Facing Felix's inquiry, Frost did not panic.
He did not need to understand the deeper meaning behind his boss's question.
But as the Secretary-General of the Executive Committee of the family, he possessed the psychological fortitude and extremely rigorous logical capabilities commensurate with his position.
Frost stood where he was without speaking immediately, instead mentally sifting through every senior manager under the family with the qualifications and channels to contact politicians in Washington, as well as every supervisor in the public relations department, quickly reviewing them all.
A full half-minute passed before he opened his eyes.
Meeting Felix's highly oppressive gaze, he shook his head decisively.
"No, Boss."
Frost's tone was without the slightest hesitation.
"Within all the major companies, absolutely no one would dare to contact the Democratic Party privately without your personal authorization. It is even more impossible that they would use a million-dollar cashier's check to give them campaign funds."
Frost began to state his reasons.
"First, there is the authority to allocate funds. Although the Imperial Bank has a massive amount of cash flowing in and out every day, and it is nothing for someone to submit funds and issue a one-million-dollar check, there is no record of any of the family's major heads doing so, and furthermore, no one has been to Washington during this period."
"Secondly, it is a matter of political stance."
Frost continued to analyze.
"Throughout the entire Argyle Family, from executives to ordinary department managers, everyone is very clear that you are a firm supporter of the Republican Party. Our current railway approvals, customs green lights, and even the privilege of purchasing cotton plantations in the South at low prices, are all built on the foundation of the Republican Party controlling Washington. No one would be stupid enough to smash their own rice bowl."
After listening to Frost's analysis, Felix's tense shoulders relaxed slightly.
It seemed he had indeed been overthinking.
He leaned back in his leather chair, exhaled a long breath of stagnant air, and reached out to rub his somewhat throbbing temples.
"You are right, Edward."
Felix's voice carried a tone of self-deprecation.
"It seems that going to the villa frequently recently has exhausted my brain too much. I have actually followed that old thing, Grant, in committing this stupid paranoia, actually starting to doubt the core team that has followed me all the way."
Felix picked up the water glass on the table and took a sip, letting his brain clear up completely.
"Although hedging political risks by betting on both sides is indeed a common method, I will definitely contact the Democratic Party in the future, but definitely not now."
Felix put down the water glass, his gaze becoming extremely rational and far-sighted.
"The Argyle Family is indeed very large now, so large that even the President feels wary. But our political wings are not yet fully fledged."
"In Washington, we still need to rely on those veteran Republican Party congressmen to take bullets for us. Our bones are not hard enough yet, and we are not yet capable of switching camps at will between two mutually hostile political parties."
"If, at this moment, we were to send one million dollars to the Democratic Party, that would not be betting on both sides; that would be pure political suicide. That would be forcing the Republican Party and the Democratic Party to unite and use anti-monopoly laws to slaughter us, this fat pig, first."
Frost listened to Felix's analysis and nodded in agreement.
"So Boss, since it is not a problem within our organization, then the man who delivered the money must be a death squad member sent by Old Morgan. This political poisoning maneuver has indeed forced us into a very awkward position. How are we going to break this deadlock?"
Regardless of whether it is true or not, this heap of shit must be pinned on Old Morgan; the family must absolutely not fall into chaos.
Felix did not answer immediately.
He stood up, walked to the floor-to-ceiling window of the office, and looked down at the carriages and crowds below.
"Although I do not yet have concrete evidence in my hands to prove that it was Cavendish who issued that check."
"But it must be him who did it. Or rather, it was that Old Morgan sitting in front of the fireplace in London who did it."
Felix recalled all the opponents he had encountered in the American business world over the past few years.
"Edward, think carefully. In these past few years, we have defeated countless competitors in the marketplace. No matter who they were, even those railway tycoons and coal mine owners who control the lifeblood of the Midwest, our competition with them was purely mutual attrition for profit. If they lost, they accepted their fate, took their money, and left."
Felix turned around, his eyes revealing a chilling scent of blood.
"But only the Morgan Family is different. This is not business competition at all; this is a blood feud that will not end until one side dies."
"Back then, I sent people to take out John Pierpont Morgan on a cruise ship in the Atlantic Ocean. Although I disguised it as an extremely ordinary robbery-homicide case, and even Scotland Yard could not find any flaws, that old fox, Old Morgan, does not need evidence."
Felix slowly walked back to his desk.
