Two days later, Major Carter personally took the fastest postal train from Washington to New York. He wasn't in uniform, but had changed into civilian clothes, with a hint of fatigue and solemnity he couldn't quite hide.
In the study of the Fifth Avenue mansion, Felix poured a cup of hot tea for his travel-worn friend.
"Felix," Carter said directly, his voice low, "Secretary Stanton sent me here to personally inform you of the latest situation."
"Is it about the order for those two hundred thousand rifles?" Felix asked.
"Yes, but not entirely," Carter shook his head. "The victory report from the Black River battle caused a real storm in the War Department. All the generals want Militech's rifles. Secretary Stanton even pushed through a nearly ten-million-dollar emergency procurement plan on the spot, despite widespread opposition."
"But the money is stuck in Congress. Senator Hans and the Democratic Party he represents are in the Budget Committee, portraying this appropriation bill as a 'hugely expensive political scandal that only benefits you, a Republican supporter.' They are using procedural issues to delay the bill's deliberation. Secretary Stanton needs you to go to Washington personally and win this fight." Carter's tone became helpless.
Felix listened quietly.
He hadn't expected this Senator Hans, or rather the Democratic Party, to relentlessly pursue this; it was truly a bit much.
He had to give them a taste of their own medicine... That night, after seeing Major Carter off, the lights were burning brightly in Felix's study.
A small strategic meeting was being held there. The attendees were only Felix, Catherine, and his new assistant, Edward Frost.
"We must go to Washington immediately," Catherine began, her thoughts very clear. "Perhaps we'll also need Major Carter's comprehensive cost-effectiveness report to persuade those wavering congressmen, to make them understand that our product is worth its value."
"No, Catherine," Felix shook his head, rejecting what seemed like the most direct plan.
"That report has already been used once in the Military Committee's hearing."
"It's a good knife, but if used too much, it will become dull. Hans and his people must have prepared countless arguments to refute the report's fairness and calculation methods. We cannot put all our bets on the same card again."
"What about the public opinion battle, Boss?" Frost asked. "We can have Mr. Fowler release some information to put pressure on Senator Hans and his colleagues."
"Even less so," Felix denied again. "You must understand that our opponent has changed from Sloan to Hans and the entire Democratic Party behind him. If we now use the media to directly attack a member of a congressional committee that is deliberating the national budget, it will no longer be commercial competition, but blatant political interference. That would make us instantly lose all moral high ground, and might even provoke Republican allies like Chairman Clark."
Catherine and Frost both showed grave expressions on their faces.
Both paths seemed to be blocked.
"Don't be so serious. Remember, when your opponent defines the battlefield for you," Felix looked at them, "the best way is not to rush in, but to redefine the nature of this war."
He stood up and began to pace slowly in the quiet study.
"We need to fight a public opinion battle, but in a different way," he said first. "But don't attack anyone. Starting tomorrow, I want Fowler's newspaper, and all media we can influence, to tell only one story about 'the cost of victory.'"
"I want all newspapers to use the largest headlines to report the victory of the Black River battle, to praise the bravery of the First and Third Infantry Regiments. Then, the focus will shift to meticulously describing the tragic casualties we suffered at Gettysburg due to the lack of sufficient advanced weapons."
"We must ask the public, the entire nation, a question," a cold light flickered in Felix's eyes, "How far are we really from complete victory? Must we allow more soldiers to die in vain on the battlefield because of political squabbles in the rear? And subtly hint at whether some factions within the Union still have ties to the South."
"We must subtly shift public sentiment from jealousy of a certain businessman's profits to a desire for a complete victory."
After a pause, Felix continued, "As for Washington, we need a brand new weapon. A weapon that those 'moderates' in the Budget Committee cannot refuse."
He turned to Frost.
"Edward, connect with Bank President Templeton and Mr. Hayes as soon as possible. I need you to draft a brand new report for me within forty-eight hours."
"This report will be called 'Assessment Report on the Stimulative Effect of the Emergency Military Appropriations Bill on the Industrial Economy of the Northern States of the Union.'"
Frost's eyes instantly lit up. He immediately understood the power of his Boss's plan.
"In this report," Felix's speech became faster and faster, his thoughts like a rushing river, "it must clearly, with maps and figures, indicate how this order of over ten million dollars will be broken down and utilized."
"Perhaps three million dollars of it will be used to purchase the highest grade special steel and coke from steel mills and coal mines in Pennsylvania."
"Two million dollars will be used to order new production equipment from precision machine tool manufacturers in Connecticut and Massachusetts."
