Turning around, Old Morgan's eyes held a look of decisiveness.
Cutting off the tail to save the lizard—this was the most basic quality of a capitalist.
"Send a telegram to Cavendish. Tell him and Nathaniel to apply for bankruptcy protection. Leave the mess of United Credit to the New York Bankruptcy Court. As for the remaining commercial paper, let Argyle wait in line for liquidation."
Morgan returned to his desk.
"As for the six million pounds docking tomorrow, do not bring it into 48 Wall Street."
"That is our final ammunition in North America. Tell Cavendish to transfer this money directly to the secret vault in Philadelphia. Use it to establish a new investment trust company."
Sterling looked at Morgan in confusion.
"But sir, isn't this money to save Carnegie and Westinghouse Electric? If we cut off the funds, Carnegie will likely go bankrupt, and Westinghouse's Transformer research will come to a halt."
"Save them now?" Morgan sneered.
"That fool Carnegie. He was played like a monkey and signed a bunch of suicidal contracts. If I throw money at him now, it's equivalent to helping him pay the liquidated damages."
"Let them go bankrupt, Oliver."
There wasn't a hint of emotion in Morgan's tone; now was not the time for hesitation.
"Let Argyle drive them to a dead end. When Carnegie's steel mills can't pay wages, and when Westinghouse Electric's laboratories are about to be seized by the court..."
"Then we will take this six million pounds in cash and play the role of the savior."
Morgan's calculations were very sharp; after all, the founders and partners of Carnegie Steel and Westinghouse Electric still held nearly half of the shares.
"At that time, I won't need to help them with interest-free loans anymore. I can buy their controlling interest directly. While they are at their cheapest, I will turn the steel and electrical technologies into the private property of the Morgan Family."
"Argyle won this war and destroyed United Credit Bank. But I can use him to help me clean out those disobedient partners."
Morgan picked up his fountain pen.
"Go send the telegram. In this new continent of America, we need to slowly establish a firm foothold."
...
Washington D.C.
Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station.
At ten in the morning, sunlight pierced through the mist on the platform.
Felix stood in front of the black private train, his trench coat collar open, looking much more relaxed than when he arrived.
Thomas Clark stood before him leaning on his cane, while Anna stood to the side holding Caesar's hand.
"Ulysses definitely won't be sleeping well these next few days."
Thomas wore the smile of an old fox.
"Regarding the pension fund, Morrison is already drafting the documents internally. The additional clauses for the employment contracts will likely be issued next week. This time, the grassroots of the government are firmly tied to you."
Felix nodded; was this not as it should be?
"Keep a close eye on the subsequent Congressional budget allocations, Thomas. After all, on the day the bill is announced, the Imperial Bank will deposit this year's loan into the Department of the Treasury's special account."
Felix gave these instructions with some lingering concern.
Then he turned his head to look at Anna.
"This time it's not suitable for you to step into the spotlight. Keep an eye on those swinging congressmen on Capitol Hill first. Although Cavendish and Old Morgan stumbled on Wall Street, they must have left some backup plans in Washington. If you find anyone taking money from the British, report it directly to Timmy."
Anna nodded, not minding at all.
"Don't worry. With my father and me watching here, nothing will go wrong." Anna looked down and nudged Caesar.
Caesar looked up at Felix.
"Are you going back to New York?"
The little boy was still tightly clutching that Iridium Gold Pocket Watch.
"Yes, back to New York," Felix said, looking at him.
"Then when can I go to New York to see your building?" Caesar asked innocently.
"When you grow tall enough to climb onto the steps of this train car yourself."
Felix looked at the half-meter-high cast-iron steps and ruffled Caesar's hair.
Without saying anything more, he turned and walked into the carriage.
Frost and Timmy quickly followed, and the door closed.
With a long whistle, the private train slowly pulled out of the station.
Inside the carriage.
Felix took off his trench coat and sat at the head of the mahogany long table.
Frost immediately opened his briefcase and took out a telegram that had just been delivered to the train via a dedicated line.
"Boss, a battle report from Mr. Hayes."
Frost suppressed his inner excitement.
"United Trust Bank officially announced its suspension of business at 9:30 this morning and applied for bankruptcy protection from the New York court. 48 Wall Street has been seized by the court."
Felix picked up the coffee cup on the table and took a sip.
