J. Edgar Thomson's inflammatory roar echoed through the old boardroom of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company.
He was like a cornered beast, attempting to ignite the last vestiges of resistance in Philadelphia's old guard with the most primal emotions of 'local honor' and 'outsider conspiracy.'
The boardroom descended into brief chaos. Several of Thomson's core allies immediately stood up, loudly echoing his sentiments, accusing Felix Argyle of being a 'despicable speculator' and a 'thief sent by New York.'
However, Felix Argyle simply stood there quietly, observing the farcical drama orchestrated by Thomson himself—the Ugly of an opponent making their final struggle on the chessboard.
When a war devolves from a contest of strength and logic to mere slogans and insults, it signifies that the war is, in fact, over.
"Quiet!"
An old yet powerful voice cut through all the clamor.
Matthew Becker, a man who had stood firm in Philadelphia's industrial sector for forty years, slowly rose. In his hand, he held the audit report distributed by young Matthew.
"Enough, Edgar," he said, looking at Thomson, his usually somewhat cloudy eyes revealing deep disappointment and weariness.
"We are not running a Philadelphian club here," he slowly stated, "but a publicly listed company accountable to tens of thousands of shareholders."
He raised the report in his hand.
"Every number in this report has been verified by Philadelphia's most reliable accounting firm."
"What it reveals is not some 'New York conspiracy.' It is how some of us in this room have exploited the trust of shareholders to enrich ourselves, transforming this great company into our private vault."
"I second Mr. Argyle' motion."
Next, the banker Harrison also stood up. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses.
"I second it as well. As a banker, I only believe in numbers. And the numbers in this audit report have made me lose all confidence in the current management's financial discipline and business ethics."
One after another, directors who had been silent under Thomson's shadow rose to their feet.
They might not have possessed Matthew Becker's moral courage, but they all had the fundamental shrewdness of businessmen. They clearly understood that the wall had fallen. Now, it was time to choose the side that would bring them greater benefits.
Thomson watched the scene of everyone pushing down a falling wall, understanding that he had completely lost.
"Good... very good!" He let out a hoarse, wheezing laugh, like an old bellows, filled with resentment and despair. "Then let's vote! Vote now! Let me see how you, my former friends, sell this company to an outsider from New York!"
The company's legal counsel, after receiving a nod, walked to the front of the conference table. The upcoming procedure would determine the fate of the enterprise.
His voice was a bit dry, "We will now vote on the 'Motion of No Confidence in Chairman J. Edgar Thomson.' This vote will strictly adhere to the company's articles of association, weighted by the percentage of shares held by each shareholder."
"One percent of shares equals one vote."
He began calling out the votes from the most important shareholders.
"Patriot Investment Company, and its representative, Mr. Felix Argyle, holds forty percent of the company's shares. May I ask, what is your vote?"
"For," Tom Hayes stood up and answered decisively.
"The Becker family, and the associated shareholders they represent, collectively hold eleven percent of the company's shares. Mr. Becker, what is your vote?"
"For," young Matthew Becker's voice was clear and firm.
Forty percent, plus eleven percent. The number fifty-one, more than half, weighed like a massive stone on the hearts of all Thomson's allies.
"Harrison United Bank..."
"For."
"Philadelphia Textile Workers' Union Pension Fund..."
"For."
As one by one, the centrist shareholders defected, the scales of victory began to tip irreversibly towards Felix Argyle.
When the final vote count was announced by the trembling voice of the lawyer, the entire boardroom fell into a deathly silence.
"Vote results... sixty-two percent for, thirty-eight percent against. The motion... passes."
J. Edgar Thomson, the king who had ruled the Pennsylvania Railroad Company for nearly thirty years, was officially removed by his own shareholders at this moment.
He slumped in his chairman's seat, his once authoritative face now the color of ashes.
Felix Argyle slowly stood up. He did not look at the defeated man who had lost all power.
