On the platform of the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad Station, the white steam gradually dissipated.
Felix's steps toward the exit halted because Anna and the child hadn't followed.
He looked back in confusion at Anna Clark and the little boy hiding behind her skirt, staring at him with dark eyes.
"To The White House. We're going now."
Felix repeated his decision, his tone firm.
Anna stepped forward two paces helplessly.
She reached out and lightly pressed her hand against the sleeve of Felix's overcoat.
"Felix, don't be in such a hurry. Ulysses is hosting a diplomatic dinner in the East Room tonight for the ministers of the New French Government."
Anna's voice was soft, but her logic was clear.
"If you go now, you'll just be waiting for him in the corridors of the Blue Room. It would make you look like a petitioner desperate for an audience. That doesn't fit the arrogance you showed him in your telegrams, nor our status as allies."
Felix's brow furrowed slightly.
"Let him sweat a little at the dinner table first, Felix. Leave him hanging tonight."
Anna withdrew her hand and pointed to the four-wheeled black carriage parked outside the platform, bearing the Clark Family crest.
"My father is waiting for you in the study at the manor; he turned down an important Senate reception. Besides, the night wind in Washington is cold. Caesar hasn't had dinner yet."
Felix glanced at the little boy named Caesar.
The child pulled his neck in and indeed shivered.
The aggression in Felix's eyes slowly receded.
He then turned to give instructions to Frost, Timmy, and the others following behind him.
"You two go to the Willard Hotel and get a room to set up a temporary telegraph point. Keep the private line to New York open. Any news is to be delivered to the Clark Manor immediately."
"Yes, Boss."
The two of them, carrying briefcases and accompanied by several security guards, quickly blended into the crowd at the train station.
Felix turned his head to look at Anna.
"Let's go. To your father's."
The carriage door closed.
The interior of the carriage was lined with velvet, with a small brass charcoal heater fixed in the corner.
The wheels rolled over the cobblestones of Pennsylvania Avenue, making a rhythmic grinding sound.
It was quiet inside the carriage.
Anna sat on the left, and Felix sat on the right.
Little Caesar sat on the leather seat between them, his short legs dangling in the air.
Caesar's eyes never left Felix.
He stared at the solid gold tie clip on Felix's collar, then looked at the slender hands resting on his knees.
Felix felt somewhat uneasy under such direct scrutiny.
He was used to the evasive and calculating gazes of Wall Street; except for his manor on Long Island, he rarely faced such pure scrutiny.
Suddenly, he reached into the inner pocket of his overcoat.
"Here, take this."
Felix pulled out a small box wrapped in dark blue velvet and handed it to Caesar.
Caesar didn't take it immediately; instead, he turned to look at his mother.
Seeing Anna nod slightly.
The little boy reached out with his chubby hands to take the box and clumsily pried open the brass latch.
Inside the box lay an extremely exquisite mechanical pocket watch.
The case wasn't ordinary gold but was crafted from a rare matte iridium.
There were no hands on the dial; instead, there was an incredibly complex set of miniature gears. Above the gears, there was a miniature steam train carved from sterling silver.
Felix reached out and turned the winding stem on the side of the pocket watch twice, then pressed a button.
"Tick-tock, tick-tock."
The mechanical sound began.
The little silver train on the dial began to move slowly along the miniature tracks at the edge, with even the connecting rods of the wheels moving in a highly realistic manner.
Caesar's eyes widened instantly.
"Wow~"
He opened his mouth and let out a gasp of wonder.
"This was handmade by an old watchmaker in Geneva, Switzerland."
Felix watched his godson fiddle with the pocket watch, his tone softening slightly with a hint of tenderness.
"The casing is shockproof, and the gears inside are made of a special alloy developed in the Lex Steel Laboratory. Every time the train completes a lap, it means one minute has passed."
"Train..."
Caesar extended a stubby finger and cautiously touched the moving silver locomotive.
He looked up, his dark eyes staring directly at Felix.
"Are you my Mistah Argyleh?"
The little boy's pronunciation was a bit muddled, but the question was very direct.
Felix's back stiffened slightly against the seat.
He glanced at Anna beside him. Anna was looking out the window at the passing streetscape, seemingly not having heard the question.
Felix returned his gaze to Caesar's face.
"Yes, that's right little guy, I'm your godfather."
Felix answered bluntly, without using any qualifiers.
Caesar knitted his small brows.
"Mama says you're very rich and buy me horses and toys. But you don't come visit us often?"
The question echoed in the narrow carriage.
Felix felt as if something had lightly thumped against his chest.
It was an extremely unfamiliar sensation.
In the business world, he could sign off on bank run orders worth tens of millions of dollars without batting an eye, and coldly watch his opponents go bankrupt and jump off buildings.
But when faced with the questioning of a two-year-old child, his impeccable logic seemed to fail him.
