As the various presidents returned to their respective companies with notebooks full of new tasks, a sense of urgency and ambition began to surge wildly within the vast business machine.
In the following days, Felix's study became the busiest nerve center of the entire business system. Edward Frost was adapting to his octopus-like work at an astonishing speed.
Frost placed a document, freshly delivered from the office of architect Mr. Upjohn, in front of Felix. "Boss, at the Five Points construction site, the main structural foundations for the orphanage and school are all complete. Mr. Jones wrote in his letter that the workers' morale is very high, and the project is at least two weeks ahead of schedule."
Felix nodded, very satisfied with Jones's execution. "Tell Jones that quality is paramount. Don't sacrifice safety for speed. Also, how is Catherine's joint working group with Archbishop Hughes progressing on the initial screening of teachers and administrators?"
"Miss Catherine sent a memo yesterday," Frost replied, "The church has already provided the first batch of candidates, consisting of thirty nuns and a dozen priests with teaching experience. She is personally interviewing them. It is expected that the first core management team will be finalized next month."
Felix looked at Frost's well-organized memo, knowing that his grandest charitable plan was steadily transforming from blueprint to reality on two fronts.
Just then, another messenger delivered a document bag marked "Confidential" from Wall Street.
"It seems our other construction project should also begin," Felix opened the document bag, a meaningful smile appearing on his face... Wall Street, Patriot Investment Company office.
Tom Hayes had not left his office for two consecutive days. His desk was no longer covered with telegraphs about railroad stock prices; instead, there were files containing background information on newspaper companies in major cities along the East Coast of the United States.
"Johnny," he said to his assistant, whose eyes were equally bloodshot, "Bring me the information on The Boston Herald again."
Johnny handed over the document, a hint of confusion in his voice. "Sir, this newspaper has a small circulation, and its stance is... very stubborn. Their editor-in-chief is an old-school Whig who hates what he calls 'Wall Street speculators' like us the most. Why do you want to make it your first target?"
"Because of its printing press, Johnny." Hayes's eyes gleamed with a look only a hunter could understand.
"The Herald's sales are indeed terrible, but their printing plant has the newest and most efficient rotary press in all of Boston. And that machine is now mostly idle due to the newspaper's losses."
"The Boss's instructions are clear," Hayes looked out at the bustling financial district outside the window. "He wants more than just a 'voice.' He wants to control the 'mouthpiece' that produces the voice—that is, the printing presses and distribution channels."
"Go," he gave the order, "Contact our lawyer in Boston. I need him to make the first contact with The Herald's board of directors, acting as an independent investor 'interested in the printing business.'"
"Tell them," Hayes's face broke into a cunning smile, "that we are not interested in their newspaper. But we are willing to offer a price they cannot refuse to buy their money-losing printing press."
...Just as Hayes laid the first chess piece for Felix's media network, another team, also tasked with a pioneering mission, quietly departed from Connecticut.
Miller, the president of Militech, personally led a special five-member team aboard a train bound for Pennsylvania.
The composition of this team was very peculiar. Leading them was Rhys Griffiths, the metallurgical genius. By his side were two young geologists recruited from Yale University. Bringing up the rear were two security personnel, drawn from the Action Department, who looked more like veterans than engineers.
Their mission was the most far-reaching strategy, personally set by Felix at that quarterly meeting—"steel."
"Mr. Rhys," a young geologist in the train compartment said excitedly, looking at the map, "Based on our preliminary data analysis, this area in the central Allegheny Mountains is highly likely to contain high-grade limonite and bituminous coal. If we can acquire mining rights here..."
"Don't just stare at the map, fellow," Griffith's tone still carried that scholarly sternness. "The value of ore isn't determined by how deep it's buried underground, but by how low the cost is to dig it out and transport it to the steel furnace."
He pointed to another line on the map.
"See this river? And this branch line of the Pennsylvania Railroad. Our first exploration point must meet three conditions simultaneously: high-grade ore deposits, ample water sources, and no more than five miles from the existing railway."
"Our Boss," he looked out at the majestic mountains, soon to be their battlefield, "doesn't need a gold mine. He needs a gold mine that can continuously supply raw materials to the factories at the lowest possible cost."