"He will be certain it was me, making the Morgan Family lose its only heir. This kind of hatred for cutting off one's lineage cannot be compensated for by any commercial profit. That is why he would desperately mobilize the funds of the European Syndicate Alliance to fight that kind of unscrupulous war of attrition against me in steel and medicine."
"And now..."
Felix tapped his fingers heavily on the desk.
"Carnegie has surrendered, the blast furnaces of the Federal Steel Company have been hollowed out by us, and the pharmaceutical factories in Boston are bleeding for breach of contract penalties. Old Morgan has discovered that he simply cannot beat me on the direct battlefield of commerce, and his European partners behind him must also be holding him accountable. A madman forced into a dead end, with pounds in his hand, can use any dirty trick outside of business rules."
"Using one million dollars to buy Grant's suspicion of me. In Old Morgan's view, this deal is simply too worthwhile."
Frost listened to this meticulous deduction and felt it made a lot of sense.
This kind of strangulation that spanned the Atlantic Ocean, mixed with blood debts and power schemes, was far more dangerous than those obvious stock short-selling maneuvers on Wall Street.
"Boss, if Grant really takes action after his re-election because of this, then our current situation will be very passive. We must resolve this hidden danger that the Morgan Family has left in America as soon as possible. We cannot let them continue to hide in the dark and shoot cold arrows so unscrupulously."
"Of course I know."
Felix gritted his teeth, his eyes sharp.
"Go notify Timmy, and spread out all the Intelligence Department's secret agents in Philadelphia and Washington. Find out all the details about that man named David Burke as soon as possible, and also find out exactly which branch that cashier's check was laundered from. As long as we catch him, I can splash this dirty water right back to London."
Just as Felix had finished giving the order for intelligence gathering and was preparing to continue thinking about how to kill off the Morgan Family.
In the corridor outside the office, the sound of hurried footsteps could be heard.
Immediately after, the security captain outside the door knocked on the door.
"Come in."
Felix's face returned to its usual calm.
The security captain pushed the door open with a somewhat strange expression and bowed slightly.
"Boss, the front desk supervisor downstairs just sent an internal line report. A guest without an appointment insists on seeing you."
"Without an appointment?"
Hearing this, Felix frowned.
"Who has such high and mighty airs?"
"Ahem... It is Cornelius Vanderbilt."
Hearing this name, Felix and Frost were both stunned.
That old-school tyrant known as the "Commodore," who controlled the New York Central Railroad and the entire American shipping industry, Cornelius Vanderbilt?
That old man hadn't set foot in any building owned by the Argyle Family for two whole years, ever since he suffered a secret loss during the battle for the Erie Railroad.
Why did he suddenly run over to the Empire Bank Building today?
A glimmer of realization welled up in Felix's heart.
At this critical juncture, just after the political poisoning incident.
This old fox's sudden visit was definitely not for the sake of having afternoon tea.
"Ask him to come up."
Felix's eyes were dark and unreadable.
"Bring him directly to this office. Give orders that no one is to be disturbed."
About five minutes later.
The oak door of the office was slowly pushed open.
Cornelius Vanderbilt walked in.
He brought no entourage, nor was he wearing the kind of custom tailcoat that fit the Wall Street aesthetic. He was still wearing that slightly worn-out wool cardigan, leaning on an extremely thick walnut cane.
Time had indeed left heavy marks on him; his back was slightly hunched, and the wrinkles on his face were very deep.
But those eyes, deep in their sockets, were still like vultures circling over the wilderness, exuding an extremely fierce and inviolable aura of a rough-hewn pioneer.
Felix did not sit in his leather chair to put on airs; that was a posture reserved for subordinates or the weak.
Facing this first-generation tycoon who had truly fought his way out of the mud and blood of America, Felix gave him absolute respect.
He strode around the desk, walked to the sofa in the reception area, and took the initiative to extend his hand to this old tyrant.
"Cornelius, I really didn't expect you to arrive suddenly. This has made my office feel much more historic." Felix's tone was very polite, but his posture remained as upright as a pine.
The old Commodore looked at Felix's extended hand, reached out his own large, calloused hand, and shook Felix's firmly.
Then, he used those sharp eyes to look Felix up and down for a full five seconds, as if re-evaluating this young man who had overturned the entire East Coast business landscape in just a few short years.
"Spare me these hypocritical pleasantries, Argyle." Cornelius's voice was as coarse as sandpaper rubbing together.