"Heh... Old Morgan reacted quickly. He'd rather bear the infamy of credit bankruptcy than continue pouring money into it." Felix put down the cup, his tone tinged with regret.
"But boss, didn't we find out in the intercepted telegrams? Old Morgan has three ocean liners carrying six million pounds in gold and bonds, docking at New York Harbor this afternoon. Since he has this money, why doesn't he use it to redeem our notes?"
Timmy was a bit puzzled; after all, Old Morgan and the others weren't broke, so why apply for bankruptcy?
"Because he's a bastard who's craftier than a fox," Felix sneered.
"He knows that the path through the Department of the Treasury has been blocked by us. If he used his own six million pounds to redeem the remaining scraps of paper, his money would be drained dry. So he simply let United Trust Bank die; it's a firewall."
Felix tapped his finger on the tabletop.
"This six million pounds, I bet he'll move it underground and keep it in the United States. After all, their original plan was to take root and make money here, but it likely won't appear under my nose anymore; they'll move to other cities instead."
"Then we can't let him move the money from the docks!" Timmy's eyes turned cold.
"How about I have someone message the New York security team and have them start some trouble at the docks to seize those three ships?"
"No," Felix raised his hand to stop him.
"Timmy, don't be so impulsive. Think it through first. Those are British ocean liners. Seizing foreign merchant ships without a legal reason would cause a diplomatic incident. Grant has just compromised; I can't cause trouble for him at this time."
Felix looked at the scenery flying by outside the window.
"Let him move it. Six million pounds won't make a huge splash in America. As long as that money stays in the United States, it's a good thing. No matter what it's used for, I'll eventually keep it here and consume it."
"The more important thing now isn't to worry about Old Morgan's bit of cash."
Felix looked at Frost.
"Has that German envoy named Ludwig Fischer arrived in New York?"
Frost immediately flipped to another report.
"He has, boss. He arrived in New York last night and checked into the Astor Hotel on Fifth Avenue. He has officially requested a meeting with you through the Metropolitan Trading Company and brought a personal letter from the German Imperial Chancellor, Bismarck."
A satisfied curve appeared at the corner of Felix's mouth.
Although Old Morgan's threat was temporarily neutralized, the Argyle Family's expansion in North America had already hit a political ceiling.
Moreover, while Grant had yielded to votes and deterrence, the hidden dangers remained.
Having been a person from world in his previous life, how could he not know the principle of a wily hare having three burrows?
This olive branch from the German Empire came at just the right time.
"Then reply to him."
"Tell Mr. Fischer that I will be waiting for him in my top-floor office at the Empire State Building tomorrow morning at ten. Tell him to bring Bismarck's terms and blueprints."
Felix walked to the window of the carriage and looked at the scenery outside.
"The flames of war in Europe may have died down, but on the map of industry and technology, the emperors and chancellors of the Old World have just discovered that what they truly need to fear is not just artillery, but the impending next industrial upgrade."
The metal gate of the elevator slid open to both sides.
Felix stepped out of the car and walked directly toward the CEO's office at the end of the corridor. The early morning New York sun pierced through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting clear grid-like shadows across the carpet.
Frost pushed open the walnut double doors of the office.
In the reception area, sitting on a leather sofa, was a man with meticulously combed hair and a thick handlebar mustache.
He sat bolt upright, both hands resting on a briefcase placed across his knees.
Hearing the sound of the door opening, the man immediately stood up.
"Hello, Mr. Argyle. I am Ludwig Fischer, representing the Emperor and the Chancellor of the German Empire."
Fischer's English carried a distinct German accent.
Felix walked behind his desk but was in no hurry to sit down. He sized up this special envoy sent from Berlin.
"Have a seat, Mr. Fischer." Felix pulled out his chair.
"Bill mentioned in the telegram that you brought a handwritten letter from Bismarck. Bring it out; I don't like beating around the bush."
Fischer sat back down. He unfastened the brass buckle of his briefcase, took out an envelope sealed with the Prussian Black Eagle wax stamp, and handed it across the desk.
Felix picked up the envelope and sliced it open with a letter opener.
The contents of the letter were not long, written in extremely formal diplomatic language.
In the letter, Bismarck highly praised General Electric's achievements in New York and explicitly stated that the German Empire was willing to provide a "safe haven free from political interference" for these epoch-making technologies.
After Felix finished reading, he placed the letter on the desk.