Felix felt a trace of genuine guilt, which made him somewhat irritable.
"After all, my name isn't Smith; it's Felix Argyle."
Felix sat up straight, his hands crossed over his knees.
He looked into the eyes of this godson, trying to explain in an adult way.
"I do business in New York, Caesar. Very big business. There are tens of thousands of workers there counting on me for their wages. There are hundreds of railroads waiting for my steel rails to be laid. I have to handle many telegrams and sign many papers every day."
Felix paused.
"If I spent every evening playing catch with you in the yard, then by tomorrow morning, the bread you eat in Washington, the clothes you wear, and even this pocket watch in your hand could become someone else's."
Caesar looked at him, only half-understanding.
"Is business like war? Like those bronze statues on horseback in the squares outside?"
"Crueler than war," Felix's voice grew low.
"On the battlefield, enemies shoot at you with bullets. In the business world, they use paper notes and contracts to steal everything from you. I must stay in my building every day to protect what I've won. This is also to protect your life and your future."
Caesar lowered his head, looking at the little silver train still moving in his hand.
"Then... how long will you stay in Washington this time?" Caesar asked somewhat cautiously.
"...Probably... I'll leave as soon as things are settled," Felix replied with a touch of silence.
The carriage fell silent again, save for the faint ticking of the pocket watch.
Anna turned her head to look at Felix.
"You're explaining things too complexly to a two-year-old," she said, her voice tinged with helplessness.
"He'll have to understand these things sooner or later. The earlier he understands, the less likely he is to lose at the gambling table later on." Felix cast his gaze out the window.
The carriage turned a corner.
Ahead appeared a grand building surrounded by tall oaks; it was the Clark Family's main residence in Washington D.C.
The two gas wall lamps in front of the main gate emitted a dim yellow light, and two servants were already waiting on the steps.
Several carriages came to a slow stop.
Felix pushed open the carriage door and stepped onto the bluestone pavement.
A cold wind blew past, and he tightened the collar of his overcoat.
He turned and reached out to help Anna down from the carriage first, then used one arm to lift little Caesar, who was clutching the pocket watch, and set him steadily on the ground.
"Let's go inside."
Felix looked at the manor before him, which was steeped in political atmosphere.
"Let's see what fine wine Thomas has prepared."
In the living room on the first floor of the Clark manor, a fire was burning brightly in the oak fireplace.
Felix took off his coat, handed it to a servant, and followed Anna straight up to the second floor.
At the end of the second floor was Thomas Clark's private study.
This study was even more spacious than Felix's office in the Empire State Building, its walls lined with signed letters from past presidents and copies of various bills.
It was clear that the vice president's study was a hidden center for the real exchange of power in Washington.
Anna pushed the door open.
"Father, Felix is here," Anna said, turning toward the hallway. "I'll go to the kitchen to arrange dinner. You two talk."
The study door closed.
The vice president of the United States and President of the Senate, Thomas Clark, was sitting on a broad leather sofa, holding a glass of amber bourbon.
"Have a seat, Felix."
Thomas pointed to the armchair opposite him.
"Washington's train station is much filthier than New York's. This drink will help wash the coal dust from your throat."
Felix walked over to the sofa and sat down.
He picked up the bottle from the coffee table and poured himself half a glass.
"I heard you locked Ackerman's report in a drawer."
Felix took a sip of the whiskey, the spicy liquid burning as it flowed down his throat.
"Of course. After all, if I hadn't locked it away, you'd be facing a subpoena from the Supreme Court right now instead of me."
Thomas gave a cold snort, picked up a cigar from the table, struck a match, and lit it.
"It's clear that Ulysses is truly desperate this time. That Englishman named Cavendish has fed him some witch's potion. He even ridiculously thinks you've established an independent kingdom in New York, ready to rebel at any moment. So as you know, I had a row with him in The White House," Thomas said, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.
"But he's a stubborn bone; he won't rescind that order easily."
Felix leaned back against his chair, his fingers lightly tapping the side of the glass.
"It doesn't matter whether he rescinds it or not anymore, Thomas."
Felix's gaze became incredibly deep and hazy.
"I didn't come here to beg him to cancel the investigation. The key issue is where he stands on European capital versus domestic capital. I need to put an end to his foolish ideas as soon as possible."
Thomas looked at his young ally with some surprise.
"End them? How do you plan to end them? Please, Felix. Do you think Washington politicians are like employees in your factory? That you can just fire them whenever you want?"
"Of course not... I just treat them as counterparties in a business transaction."
Felix set down his glass and leaned forward.
"Thomas, United Trust Bank just went through a bank run in New York. You know I sent people with twelve million dollars in notes to crash their market."
Felix recounted the bloody battle that had just taken place on Wall Street in a calm tone.
Thomas's eyes widened slightly.
"Twelve million? Are you insane? Could Old Morgan's bank even withstand a run like that?"