"If you truly felt that way, you wouldn't have been hiding in the shadows during the battle for the Erie Railroad, causing me to lose millions of dollars and end up with nothing."
Felix was not angry in the face of this extremely crude opening.
Instead, he laughed.
This was the real Cornelius Vanderbilt.
"That was purely business, old Commodore."
Felix let go of his hand and pointed to the leather sofa opposite.
"In the business world, there are only ledgers, no seniority. Please sit. What would you like to drink? I have the best whiskey from Scotland here, as well as some top-grade black tea that just arrived."
"Plain water will do; my stomach can no longer handle the turmoil of those strong spirits."
Cornelius sat down on the sofa, placing his cane horizontally across his knees.
He watched as Felix walked over to the liquor cabinet nearby to pour some water.
"Your office is built quite impressively, much better than my dilapidated study at Washington Square."
The old man looked around at the extremely luxurious furnishings, his tone carrying a hint of imperceptible emotion.
Felix placed the plain water on the coffee table and sat down on the sofa opposite.
"Cut it out. I don't think you came here today to tour the office, nor to settle old scores with me over the Erie Railroad." Felix cut straight to the point.
"Speak, Cornelius. What wind from the East Coast blew you onto my turf?"
The old Commodore picked up the water glass and took a sip, not replying immediately.
He seemed to be organizing his words, or perhaps making some extremely difficult psychological preparation.
After a while, he replied to Felix.
"Two days ago, an uninvited guest from Europe visited my home."
Cornelius stated the reason immediately upon opening his mouth.
"His name is Jan Vanderbilt, and he counts as a distant relative of ours from Amsterdam in the Netherlands. A so-called noble relative who hasn't corresponded with us in nearly a century."
The corners of Felix's mouth began to lift.
He knew the name Jan Vanderbilt.
The intelligence network in Europe had once reported that he was one of the core members of that European syndicate alliance that Old Morgan had recruited in London.
All the inferences and intuitions in his mind just now regarding Old Morgan orchestrating the political poisoning behind the scenes were, at this moment, definitively confirmed by this old man's words.
What made him even happier was that the other party had told him.
"What did he come to do?"
Felix asked calmly, leaning forward slightly.
"Hmph~ What else could he do?"
Cornelius let out a sneer full of sarcasm.
"He ran over to tell my son that their steel and pharmaceutical layouts in America had been beaten by you like a child. Their pounds were continuously flowing out of Philadelphia."
The old Commodore stared at Felix.
"So, he came to invite our American Vanderbilt Family to join their bullshit syndicate alliance. They provide the capital, and they want us to provide local transportation channels and political influence from the shadows. They promised that as long as we can pull you down from your throne, they would divide your railway companies and shipyards among us."
Hearing this, a chilling coldness flashed in the depths of Felix's eyes.
As expected.
Old Morgan was not only poisoning the political waters in Washington, but he also wanted to rope in the largest local old power to sandwich him commercially.
If the Vanderbilt Family had really agreed to this alliance, using their absolute control over the New York Central Railroad and shipping to break the blockade, then Old Morgan and the others would have had room to maneuver.
"But it looks like you didn't agree?"
Felix looked at the old Commodore, his tone becoming teasing.
"If I had agreed to him, I wouldn't be sitting here drinking your plain water right now."
Cornelius rolled his eyes unceremoniously and retorted.
The old man leaned back against the sofa and sighed.
"That bastard named Jan is a master of sowing discord. He scared the hell out of that idiot Billy. He told Billy that you are only twenty-nine years old. He said when I die, your Argyle Family will sooner or later swallow the Vanderbilt Family whole. That good-for-nothing Billy actually ran over to ask me if we should join forces with the Europeans to take you out."
Felix was silent.
This old man was testing him, or rather, setting conditions.
He knew that Jan Vanderbilt's words were actually a prediction of the future.
Because on the road of capital expansion, there is no room for sentimentality.
"Since you are worried, then why did you refuse?"
Facing Felix's question, Cornelius looked at the mist outside the window, a sorrow belonging to a twilight hero flowing in the depths of his eyes.
"Because I am old."
Although the old man's voice was hoarse, it was extremely sincere.
"I am seventy-seven years old this year. My heart reminds me every day that I don't have many days left to command the wind and rain on this continent. When I was young, I could use my fists to beat those who competed with me for business into the Hudson River. But now, I can't even drink a sip of strong liquor..."