"One million dollars will be used to purchase high-quality walnut wood for gunstocks and packing crates from lumber mills in Maine."
"We will even establish new transportation and warehousing centers in Ohio and Illinois, respectively, which are expected to create over five hundred direct or indirect jobs for the local areas. All these direct or indirect impacts must be included."
"Since the Democratic Party wants to target me, this rising star of the Republican Party," Felix looked at his two confidantes, a confident smile on his face.
"Then I will turn it into a collective encirclement by all Northern states that hope to benefit from this war and industrial development, against a small handful of 'stumbling blocks' trying to hinder progress."
"I want every moderate congressman from these states on the Budget Committee to understand. The vote in their hands is not vetoing my, Felix Argyle's, profit. What they are vetoing are the factory orders for their hometowns and the job opportunities for the voters in their constituencies."
Frost and Catherine were both convinced by Felix's interest-binding plan.
"Go, Edward," Felix gave the final instruction. "Get everyone moving, we don't have much time."
He walked to the window, looking at the distant city, still brightly lit in the night.
"Two days later, we will go to Washington."
"This time, I will tell them that a train loaded with the future of Northern industry is about to depart. Whoever dares to stand in front of the tracks," his voice became cold, "will be crushed to pieces."
The next forty-eight hours were a sleepless period of war for the analysis departments of Argyle Empire Bank and Patriot Investment Company.
Under the personal supervision of President Templeton and Tom Hayes, dozens of the most capable accountants, lawyers, and industry analysts were summoned to the Argyle Bank's top-floor conference room, which was not open to the public.
The giant conference table was covered with industrial maps of the Northern United States, capacity reports of major factories in various states, and detailed data on railway and waterway transportation costs.
Edward Frost, as Felix's direct representative, presided over the meeting.
His task was to transform that grand strategic vision into concrete, actionable tasks.
"Gentlemen," Frost said in a calm and clear tone, "the Boss's instructions are very clear. We need to clearly demonstrate to Congress in a report how this military appropriation of over ten million dollars will flow like blood through the entire industrial system of the North."
He looked at a supervisor sent by Templeton, "Agricultural Credit Department, I need you to immediately estimate how many additional logging and processing jobs the timber industry in Maine will need to create to meet the demand for high-quality walnut rifle stocks for two hundred thousand rifles."
"Investment Analysis Department," he turned to Hayes's people, "Pennsylvania is Senator Hans's territory, and it is the most important position we need to win this time. I need you to break down that three-million-dollar steel and coke order into every specific steel mill and coal mine. I want every factory owner who supports Hans to understand that opposing this bill is tantamount to opposing their own orders."
"And Connecticut, Massachusetts..."
The entire conference room was filled with the sounds of slide rules moving and papers rustling, and occasionally raised voices due to data disputes.
They were drawing an unprecedented "map of interests."
A map that would clearly show the politicians on Capitol Hill the flow of votes and money... While New York's financial elites were forging political weapons for Felix, the public opinion battle he orchestrated in Chicago also quietly shifted direction.
After receiving Felix's telegram, which was full of new strategic ideas, Fowler, the editor-in-chief of The Daily Truth, locked himself in his office and smoked cigars all night.
The next day, all the reporters at the newspaper were summoned.
Fowler looked at his reporters, who were accustomed to using the most scathing language to attack railway magnates, and said, "Gentlemen, there's more work to be done."
"We no longer need to prove that Sloan is a scoundrel. The Washington hearing has already done that for us." His voice deepened, "Now, we need to tell our readers a more important and heavier story."
"A story about 'the cost of victory.'"
The next day, the front page of The Daily Truth published an article personally written by Fowler, which was completely different from his usual style.
The title of the article was filled with epic pathos — "The Ghost of Gettysburg, and the Dawn of Black River."
The first half of the article described in detail, with a simple, restrained, and sorrowful brushstroke, the heavy price paid by the Union Army during Pickett's Charge in the Battle of Gettysburg.
...As the gray tide of the Confederates surged towards Cemetery Ridge again and again, our soldiers, young men from Pennsylvania, New York, and Maine, stood in the lines, making a heroic yet desperate stand. Each time they fired a bullet, it took nearly half a minute to reload. And in that half-minute, enemy bullets rained down on them like a storm...
In the latter half of the article, the focus shifted to the Black River battlefield in Tennessee.
...But at Black River, we saw another possibility. A weapon that allowed our soldiers to unleash firepower five, or even ten times faster than the enemy. A possibility where 'bravery' no longer needed to be measured by life. Colonel McPherson's battle report has proven this to us.
