New York, Williams Food Company office.
In Allen's hand was a telegram Catherine had sent from Washington.
The paper detailed the entire process of the meeting with Senator Clark and the weighty promise ultimately received.
Miller and Jones stood by, waiting solemnly.
"Sir, have we succeeded on the Washington front?" Jones couldn't help but ask.
"We can only say that we have successfully fired a shell into the enemy's headquarters," Allen said, folding the letter with a playful tone.
"But when this shell will explode, and in what way, are still unknowns. The real victory or defeat still depends on New York."
He turned his gaze to Miller: "Miller, any movement from Lieutenant Carter?"
"Not yet, sir," Miller shook his head.
"He is a very cautious man. I think he must be waiting for a foolproof opportunity."
However, no sooner had Miller finished speaking than a security guard hurried in, knocking on the door.
"Supervisor Miller, someone claiming to be Lieutenant Carter's messenger has delivered an urgent letter at the factory entrance."
It was a plain, unmarked envelope.
Allen tore open the letter; inside was only a small note, the handwriting scrawled and hurried:
"The kitchen is no longer viable. Hudson has tightened security, and the head chef dares not act. The plan is stalled; find a new route quickly."
These few short lines were like a stone thrown into a previously calm lake.
"How can this be?" Jones exclaimed, somewhat losing his voice, "The plan... failed?"
"No, this is not a failure."
Allen's expression, after a fleeting moment of surprise, quickly returned to calm, even... with a hint of sudden realization.
He looked at the note and muttered to himself in a low voice.
"Interesting. This Colonel Hudson is more cunning than I imagined; he's not a stupid fat pig."
"Sir, what do we do now?"
Miller's face also showed concern.
"Lieutenant Carter's line is the most critical link in our entire plan. If he cannot deliver the 'Gold Label' canned goods to General Reed, all our subsequent designs will be meaningless."
"Then create a new opportunity."
Allen's fingers tapped lightly on the table, his brain working at high speed.
He walked to the map on the wall.
It wasn't a map of New York City, but a detailed architectural plan of the Governors Island military base, which he had bought for a large sum from a retired engineer.
Allen's gaze quickly scanned the map.
"Since the enemy has blocked the main entrance, we will find a new, unexpected entrance for our canned goods."
His finger finally landed on an inconspicuous area on the map, marked—"Officers' Club Reading Room."
"Miller."
"Here, sir."
"What kind of person did your intelligence say General Reed is?"
"A tough soldier, strict in governing his troops, and hates corruption. Besides that..." Miller recalled.
"He is also a fervent admirer of Roman history. It is said that his favorite place to spend his leisure time is the Officers' Club Reading Room. He can spend an entire afternoon there reading 'Commentaries on the Gallic War' by himself."
"An old general who loves to read Caesar's war commentaries..."
A new, bolder smile appeared on Allen's lips.
"Very good. A follower of Caesar should receive a tribute from 'Rome.' We have a new plan."
He turned around and looked at his two subordinates.
"Jones."
"Here, sir!"
"I need you to immediately make a donation in the name of our company."
"A donation?"
"Yes. In wartime, it is natural for patriotic businessmen to donate supplies to the army. But we are not donating canned goods, nor money."
A cunning glint sparkled in Allen's eyes.
"Go to the best bookstore in the city and find a set of 'Commentaries on the Gallic War' with the most exquisite packaging, the finest printing, and preferably with a leather cover. Then, in the company's name, donate this set of books to the 'Governors Island Officers' Club Reading Room' to enrich the spiritual life of the officers on the front line."
"Donating books?"
Jones and Miller were both stunned, completely unable to follow Allen's train of thought.
"Of course, the books are just a medium," Allen continued. "When donating this set of books, you must 'casually' make an additional, small request to the reading room administrator."
"Just say that Williams Food Company, in order to show its respect for the generals, has specially included with the books an exclusive sample of our latest developed product, specifically for 'senior officers' to taste.
This sample does not need to be inventoried or registered; we just hope it can be placed in a quiet corner of the reading room. If any officer feels hungry during reading, he can take it at any time to replenish his energy."
This exclusive sample was, of course, the "Premium Gold Label" that Allen had kept in New York for contingencies.
"At the same time, you must immediately inform Lieutenant Carter of our new plan, to abandon the kitchen route, and have him find a way to invite General Reed to the Officers' Club Reading Room on Friday. I believe, with his intelligence, he should know what to do."
A plan more ingenious and daring than the previous kitchen plan was spoken by Allen.
"Sir..."
Miller looked at Allen, his eyes filled with an expression of disbelief.
"You... you are fishing. And, you are using a book by Caesar to fish for a general who admires Caesar."
"You could say that."
Allen smiled; there was nothing wrong with that.
"Moreover, I believe that when General Reed is in the reading room, reading about how Caesar conquered Gaul, and 'accidentally' discovers and tastes a delicious military ration that could change his army's logistics, that dramatic impact..."
"Will be a hundred times stronger than at any dining table."
The atmosphere in the office once again became lively.
The gloom caused by the stalled plan was swept away by this bolder, more imaginative Plan B.
"Go," Allen waved his hand.
"Let our old fox, Colonel Hudson, see how interesting this game will become."
He picked up a blank telegram paper and began to write new instructions for Catherine, who was far away in Washington.
"New York plan changed, alternative adopted. Your mission in Washington enters the second phase. I need you to use your current identity to collect as much information as possible about Senator Clark, including his preferences, political enemies, and family, then return to New York."
That evening, an inconspicuous carriage delivered a beautifully packaged set of "Commentaries on the Gallic War" and a case of "Premium Gold Label" canned goods, disguised as "gifts," to Governors Island.