"The Chancellor has quite good handwriting." Felix leaned back in his chair.
"He mentions a twenty-year tax exemption and free industrial land in the Ruhr Area. But to me, these are just empty promises, Mr. Fischer. I want to hear the specific details of the deal."
Fischer looked Felix straight in the eye, unsurprised.
"Mr. Argyle, the Empire's sincerity is absolute. As long as you agree to establish the European headquarters of General Electric and the Telephone Company in Berlin, the Imperial government will immediately issue the first batch of procurement orders. We will require the laying of underground Direct Current grids for Berlin, Frankfurt, and Munich. Simultaneously, the Imperial Ministry of War will purchase twenty thousand telephone sets and matching silver-contact switchboards to build a national defense communication network connecting our border fortresses."
Fischer laid out the infrastructure plan.
"The funding for these projects will not require you to take out bank loans. The treasury of the German Empire will settle directly in gold. Furthermore, all installation concessions will belong entirely to your European headquarters."
Felix listened to these conditions, his expression showing no fluctuation.
"Settling in gold—it seems you've just received five billion francs from the French. Germany's treasury is indeed flush." Felix picked up a glass of cold water from the desk.
"However, Mr. Fischer, you have missed the most core issue."
Felix took a sip of water and set the glass down.
"What return does Chancellor Bismarck want? He wouldn't offer such generous terms just to let me go to Berlin and take your money."
The corner of Fischer's eye twitched slightly.
He knew that when facing this oligarch who controlled the industrial lifeblood of North America, any diplomatic rhetoric was nonsense.
"The Chancellor's request is very reasonable."
Fischer took another document out of his briefcase.
"The Empire requires that the European headquarters established by General Electric and the Telephone Company within German borders must be a joint venture. The Argyle Family will contribute technical patents and equipment for a forty-nine percent stake. The German Imperial government will provide the capital for a fifty-one percent controlling interest."
Fischer emphasized his tone.
"Furthermore, to ensure the security of national defense communications, the Carbon Transmitter technology for the telephones, as well as the insulation and cooling technology for the Transformers, must be opened to designated laboratories at the Berlin Institute of Technology. We need to train our own engineers."
Silence fell over the office.
Felix sat there, looking at Fischer.
Suddenly, he let out a low chuckle. The laughter grew louder, laced with undisguised mockery.
"A fifty-one percent controlling stake? And I have to hand over core technical blueprints? The previous telegrams didn't say anything like this..."
Felix stopped laughing, his gaze turning cold.
"Fischer, does the German Empire think that because I've encountered some trouble in Washington, I must run to Europe like a stray dog begging for food? That I must rely on you?"
Felix stood up, leaning his hands on the desk to look down at the German envoy.
"Go back and tell Bismarck that he defeated Napoleon III—that was his skill on land. But in the realms of business and technology, the conditions he's offering are like those of a peasant buying potatoes at a wet market."
Fischer's face flushed red.
"Mr. Argyle, please watch your words! You are insulting the German Empire!"
"Tch. I'm teaching you how to do business." Felix showed no sign of backing down.
"You want my technology? Fine. But the rules must be mine."
Felix held up one finger.
"First, no joint ventures. General Electric Europe must be a one-hundred-percent wholly-owned subsidiary of the Argyle Family. Controlling interest? I won't give Berlin a single cent's worth of shares."
"Second, core technology will never be disclosed. All core generator components and central relays for telephone switchboards will be produced at the New Jersey factory in New York, then shipped to the Port of Hamburg. Your factories in the Ruhr Area will only be responsible for assembling the casings and stringing the wires. Your engineers are not allowed near the disassembly benches of the core equipment."
Fischer stood up abruptly.
"That is impossible! If core components rely entirely on imports from America, then in the event of war or a disruption in shipping, the Empire's communications and power grid would completely paralyze! The Chancellor will never agree to such terms that leave us at the mercy of others!"
"He will agree."
Felix's voice was filled with absolute confidence. He walked around the desk to stand before Fischer.
"Because he has no choice."
"I imagine... your university professors have already dismantled my telephones, haven't they? They won't be able to build them for the time being. Even if I gave them the blueprints, your domestic machine tool tolerances wouldn't meet the requirements. And your insulation materials are a complete mess."
Felix stared into Fischer's eyes.