At the end of the article, Fowler questioned all readers, and distant Washington.
"The Union now possesses weapons that can recreate 'the Dawn of Black River' on every battlefield. But it is being delayed from being distributed to the front lines due to political squabbles happening in the rear."
"We cannot help but ask, gentlemen in the Capitol Hill conference rooms, who speak grandly of 'budgets' and 'procedures.' Do you hear the ghosts of the soldiers who died at Gettysburg whispering in your ears? Or are certain individuals and parties still connected to certain people in the South?"
This article, like a powerful emotional bomb, ignited the emotions of the entire Northern populace.
This report was reprinted and published by dozens of media outlets across the country, turning into a national interrogation about national honor, the lives of soldiers, and the ability to win the war... In Washington, inside Senator Hans's office in the Senate Finance Committee.
Senator Hans and several of his Democratic Party allies were enjoying a rare afternoon tea.
"It seems that Argyle still hasn't given up," a senator from Pennsylvania said with a smile, "He knows that directly attacking us is useless. Now he's playing the sympathy card. It's well written, isn't it?"
"Let him write," Senator Hans said with a confident look, knowing he had the upper hand.
"No matter how well the article is written, it doesn't change the fact that the ten-million-dollar order is simply too expensive. At a time when war funds are so tight, to invest such a large sum of money into a businessman closely associated with the Republican Party, I certainly won't agree. We just need to stick to the point that there's no money, and he'll be helpless."
"But some newspapers are implying that our Democratic Party is still connected to the South. Will this lead to an escalation of the problem?" a congressman asked with some concern.
After all, the current ruling power in the South split off from the Democratic Party, and in fact, a larger portion of the Democratic Party's strength was in the South.
Hans pondered for a moment, then shook his head and said, "Not necessarily. The reason we split back then was because we disagreed with their methods, so the Republican Party shouldn't bring that up. Moreover, the Republican Party itself isn't so harmonious."
The hearing room of the Senate Budget Committee was packed.
Unlike the previous closed-door meeting of the Military Committee, this time, driven by public opinion from several major newspapers, the hearing attracted everyone's attention.
The gallery was crowded with reporters and lobbyists from all over the country, like a flock of vultures about to feast, waiting for the show to begin.
Senator Hans, the Democratic Party bigwig from Pennsylvania, sat beside the chairman's seat on the committee, a look of sure victory on his face.
He felt he had successfully defined this debate on military appropriations as a political trial about whether the Republican government was using taxpayers' money to enrich a war profiteer with close ties to them.
Senator Hans spoke first, full of populist demagoguery, "Gentlemen, we are not here today to question the War Department's resolve to win the war. What we are questioning is whether this emergency appropriation of over ten million dollars is the only and wisest choice!"
He glanced at Felix, who was sitting in the witness stand.
"We all know that Argyle is a very successful businessman."
Then, with a hint of sarcasm in his tone, he continued, "But we also know that his company's products are very expensive. Is it truly necessary for the States to pour such a massive amount of funds into the pockets of a single private company? Shouldn't we distribute this money more fairly among traditional suppliers who also serve the States but offer more reasonable prices?"
Senator Hans's words caused a small stir in the hearing room, and several Democratic Party senators from agricultural states nodded in agreement.
Senator Clark sat on the other side, silent. He merely glanced at Felix, offering an encouraging look.
Next, it was Felix's turn to speak.
He had Edward Frost distribute a seemingly unremarkable, bound document to every committee member present.
"Senator Hans, honorable gentlemen of the committee," Felix stood up, his voice clearly reaching every corner of the room, "I need to refute Senator Hans's point; there is a significant error. This money is not going into my pocket alone."
This unexpected opening statement stunned everyone.
Felix continued, "I don't know if Senator Hans genuinely doesn't understand or is deliberately conflating concepts. You see, no matter what is produced, its production never relies on just one company. So, before discussing the 'cost' of this appropriation, I hope to first look at the 'flow' of this appropriation with all of you."
He gestured to Frost.
Frost stepped forward and opened the first page of the report. The report's title made Senator Hans's heart sink.
"Assessment Report on the Economic Stimulus Effect of the Emergency Military Appropriations Act on the Industrial Economies of the Northern States of the States."
"Gentlemen of the committee, according to our preliminary estimates, this military order, totaling ten million dollars, will directly or indirectly bring nearly eight million dollars in industrial output and nearly two thousand new jobs to seven northern states of the States."
