The first to receive news of Felix's strategic partnership with Lafflin-Smith Powder Company was Hazard Powder Company in Connecticut.
The company's president, Hyde, was still basking in the glow of his five percent price reduction offer.
In his opinion, his sincere offer was enough to defeat arrogant competitors like DuPont and easily secure the Argyle Company's order, which promised a path to the future.
"How is it?" he asked his sales director. "Any word from New York? Has that Argyle kid been moved to tears by our price yet?"
"Sir..." The sales director's face, however, bore a strange expression. He placed a letter, personally signed by Edward Frost, on the president's desk.
It was a very polite letter. In it, Mr. Argyle thanked Hazard Company for its "highly competitive offer" and praised their sincerity in cooperation. However, at the end of the letter, they were informed that Argyle Company had "reached a long-term strategic solution regarding powder supply."
"What does that mean?" The president frowned. "'Strategic solution'? What kind of hellish jargon is that? Who did he choose? Was it DuPont?"
Just then, the office door was pushed open, and an assistant hurried in with an urgent telegram.
"Mr. President! News just came back from our informant in New York!"
Hyde snatched the telegram and quickly read it. His face rapidly changed from initial confidence to disbelief, and finally, to a liver-colored hue.
"What?!" He let out a roar like a wounded beast. "Argyle actually invested in Lafflin?! That old-fashioned company that hasn't updated its production equipment in ten years and is on the verge of bankruptcy? Is he crazy!"
He couldn't understand it. In his opinion, Felix Argyle' decision completely defied all basic commercial logic. He gave up the lowest price, gave up the largest production capacity, but chose the weakest loser among the four.
"This is a... a foolish act of charity based on cheap camaraderie!" He angrily crumpled the telegram into a ball and slammed it to the ground... Meanwhile, in the suburbs of Wilmington, Delaware.
The atmosphere at DuPont Company's headquarters estate was much calmer.
Henry DuPont, the head of the powder empire, was looking at a similar intelligence report. His expression was also not good.
"Interesting," he said slowly after a long pause. "Very interesting."
"Sir," a family member beside him asked, puzzled, "I truly cannot understand. Why would Mr. Argyle choose Lafflin? It's illogical. Lafflin Company probably doesn't have the capacity to meet the terrifying future demands of that new ammunition factory."
"Short-sighted! You only see the present, but he," DuPont's gaze deepened, "sees the future."
"He isn't procuring powder, child," DuPont looked at him, "he is producing an ally."
"He isn't interested in Lafflin Company's existing capacity. He's interested in the Lafflin family's unique technology in powder stability, and their 'loyalty' which can be completely controlled."
"You see," DuPont's thinking was far more profound than that of his hot-headed competitor, "with an investment that wasn't too large, he completely transformed the Lafflin family into an inseparable link in his own military industrial chain. From now on, all of Lafflin Company's capacity will serve only him. You should know that while Lafflin Powder Company is somewhat inferior to our other three, it is still one of the four major powder manufacturers. Argyle used money to buy out a seemingly weaker but core-tech-possessing competitor, then turned it into his own private arsenal."
DuPont delivered his final assessment, "This man is far more dangerous than I imagined. He isn't thinking about next year's contract, but the industry landscape for the next ten or even twenty years. He is a true strategist. It seems DuPont has a rival now..."
...While the entire powder industry was abuzz with discussion over Felix's unexpected decision, Felix himself was already sitting with Lafflin and Lafflin Jr. in Tom Hayes' office.
Lawyers and accountants were finalizing the details of the forty percent equity acquisition agreement.
"Mr. Argyle," Lafflin Jr., the heir who was about to lead the family business to a new life, looked at Felix, his voice still carrying a hint of dreamlike unreality, "I still can't quite believe it. With your capital and orders, we... we can truly compete with DuPont and the others at the same table."
"Sylvester," Felix affectionately called him by his name, "don't just think about competing with them; think about how to surpass them."
"My contract with the War Department is just the beginning." Felix looked at him, his eyes full of expectation. "In the future, my railroad company will need safer blasting powder. The Central Laboratory will also officially launch a preliminary research project on 'smokeless propellant.' These will all be your vast stage."
