of common parts and the final assembly of the new rifle. This is a huge task, and an honorable one. What you need to do is go back immediately, organize your best engineers to interface with Mr. Argyle's team, and ensure the production process is foolproof."
"As for the core technology," Stanton added, as if to reassure and remind, "you can also research it, and that will be a matter for later. What we need now are rifles, the more the better, the faster the better. Do you understand, Colonel?"
Bishop looked at Stanton, then at Felix.
Although unwilling, he finally slowly sat down.
"...Yes, Mr. Secretary."
The rifle issue was settled.
Stanton's gaze turned to Felix, "Now then, Mr. Argyle, we can discuss the Joint Ammunition Company."
The generals from the Quartermaster Department immediately sat up straight. This was the true core of the "division of interests" in this meeting.
General Harlech spoke, his tone much milder than before, "Mr. Argyle, your joint venture proposal is very novel. But ammunition is the blood of the army. Its production, quality, and supply must be under the absolute control of the War Department. There is no room for negotiation on this point."
"I understand, General." Felix nodded, "Therefore, my proposal is for the 'Federal Joint Ammunition Company.' The War Department will hold fifty-one percent of the shares, with ultimate decision-making and veto power."
This condition surprised and satisfied all the generals present.
"And Militech will hold forty-nine percent of the shares. We will be responsible for providing all the technology, patents, and management team. In return, we will receive half of the company's net profit dividends."
He then added the most crucial point, "Militech also requires an exclusive ammunition supply contract for a private company, signed by the War Department, for a minimum of ten years."
In the War Department's conference room, Felix's proposal for a "joint venture ammunition company" and "ten years of exclusive supply" sparked a lively discussion among everyone present.
This was a plan full of temptation, but equally full of checks and balances.
The War Department would acquire an ammunition factory with the most advanced technology, controlled by itself, completely freeing itself from being constrained by suppliers. What they would pay was merely land, a license, and a long-term commitment.
Army Commander-in-Chief Halleck and several generals from the Logistics Department exchanged brief, low-voiced remarks. They were all seasoned veterans skilled in calculation, quickly weighing the pros and cons of this deal in their minds.
Ultimately, it was Secretary of War Stanton who made the final decision.
"Mr. Argyle," he slowly stood up and extended his hand to Felix, "We have agreed to your terms in principle."
"As for the specific contract details," he added, "including the profit distribution method, the division of management rights, and the product quality supervision clauses, I will appoint the War Department's best lawyers and auditors to finalize them with your team in the most rigorous manner within the next week."
"I have only one request." Stanton's gaze became incredibly sharp.
"From the moment the contract is signed, I need to see your factory operating at full speed, immediately."
"Of course, Mr. Secretary." Felix shook his hand firmly, "Efficiency is what we do best."
...That evening, in Washington, at a private dining room in the Willard Hotel.
Felix hosted a small celebration dinner for his team. There were no outsiders, only him, Miller, and Jones.
"Boss," Jones raised his glass, his usually serious face now filled with genuine admiration and a touch of dreamlike wonder, "I still feel like everything that happened today isn't quite real. We... we really started a company with the War Department?"
"Yes, Jones." Felix smiled, "And you'll soon be incredibly busy because of it. Prepare for expansion; once the contract is signed, the military's food orders will keep the food factory working non-stop."
"To you, Boss." Miller raised his glass of whiskey, his emotions more restrained than Jones's, but his eyes equally fervent, "You fought a battle in the conference room today that was more brilliant than any campaign I've ever experienced."
Felix also raised his glass, "Gentlemen, today we earned the right to enter the core arena of this country."
He looked at the two men, his tone becoming solemn, "From today on, we have transitioned from being sideline suppliers to true players who can influence the course of the game. But this also means that every future move will be observed under a microscope. So, we must try not to make mistakes."
...The next morning, before boarding the special train back to New York, Felix needed to quickly convert the fruits of victory in Washington into fuel to drive the entire business machine forward.
He personally drafted a series of encrypted telegrams to different companies.
