In his hotel suite in Chicago, Allen was circling several key locations on a large map of the Midwest with a red pencil.
The Union Stock Yards, several major railway lines, and a name called 'Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company'.
Flynn and O'Malley had just finished their three-day intelligence gathering, bringing back a wealth of the latest information from taverns and the streets.
"Sir, the situation is basically clear."
Flynn respectfully stood before Allen, summarizing.
"The meat business in Chicago is a game of big fish eating small fish. The ranchers from the West are the owners of the cattle. But once they arrive here, they have to curry favor with processing giants like Armour and Swift. And the railways are the knives and forks in the hands of these giants."
"Charles Reeves and his railroad are indeed an anomaly."
O'Malley added from the side.
"Everyone says he is a good man, an idealistic engineer. But here, the word 'good man' usually means the same as 'fool'. His company is being toyed with by those big sharks, little by little."
Allen nodded after listening to the report.
Thinking about the intelligence that had been gathered, Allen knew that he had underestimated the situation.
Those Eastern railway giants and his old rivals in New York were in cahoots.
To make these giants abandon each other, he might even have to change his company's name.
However, there is always a way out.
In his mind, a bold plan had already taken shape.
"You've done well; go rest for a bit."
After the two left, the first thing Allen did was call for the hotel's messenger.
He wrote a carefully worded letter, inviting Harris to a banquet.
He planned to have dinner that night in the hotel's best restaurant to discuss a big business deal.
Allen's invitation quickly received a response.
Night.
In the restaurant overlooking the Chicago nightscape, Allen explained the matter to the shrewd banker.
"Mr. Harris, I need a reliable stockbroker."
Hearing this, Harris was a bit surprised; wasn't the Canning King here to buy cattle?
However, he wouldn't inquire too much about these things.
"Mr. Allen, if you're talking about a reliable stockbroker, that would be Blackwood."
After getting the name Blackwood, Allen immediately arranged a meeting for the next day.
In the office located on the street behind the stock exchange, Allen met the most legendary financial operator in Chicago.
"Hello, Mr. Williams."
Blackwood pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up, his tone calm.
"I hear you're interested in a rusty railway track?"
"I'm only interested in assets that can bring me huge profits, Mr. Blackwood," Allen said directly, "and I believe Mr. Reeves's company is such an asset."
"Perhaps," Blackwood said noncommittally, "So, how big is your appetite?"
"Very big."
Allen's answer surprised Blackwood.
"However, my eating style will be very refined. I plan to complete this acquisition by slowly boiling the frog."
He placed a New York bank draft on the table.
"Here is five thousand dollars. It's the first start-up capital for our cooperation."
Blackwood glanced at the number, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.
"Five thousand dollars? Mr. Williams, with all due respect, this amount of money won't even make a decent ripple in the stock exchange."
"This is just the first drop of water, Mr. Blackwood."
A confident smile appeared on Allen's face.
"A drop of water that won't stop."
He explained a brand new acquisition model to Chicago's top financial operator.
"My factory in New York is an incredibly profitable machine. Starting next month, on the first day of every month, I will transfer no less than five thousand dollars from New York. Your task is to use this continuous cash flow to quietly acquire shares of the 'Mississippi and Eastern Railroad' for me on the market."
"I don't pursue speed, but rather stealth and cost. I want you to be like the most patient hunter, slowly tightening the noose while the prey is completely unaware."
Blackwood was completely captivated by Allen's 'fight to support the war' plan, which was both crazy and highly logical.
"A... very interesting strategy."
He adjusted his glasses, and for the first time, a light of excitement burst forth in his eyes.
"Using New York's profits to finance the Chicago acquisition. Mr. Williams, your strategy is excellent."
"So, sir, what about my remuneration?"
"I need to hear your rules."
"My rules are very simple, Mr. Williams," Blackwood extended two fingers.
"I have two remuneration methods. The first is commission. For every stock purchase you entrust to me, I require a five percent commission on the transaction amount. This is payment for my labor and my network of channels."
"And the second?"
"The second is a success fee."
A businessman's characteristic smile appeared on Blackwood's face.
"Only when you successfully acquire the specific shares you desire will you need to pay me an additional two thousand dollars."
Allen looked at him and nodded.
This fee structure was clear and reasonable.
"Deal," he replied decisively, "I have only one request: all progress must be reported to me. I don't want any unnecessary spectators at this hunt."
"Of course, it will be as you wish, Mr. Williams."
As the long-term siege plan with Blackwood officially began, Allen immediately launched his second battlefront plan.
He needed to solve the factory's imminent raw material crisis.
He took Flynn and O'Malley, like a true Eastern capitalist, and directly stormed into the chaotic and noisy trading hall of the Union Stock Yards.
Allen ignored the middlemen trying to peddle inferior goods to him and walked directly to the Kansas Miller Ranch's trading post.
"Are you Tom? The chief trader for Miller Ranch?"
Allen looked at the capable, handlebar-mustached man in front of him and asked directly.
"That's me. And you are?"
Tom's tone was filled with the caution characteristic of Westerners.
"Let me introduce myself, Allen Williams, General Manager of Williams Food Company."
"I'm here to procure beef for the Federal Army."
The word 'army' immediately changed the atmosphere around them.
"I need cattle, right now," Allen stated his demand with a serious expression.
"Five hundred of your ranch's best beef cattle, to be loaded onto a train within three days."
"Five hundred?"
Tom was taken aback by the number and the unyielding, serious tone.
"Sir, that's no small number. And the eastbound railway is a big problem right now."
"The railway is my problem; you just need to answer if you have the goods."
"Of course, we have the goods."
"Good, the market price is eighteen dollars per head; I'll give you twenty dollars."
"Twenty dollars?!"
Tom and the others around him were surprised; he was actually a rich sucker.
"But I have one condition," Allen looked at him.
"I need Miller Ranch to suspend supplying even a single head of cattle to any wholesaler from New York starting today, until my goods safely arrive in New York."
This was an exclusive demand.
"This... this isn't according to the rules..."
Allen didn't answer him, just gave Flynn a look from behind him.
Flynn stepped forward at the signal and opened a heavy leather case.
Inside were neatly stacked ten thousand dollars in cash.
"Here is ten thousand dollars."
"Half of it is the down payment now, and the other half will be paid on the spot when you drive the five hundred cattle onto the train cars I designate. Tell me, Mr. Tom, are you willing to abide by my 'rule'?"
Tom looked at the box of cash, his throat bobbing.
"Of course, if your ranch isn't willing, then I'll just have to ask someone from the military to talk to you."
Tom immediately knew that he had no room to refuse, and someone else would take over if he did.
"I... I might need to report to Mr. Miller!" he stammered.
"Of course," Allen smiled, "Tell him by the fastest telegram that Williams Food Company is very much looking forward to establishing a long-term and pleasant cooperative relationship with Miller Ranch."
That evening, Allen received a telegram in his hotel suite.
One from Miller Ranch in Kansas.
"Mr. Williams, your generosity and strength are admirable. Five hundred cattle, guaranteed delivery within three days. Looking forward to long-term cooperation with you. — Miller."
"It seems the military's intimidating presence still has some deterrent effect."
Allen whispered to himself with a smile on his face.
He knew very well that Miller must have inquired about him and also knew that he had received an order from the military.