"So, I'm sorry—you need to get one thing straight. If you don't accept my terms, your army's border deployments will still have to rely on exhausted horses. Meanwhile, the Parliament of the British Empire will soon come to talk cooperation with me. If I set up General Electric's European headquarters in London, guess which will be faster in five years: your Mauser rifles, or the British telephone network? Oh, and by the way, the French government has offered some very nice terms for us to go over and help them with their revival..."
What! The French government has already agreed to cooperate with the Argyle Family?
Fischer's breathing became rapid, and his pupils dilated.
The barriers of technological monopoly were more solid than any fortress.
Setting aside Britain for a moment, if even France laid out an electrification plan before them, the Empire would be thrown into a state of urgency.
After all, although Germany won this war, who could know if they would keep winning forever?
"Mr. Argyle, you are blackmailing the Empire." Fischer gritted his teeth.
"I am selling the future, am I not?" Felix walked back behind his desk and sat down.
"And those are just the baselines, Mr. Fischer. Now, let's talk about the entry fee for this deal. I can't cross the Atlantic to help you with infrastructure for nothing."
Felix pulled out a sheet of blank paper and picked up a fountain pen.
The pen scratched across the paper, making a rustling sound.
Fischer stood before the desk, watching Felix write down several numbers.
Felix turned the paper around and pushed it toward Fischer.
"Authorization fees, a one-time buyout of a portion of the French reparations." Felix leaned back in his chair, making an audacious demand.
"Fifty million dollars' worth of physical gold as exclusive patent royalties for General Electric and the Telephone Company to enter the European market. This money must be delivered to the underground vaults of the Imperial Bank in New York before the first batch of equipment is shipped."
Fischer saw the numbers on the paper clearly, and his eyes widened.
"Fifty million dollars?! Have you gone mad!"
Fischer shouted, a look of disbelief on his face.
"That is equivalent to two hundred million francs. Enough to arm ten full-strength infantry divisions! You want to take a tenth of our war reparations just for the right to enter the market and lay some cables?"
"No, no, no—it's not just the right to enter the market." Felix crossed his hands, his face solemn.
"This fifty million buys your future dominance over the European continent. Think about it—with my equipment, your factory efficiency will increase by at least thirty percent. Railway scheduling can be accurate to the minute. The economic growth this brings could earn back that fifty million in just a year."
"I'm sorry, I do not accept a reality that has not yet arrived, Mr. Argyle."
Fischer tried to regain the rhythm of the negotiation.
"Fifty million dollars is absolutely impossible; the Berlin Parliament would never approve such a robbery of a budget proposal."
"Then twenty million."
Felix lowered the price immediately without the slightest hesitation.
Fischer was stunned; he hadn't expected Felix to drop the price so decisively.
But Felix wasn't finished yet.
"Twenty million in cash gold. For the remaining thirty million, I want two large coal mines within the German Empire, as well as the ownership of three thousand acres of permanent industrial land on the outskirts of Essen in the Ruhr Area."
Felix looked at Fischer, wondering if he could squeeze it out of him.
He probably would, right?
"My equipment needs factories for assembly once it reaches Europe, and it also needs coal-fired power generation. It's impossible to ship coal over from Appalachia. Therefore, I must drive a nail belonging to the Argyle Family into your heartland."
Fischer felt his back break out in a cold sweat.
The ambition of this American oligarch was far too great.
He didn't just want money; he wanted resources and land.
He wanted to turn Germany's industrial zone into his own backyard, but this was far too presumptuous.
"The land can be given, but the ownership of the mines cannot be transferred. These are strategic resources of the Empire," Fischer said, bracing himself to bargain.
"However, we can grant you thirty years of exclusive mining rights and exempt you from resource taxes."
"Deal," Felix decided, concluding the matter.
He knew that taking permanent ownership in another country was unrealistic; otherwise, he would have been afraid of a trap.
The mining rights had already achieved his goal.
"As for privileges," Felix continued to push.
"In addition to a twenty-year tax holiday, I need the German Empire government to issue special transit passes. The Metropolitan Trading Company's cargo ships in Hamburg and Bremerhaven shall have priority docking and exemption from inspection. Our capital flow in Europe shall not be subject to the exchange rate controls of the Berlin Central Bank."
Fischer took out his notebook and quickly recorded these harsh conditions.