He looked at everyone present, "Gentlemen, since the position of Chairman of the company is now vacant, I propose that for the stability of the company and the interests of Philadelphia, the highly respected Mr. Matthew Becker be appointed as interim Chairman until the next formal shareholder election."
This proposal, like a spring breeze, instantly dispersed the tense atmosphere in the boardroom.
Felix Argyle did not choose himself, nor did he choose any of the New Yorkers he brought. Instead, he chose a respected local figure.
This action, more powerfully than any words, proved to everyone that he brought not conquest, but reform... After the meeting, as Thomson and his few confidants scurried out the back door, besieged by a frenzy of reporters.
Felix Argyle and his new allies were holding their first informal discussion in the boardroom that had just experienced a power earthquake.
"Mr. Argyle..." Matthew Becker, the newly appointed interim Chairman, looked at Felix Argyle, his eyes filled with gratitude and awe. "I... I don't know what to say."
"Chairman Becker," Felix Argyle smiled, proactively changing the address, "You don't need to say anything. You just need to lead this company back onto the right track as quickly as possible. My team will provide you with all necessary support."
He looked at the old man, and at the new allies beside him, who were also full of anticipation.
"I assure you all," Felix Argyle' voice was full of power, "under the leadership of the new management, the Pennsylvania Railroad Company will usher in an unprecedented new era of efficiency, transparency, and profitability."
...As Felix Argyle and his team walked out of the historic headquarters building, the Philadelphia sun broke through the clouds.
A group of reporters swarmed them like sharks smelling blood.
"Mr. Argyle! Are you now the true power behind the Pennsylvania Railroad Company?"
"How do you plan to deal with the mess left by Chairman Thomson?"
Felix Argyle stopped, a gentle smile on his face.
"No, gentlemen," he replied, "I am just an ordinary shareholder concerned about the return on my investment. Today's victory is not mine, but that of all the company's shareholders. We simply made a correct decision together that is good for business."
With that, he got into a carriage, escorted by Frost and security personnel.
----
Philadelphia, the annual shareholders' meeting of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company has concluded.
J. Edgar Thomson, the king who had ruled the company for nearly thirty years, was utterly defeated on his chosen battlefield by a young man from New York, using the shareholder rights he disdained the most... On the private train returning to New York, the atmosphere among Felix and his group was relaxed and pleasant.
"Boss, we won," Tom Hayes's face glowed with the radiance of a victor. "It went even smoother than I imagined. Pushing Baker into the position of interim chairman was a brilliant move. It completely dismantled the Philadelphians' last vestiges of resistance."
"This is just the beginning, Tom," Felix looked at the rapidly receding fields outside the window, his tone calm. "We've only knocked down the old wall. But to build our own edifice on this ruin will require time and patience."
He turned to Hayes and began to assign the next steps.
"Your work in Philadelphia is not over. I need you to stay there as our largest shareholder representative, fully assisting Chairman Baker in stabilizing the situation. The first thing," a cold glint flashed in Felix's eyes, "is to thoroughly clear Patterson and those few parasites out of the board of directors. Find a way to increase our shares."
"The second thing," he continued, "is to immediately launch our previously discussed 'Shareholder Revitalization Plan.' Patriot Investment Company will take the lead in injecting the first five hundred thousand dollars of debt-to-equity special funds into the company, specifically for restarting the shelved westward expansion line to Nebraska. We want all shareholders to see that the new management brings real investment and development, not empty words."
"Understood, Boss," Hayes nodded heavily.
Just then, Edward Frost handed over an encrypted telegram that had just been expedited by a messenger at a station along the way.
The telegram was short; the sender was Cornelius Vanderbilt.
"Congratulations."
Only two simple words.
"Congratulations..." Felix murmured, handing the small telegram paper to Frost. "Edward, what do you think?"
This was the first time Felix had actively sought the opinion of his new assistant on a strategic matter.
Frost thought for a moment, then cautiously replied, "Boss, I believe this telegram carries much more weight than a long letter filled with congratulations."
"Oh?"
