In the last twelve hours before the train departed, Allen gathered all his department heads for his final confirmation meeting before his departure.
Present were Catherine, Miller, and Jones, as well as Bill, the General Manager of Metropolitan Meat United Company, attending his first company meeting.
"Alright, everyone."
Allen's clap echoed clearly in the smoke-filled office.
"I am about to head to Chicago. During my absence, which could be a few weeks or several months, this home in New York will be entirely in your hands."
His gaze first fell on Catherine.
"Catherine, from the moment I board the train, you will be Williams Food Company's highest executive in the New York area. All departments will report to you, and then you will send telegrams to Chicago. Your primary task is to ensure the company's financial stability, keep a close eye on the purse strings, and, aside from necessary production expenses, suspend all new expansion plans."
"Understood, sir."
Catherine nodded, her reply crisp and concise. As the head of office administration, this was something she had long anticipated.
"Secondly, stabilize our civilian market."
"Mr. Tilford's side is our core profit, and the priority supply of the 'Gold Standard' series must be guaranteed. Our old friends in the Bowery District also cannot be neglected. Do not participate in any price wars; uphold the value of our brand. Our foundation must not be disrupted."
"I understand."
Allen's gaze turned to Production Supervisor Jones.
"Jones, your task is the most arduous. I don't care what method you use, whether it's incentives or bonuses, the production schedule for the military contract absolutely cannot have any delays.
This is our lifeline and the cornerstone of all our future plans.
If raw materials run short, I authorize you to cut civilian orders immediately to prioritize military supplies."
"Sir, rest assured, unless I am dead, there will definitely be no problems with the factory's production."
Jones stood up, looking at Allen as if receiving a military order.
"Very good."
Allen's gaze shifted to Bill.
"Bill."
"Here, tell me, Allen," Bill replied gruffly.
"You'll still operate as we discussed before."
A slight smile appeared on Allen's lips.
"Remember! You must first string them along, make them think we're on our last legs and about to compromise with them."
Bill's expression was a bit troubled; acting was difficult for him.
"Allen, how about we try another method? I... I can't act!"
Sighing, Allen pinched his temples.
Why was Bill so stubborn?
"Bill, if you can't, then just continue to compete with them for those scattered goods as usual, but just don't take them in the end."
Bill rolled his eyes. "Come on, Allen, what if I make an offer and they don't follow? Do I still want it?"
"Of course not!"
"What if the other party doesn't want it either?"
Allen clicked his tongue, a little helpless. Why couldn't he be more flexible?
"Then you can just go find the seller afterwards and buy it at the usual price! If you do that a few times, the other party will definitely buy it, and then you can just pretend to be furious every time, isn't that okay?"
After finally convincing Bill, Allen was truly speechless.
He was perfectly fine when talking to those ranch owners; why was acting so difficult?
Shaking the complaints from his mind, Allen finally looked at Miller.
"Sergeant. While I'm not at the store, the company's security is entirely up to you. Those wholesalers might use some... unconventional tactics. I don't want our factory, or any of our supervisors or employees, to be harassed."
"Sir," Miller's reply was like bedrock, "as long as there's one Spartan Security guard standing, your business will be absolutely safe."
After the meeting, everyone dispersed to prepare to execute their orders.
Only Catherine remained.
"Sir," she poured Allen a glass of water.
"Chicago... it's not like New York. I hear it's more chaotic, and more... savage."
"I know."
Allen looked at her, a hint of softness in his eyes.
"People there don't believe in contracts, only in strength. So I plan to bring Flynn and O'Malley, and also cash that can make anyone trustworthy."
He took a sealed kraft paper envelope from the safe and handed it to Catherine.
"What is this?"
"An emergency plan."
"Don't open it now. Only if I have an accident and can't return, or if the company faces a life-or-death crisis that you absolutely cannot resolve, then you open it. Understand, Catherine?"
Catherine took the envelope, feeling her hands tremble slightly.
"Sir..." Her voice was a little choked, "May the Lord bless you; you will surely return safely."
"Of course." Allen smiled. "I still have many things to come back and complete with you all."
On the morning of his departure, at New York Central Station.
Allen carried a simple briefcase, followed by two silent and capable guards.
Catherine, Miller, Jones, and Bill all came to see him off.
There were no overly sentimental goodbyes, only unspoken understanding in their eyes.
"Guard the home, everyone."
Allen said his last words before stepping onto the train.
"Sir, rest assured."
Miller replied on behalf of everyone.
The train's whistle let out a long, hoarse shriek.
The wheels slowly began to turn.
Allen looked out the window at the city he had transformed from nothing to a force to be reckoned with in just under a year.
He remembered the seventy-five dollars in his pocket when he first arrived in this era.
And now, Catherine had just completed an asset valuation for him.
Williams Food Company, along with its controlled Metropolitan Meat United Company, had total assets, including actual assets, cash flow, and the value of signed contracts, exceeding an astonishing one hundred thousand dollars.
This was real total assets, not market value.
From seventy-five dollars to one hundred thousand dollars, he had only taken one year.
And the company was still continuously generating profits.
The train began to accelerate, slowly leaving the familiar New York skyline behind.
Allen's gaze passed through the train window, looking towards the vast western horizon, full of the unknown and opportunity.