Cornelius Vanderbilt turned his head and looked at Felix's face, which was full of vitality and ambition.
"I know my son's ability very well. Bill is a person who maintains the status quo; he lacks the courage to expand the family's influence in a sea of blood. If he were to agree to the Europeans' alliance and go to war with a little bastard like you."
The old Commodore tightened his grip on his cane.
"Even if we could win, even if Old Morgan's pounds could crush you to death, the day the battle ends, Bill would absolutely not be able to control those European vampires. The foundation that the Vanderbilt Family worked so hard to build would definitely be carved up clean by them in the name of spoils of war."
"And if we lose, you would turn the New York Central Railroad into a pile of scrap metal before I even close my eyes. You would even make it so my family couldn't afford a decent funeral."
Speaking up to this point, the old man's gaze became sharp.
"I will not take the fate of my family and use it as cannon fodder for those European relatives I haven't contacted in a hundred years. I came to find you to make this matter clear."
Felix listened quietly to the frank analysis from this former shipping and railroad overlord of America.
One has to admit, although Cornelius Vanderbilt was old, his brain was still one of the clearest on this continent.
He had not been blinded by false interests.
What the other party cared about most was the continuation of the family.
"I am very grateful for your candor, Cornelius."
Felix nodded, a hint of respect added to his tone.
"Heh... if Old Morgan knew that the lobbyist he sent not only failed to win you over but instead exposed all his trump cards to me, he might just have a stroke right in front of his fireplace in London."
Felix stood up, walked to the desk, took out a box of top-tier Cuban cigars, pulled one out, and handed it to the old Commodore.
"Would you like one? This won't hurt your stomach."
This time, Cornelius did not refuse.
He took the cigar and watched as Felix struck a match for him.
The old man took a deep puff and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
"I didn't come here today to betray Old Morgan to curry favor with you, Argyle. You know, I don't need to curry favor with anyone."
Cornelius Vanderbilt held the cigar, looked straight into Felix's eyes, and threw out the real purpose of coming here alone today.
"I showed you the Europeans' trump cards because I want to make a deal with you."
"A deal that transcends life and death."
Felix sat down on the sofa opposite him, fingers interlaced.
"Go ahead, I'm listening carefully."
The old Commodore's gaze became extremely solemn.
"I don't have many years left to live. After I die, Bill will take over the entire Vanderbilt Family. He does not have the ability to contend with you."
"I want you to give a promise, or rather, a guarantee."
Cornelius Vanderbilt leaned forward.
"As long as the Vanderbilt Family does not take the initiative to provoke the Argyle Family, as long as the New York Central Railroad does not cooperate with anyone to blockade your transport lines, and as long as we maintain absolute neutrality in your acquisition cases and political lobbying."
The old man's eyes were locked firmly on Felix.
"You must guarantee that the Argyle Family will absolutely not use funds and power to maliciously target, annex, or dismantle the core assets of the Vanderbilt Family. You must let the Vanderbilt Family be wealthy gentlemen of leisure in New York."
This was a truce agreement.
A dying king, pleading to another newly risen monarch for his descendants.
Felix did not immediately agree after hearing this condition.
His brain was rapidly calculating the gains and losses of this deal.
From the perspective of commercial expansion, not annexing the Vanderbilt Family meant that the Argyle's Empire would always be missing a piece of the puzzle on the East Coast railroad map.
One must know, the profits of the New York Central Railroad were extremely lucrative.
However...
Looking at the big picture, Old Morgan's political poisoning had already caused President Ulysses S. Grant to develop murderous intent.
That blade from Washington could fall at any moment.
At this critical juncture, if he were to start a Civil War just to annex the Vanderbilt Family in the future.
That would play right into Old Morgan's hands.
Conversely, if he agreed to this condition.
This extremely massive local old force, the Vanderbilt Family, would completely withdraw from this strangulation war and become a neutral buffer zone.
He would be able to free up all his energy and funds to ruthlessly wipe out Old Morgan's remaining forces in America without any worries, and deal with the upcoming political storm from Washington.
As well as planning a counterattack against London.
This was an extremely cost-effective deal.
Furthermore, even if he didn't actively annex them, with Bill's mediocre ability, in a few decades, that family would naturally decline in the tides of history.
Felix raised his head, meeting the old Commodore's eyes.
His expression became extremely serious, without any of a businessman's slickness or calculations, only the purest spirit of contract between men.
"I promise you, Cornelius."