The first was sent to Catherine.
"Catherine:
The agreement in Washington has been reached. Please immediately inform Bank President Templeton to have Argyle Bank's legal department lead the formation of our negotiation team, ready to finalize the contract details with the War Department's lawyers. Simultaneously, prepare all necessary legal documents and initial capital injection for the establishment of 'Federal United Ammunition Company.'"
At the end of the telegram, he added another instruction, "Also, please expedite the selection of a private assistant for me. I need someone to help me handle these increasingly complex affairs as soon as possible."
The second was sent to Frank Cole in Connecticut.
"Frank:
Approval from the War Department has been obtained. However, there's a slight change: discard the previous assembly line production plan and instead focus on expanding the assembly line to produce only 'core components,' elevating this task to the highest priority. The factory must achieve a stable monthly production capacity of 20,000 sets within one month."
"At the same time, resources should be allocated to the Militech machine gun research and development project. Tell Rhys Griffiths that I don't want to hear any complaints about costs. I need to see it roar on the firing range as soon as possible."
The last one was sent to Tom Hayes on Wall Street.
"Tom:
Cooperation with Vanderbilt will proceed as usual. Militech is about to reach an agreement and a long-term contract with the War Department, which will be the most solid and powerful backing. In the shareholder war against Pennsylvania Railroad, do not spare our ammunition. If necessary, I authorize you to use Argyle Bank's reserves for leveraged operations."
After the last telegram was sent, Felix had already boarded the train.
Felix leaned back in his seat and let out a long sigh of relief. The Washington campaign had temporarily concluded.
He closed his eyes and began to mentally rehearse the next steps in the game.
Sloan and Thomson suffered a crushing political defeat, but their financial market foundations remained strong.
Crucially, he knew that Vanderbilt was a greedy and unpredictable ally. Therefore, he needed to seize the maximum benefits for himself and his burgeoning massive enterprise in this chaotic card game... The next day, Felix returned to New York.
After a short rest, he immediately plunged into a new round of work.
That afternoon, Catherine arrived at the Fifth Avenue mansion. Her face looked a bit tired but her spirits were good, and she held a thick folder in her hand.
She smiled and said, "Felix, I've found a few candidates who can share your heavy responsibilities in the future. See which one is suitable."
She placed the folder on Felix's desk.
"This is Mr. Flynn's final investigation report, completed over a month," Catherine explained, "After the most rigorous background and character checks, our initial five candidates were narrowed down to just three."
Felix opened the folder.
Inside were three detailed dossiers, clearly documenting each person's educational background, work experience, and even their neighbors' evaluations of their private lives.
The first was Leander Scott from Argyle Bank. Flynn's final assessment was a perfect executor. Professional, meticulous, absolutely reliable. But lacking in boldness.
The second was Sullivan from the food company. "Loyalty is his creed. He can take any bullet for you, whether physically or commercially. But his vision is limited by his background."
Felix's gaze finally settled on the third dossier.
Edward Frost.
Flynn's investigation confirmed all previous judgments. Efficient, quiet, professional. But at the end of the dossier, Flynn attached a detailed investigation of the mysterious German old man—Elias Schmidt.
"...Dr. Schmidt, a Prussian economist, was driven out of Prussia for advocating free economics and came to the States. He is one of the most underestimated economic minds of this era," Flynn's report stated, "Mr. Frost's interactions with him are more like a student's pure academic pursuit of a teacher. But this also proves one thing: Mr. Frost's inner world possesses a deeper and more complex intellectual world than his outward appearance suggests."
Felix looked at Frost's dossier.
He looked up, "Catherine, which one do you recommend?"
"Me?" Catherine paused, then replied, "From the safest perspective, Mr. Scott is the best choice. He won't make mistakes."
"However, if you need someone who can not only execute your orders but also offer you another perspective when you're thinking. Then, perhaps..."
Felix smiled.
He set aside Scott's and Sullivan's dossiers, keeping only Frost's.
"Then have Frost come over tomorrow morning."