...While Felix's various departments were working at full capacity for his grand future blueprint, some subtle frictions from reality also began to quietly emerge.
An encrypted telegram from Philadelphia was delivered to Felix's study. The telegram was from Matthew Becker, filled with suppressed anger between the lines.
"Mr. Argyle:
The Board of Directors has approved your capital injection plan and the resolution to restart the westward line. However, at the practical implementation level, we have encountered enormous resistance. Although Chairman Thomson has been dismissed, the old executives he left behind are still using various means to delay every one of our decisions."
"Yesterday, they kept our engineering team trapped in the office all day, citing 'the need for a new line survey.' Today, they froze funds for purchasing new sleepers, citing 'financial procedures requiring approval.'"
"They are like a group of rats entrenched in the machine. While they can't kill anyone, they can prevent the entire machine from functioning properly. Mr. Hayes was more cooperative when he was here, but after he returned to New York, these people started again."
At the end of the telegram, Matthew Becker stated his request.
"Therefore, I implore you to personally come to Philadelphia as soon as possible. As the largest shareholder, convene a special board meeting. We need to use the strongest means to clear away these stumbling blocks hindering the company's progress."
Felix looked at the telegram, showing no surprise. It was as if everything was within his expectations.
He turned to Frost beside him.
"Edward," he said, "It seems our second war in Philadelphia is coming sooner than we thought."
"Telegram Mr. Becker back," he gave the order, "Tell them to stabilize the situation. Do not engage in any meaningless arguments with those old fellows."
"Then," a cold curve appeared at the corner of Felix's mouth, "prepare my itinerary for Philadelphia next week."
"Tell them that I will personally attend that special board meeting."
The undercurrents within the Pennsylvania Railroad Company in Philadelphia, after a week of fermentation, were about to reach a decisive climax.
When Felix's private train arrived at the Philadelphia station, Matthew Becker Jr. was already waiting on the platform.
"Mr. Argyle," Matthew Jr.'s face showed a hint of solemnity, "The situation is even more difficult than we anticipated."
"Let's talk in the carriage."
In the carriage returning to the Continental Hotel, Matthew Jr. reported the latest situation to Felix in detail.
"Although Thomson was removed from his position as chairman," he said, "he has not left the Board of Directors. He is using his decades of connections to incite all middle managers to passively resist all of my father's new directives. Our plan to restart the westward line, the departure permits for the survey team, have been kicked back and forth between three different departments for five days! They still haven't been approved!"
"Their objective is very clear."
"They want to use this method to prove to all shareholders who are still waiting and watching that we are completely incapable of controlling this company. They want to drag everything out until the next annual shareholders' meeting, and then make a comeback."
Felix listened quietly, tapping his fingers lightly on the carriage window.
"What is the attitude of Mr. Harrison and the other allies?" he asked.
"They are firm," Matthew Jr. replied, "but they are also equally worried. They fear that prolonged internal strife will completely cripple this company."
There was no surprise or frustration on Felix's face. "It seems that old Thomson still hasn't recognized the situation."
...At exactly two o'clock the next afternoon, in the Board of Directors meeting room of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company.
The atmosphere was even more oppressive and tense than the last time Felix visited.
Matthew Becker, the newly appointed interim chairman, sat in the chairman's seat symbolizing power, but his face was etched with fatigue. Beside him were his son and the Bank President Harrison.
On the other side of the conference table, led by Patterson, sat all of Thomson's core allies. Thomson himself, like an exiled king, sat quietly in an inconspicuous corner, but everyone's eyes still occasionally glanced at him.
"Gentlemen," Chairman Becker tapped the table, his voice a little hoarse, "This special Board of Directors meeting is being convened at the request of the company's largest shareholder, Mr. Argyle. Now, please allow Mr. Argyle to state his motion."
Felix stood up. He did not look at the old directors who were hostile to him, but first politely nodded to Chairman Becker.
"Chairman Becker, gentlemen," his voice was clear and steady, "Patriot Investment Company now holds forty percent of the company's shares. According to the company's articles of association, we are entitled to Board of Directors representation commensurate with this shareholding ratio.