Felix continued, "Tom will immediately assist you in introducing the most advanced production equipment from Europe. Dr. Thorne and Mr. Becker from the Central Laboratory will provide you with comprehensive technical support to further optimize your 'low-temperature slow nitration' process."
"And the ammunition factory," Felix looked at him, "will be your biggest customer. I'm giving you one year, Sylvester. In one year, I want the name 'Lafflin' to represent not just 'reliable' but 'the best' in the eyes of all officers and engineers."
Felix's words ignited an unprecedented ambition in Lafflin Jr.'s heart.
At this moment, Edward Frost knocked and entered. He silently placed an encrypted telegram on Felix's desk.
Felix opened the telegram and quickly read it. A mysterious smile appeared on his face.
He handed the telegram to Hayes, "It seems those recently defeated opponents aren't as well-behaved as I imagined."
Hayes took the telegram; it was a message from their informant in Philadelphia.
"Target: J. Edgar Thomson. Met secretly with Sloan, the former chairman of New York Central Railroad, at a private club yesterday at 3 PM. The meeting lasted two hours; specific content unknown."
"Sloan and Thomson..." A hint of wariness also flashed in Hayes' eyes. "What mischief are these two up to now that they're together?"
"The tiger may have lost his teeth, but his claws are still there."
"Thomson still has decades of roots and influence on the board. He won't just stand by and watch us so easily divide his legacy. You know, even though Sloan no longer has shares in New York Central Railroad, he also got rid of the treason charges and received a large sum of money. It's clear Thomson wants to invite him to join Pennsylvania Railroad to counterbalance us."
"They're preparing to give us a 'big gift,'" Felix said softly, looking out at the Wall Street scenery.
"But this is good, too."
Felix chuckled, a cold curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. "Before, because of Vanderbilt, I couldn't personally crush Sloan. Now he's come to me himself; it's truly exciting."
Felix's cooperation with the Laughlin family completed a crucial raw material link for Militech, meaning his industrial engine, designed for war, could truly begin to roar.
And beyond the bustle of New York, on the grand card table in Philadelphia, a quieter and more patient game of chess quietly unfolded.
Becker Manor on the outskirts of Philadelphia.
Matthew Becker, the old lion of Philadelphia's industrial scene, stood in his family foundry, filled with the smell of engine oil and molten iron.
His son, young Matthew, had just finished reporting the latest financial status to him—after receiving that life-saving loan from Argyle Empire Bank, the factory had not only paid off all its debts but also ordered two of the latest steam forging hammers from Hartford.
"Father," young Matthew's voice carried a long-lost excitement, "Mr. Hayes sent a telegram yesterday. Mr. Argyle's Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company has placed its first order with us. Three hundred sets of top-grade locomotive wheel hubs. The price is ten percent higher than what we previously quoted to Pennsylvania Railroad."
The old man watched the craftsmen in the workshop, who had resumed their busy work, and a smile finally appeared on his usually clouded face.
"I also heard," young Matthew lowered his voice, "Thomson secretly went to New York yesterday. He and Sloan talked for a whole afternoon in a private club."
"Hmph." The old man let out a cold snort, "As expected. What else can an old tiger expelled from the forest and a sick lion about to be driven away do when they get together, besides licking each other's wounds?"
"They're probably not just licking wounds, Father." Young Matthew's eyes revealed malice, "I'm worried Thomson wants to bring Sloan into Pennsylvania Railroad to jointly deal with Mr. Argyle. If that happens, those of us who have just joined the new team will be in a very dangerous position."
Matthew Becker understood; he knew his son was right. Thomson would never sit idly by.
After a long while, he slowly spoke, "It seems we can't wait any longer."
...The next afternoon, at a gentlemen's club in Philadelphia open only to members.
Matthew Becker had an "accidental" encounter with another old member of the board, Mr. Harrison, in a secluded smoking room. The Harrison family operated Philadelphia's third-largest private bank, and he himself was a typical banker who disliked risk and focused on stable dividends.
"Matthew," Harrison took a sip of brandy and spoke first, "I regret what happened on the board. Thomson and Patterson, what they did was indeed... a bit undignified."
"More than undignified, Harrison." Baker shook his head, his voice full of weariness, "They are shaking the very foundation of the company."
He looked at his old friend, deciding not to beat around the bush anymore.