He turned to the next page of the report, which was a large industrial map of the northeastern United States, marked with different colors.
His gaze fell on Senator Hans. "First, Pennsylvania."
"To complete the production of two hundred thousand rifle core components, my Boss, Argyle's Militech, will need to purchase approximately three million dollars worth of the highest-grade steel raw materials and metallurgical coke from steel mills and coal mines in Pennsylvania."
"Our preliminary procurement list has already been drafted," Frost read out a string of names, "including Becker Foundry and Harrisburg Coal Company."
Senator Hans's face changed.
Frost did not pause; his gaze turned to another neutral senator from Connecticut.
"To expand production capacity, Militech and United Ammunition Company will need to order approximately two million dollars worth of new production equipment from precision machine tool manufacturers in Connecticut and Massachusetts. Our preferred partners are Pratt & Whitney Company in Hartford and Norton Company in Worcester."
The senator from Connecticut instinctively straightened up.
"...And other factories will purchase one million dollars worth of high-quality walnut wood from lumber mills in Maine for the production of gunstocks and packaging crates."
"...We will establish new transportation and warehousing centers in Cleveland, Ohio, and Chicago, Illinois, respectively, and sign long-term cooperation agreements with local shipping and mule transport companies..."
Every word from Frost was like a precise bullet, aimed at one or more of the wavering senators present.
What Felix showed them was not a report about winning or losing a war.
Instead, it was a map of benefits, full of factory orders, job opportunities, and tax growth.
"Gentlemen," Felix finally spoke again, looking at the senators who had begun to whisper, their eyes filled with calculation and wavering.
"Industrial advancement cannot be achieved without the help of other companies, nor can one or two companies complete the transformation."
"Therefore," his voice was full of power, "I choose to share this benefit with every one of you, with the factories and workers of every state you represent."
"This appropriation is no longer just about my business," Felix concluded, "It is a train, laden with the future of Northern industry. It will bring us victory, bring jobs, and bring a stronger, unified States."
"Now," he looked at Hans, and at everyone present, delivering the ultimatum, full of overt strategy.
"The choice is in your hands."
"You can choose, for the sake of so-called 'partisan balance,' to let this train rust slowly at the station in Washington."
"Or," a slight curve appeared at the corner of his mouth, "you can choose to clear all the tracks for it. Let it carry the interests of all of us, roaring towards a richer and stronger future."
The entire hearing room fell into a long silence.
Senator Hans looked at Felix, and for the first time, a genuine fear appeared on his face, which was always full of confidence.
He knew he had lost.
He had not lost to a businessman. He had lost to a terrifying tide he had never seen before, one that perfectly bound together business, politics, and national interests... That afternoon, when the Budget Committee held its final vote on the "Emergency Military Appropriations Act."
The result was without suspense.
The bill passed with an overwhelming majority.
When Felix and Frost walked out of the gunpowder-filled hearing room, Senator Clark was waiting for them at the end of the corridor.
"Felix," his face bore a relieved smile, "A brilliant victory. You taught all of us in Washington a lesson in a whole new way."
"I merely said what they wanted to hear, Mr. Chairman," Felix smiled.
Just then, a messenger from the War Department rushed over.
"Argyle!" The messenger saluted, "Secretary Stanton has an urgent invitation! He hopes you can have dinner with him before returning to New York."
"Additionally," the messenger added, "Mr. John Hay, the President's private secretary, will also be attending."
The night in Washington, unlike the hustle and bustle of New York, harbored a more powerful force beneath its calm exterior.
Secretary of War Stanton's private residence was a simple, heavily guarded red-brick building. There were no luxurious crystal chandeliers, only bright gas lamps and the faint scent of cigars and old books in the air.
Felix, accompanied by Edward Frost, arrived by invitation.
"Mr. Argyle, welcome."
Secretary Stanton personally greeted him at the door. He wasn't in uniform, but wore comfortable civilian clothes, and a rare, complex smile appeared on his usually serious face.
"I must say, your performance on Capitol Hill today was more impressive than any charge made by our Western Army Corps."
"You flatter me, Mr. Secretary," Felix said with humility, "I am merely a businessman making necessary defenses for my own ventures."
"No, that was no mere defense," Stanton said, leading him through the corridor towards the dining room, "You were declaring war. Declaring war on all the fools attempting to impede our victory in this war with outdated rules."
The dining room was small, with only three chairs placed around the dining table. A middle-aged man sat in one of them.