Last time, due to the significant turmoil in the company, I did not pursue this further, but it seems that some people did not understand me and instead thought I was too weak."
"Therefore," his voice became forceful, "I formally propose the addition of three new Board of Directors seats. And I nominate Mr. Reeves, President of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company, Mr. Tom Hayes, President of Patriot Investment Company, and Mr. George Templeton, Bank President of Argyle Empire Bank, as candidates."
This was a completely legitimate and reasonable request. But in the ears of Thomson and Patterson, it was nothing short of a declaration of war.
"I object!" Patterson immediately stood up.
But this time, before he could continue, the 'deposed king' who had been silent, J. Edgar Thomson, slowly raised his hand.
"Chairman Becker," his voice was hoarse but carried the cunning of an old fox, "Before we vote on this motion, I, on behalf of myself and Mr. Patterson and several other directors, also have an urgent motion that needs to be addressed first."
Everyone's gaze focused on him.
Thomson slowly said, "We have serious legal concerns about the way Mr. Argyle acquired a large number of the company's shares during the previous market fluctuations."
"We have reason to believe," he said, looking at all the directors present, "that this may involve improper gains through insider information provided by Mr. Baker. These actions have severely damaged the interests of all our other shareholders."
This was an extremely vicious counterattack.
He not only defined Felix's business actions as illegal but also tried to drag Baker down with him!
"Therefore, I formally propose that the Board of Directors suspend any voting procedures regarding the addition of new directors until an independent legal counsel conducts a comprehensive investigation into the legality of 'Patriot Investment Company's' share acquisition and reaches a final conclusion!"
There was an uproar in the meeting room.
Thomson did not deny Felix's power, but he pushed the realization of that power into a deep abyss.
All the discerning people present clearly understood that he wanted to use a protracted legal battle to completely tie Felix up and wait for an opportunity.
Just as Patterson and the others wore triumphant smiles.
Felix scoffed, "Mr. Thomson certainly knows how to joke."
There was no panic on his face; instead, a smile appeared, as if he had seen his prey finally fall into a trap.
"Trying to delay time with legal procedures is indeed a good idea."
"But this completely violates company law and is not sufficient to refute my resolution as a major shareholder to add directors. If you have objections, you can report it to the Securities Commission for investigation, but that is a matter for later."
"All transactions by myself and my company can withstand scrutiny under any magnifying glass," Felix said calmly.
"So..." his tone shifted, his voice becoming cold, "My resolution for expansion will proceed, and I am ready for the Securities Commission to investigate at any time!"
Felix looked at Interim Chairman Baker.
"Chairman Baker, let's start the resolution vote!"
Felix's words made Thomson's face flush, but he had no better solution at the moment. He had intended to stall the meeting, but it seemed the other party was not falling for it.
Seeing this, Baker quickly said, "Mr. Argyle's basis is reasonable and legal, so I now announce that we will begin voting on Mr. Argyle's proposal as a major shareholder to add Board of Directors seats!"
He then raised his hand first, followed by his son and two allies.
Felix also raised his hand and, as if unintentionally, said, "Oh, I forgot to mention, Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company made a profit of $320,000 last quarter, and that was while expanding its operations. And Patriot Investment Company, managed by Mr. Hayes, made a profit of $1.9 million last quarter. I believe their addition will lead to better development for the Pennsylvania Railroad Company!"
Upon hearing this, several neutral directors' eyes lit up.
The air in the conference room seemed to solidify.
Felix's seemingly casual yet weighty words, once spoken, were like a stone dropped into a deep pool, stirring ripples in the heart of every neutral director.
Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company earned three hundred and twenty thousand dollars, and Patriot Investment Company earned an even more impressive one million nine hundred thousand dollars. These two figures, like two heavy hammers, struck hard on their wavering scales.
Their gazes towards Felix changed.
It was no longer the wariness of an external invader, but the eager anticipation one would show to a god of wealth capable of bringing substantial returns.
J. Edgar Thomson's face, flushed red with anger, now turned pale due to this sudden turn of events.
His meticulously planned legal traps and procedural delays appeared so laughable and powerless in the face of this young man's absolute capital strength and clear profitability. He even felt like a clown trying to block a flood with a mud wall.