Felix's voice was low and powerful.
"As long as the Vanderbilt Family does not make any hostile moves against the Argyle Family and maintains the neutrality you spoke of in the coming storm."
"I, Felix Argyle, hereby give you my word. The blade of the Argyle Family will never be swung against the family crest of the Vanderbilt Family. The New York Central Railroad can forever run on its established tracks."
Felix stood up and extended his right hand to the old man once again.
"This is my promise to you; it does not need to be written on paper. As long as I am alive, it will always be valid."
Cornelius Vanderbilt looked at the young man in front of him.
He knew Felix was a ruthless wolf, a bastard who would crush everything for the sake of profit.
But he also knew that in this era of savage growth, for oligarchs at Felix's level, arrogance would not allow them to lie about oral promises involving family honor.
The old Commodore slowly stood up.
His movements were somewhat slow, but his spine was still held straight with effort.
He extended that rough hand and clasped it tightly with Felix's.
This handshake was much firmer than the previous one.
This represented the handover of power between the new and old generations of American tycoons, and it also meant that a Civil War that should have been a bloodbath had vanished into nothingness at this moment.
"Good, the deal is done."
Cornelius Vanderbilt let go, picked up his thick walnut cane.
He turned around and walked toward the office door.
When he reached the door, the old Commodore stopped.
He did not look back.
He looked at the dim lights in the hallway outside the door, his mind recalling the years when he fought on the Hudson River in his youth.
That era had ended.
Now, it was the era belonging to these young people who wore tailcoats and played with finance and electricity.
The old man let out an extremely complex sigh.
"I trust you."
Cornelius Vanderbilt's hoarse voice echoed in the office.
"Even though you are a black-hearted and ruthless little bastard."
The old Commodore opened the oak door.
"But you have honor!"
The oak door closed slowly behind Cornelius Vanderbilt.
Felix remained standing where he was.
He watched the tightly shut door, ruminating on the words the stubborn old man had left behind before he departed.
The corners of his mouth couldn't help but turn up, revealing a smile that was helpless yet carried a hint of relief.
This kind of trust between men is sometimes just that straightforward, simple, and even a bit crude.
There were no lawyers present, no lengthy contract documents, and not even a single witness.
It was merely the meeting of two pairs of eyes, coupled with a few promises that sounded like a street fight. But between oligarchs of their level, that was enough.
Felix slowly walked back behind his desk and sank his body into the large leather chair.
He truly did not intend to target the Vanderbilt Family anymore. This was not just to keep a promise to a dying old man, but also out of his own business logic.
You have to know, what is the most valuable asset currently in the hands of the Vanderbilt Family? Without a doubt, it is the New York Central Railroad.
That golden line which stretches along the Hudson River and controls the freight lifeline of the entire New York State.
"But for me, this is no longer a necessity."
Felix crossed his hands and placed them on his abdomen, surveying his massive business empire in his mind.
He currently held the Pennsylvania Railroad, the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company, the Erie Railroad, and the Union Pacific Railroad Company, which was crazily extending toward the West.
These four railway giants, if pulled out individually, were not much inferior to the New York Central Railroad in terms of scale and transport capacity.
Felix's gaze became extremely profound.
He did not need to spend huge costs to annex the New York Central Railroad.
The strategy going forward was to completely integrate the four companies in his hands.
Unify the dispatching systems and locomotive standards, and connect the East Coast, the Great Lakes Region, and the vast West into a closed-loop steel network.
Once the integration was complete, the Argyle Family's railway network would be the undisputed absolute hegemon of America.
The Vanderbilt Family's few lines would ultimately only become a supplement at the edge of this great network, unable to stir up any waves at all.
Therefore, letting the Vanderbilt Family go and letting them exist as a neutral buffer zone was all benefit and no harm for the Argyle Family.
"It seems the old domestic powers have been stabilized. Next, it is time to thoroughly deal with the filth right in front of me."
Felix's eyes instantly turned cold; that aura of gentleness from just a moment ago vanished completely, replaced by decisiveness.
Those tentacles that Old Morgan had extended into America, although already beaten until they were dripping with blood, could jump up and bite at any moment as long as they hadn't completely breathed their last.
The Federal Steel Company and those two generic drug factories in Boston and New Jersey—these were Old Morgan's bridgeheads in America.
Since Old Morgan didn't want to play business properly with him anymore, then he didn't need to keep playing either.
