In the early morning, the crisp sound of knives and forks clinking against porcelain plates echoed in the dining room. Fried bacon, scrambled eggs, black bread, and a pot of freshly brewed coffee were laid out on the long dining table.
Felix sat on the right side of the table, cutting a piece of bacon with his knife and fork, then putting it into his mouth.
Thomas Clark sat at the head of the table, picked up his porcelain cup, and took a sip of unsweetened black coffee.
"Felix, how many people are you taking to see Ulysses?"
Thomas put down his coffee cup and wiped his mouth with a napkin.
"Frost and a few security guards following me will be enough. Timmy should stay at the manor to keep the telegraph lines clear."
Felix swallowed his food and picked up a piece of black bread.
Thomas nodded.
"Last night, I sent people to visit a few old friends overnight." Thomas pulled out a piece of paper from the stack of documents beside him and pushed it towards Felix.
"John Sherman of the Senate Finance Committee, James Garfield of the House Appropriations Committee. And several congressmen from swing states."
Felix glanced at the list.
"What did they say?"
"What else could they say? They only recognize dollars and votes, Felix." Thomas leaned back in his chair and shrugged.
"I told Sherman that if the Treasury Department doesn't revoke the special memorandum for United Trust Bank before noon today, the Finance Committee will initiate a special account review targeting Secretary Boutwell. All the bad debts of the Treasury Department from the past three years will be dug up. The result was pretty good... Sherman agreed. After all, his re-election campaign needs the support of friends."
Thomas tapped Garfield's name on the list with his finger.
"As for the House of Representatives... Garfield promised me that if Ulysses dared to forcefully push for an investigation into the anti-monopoly bill, the Appropriations Committee would indefinitely postpone the next annual budget for the Department of Justice. If that stubborn old Ackerman doesn't back down, his subordinates won't even get money to buy envelopes next month."
Felix took a sip of coffee.
"It's not enough, Thomas." Felix put down his cup.
"These methods can only delay, not resolve it once and for all. If Ulysses uses his presidential veto to force it through, Capitol Hill will get bogged down in arguments."
"I know, so this is a bottom-line defense." Thomas looked at Felix.
"Besides, the offensive weapon is in your hands. Did you bring that telegram from Berlin?"
Felix patted the inside pocket of his suit jacket.
"Of course, that's my trump card."
"Then listen, Felix."
Thomas lowered his voice, his tone revealing the caution of an old politician.
"Ulysses is someone who responds to gentleness but not to force. He's calling you in today because he wants to force you to give up some privileges without completely falling out. He wants to regain some initiative. If you throw the Berlin telegram in his face, it will completely enrage him. Don't flip the table easily until the very last moment."
"I'm very clear on that, but I hope Grant is too."
Felix stood up, picked up the overcoat draped over the back of his chair, and put it on. "After all, he's the one trying to find a balance between me and the British. But he forgot that balance is built on the foundation of equal strength between both sides."
Felix walked to the dining room door and stopped.
"I'm leaving. If I'm not out of The White House by twelve noon, you can have Sherman and Garfield make their move and stir up trouble in Washington."
"Then good luck, and knock some sense into that old soldier's head."
Thomas raised his coffee cup, saluting Felix.
Felix pushed the door open and walked out.
Frost stood under the manor's porch, briefcase in hand, waiting.
A black two-wheeled carriage was parked in the driveway, the coachman holding the reins.
"Boss, the telegraph line has been tested. The signal is stable." Frost stepped forward to report.
"Let's go, to Pennsylvania Avenue."
Felix stepped onto the carriage, and Frost followed him in.
The carriage drove out of the manor and merged into the morning streets of Washington.
Washington in 1871 was still under construction.
The roads were muddy, and many sections were paved with rough wooden planks. The dome of the Capitol Building was faintly visible in the distant morning mist.
Occasionally, retired soldiers in old military uniforms could be seen on the streets, as well as hurried politicians and lobbyists.
The carriage stopped in front of the North Portico of The White House.
Two guards on duty checked the pass handed over by Frost.
"Mr. Argyle, the President is waiting for you in the Oval Office. Please follow me."
A White House official stepped forward to lead the way.
Felix stepped down from the carriage.
Without bothering to look at the surrounding architecture, he followed the official directly into the white building that symbolized the highest power of America.
The corridor was carpeted in red, with guards standing on both sides.
At the staircase on the second floor, Horace Porter, the President's Chief Private Secretary, came to greet him.
"Good morning, Mr. Argyle." Porter extended his hand.
Felix did not shake hands, merely nodded slightly.
"Is he inside?" Felix asked.
"Yes, the President has canceled all his morning appointments. He has specifically set aside time to see you."
Porter withdrew his hand, looking a little awkward. He turned sideways and glanced at Frost, who was following behind.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Argyle. The President's order is that this is a private meeting. Your secretary may need to remain in the waiting room outside."
Felix turned to look at Frost.
"Wait for me here." Felix commanded.
Frost sat down on a chair in the waiting room, placing his briefcase on his lap.
Porter walked to the door of the Oval Office. He took a deep breath, grasped the brass doorknob, and pushed the door open.
"Mr. President, Mr. Felix Argyle has arrived." Porter announced loudly.
The office was filled with cigar smoke.
Ulysses S. Grant sat behind a large desk. Several documents were piled on the desktop.
He looked up at Felix as he walked in, and Porter closed the door from the outside.
Felix walked to the desk. Without waiting for Grant to speak, he directly pulled out the leather chair opposite and sat down.