Interim Chairman Matthew Becker's old yet firm voice broke the silence. He knew the decisive moment had arrived. "I now announce that we will resume voting on Mr. Argyle' motion to add three new director seats."
He did not look at Thomson again, but slowly raised his right hand once more, a hand that represented the dignity of Philadelphia's industrial sector.
"I, Matthew Becker, representing the Becker family and our five percent shareholding, vote in favor."
Young Matthew Becker followed closely, his voice booming, "I, representing myself and allied shareholders who have reached an agreement for concerted action, totaling six percent of the shares, vote in favor."
Banker Harrison adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and raised his hand without hesitation, "I, representing Harrison United Bank, vote in favor."
"In favor."
"In favor."
One by one, the previously hesitant centrist directors now raised their hands without a moment's doubt.
They might not have understood Felix's complex financial maneuvers, but they could understand from the audit report how Thomson had caused them to lose money.
And they could certainly understand how Felix's companies created profits for shareholders.
Business, after all, was business.
When the lawyer began counting votes, Thomson didn't even glance up.
He knew the tide had turned.
"The voting results," the lawyer's voice, with a barely perceptible tremor, announced, "votes in favor total seventy-four percent of the total share capital, and votes against twenty-six percent. The motion… is officially passed."
A suppressed, relieved round of applause echoed in the room.
As the resolution was officially passed, Tom Hayes, Charles Reeves, and George Templeton, who had been instructed by Felix earlier and had arrived at Pennsylvania Railroad Company, entered the conference room one after another.
Several of Thomson's key allies, such as Patterson, looked ashen. This was not merely the failure of a vote; it was the end of their power in this room.
As expected, Felix did not give them any chance to breathe or retaliate.
He slowly stood up, his gaze sweeping over everyone present.
"Gentlemen," his voice was not loud, yet it silenced the entire room, "Now that the board of directors has more professional and dynamic blood, I propose that we immediately proceed with the second urgent motion."
He glanced at his assistant, Frost, beside him.
Frost immediately stepped forward and distributed a new document to each director.
"To thoroughly address the company's current issues of low operational efficiency, unclear departmental responsibilities, and… certain unnecessary internal consumption problems," Felix's tone was devoid of emotion, "I propose the immediate establishment of a 'Special Reorganization and Efficiency Oversight Committee'."
"This committee will be composed of myself, Chairman Becker, Mr. Hayes, Mr. Reeves, Mr. Templeton, and Mr. Harrison. The committee will have supreme authority to conduct a comprehensive and thorough evaluation and restructuring of all existing mid to high-level management positions within the company."
"Until the reorganization is complete," he added the most fatal clause, "the administrative powers of all evaluated positions will be temporarily taken over by this committee."
This was no longer a mere purge.
This was a direct seizure of all power from Thomson's cronies entrenched in various departments of the company!
This was a bloodless, bottom-up coup!
"I object!!" Patterson suddenly stood up, his voice hoarse with rage, "This is a dictatorship! You are bypassing the board of directors to establish your own private kingdom!"
Felix didn't even look at him, simply turning to Chairman Becker with a calm expression.
"Mr. Chairman, I believe my motion fully complies with the powers granted to the largest shareholder by the company's articles of association. Now, we can begin voting."
This vote was quicker than the last, and even less uncertain.
In the face of absolute equity advantage, any resistance seemed pale and powerless.
When the voting results again passed with an overwhelming majority, J. Edgar Thomson, the former railway king, slowly stood up. He did not look at anyone else, simply picked up his hat and cane, and walked silently, step by step, out of the conference room he had ruled for thirty years.
His retreating figure appeared particularly desolate in the afternoon sun of Philadelphia.
An era behind him, with the closing of that heavy oak door, drew its curtain completely.
Sloan also left in silence, knowing that he had once again lost disastrously in this proxy war.
Not only had he spent a fortune to buy a mere six percent of the shares, but it was also highly probable that he would only be a dividend-receiving shareholder.
Only God knew how many years of dividends it would take to make up for his losses on the stock market!
... As the remnants of the old era departed in disarray, besieged by frenzied reporters.