Frost analyzed, "Firstly, it acknowledges our victory at Pennsylvania Railroad, establishing our equal standing. Secondly, it also reminds us that he, Cornelius Vanderbilt, is constantly watching our every move. This is a greeting from another strong individual."
A approving smile appeared on Felix's face.
"Very good analysis, Edward," he said. "Then, we should also send a return gift to this strong individual."
...As Felix's train pulled into New York Station, another piece of news began to spread like wildfire in the highest circles of Wall Street.
The Pennsylvania Railroad Company's Interim Management Committee, at the proposal of the new Chairman Matthew Becker, passed its first resolution:
To "optimize the company's asset structure and concentrate resources on developing core land transportation businesses," the committee decided to publicly sell the company's eight percent stake in New York Central Railroad Company on the market.
This news shocked everyone.
And in Vanderbilt's office, when Mr. "Captain" heard the news, a loud laugh escaped his stern face.
"Hahahaha!" He laughed as he said to his confidant, Billy Kip, "This Argyle! What a clever boy! He knows I've just swallowed Sloan and need more shares to solidify my throne. So he immediately delivers this fattest piece of meat right to my mouth!"
"He's showing us goodwill, sir."
"No, Billy," Vanderbilt shook his head. "This isn't goodwill; this is drawing a line."
"With this eight percent stake, he's conveying three messages to me," the old man said slowly. "First, he has no interest in my New York Central Railroad, or at least no interest for now. Second, he needs cash to develop his own Pennsylvania Railroad. Third, and most importantly—he hopes that I also won't touch his Pennsylvania."
"He's proposing to me in the most respectable way," Vanderbilt's eyes gleamed, "that we both develop separately for now, without competition."
"Go, Billy," he made his decision. "Acquire all of that eight percent stake for me. At a price that satisfies him."
...In Felix's study, when Hayes reported the successful stock transaction amounting to a million dollars, Felix simply nodded calmly.
With a brilliant open strategy, he not only turned a hot potato into a huge cash flow, but more importantly, he achieved a fragile yet crucial strategic understanding with Vanderbilt.
He knew that before he completely digested the massive spoils of the Pennsylvania Railroad, the cunning "Captain" would not become his enemy.
And this precious period of peace was the best time for him to build his true foundation.
Just then, Frost placed another invitation, from St. Patrick's Cathedral, in front of him.
"Boss," he reported, "Archbishop Hughes sent someone with an invitation."
"He said," Frost's tone held a hint of reverence, "that to thank you for your generous kindness to the orphans of Five Points, he will personally host a small charity reception for you at the Archbishop's residence next week."
"At that time, the Mayor of New York City and Mr. Tweed of Tammany Hall will both be invited as honored guests."
Spring in New York always brings a bone-chilling wind. However, in the greenhouse garden of the Archbishop's residence at St. Patrick's Cathedral, it was as warm as summer.
The charity reception Archbishop Hughes hosted for Argyle was not large in scale, but its significance was enough to tip the political balance of the entire New York.
Not a single guest present was merely a wealthy businessman.
They were the Mayor of New York City, the Chief of Police, several of the most important City Council members, and almost all core members of Tammany Hall.
When Argyle and Catherine arrived together, they immediately became the focus of the entire event. He was no longer just the "Canned Goods King" famous only in newspapers, but the emerging power figure who had defeated railroad tycoons in Washington, disbursed millions in charity in Five Points, and received the full endorsement of the Church.
"Mr. Argyle!"
Archbishop Hughes personally stepped forward and warmly shook Argyle' hand. His eyes, usually so sharp, were now filled with the benevolent affection and admiration of an elder. "Welcome, my child. God sees everything you have done for the children of Five Points."
"It is only what I should do, Your Grace," Argyle replied with a humble and proper demeanor.
Catherine stood gracefully beside him, her deep purple velvet gown appearing noble and understated in the soft greenhouse lighting. She was no longer the assistant who needed Argyle' guidance, but as the President of Umbrella Corporation, she was discussing healthcare standards for future community hospitals with several bankers' wives.