"Have you seen last quarter's financial report? Under Chairman Thomson's leadership, our operating costs have risen by another five percentage points. And that new supplier in Delaware he found to 'save costs,' as far as I know, had its second delivery delay last week. This caused our two most important coal transport trains to wait in Pittsburgh for two extra days for no reason."
Harrison's brow furrowed. "Are you sure?"
"Of course, it's something anyone paying a little attention would know, no need for me to lie to you." Baker nodded, "The most crucial thing is that he wants to bring Sloan in again. A man who was just investigated by the federal government for suspected treason and ended up cutting off his tail to survive. What do you think the company's small shareholders will think of us after knowing this? How many more such turmoils can our stock price withstand?"
These words precisely hit Harrison where it hurt as a banker.
"Mr. Argyle..." Baker slowly threw out that name, "He's a dangerous New Yorker, true. But you must admit, he's a businessman who can create profits. His factories, his railroads, are making money at a speed we can't comprehend. He is now a major shareholder of our company; he wants to see the company's stock price rise more than any of us, doesn't he?"
"Matthew, what exactly are you trying to say?"
"I just think," Baker looked at him, "perhaps we should find an opportunity to have a good talk with this new major shareholder. Not in a hostile place like the board meeting. But privately, like true businessmen."
"For the sake of our own wallets," he added finally, "think about it carefully."
...A few days later, at Baker's manor.
A small gathering, under the guise of "tasting new Scotch whisky," was secretly underway.
Present were Matthew Becker and his son, as well as the banker Harrison, and two other small and medium shareholders on the board who had also been marginalized due to Thomson's arbitrariness and cronyism.
"Gentlemen," young Matthew Becker, as the actual convener of this gathering, distributed a financial analysis report he had personally prepared to everyone.
The contents of the report were shocking.
He used the most detailed data to compare the huge additional costs incurred by Pennsylvania Railroad Company over the past year due to "related party transactions" with companies affiliated with Patterson and others, and the astonishing profits that could have been saved by using more reliable and cost-effective suppliers like Becker Foundry.
"Chairman Thomson is using all of our money to feed his own small circle."
"And all we get are constantly falling stock prices and dwindling annual dividends."
"But what can we do?" one director asked worriedly, "Thomson and Patterson, together, control nearly half of the board's shares. We simply cannot shake him."
"Perhaps not before." Young Matthew looked at them, "But the situation is different now."
"Mr. Argyle and his investment company now hold thirty-two percent of the company's shares." He threw out the most crucial bargaining chip, "As long as we can stand together, our strength will exceed theirs."
The room fell silent. Everyone knew this was a moment that would determine their future destiny.
That night, an encrypted telegram was sent from young Matthew Becker's study to New York... Patriot Investment Company, Tom Hayes's office.
"Boss," Hayes handed the translated telegram to Felix, who had come to inspect, "Baker's side succeeded."
The content of the telegram was very short.
"Mr. Hayes: My father has successfully persuaded Harrison and two other directors. We now control five votes on the board. While still not enough to counter Thomson's core group, the crack is large enough."
Felix finished reading, a satisfied smile on his face.
"Very good," he commented, "One stone, though not enough to bring down the whole wall. But it's enough to make the rats inside the wall start frantically looking for new exits."
He raised his glass and looked at Hayes.
"Tell young Matthew to continue contacting the undecided moderates."
As expected, the Bakers' plan to win over allies was leaked.
In the headquarters building of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, in Chairman J. Edgar Thomson's office, Patterson sat opposite him, his face filled with unease.
"Edgar, I've heard some bad rumors. Harrison, that old fox, spent all yesterday afternoon drinking tea with Baker's son at his private club. When did they become so close?"
"It's not just him," Thomson's voice was hoarse. "Several other small shareholders, who don't hold many shares but are very reputable locally, have also been getting close to Baker recently. My people reported that the topics they openly discussed at the club were all about the company's 'operating costs' and 'shareholder dividends'."
"Those words," he looked at Patterson, his eyes bloodshot, "sound exactly like what that New York kid said at the board meeting."
Patterson's heart sank.
Thomson walked to the small blackboard in his office, where the board's equity structure was clearly written in chalk.
He circled his own name and those of Patterson and several other core allies with his finger. "Together, we can absolutely control forty percent of the shares."