In the conference room, a meeting belonging to the new era continued.
"Gentlemen," Felix looked at his brand-new allies, a smile of complete control on his face, "Now, we can begin to discuss how to make this great company great again."
He turned to the interim chairman.
"Chairman Becker, the first resolution of the 'Special Committee' is to immediately suspend all duties of Patterson and several other former executives, and for Argyle Bank's audit team to conduct the most stringent financial review of the departments they were responsible for."
He then looked at Charles Reeves, who had just become a new director.
"Reeves, I need you to immediately bring your best engineering team from Chicago. The survey and design work for that westward line to Nebraska must be restarted within a week. I want those cowboys to see that the Pennsylvania Railroad trains will soon be arriving at their doorsteps."
Finally, his gaze fell on Tom Hayes.
"Tom, the company's financial issues are now in your hands."
One command after another issued from Felix's mouth. This conference room, which had just been filled with internal strife and arguments, instantly transformed into a war machine that began operating at high speed... In the carriage returning to the hotel, Edward Frost was still immersed in the thrilling power transfer that had taken place that day.
"Boss," he said sincerely, "I never imagined a board meeting could be as exciting as a… battle."
"This is just the beginning, Edward," Felix leaned back in his seat, letting out a long sigh.
He looked at the streetscape of Philadelphia outside the window; the city's skyline, in his eyes, had become a brand new blueprint, waiting for him to draw upon it.
Just then, the carriage passed a street corner.
A newsboy was waving an extra edition in his hand, shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Extra! Extra! General Grant has achieved a decisive victory at Vicksburg! The Southern Mississippi River defense line has been completely cut off!"
---
It was a Philadelphia afternoon, and sunlight pierced through the clouds, casting a faint golden glow over the ancient city.
However, outside the Pennsylvania Railroad Company headquarters, the boisterous reporters and curious citizens felt none of that warmth.
Like sharks scenting blood, they frantically surrounded every director who emerged from the main entrance, trying to unearth more details of this power earthquake from their still-shocked faces.
Meanwhile, on the other side, far from the crowd, Felix's private carriage was quietly waiting.
Inside the carriage, thick velvet curtains muffled all outside sounds.
Tom Hayes, the operator who had just won a crucial hand for his Boss at the card table, finally let out a long sigh of relief, pouring a celebratory brandy for himself and Felix.
"Boss," his voice carried a post-battle weariness and excitement, "a perfect victory. Thomson and Sloan, they thought this was just a board vote, but they didn't realize that from the very beginning, you were aiming to overturn the entire table."
Felix took the glass but did not drink immediately.
His gaze was fixed through a crack in the carriage window, watching the rapidly receding Philadelphia streetscape.
Just then, the carriage passed a street corner, where a newsboy was waving an extra edition, shouting with all his might:
"Extra! Extra! General Grant has achieved a decisive victory at Vicksburg! The South's Mississippi River defense line has been completely cut off!"
This shout, like a bolt of lightning, shattered the tranquility within the carriage.
Hayes's face instantly broke into a joyous grin, "My God! Vicksburg! Boss, this is the best news! War bond prices will go crazy tomorrow! This means the war will end soon!"
"No, no, Tom."
Felix shook his head, his eyes calm and profound, not at all swayed by this optimism, "On the contrary, this is not the end, but a signal of the true beginning."
Hayes's smile froze on his face.
"A beast driven into a corner will be more ferocious than ever before," Felix gently swirled the amber liquid in his glass.
"The victory at Vicksburg will make the South's will to resist even more resolute. Every battle from now on will be a bloody meat grinder.
What Secretary Stanton and the President will need next are more—enough to crush everything—rifles, bullets, and rations."
He looked at Hayes, his tone steady, "So Argyle's factories, from now on, must not stop for a single moment."
Edward Frost sat by, quietly jotting down his Boss's words, along with the good news from the front line, in his memorandum.
He realized that on this young Boss's chessboard, the victories on Wall Street and the artillery fire in Virginia were always closely intertwined, and his Boss's vision always extended further than anyone else's.
"Before returning to New York, we still have one thing to do," Felix decided, "Edward, go to the railroad headquarters building now.