Argyle, accompanied by the Mayor, was conversing with several municipal officials.
"Mr. Argyle," the Mayor said enthusiastically, holding his wine glass, "I specifically took a detour by carriage this afternoon to Five Points. My God, that old neighborhood is completely revitalized! Your construction team is creating a miracle for New York."
"It's just the beginning, Mr. Mayor," Argyle smiled. "However, I heard that Mr. Jones's application regarding the renovation of the sewage system in that area encountered a small issue with the Public Works Committee?"
"Oh, those are just bureaucratic procedural problems," the Mayor immediately assured him. "Please rest assured, I will personally speak with the committee. A great charitable project like yours should receive the highest priority support from City Hall."
Argyle chatted and laughed with everyone, no longer just a businessman; he was learning how to play the role of a "social luminary" who could influence the future of this city.
Finally, halfway through the reception, the leader of Tammany Hall, William Tweed, slowly approached Argyle with two glasses of whiskey.
This was their third meeting, and the atmosphere had less of the initial tension and more of the unspoken probing between power players.
"Mr. Argyle," Tweed handed him a glass of wine, a characteristic benevolent smile on his face, "A very successful evening. It seems the Archbishop already considers you his most favored child."
"I only did what I should, Mr. Tweed," Argyle took the glass. "On the contrary, I heard that since our last meeting, the streets of New York have become more peaceful than ever before."
This suggestive remark made Tweed let out a low chuckle.
"The peace of New York requires all of us to maintain it, doesn't it?" He looked at Argyle. "You, with your good deeds, have appeased those who need help. And we are responsible for clearing away those discordant voices. We are cooperating very well."
He then changed the subject, finally getting to the point.
"Since we are friends now," Tweed's tone became casual, "I might have an opportunity for your shipyard, which just showed its prowess in Brooklyn, to earn a small fortune."
"Oh?"
"As you know, those old ferries connecting Manhattan and Staten Island should have been scrapped long ago," Tweed said. "The city government plans to publicly bid next month for a contract to build six new steam ferries. This is a considerable business opportunity."
Argyle knew that the final outcome of any "public tender" issued by City Hall had already been decided in advance in some unseen room in this city.
"I believe," Tweed said, his eyes gleaming, "this contract should be awarded to a local businessman who truly cares about New York's development and knows how to cooperate with this city for mutual benefit."
Argyle smiled; the other party's repayment had been officially delivered... That night, in the carriage returning to Fifth Avenue.
"Tammany Hall's cooperation..." Catherine's voice carried a hint of worry. "Argyle, is it really necessary to get so close to them? Everyone knows they..."
"I told you, they are politicians, Catherine," Argyle replied calmly. "Politicians, like businessmen, only believe in interests. It's just that their currency is votes and power."
"Tweed is offering a ticket," Argyle looked out the window at the city's nightscape, controlled jointly by Tammany Hall and countless businessmen like him, "a ticket that allows us to participate in the city's most core projects and power games."
He turned and looked at Catherine.
"Our enemies are old railroad magnates like Sloan, established industrial aristocrats like DuPont, and in the future, possibly Vanderbilt himself," Argyle' thoughts were crystal clear. "And to contend with these behemoths, while we are not yet strong enough, we temporarily need to unite all forces that can be united."
"Tammany Hall is a dangerous viper, that's true," a cold arc formed on his lips. "But as long as you can precisely find its weak spot and hold food it cannot refuse in your hand..."
"It can become your most obedient weapon."
Catherine looked at Argyle. She knew that the man she loved was transforming from a businessman merely pursuing wealth into a formidable strategist who truly viewed the entire nation as his chessboard.
"I understand," she said softly.
Argyle nodded.
"It's good that you can understand; after all, you are also the president of a company now. Don't view politics with a one-sided perspective..." He said, "First thing tomorrow, have Frost contact McGregor. Have him prepare a bid proposal for the steam ferries."
He looked at the distant, sleepless lights of New York. "We are not strong enough yet."