"I have lost the patience to play any more of that 'boiling the frog in warm water' business game with that idiot, Cavendish."
Felix sat up straight, reached out, and pressed the electric bell on the desktop that connected directly to the Intelligence Department.
"Hello, Timmy. Come to my office for a moment."
A few minutes later, the office door was pushed open, and the head of the Intelligence Department, Timmy, walked in quietly.
"Boss, you were looking for me."
Timmy walked to the front of the desk and bowed his head slightly.
Felix didn't waste words and directly issued the order.
"Timmy, have your men stop the daily surveillance on those few European agents. Focus all your energy on the various branch factories of the Federal Steel Company, as well as those two drug factories in Boston and New Jersey."
"Old Morgan is extending his reach further and further; commercial containment is too slow. I want you to arrange personnel and find the most suitable opportunity to thoroughly disrupt these companies for me."
Timmy raised his head, and a dangerous glint flashed in his emotionless eyes.
"Boss, do you mean… paralysis on a physical level?"
"That's right." Felix nodded coldly.
"Didn't Cavendish spend a huge sum of money to buy new converters from Europe? Aren't those two drug factories buying raw materials at high prices on the black market? I don't care what means you use."
Felix stared at Timmy.
"Bribe the remaining moles inside, or send people to sneak into the factories at night—it doesn't matter. Add something that shouldn't be there into their boilers, or stuff a few iron bars into their steam engine gears. Or create some extremely 'natural' fire hazards in the raw material warehouses of the drug factories."
"Decide for yourself how to carry out the process; I won't ask and I don't want to know the details. I only care about the results."
Felix tapped his fingers heavily on the desktop.
"I want these three companies completely unable to operate! I want every machine that Old Morgan has in America to become a pile of silent scrap metal!"
Timmy nodded immediately, without any hesitation.
Doing this kind of dirty work that couldn't see the light of day was, after all, one of the original purposes for the founding of the Intelligence Department.
"Understood, Boss. I will have my people do it cleanly. I guarantee it will look just like an industrial accident caused by the operational errors of new workers, and it will never be traced back to us. At most three days, and I guarantee the mission will be completed."
After receiving the order, Timmy turned to leave.
"Don't rush."
"This is just the first step."
Felix stood up and walked to the map of North America in his office, but his gaze crossed the Atlantic Ocean, looking toward the European continent that wasn't drawn on the edge of the map.
"Old Morgan is like a rat hiding in a sewer. If we cut off his limbs in America today, tomorrow, as long as he raises new pounds in London, he can still find a few new agents to start over. I've grown tired of this defensive counter-attack game, and the readers are tired of it too."
Felix turned around and looked at Timmy.
"We must immediately launch an offensive against the Morgan Family's core assets in London. Only by setting a fire in their home base will they know that reaching their hands into my territory comes with a price that will leave them without descendants."
Timmy frowned.
"But Boss, our intelligence network in Europe is currently mainly focused on gathering information. If we were to launch a substantive attack on the Morgan bank's London headquarters, we have no capital advantage there, nor do we have a local political umbrella. If we are too conspicuous in London, we might face a joint backlash from the British government and the City of London. That is their home turf, after all."
"I know." Felix walked back to his desk.
"The Argyle Family certainly cannot march into London waving the Stars and Stripes; the British people's national pride and xenophobia are famous. We cannot be the bird that sticks its head out."
A look of extremely deep calculation flickered in Felix's eyes.
"So we must find a perfect agent. Find a financial family that is deeply rooted in Britain, has capital in hand, and has long disliked Old Morgan to join forces with. We will provide intelligence and some resources, and let them go to the front to charge into battle."
"Find a local family to join forces with?" Timmy pondered for a moment.
"The London branch of the Rothschild Family? Or Baring Brothers Bank?"
"Both are possibilities, but I need to evaluate them carefully."
Felix rubbed his chin; these two could barely be considered his business allies in Europe.
"Remember to send a top-secret telegram to 'Echo', and tell him to temporarily put aside all that business with the House of Bourbon. Compile detailed information on all large financial groups in the City of London that are hostile to the Morgan Family and get it to me within a week. This includes their capital chains, their relationships with Downing Street, and internal family conflicts."
The corners of Felix's mouth curled into a cold sneer.
"The enemy of an enemy is a hound we can utilize. As long as the bone is fragrant enough, there will always be Brits willing to help us bite through Morgan's throat."
"Yes, I will contact him immediately."