Tell Andrew Carnegie, the Western Director of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, that I will meet him in his office tomorrow."
"Carnegie?" Hayes was startled for a moment but quickly understood his Boss's intentions.
"Boss, this man… I heard he was personally promoted by Thomson, the youngest and most talented director in the company.
He's probably…"
"I know," Felix interrupted him, "A lion will not easily submit to another lion.
But what if I can offer him a broader grassland?"
...The next morning, Pennsylvania Railroad Headquarters, Western Director's Office.
Felix met Andrew Carnegie.
He was even younger than Felix had imagined, not tall, but his blue eyes burned with a passion and ambition almost like fire.
He wore a simple but extremely neat suit, and when he spoke, he had an unmistakable strong Scottish accent.
His office, rather than being a director's office, was more like a data center.
The walls were covered with railway operational charts, and the desk was piled high with cost analysis reports and productivity logs.
Everything here was precise down to the cent and the minute.
"Mr. Argyle."
Carnegie's pronunciation was a bit stiff. He didn't sit down, but stood behind his desk like a hound guarding its territory, "If you are here to accept my resignation, then it is ready."
"Mr. Carnegie."
Felix's posture was relaxed. He looked with interest at the charts on the wall, "I am not here to accept a resignation.
I am here to offer a new appointment."
"I have read all your reports," Felix said directly, "Your proposal to 'replace iron rails with stronger steel rails,' your plan to 'optimize vehicle scheduling to reduce empty load rates'... Frankly, you are the only person in this company who truly understands how to make trains run faster and cheaper."
Felix looked at him, extending an olive branch that would move anyone, "So I am prepared to appoint you as the General Manager of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company.
You will have complete operational autonomy, responsible for all of the company's daily management and westward expansion plans.
Your salary will be three times what it is now, and you will receive one percent of the company's stock options."
This was equivalent to making Carnegie a regional lord.
However, Carnegie shook his head after hearing it.
"To be honest, these terms are very generous, Mr. Argyle," his tone carried an undisguised pride, "But I'm afraid we are not on the same path."
"Oh?"
"You are a financier, a capitalist," Carnegie's gaze sharpened.
"You won this company by trading stocks on Wall Street, by exploiting legal loopholes and human weaknesses.
While it was a brilliant victory, I don't smell a hint of steel or soot."
"You conquered the Pennsylvania Railroad Company, Mr. Argyle, but you do not love it," Carnegie's voice was filled with a fervent belief in industry.
"To you, it is just a line of numbers on your vast balance sheet.
But to me," he patted the steel rail strength test report on the desk, "it is everything."
"My belief is production! It is to use more advanced technology and more scientific management to squeeze every ounce of value from every ton of steel and every pound of coal!
To build a stronger, more efficient industrial backbone for this nation! And your belief is capital, how to make money generate more money."
Felix listened quietly, he did not refute.
Of course, Felix could talk about his achievements in industry, but he already knew it was pointless.
Would Carnegie not know about his industrial achievements? That's not necessarily true.
So it was clear that the other party was just making an excuse, perhaps not wanting to work for someone else, or perhaps out of gratitude to his former master.
But none of that mattered anymore.
Carnegie made his final decision, pulling out the resignation letter he had already written, "So thank you for your appreciation, Mr. Argyle.
But I cannot work for someone whose beliefs differ from mine."
He placed the letter on the desk, then looked at Felix with a challenging gaze.
"Don't worry, I will leave the railway industry."
"But I will invest all my savings and energy into a completely new field—steel."
"One day, I will prove to you, and to the entire Union, that a pragmatist focused on production can create a greater enterprise than a financier skilled in calculations.
And one more thing is, if you can acquire Thomson's company now with your financial advantage, then in the future, I will definitely take back what doesn't belong to you."
Felix looked at those eyes burning with fierce flames and smiled.
He did not try to keep him.
Instead, he stood up and extended his hand to this future king of steel from history.
"Remarkable ambition, perhaps you will make a name for yourself in the steel industry and become the great Carnegie."
"But I think you definitely won't be able to do that last part, Mr. Carnegie."
"Good luck."