"OK, I will faithfully telegraph these conditions to His Excellency the Chancellor, Mr. Argyle. But I must remind you, if you enjoy these privileges in Berlin, you cannot sell the same technology to the French or the Russians."
"An exclusivity agreement." Felix nodded.
"Certainly, the agency rights for the European continent will only be given to Germany. But I need an additional exception clause."
"The British Empire is not within the scope of the exclusivity agreement. If London offers a better price, I reserve the right to lay the same power grid in the British Isles."
Fischer snapped his head up.
"That won't do! If you give the technology to the British, our industrial advantage will be neutralized!"
"Fischer, let's get one thing straight." Felix looked at him coldly.
"What you are buying is hegemony over the European continent; Britain is an island. That is Old Morgan and his people's territory, and I must retain the right to go to London and crash his party. If Bismarck won't even agree to this, then this deal is off."
Fischer fell silent, weighing the pros and cons.
In fact, as long as France and Russia didn't get these technologies, Germany's advantage on land would be sufficiently solid.
As for the British, that would require a powerful navy to deal with; power lines wouldn't be crossing the English Channel anytime soon.
"I will include this exception in the report." Fischer closed his notebook.
"Go then. Go to the Willard Hotel and use the undersea cable there to send the telegram. Be quick about it." Felix waved his hand.
"I only hope His Excellency the Chancellor can make a decision soon. If I don't see a signed confirmation telegram from Berlin in three days, then I'm sorry."
Fischer bowed, picked up his briefcase, and quickly retreated from the office.
The office door closed.
Frost stepped out from the adjacent compartment.
"Boss, will the Germans agree? Twenty million in cash, plus mining rights. The cost is too heavy."
"They will agree."
Felix picked up his coffee, which had already gone cold, and took a sip.
"Bismarck is a man who would make a deal with the devil for the national interest; he knows how to do the math. Moreover, he urgently needs to establish an industrial benchmark in Europe to suppress French revanchism. He needs my machines."
Felix put down his cup and turned his gaze out the window toward Wall Street.
"The fallback path in Europe has been laid. Even if Washington really goes crazy one day, I can safely transfer my core assets away."
"Now, perhaps it's time to clean up our mess at home."
Felix looked at Frost.
"Is there any news from Hayes? After United Trust Bank hung up the'Suspended' sign, did Old Morgan make any moves?"
Frost immediately flipped open a file.
"No movement at all, Boss. Cavendish and Nathaniel have been hiding on the second floor of 48 Wall Street. The retail investors outside are still rioting, and the police have set up a cordon. But London is strangely quiet. Not a single pound has been wired to United Trust's accounts."
Felix frowned, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the desk.
This wasn't like Old Morgan's style.
A bank run is fatal, but for a trans-Atlantic syndicate, there should at least be some attempt to struggle.
Did they intend to abandon the New York bank?
That didn't make sense either; it would mean handing over the financial bridgehead Old Morgan and his people had established in North America.
"Something's not right." Felix stood up with a frown.
"Old Morgan is the type who won't act unless he's certain of the gain. If he really intends to abandon United Trust, it means he must have prepared a bigger stake elsewhere."
"The telegram Timmy intercepted that was sent to London was from late the night before last. What about the instructions sent back from London?" Felix asked.
"No return telegram was intercepted," Frost replied.
"Perhaps they switched to a different undersea cable terminal."
Felix walked to a map of the United States, his eyes scanning back and forth across the major port cities of the East Coast.
Boston, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore.
"If he doesn't put the money in Wall Street, where would he put it?" Felix murmured to himself.
"Intelligence says three Vanderbilt Family ocean liners have entered American territorial waters. They were originally expected to dock at New York Harbor?" Felix turned to ask Frost.
"Yes, cargo ships loaded with rubber and silicon steel sheets. The original route was New York."
"Go check. Check the tracks of these three ships." Felix's speaking speed increased.
"A man like Old Morgan would never put all his eggs in one basket. If he knows New York is under my control, he will definitely change the unloading location. Check the port entry records for big cities like Philadelphia and Boston."
"Boss, you mean Old Morgan didn't just ship materials, he also shipped cash?"
"It's a forty-million-dollar reserve, after all; he can't have it all be empty talk. He'll definitely ship physical gold over." Felix's gaze became extremely sharp.
"Tell Timmy to spread the intelligence network out. I want to know exactly where that batch of gold is hidden right now."