He appeared to be around forty, slender, with a neat beard and gold-rimmed glasses. His eyes were calm and profound, and he possessed a unique, composed demeanor.
"Mr. Argyle," Stanton introduced him, "This is Mr. John Hay."
Felix immediately understood; he, of course, knew the name. John Hay, President Abraham Lincoln's most trusted private secretary, was known as the "eyes and ears of the White House."
"Mr. Hay," Felix extended his hand proactively.
"Mr. Argyle," John Hay stood up and shook Felix's hand firmly, a gentle, scholarly smile on his face.
"The President greatly appreciates your newspaper, especially the report on 'Black River Dawn.' He said that article showed him that steel and ink can be just as effective weapons in winning the war."
This seemingly casual opening remark instantly highlighted the true theme of the evening's dinner.
Dinner was simple: roast beef, mashed potatoes, and some vegetable salad, more like a family meal than a political banquet.
During the meal, they did not discuss any details about contract prices or appropriations Bills. Stanton and John Hay, like two curious elders, continuously asked Felix about various seemingly irrelevant details concerning his factories.
"I hear your food factories employ a large number of female workers?" Stanton asked.
"Yes, Mr. Secretary," Felix replied, "It has proven that they are more excellent than men in operations requiring patience and meticulousness. Furthermore, most of their husbands and brothers are on the front lines. Providing them with work also helps stabilize the home front for our army."
"A very interesting point," John Hay added, "The President has always believed that this war is not just a war of armies, but a war of our entire Northern industry and society. Every citizen who can contribute to the Union, regardless of gender, deserves respect."
"What about your armories then?" Stanton asked again, "I heard Colonel Dale say that you hired a bad-tempered but brilliant metallurgist from England?"
"Yes," Felix smiled, "Geniuses, you know, always have some unique quirks. But as long as you can provide him with a stage where he can fully display his talents, he can create miracles for you that can change the world. I believe that investing in talent is one of the highest-return investments in the world."
"Investing in talent..." John Hay repeated softly, his deep eyes sparkling with thought under the lamplight.
Dinner proceeded in an atmosphere that seemed relaxed but was, in fact, full of probing.
Felix knew that he was like an open book, being carefully examined from beginning to end by these two figures, representing the highest military and political power in the country.
Finally, when coffee was served after dinner, John Hay put down his cup and asked the question that would truly define the nature of this evening's meeting.
"Mr. Argyle," his tone was casual, as if chatting with a friend, "I am very curious. When this war, through the collective efforts of all of us, is finally won. What do you intend to do with your vast and efficient industrial machine?"
The entire room fell silent instantly.
Felix knew this was the real "test" of the evening. President Lincoln, through his secretary, wanted to know whether Felix Argyle was merely a speculator looking to profit from the war, or a partner who could continue to be a constructive force in the nation's development after the war.
He did not hesitate for a moment, for he had pondered this answer countless times in his heart.
"Mr. Hay," he looked at the other man, his tone filled with sincerity, "Wars always end, but construction never does."
"In peacetime, my armories can produce the most reliable hunting rifles and farming tools for our pioneers. Ammunition factories can provide the safest blasting explosives for our railways and mines. My food and pharmaceutical companies will continue to provide cheaper and safer food and medicine for every family in this country."
Felix's eyes gleamed with an idealism unbefitting his age, "And the railway company will carry our capital and technology from the East Coast, all the way West. To develop those dormant lands, to establish new cities, to tightly reconnect this nation torn apart by war."
"I am a businessman, sir."
"My instinct is to discover needs, create value, and then earn a profit. And I believe that in post-war America, the greatest 'need' is reconstruction. The greatest 'value' is a stronger, more unified, and more prosperous United States of America."
John Hay listened quietly, feeling a surge of excitement and passion within him.
A genuine smile of admiration appeared on his face, "Mr. Argyle, you have painted a very... exciting vision of the future."
He stood up and extended his hand to Felix.
"Thank you for your candor tonight."
"I think the President will be very pleased to hear of your firm confidence in the future of this nation."
...Later that night, in the carriage returning to the hotel.
Edward Frost was still immersed in the confrontation they had just experienced, which, though smokeless, was more thrilling than any battlefield.
"Boss," he said sincerely, "I... I never imagined that a dinner could discuss such important matters."
"This is the real war, Edward," Felix leaned back in his seat and let out a long sigh.
"Tonight's dinner was a hundred times more important than the hearing at the Budget Committee. That hearing decided the ownership of an order, but here," he paused, "what was decided was our relationship with the highest power in this country over the next decade."