Then, his finger moved to the other side, drawing a heavy circle around the name "Felix Argyle."
"And he alone owns thirty-two percent."
"The remaining twenty-eight percent are scattered among Baker, Harrison, and other moderates," he made a deduction that sent shivers down his own spine. "If... if even half of Baker, Harrison, and the others sided with that New Yorker..."
He didn't continue. But the outcome was already self-evident. His seemingly stable ruling alliance could instantly collapse at any time due to the defection of a few key figures.
"We must do something, Edgar!" Patterson said anxiously. "We can't just sit here and wait to die!"
"Of course, I already have a plan. I met with Sloan before and invited him to join the company. But we still need to stabilize Baker and them." Thomson wasn't too panicked, as he had already made secret arrangements.
But he also knew that before Felix Argyle fully integrated those wavering forces and before Sloan acquired enough shares, he had to first soothe where the cracks began—Matthew Becker... That afternoon, a luxurious carriage belonging to the Chairman drove into the Baker Estate on the outskirts of Philadelphia.
Matthew Becker received this uninvited guest in his study. His son, young Matthew, stood silently behind him like a statue.
"Matthew," Thomson immediately stepped forward as he entered, attempting to shake old Baker's hand, his face full of a fake smile. "My old friend. We've known each other for almost thirty years. To think, we built this company together from a small line into what it is today. There shouldn't be any misunderstandings between us."
Old Baker did not let him shake his hand, merely calmly pointing to the sofa opposite.
Thomson sat down, somewhat embarrassed and annoyed.
"Regarding that foundry contract..." He immediately cut to the chase. "That was a complete misunderstanding, Matthew. It was Patterson and his team, under pressure to cut costs, who made a wrong decision. I have severely criticized him for it."
He looked at old Baker, extending what he thought was a sincere "olive branch." "So I've decided to return half of the orders from that Delaware factory to your Becker Foundry. Consider it... my personal apology to you."
After hearing this, old Baker said nothing. He simply picked up his teacup and gently blew on the hot steam.
It was his son who answered.
"Chairman Thomson," young Matthew Becker spoke, but with a coldness unbefitting his age, "I'm afraid it's too late."
"What do you mean?"
"Just a week ago, our Becker Foundry signed a five-year exclusive strategic supply contract with Mr. Argyle's Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company. Our factory's capacity is already booked for the next five years."
"So I'm afraid," a hint of sarcasm appeared at the corner of his mouth, "we no longer have the extra capacity to serve the Pennsylvania Railroad."
Thomson's face instantly turned very ugly. He had not expected that New York kid to be so bold as to win over the Baker family the very next day.
"Moreover," young Matthew continued, each word like a knife piercing Thomson's heart, "Mr. Argyle offered us more than just an order. He offered a fairer and more promising way of cooperation. This, I'm afraid, is something you are unable and have always disdained to give us."
Thomson looked at the father and son before him.
The older one, from beginning to end, expressed his irreparable disappointment with a cold silence. The younger one, on the other hand, declared the complete end of their decades-long friendship in the most direct and businesslike manner.
It seemed his belated olive branch had been mercilessly broken in his face... On the way back to headquarters from the Baker Estate, Thomson began to feel panicked.
He had thought the chess game was still under his control, but he realized he had never been off the board from the start.
Internal strife was now unavoidable.
Thomson's only reliance now was his "old friend," who was also being driven to desperation by Felix Argyle.
One must know that Vanderbilt was able to find evidence of the Sloan incident so easily because of information passed on by Argyle.
Even though Vanderbilt didn't have direct evidence, Sloan, as Felix's old rival, immediately targeted him.
That's why he contacted him at the outset, expressing his desire to join the Pennsylvania Railroad Company and defeat Felix.
So Thomson did not return to his office, but went directly to the Central Telegraph Office.
He sent an urgent, encrypted telegram to Sloan, who was far away in New York.
"Sloan:
The situation has changed. Baker has completely sided with Argyle. He is inciting other directors. My alliance is about to collapse, and we must act immediately.
How is your plan in New York progressing? I need you to immediately absorb shares in the market, no matter the cost!
My alliance now has less than forty percent of the shares, which is far from enough! We need more leverage! Otherwise, I, too, will be devoured alive by that kid from New York!
—Thomson"