"The result is that they held out."
A mocking, cold smile curled the corners of Felix's mouth.
"That British manager, Nathaniel, didn't even use pounds from London. Instead, he used the discount window of the Federal Sub-Treasury. He turned those scraps of paper into physical gold bars stamped with the federal eagle. That son of a bitch used American taxpayers' money to block my attack. Some of that was even the taxes I paid!"
The cigar in Thomas's hand stopped in mid-air.
As an old fox who had spent decades navigating the political arena, he instantly understood the terrifying implications behind those words.
"Boutwell opened the back door for him?" Thomas cursed through gritted teeth.
"That ungrateful bastard! He's taken so much of our money at the Treasury Department, and yet he acts as a watchdog for the British!"
"No, no, no. This wasn't Boutwell's idea alone. Without Grant's nod, he wouldn't dare hand over the keys to the national treasury to a foreign-owned bank," Felix said, leaning back.
"Old Morgan used the British Empire's cessation of underwriting railroad bonds as political intimidation to force Grant to open the discount channel. That is Grant's trump card."
Thomas stood up and paced back and forth in the study.
"Then we have a huge problem, Felix. If Old Morgan turns the United States treasury into his own private reserve, you can't win a capital war against him on Wall Street. You're using one syndicate's money to fight the nation's printing press."
"That's why I don't intend to keep fighting him with cash flow on Wall Street."
Felix's eyes locked onto Thomas.
"I need to ask a favor of you, Thomas. You are the President of the Senate, and the Senate has the power to question cabinet members."
Felix held up one finger.
"First thing tomorrow morning, immediately initiate impeachment hearing proceedings against Secretary of the Treasury George Boutwell. The charges: abuse of power and the unauthorized transfer of national financial sovereignty to foreign capital, leading to the loss of federal gold reserves."
Thomas stopped in his tracks, his face showing surprise.
"What? Impeach the Secretary of the Treasury? Felix, this will cause a political earthquake in Washington. Ulysses will also see this as a direct declaration of war. He might very well have the Department of Justice release the antitrust report regardless of the consequences, taking us down with him!"
"The earthquake has already happened; you're just still covering your ears," Felix said, refusing to back down.
"I don't just want you to start the impeachment. I want you to unite every congressman we've bought in this city and deliver a joint letter to The White House before noon tomorrow."
Felix's tone became extremely ruthless.
"The content of the letter is simple. If Grant does not completely revoke all special authorizations for United Trust Bank and publicly dismiss Boutwell by sunset tomorrow, the Republican Party will put forward a new candidate in next year's presidential primaries. We won't just cut off his funding; we'll cut off his political life. Of course... that's only if my communication with Grant doesn't go well."
Thomas sucked in a breath of cold air.
He looked at Felix sitting on the sofa.
This young man's audacity and madness had completely exceeded his expectations.
"You're cornering him, Felix," Thomas's voice was raspy.
"You're forcing Ulysses to choose between the presidency and the British. But we're clearly allies. Things can still be discussed..."
"Hmph. I'm helping Grant make the right choice. He is far too indecisive."
Felix drained his glass in one gulp, his eyes dark and unreadable.
He certainly didn't want to have a falling out with President Grant; after all, that would make future presidents wary of Argyle.
But the situation had become dangerous. If his talk with Grant tomorrow didn't work out, the Argyle Family would be in peril.
This wasn't decades later, an era where a president could have their head opened up by a bullet and life would go on.
The Civil War hadn't been over for long, and Grant had risen to the presidency as a general. If Grant were assassinated, the Argyle Family would absolutely be uprooted.
"In business, when you have enough chips to kill the opposition, never use them for negotiation—throw them directly in their face. Ulysses is a soldier; he only understands casualty figures. Tell him that if he continues to shield Old Morgan, he will become a general without an army tomorrow."
A long silence fell over the study.
Thomas walked to the desk and picked up a fountain pen.
He twirled the pen in his hand, his mind performing extremely complex political calculations.
This was indeed a risky move.
But it was also the only effective way to break the current deadlock. The alliance between the Argyle Family and the Clark Family had reached the moment where they had to bare their fangs to the highest power.
"Fine."
Thomas slammed the pen down onto the desk.
"I'll send people to contact those Senators tonight. If things don't go smoothly then..."
Just then.
There was a sudden knock on the study door, urgent and forceful.
"Who is it?" Thomas frowned.
The door was pushed open.
Frost, the secretary, was holding a copy of a telegram that had just arrived. His expression was a rare mix of excitement and panic.
"Sorry to interrupt, Mr. vice president. Boss."
Frost walked quickly to the coffee table.
"Our telegraph point at the Willard Hotel just received an urgent encrypted cable forwarded by Mr. Hayes in New York. The origin is Berlin, German Empire."
Frost handed the telegram to Felix.
"Boss, something big has happened in Europe."