"We passed the test?"
"Yes," Felix nodded, "We passed. Now, we can truly unleash ourselves."
He looked out the window at the city, which appeared particularly solemn and majestic in the night.
"Edward," he gave new instructions, "First thing tomorrow morning, send a telegram to Bill and Reeves in Chicago."
"Tell them that our war on the East Coast is over."
"Have them turn their attention to the West, and begin surveying that wild territory out there." The flame of a pioneer reignited in Felix's eyes.
"Once the war ends, our new kingdom can officially draw its first boundary line."
In the middle of the summer of 1863, a hint of warmth finally entered the air of New York.
The war continued, but for Felix Argyle and his subordinates, it was a season of harvest.
After the decisive victory in Washington, Felix spent a full week in New York, patiently waiting for his company managers to return to headquarters.
In the top-floor conference room of Argyle Headquarters, a massive oval conference table made from a single piece of mahogany, large enough to seat twenty people, silently awaited its masters.
At exactly nine o'clock in the morning, everyone had arrived on time.
Jones, the President of the Food Company, wore a crisp suit, and his usually serious face bore an undisguised confidence.
Miller, the dual President of Militech and United Ammunition Company, sat like a silent statue, his military-like posture making him seem out of place yet full of power amidst his surroundings.
Also present, having traveled all the way from Chicago, were Bill, the President of Metropolitan Trading Company, and Charles Reeves, the President of Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company.
Catherine, the President of Umbrella Corporation, was the only woman. She sat composedly in a dark blue business suit, her presence in no way inferior to any of the men present.
Templeton, the Bank President of Argyle Bank, Hayes, the President of Patriot Investment, and MacGregor, the President of Atlantic Steam Power Plant, were all in attendance.
When Felix, accompanied by his assistant Edward Frost, finally entered the conference room, everyone stood up.
"Gentlemen and lady," Felix said as he took his seat at the head of the table, motioning for everyone else to sit down. "Welcome back. Today is our quarterly executive committee meeting. I would like to hear about the progress each company has made over the past few months."
He first looked at Jones.
"Jones, you go first."
Jones stood up and opened the folder in front of him. "Yes, Boss. Last quarter, the Food Company's total revenue was one million two hundred thirty thousand dollars, with a net profit of four hundred fifty thousand dollars. Of this, the profit from military canned food orders accounted for seventy percent."
"Our 'Field Rations Research and Development Department' has completed the finalization of compressed biscuits and water purification tablets. After your return from Washington, we have already received a second trial production order from the War Department for a total of five hundred thousand ration packs. It is expected that this will be the company's next, and even larger, profit growth point."
"Very good," Felix nodded, highly satisfied with the results.
"Bill," he turned to the butcher from Chicago.
"After thoroughly defeating Armour's 'cooperative,' we have signed exclusive long-term supply agreements with over seventy percent of the medium and large ranch owners in Kansas. Now, the live cattle purchase price in Chicago is basically determined by us. Last quarter, the company's revenue was one million seven hundred fifty thousand dollars, with a slightly lower profit of only three hundred thirty thousand dollars. This is because we established warehouses in multiple locations and the cold storage you mentioned."
"Excellent work, Bill." Felix's encouragement brought a simple, honest smile to Bill's face.
Next was Catherine.
"Umbrella Corporation," her voice was clear and gentle.
"'Hermes One' continuous flow reactor has been operating stably for one month. Our Iodoglycerol production cost has therefore decreased by thirty-four percent.
The cooperation project with Columbia University Medical School has also officially started. The name Umbrella has gained unprecedented professional reputation in the entire East Coast medical community.
Currently, the company's revenue is one million two hundred thirty thousand dollars, with a profit of seven hundred fifty thousand dollars.
Next, I plan to expand production to meet more military orders and develop the civilian market."
Miller's report, on the other hand, was full of military-like brevity.
"Boss, the cooperative production agreement for rifles has been officially signed. Springfield Armory is undergoing a comprehensive renovation and expansion of its production line with the assistance of our technical team.
Our own 'core components' production line has also stabilized at a level of over a thousand sets per day, and can be expanded later to increase efficiency.
As for United Ammunition Company, we are confident that we can complete the War Department's second strategic reserve order of sixty million rounds within six months.
Militech currently has a revenue of five hundred thousand dollars and a profit of three hundred twenty thousand dollars.
The ammunition company's revenue is three hundred thousand dollars, with a profit of one hundred fifty thousand dollars."
