New York, Union League Club.
In this smoke-filled private sanctuary, open only to America's most powerful bankers and entrepreneurs, a conversation about a small railroad company a thousand miles away was taking place.
"Mr. Sloan, things in Chicago have been a bit too noisy recently."
A corpulent man, representing the interests of the Pennsylvania Railroad, said with dissatisfaction.
"A third-rate tabloid, not even worth mentioning, dared to publicly slander us on its front page. Now even some congressmen in Washington are inquiring about this matter."
"Oh wow... it's not a third-rate newspaper anymore; it's sold a hundred thousand copies, enough to rank among the top five in Chicago."
A bespectacled, refined man next to him retorted sarcastically.
The man referred to as Mr. Sloan was a director of the New York Central Railroad.
He was a grim-faced man with a sinister gaze.
"It's just a sensationalist article; it won't cause much of a stir."
Sloan's tone was full of disdain for the so-called "public outrage."
"I'm not worried about the pen. I'm worried about the person paying behind the pen."
"Are you talking about that young man named Allen Williams?"
"Yes," Sloan nodded, "This man appeared out of nowhere in New York, integrated the canning business in a very short time, and even gained the upper hand in conflicts with local wholesalers. Now, he's gone to Chicago and gotten involved with that old stubborn Charles Reeves. This is no coincidence."
"His objective is obvious," another director said, "He wants to use Reeves's dilapidated railroad to establish an independent transportation line that bypasses our alliance, continuously shipping beef from the West back to his factory."
"What a naive idea."
Sloan took a puff from his cigar, then let out a cold laugh after exhaling the smoke.
"Heh... does he think a railroad is just two tracks laid on sleepers? Does he not know that a real railroad is paved with money, connections, and power?"
"We must teach him a lesson."
The fat man who spoke first said fiercely.
"What do you want to do?"
"It's simple."
A cruel smile appeared on the fat man's face.
"Didn't Reeves's dilapidated railroad just receive some emergency funds from that young man? Isn't it currently transporting his first batch of cattle?"
He looked at Sloan, enunciating each word.
"Send someone to Chicago to create a small 'accident' for Reeves. For example, a moderate fire, or a perfectly timed signal malfunction.
We want that young man to see with his own eyes that the railroad he found is a pile of scrap metal that could fall apart at any moment. We want him to know that in this game, we are the only rule-makers."
Sloan was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"Have it done."
Then, as if remembering something, he added softly, "Don't make too much of a fuss, and keep it clean."
A few days later, Chicago.
In Allen's hotel suite, Charles Reeves burst through the door like an enraged bull.
"Allen, they've made their move! Those damned, cowardly bastards!"
As soon as he entered, he shouted angrily with his engineer's booming voice.
"Charles, sit down, and tell me slowly," Allen poured him a glass of water, "What happened?"
"My freight yard! My most important railway transshipment yard on the outskirts of the city!"
Reeves gulped down the water in his glass, panting heavily.
"It caught fire late last night! An 'accidental' fire!"
"The fire wasn't big and was quickly extinguished. But the most important central signal tower in the freight yard, which controls all westbound lines, was burned down! Also, two of my night watchmen were knocked unconscious from behind, tied up, and thrown into a nearby ditch. If they hadn't been discovered in time, they would have drowned!"
"This is a warning, Allen!"
Reeves's voice trembled slightly with anger.
"This is an outrageous warning from those railroad magnates, to me, and to you! They are telling us that even if they can't win public opinion, they can paralyze my railroad anytime, anywhere, and turn me into a truly pathetic fool!"
Allen listened quietly.
There was no hint of surprise on his face.
Because all of this was within his expectations.
After all, corporate warfare in America during this era was so unpretentious; it was already a good defense that those people hadn't given the two of them a 'dirt plane' ride.
"They are forcing us, Charles," Allen's tone was exceptionally calm, "They are forcing us to abandon the alliance."
"Then what should we do?"
A deep sense of powerlessness appeared on Reeves's face.
"Repairing the signal tower requires time and money, and what I fear more is their next move. I can't station guards along hundreds of miles of track. They can derail or crash my trains at any time. I... I really don't seem to be able to fight them."
Allen looked at the old man who was losing his fighting spirit.
He knew it was time to let him see the other side of this war.
"Charles."
Allen stood up and walked over to him.
"You're right, on the tracks and in tactics, you are temporarily at a disadvantage."
"But you might not know that on another invisible battlefield of this war, I am constantly achieving victory."
A profound light flickered in Allen's eyes.
"Invisible battlefield?" Reeves looked at him, puzzled.
"Yes."
Allen took a document from his safe and handed it to Reeves.
It was a daily stock trading summary report presented to him by the stockbroker Blackwood.
"What is this?"
"This is my weapon."
Allen said slowly, then enlightened him.
"Charles, did you think I bought that newspaper just to write a eulogy for you?"
"You're wrong."
"From the moment I decided to work with you, I had only one choice."
Allen looked at Reeves, and, word by word, spoke the truth that would surely shock him.
"That is to join the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company and become their opponent."
Reeves stood up abruptly as if struck by lightning.
He couldn't believe his ears.
"When shareholders panicked and dumped their stock because of that report, I hired brokers to frantically acquire those dumped shares on the stock exchange."
"They thought they were abandoning a sinking ship. But they didn't know that every share they threw away was firmly caught in my hands."
Allen looked at the completely stunned Reeves and made his final revelation.
"So Charles, I can tell you my current shares."
He pointed to the final number on the report.
"I, Allen Williams, personally hold fifteen point seven percent of your company's outstanding shares. I am the second-largest individual shareholder of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company, apart from yourself."
"Now, do you still think we will lose this war?"