Reeves and MacGregor also reported on the progress of railway expansion and new ship construction, respectively.
After all the industrial departments had reported, Felix's gaze turned to the financial department.
"Mr. Templeton."
"Boss," the old Bank President stood up. "Overall, gentlemen, you brought in over six hundred thousand dollars in net profit for the various accounts of Argyle Bank last quarter. The bank's total savings have now officially exceeded eight million dollars."
Finally, it was Tom Hayes's turn. His report made all the industrialists present feel dizzy.
"Boss, in the operation targeting Pennsylvania Railroad, we not only successfully increased our holdings from thirty-two percent to forty percent at an almost negligible cost."
Watching their astonished expressions, he slowly said, "At the same time, as per your instructions, through the left hand and right hand plan, our secret accounts generated an additional one million nine hundred thousand dollars in pure cash profit."
Everyone was stunned by this figure.
The profits they had painstakingly created in factories, on railways, and on the prairies for an entire quarter, when combined, were not even a fraction of what Hayes had earned playing capital games on Wall Street for a week.
Felix looked at the expressions on everyone's faces. He knew that half the purpose of calling this meeting today had been achieved.
He not only needed to let his Presidents know how well they were doing, but also to let them know how powerful they all were when united as a single entity.
"Gentlemen and lady," Felix stood up. "Frost, tell everyone how much total profit all the companies generated last quarter, and what the current total assets are."
Edward Frost stood up, his voice clearly reaching everyone's ears.
"Yes, Boss. Presidents, the total net profit of all enterprises under Argyle last quarter was three million five hundred twenty thousand dollars, of course, a large portion of which was earned by Patriot Investment."
"As of today," he read out the number that made everyone present feel their hearts skip a beat.
"The Boss's total personal assets, after preliminary calculations by Argyle Bank and Patriot Investment Company, are conservatively estimated to have exceeded... eight million dollars."
"...His personal total assets, conservatively estimated, have already exceeded eight million dollars."
When Edward Frost announced this final profit sum in his steady tone, the conference room on the top floor of Argyle Company fell into a dead silence.
Every person present was a president managing vast businesses and accustomed to large checks.
But this figure still exceeded their wildest imaginations. Bill, the butcher from Chicago, instinctively gaped, as if he could fit an egg in his mouth. His most simplistic brain was struggling to comprehend what "eight million dollars" truly meant.
Charles Reeves, the railroad president who started as an engineer, was rapidly calculating how many miles of brand-new tracks leading to the West this money could lay.
Only Tom Hayes remained leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile on his face. He knew better than anyone that this eight million was just the beginning.
The difficulty with assets is only the breakthrough from 0 to 1; subsequent good development will lead to snowballing growth.
Felix didn't give them much time to be shocked. He let the aftershocks of this bombshell reverberate in the air for a moment, then, with his calm voice, he pulled everyone's thoughts back to reality.
"Gentlemen, ladies," he looked around, "these numbers prove one thing. When we operate as a whole, we are invincible."
He looked at the ignited flames in everyone's eyes, "Now tell me. With these resources, what do you want to do next?"
The first to stand up was Charles Reeves. This old-school engineer's face was now beaming with unprecedented ambition.
"Boss, our 'Land and Water Intermodal' plan in the East has successfully launched. Mr. Caldwell's small railway and Captain McAllister's fleet are working in perfect synergy."
Then he changed the subject, "It's just that currently, the railway is the railway, and shipping is shipping, belonging to two different companies. The coordination and financial settlement in between are very cumbersome and also affect efficiency. I propose that 'Erie Star' Shipping Company should be formally merged into our Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company. To establish a company with unified command and unified settlement."
"That's a good proposal, Charles." Felix nodded, "But your vision should extend even further."
He stood up and walked to the huge map of the States on the conference room wall.
"This new company you've established is merely a temporary tool for us." His finger traced a path from Chicago all the way to Philadelphia.
"Its ultimate mission is to fully merge with the Pennsylvania Railroad once we've completely gained control of it. Ultimately, it will form a brand new behemoth that can contend with Vanderbilt's giant on the East Coast."
This grander vision startled everyone present.
Immediately after, Jones and Catherine also successively put forward their demands.
"Boss," Jones said, "the success of the 'Battlefield Ration Pack' proves our immense potential in food research and development. I hope to officially upgrade the 'Battlefield Ration R&D Department' to the 'Argyle Food Science Laboratory.' Besides military products, we also hope to develop more civilian products, such as canned soup, portable coffee powder, and higher-protein meat strips."
"Umbrella Corporation is the same," Catherine added, "Iodoglycerol is just the beginning. The world of medicine still has countless fields waiting for us to explore."
Boss, I need more funding and authorization to recruit more top chemists and doctors for our central laboratory in Europe. I hope that in the future, our laboratories can produce our own quinine, and even more advanced antibiotics."
After listening to these two, Miller, the president of Militech, also stood up. His demands were more direct and ambitious than anyone else's.
"Boss, the success of 'Prometheus Alloy' has given us the best steel in the world. However, we are still constrained by others."
"The iron ore needed for our alloy steel manufacturing must be purchased from mines in Pennsylvania. The coke required for smelting also needs to be transported from others. This supply chain is too fragile."
"So, I propose that we should establish our own steel mill."
"A vertically integrated steel mill that controls every single step, from the most basic iron ore to the most precise rifle parts, completely by ourselves!"
If the previous proposals were merely expansions of Felix's existing territory, Miller's proposal was envisioning an entirely new continent.
"President Miller's proposal is excellent, Boss, I second it!"
Reeves, the president of the railroad company, his eyes lit up and he immediately agreed. After all, building trains or ships required a lot of steel, and if they had their own, they could easily transfer resources internally.
The last person to speak in the conference room was Mr. Templeton, the Bank President of Argyle Bank.
The old banker adjusted his glasses. His suggestion completely transcended the scope of finance, "Boss, our victory in Washington and Mr. Hayes's victory on Wall Street both prove one thing—prestige and public opinion are weapons as important as capital."
"However, we cannot always rely solely on the Chicago Daily Truth. We must possess more of our own propaganda channels that can speak for our interests and positions at any time."
He looked at Felix and stated his final thought, "Therefore, I propose that we should immediately begin acquiring influential newspapers and printing presses in several key cities, such as Philadelphia, Boston, and Washington."
Once everyone had spoken, silence once again fell over the conference room.
All eyes were focused on the young man who had quietly listened throughout, waiting for him to draw the final blueprint for the future of this vast business empire.
Felix slowly stood up. He walked to the blackboard that had been prepared earlier and picked up a piece of chalk.
"Gentlemen, ladies," he began, "every one of your ideas is excellent."
As he spoke, he wrote several keywords on the blackboard:
"Transportation Integration"
"Food and Drug R&D"
"Media Propaganda Network"
"These three," he looked at everyone, "will be our core development directions for the coming year." He gestured to his assistant, "Frost, you are responsible for refining these goals into specific budgets and implementation plans after the meeting."
Then, at the very top of the blackboard, he wrote a few words.
"Vertical Steel Integration"
"Miller's proposal is excellent; the foundation of industry is steel." Felix's tone became more solemn than ever before, "A commercial system without an independent steel industry is like a giant without a skeleton. It may appear enormous, but it cannot truly stand up."
"However," he changed his tone, "establishing a modern steel mill requires far more capital and time than we can imagine. This is a grand project that needs to be measured in 'years.' We cannot rush it."
"Therefore," he made his decision, "I agree to launch this plan. But it will be a long-term strategic task. We can send our best people to the mountains of Pennsylvania and West Virginia to find and purchase the richest and highest quality iron and coal mines for me. We must first firmly hold the land and resources in our hands."
"As for Mr. Templeton's proposal," Felix's gaze sharpened, "we indeed need our own voice."
"I have decided that Patriot Investment Company will establish a 'Media Investment Special Fund.' Hayes, your task is heavy: to use this money to scout and acquire all newspaper and printing companies across America that are worth our investment. You will also follow up on mineral resources."
"But for now, there's no need for a unified media company; that would be too ostentatious." Felix's thinking was incredibly clear, "What I want is an invisible propaganda network composed of dozens of independent newspapers that, on paper, appear to have no connection to each other. A network that, when we need it, can simultaneously tell the same story with dozens of different voices."
Everyone in the conference room was utterly shaken by their Boss's declaration, which was full of a desire for control.
"Gentlemen, ladies," Felix put down the chalk and looked at the presidents under his command, who were ready to conquer their respective fields.
"Today's meeting has established our goals for the coming year. Our battlefield will no longer be merely a single railway line or a single contract."
"Our battlefield," he said slowly, "is the entire nation's industry, finance, and public opinion."
"Go and prepare yourselves."
"I hope that at the next quarterly meeting, what you report to me will no longer be profits of a few hundred thousand dollars."
"I hope to hear how you have begun to change the industry you are in."