"Washington's streets are still as bad as ever, Ulysses."
Felix leaned back in his chair, his voice steady.
"You should have the Treasury Department approve some money to fill the mud pits on Pennsylvania Avenue, instead of lending it to Old Morgan to settle accounts in London."
Grant put down his pen.
He stared at Felix, his eyes sharp.
"Did you come to Washington just to complain to me about the road conditions, Felix?"
Grant picked up the cigar box from the table. He didn't offer one to Felix, but took one out for himself.
"I read the telegram you sent. Your wording is extremely arrogant. You actually described the Treasury Department of the United States as your private ATM."
"Isn't it?" Felix retorted.
"The Imperial Bank's reserves in the Federal Sub-Treasury were withdrawn by Secretary Boutwell with a special charter order and given to a bank controlled by British capital. Ulysses, that's money we earned with real silver and gold in New York. You handed it over to my enemies. Do you expect me to be grateful to you in the telegram?"
Grant fell silent, striking a match to light his cigar.
"Mind your place, Felix."
Grant exhaled a puff of smoke.
"I am the President of the United States, and I must consider the balance of interests for the entire nation. Old Morgan, representing British capital, can bring funds to America for railway construction. The country cannot put all its eggs in your one basket."
"Ha… that's utter bullshit."
Felix cursed without reservation.
Grant's face instantly darkened, and he slammed his hand on the table.
"You're being presumptuous!" Grant roared, his voice low.
"This is The White House! Not your Empire State Building conference room!"
"It is precisely because this is The White House that I am sitting here reasoning with you. If this were the Empire State Building, I would have already had Stanton buy out your Treasury Department."
Felix met the enraged President's gaze directly, showing no sign of backing down.
He also leaned forward, pressing his hands on the edge of the table.
"I see it, Ulysses, you're scared. You think I'm moving too fast. The power lines laid by General Electric, the trains run by Metropolitan Trading Company, and the Vanguard Security team. These things make you feel like your presidency has become a mere formality. Perhaps you even think I control the nation's lifelines. So you want to use the British to rein me in."
Grant gritted his teeth, not denying it.
"Since you know, you should restrain yourself," Grant stared at him.
"Your expansion in the past two years has crossed the line. More than half of the railway reconstruction orders east of the Mississippi River are in the hands of your steel mills. The Southern plantations have practically become the private domain of your Southern Development Company. The telephone company is laying lines, directly erecting poles without City Hall approval. Tell me, if one day you're unhappy, can you just pull the main switch and bring half of America to a standstill?"
"What? Why would I pull the main switch?"
Felix looked at Grant as if he were an idiot.
"If I pull the main switch, who will pay my electricity bill? How will my steel and kerosene be transported if the railways are cut off?" Felix pointed at Grant.
"This is terrible! You're looking at economics with a wartime mindset. You think controlling railways means controlling supply lines. You're wrong. I control railways because the original railway owners were a bunch of idiots. They used shoddy sleepers and set absurd freight rates. Not only did they not make money, but they also dragged down the entire nation's freight efficiency."
"I drove them into bankruptcy and took over their lines. I unified dispatching and lowered freight rates. I allowed grain from the Midwest to be transported alive to the ports of New York. I made the nation's arteries truly flow. You think this is a monopoly? Fuck—this is cleaning up your mess as President!"
Grant was choked by Felix's words, unable to breathe.
However, he also knew that Felix was speaking the truth; the intervention of Metropolitan Trading Company had indeed greatly improved the efficiency of post-war reconstruction.
But… this did not change the fact of concentrated power.
"But you can't control everything," Grant stubbornly insisted.
"I've read the report from Attorney General Ackerman; you've used malicious tactics in commercial competition. You even used bank loans as a threat, forcing factories to only buy your equipment. This undermines the free market. I cannot tolerate this behavior continuing."
"Free market?" Felix scoffed.
"When Old Morgan integrated shipping, coal mines, and eight million pounds in London, then came to Wall Street to dump goods, you talk to me about a free market?"
Felix leaned back in his chair, speaking irritably.
"Old Morgan's United Trust Bank is offering interest-free loans in New York, and Carnegie's steel mills are selling below cost. They are using dumping tactics to try to crush America's domestic industry. Yet, not only do you not stop them, you even let Secretary Boutwell give them the green light. Ulysses, you are betraying the country."
"Fuck you, I'm not betraying the country!" Grant roared.
"I just need to introduce competition! Without intervention, the Argyle Family will become the sole oligarchy in this country."
"An oligarchy is better than a colony," Felix said with a very displeased tone.
After all, even without him, many family conglomerates like Rockefeller, Morgan, DuPont, and so on would still emerge…
Moreover, even these people were controlled by European capital before World War I; it wasn't until European capital withdrew from the United States after World War I that these families began to rise.
In that case, rather than letting European capital control North America for decades more, it would be better for him to lead the United States' capital now.
What's wrong with having one more conglomerate?
Their argument reached a deadlock.
This was not something that could be resolved with a few logical arguments, but rather a clash of two completely different power logics.
Grant represented traditional political authority, while Felix represented efficient capitalist autocracy.
Grant took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He hadn't called Felix here today to argue.
He pulled open a drawer, took out a document, and threw it on the table.
"Listen, Felix."
Grant's voice returned to its cold, hard tone.
"I don't care what Old Morgan is stirring up in London. I called you here today to give you a choice."
Grant pointed at the document.
"This is Ackerman's draft report. I can let it rot in the cabinet forever. Or I can order Secretary Boutwell to revoke the discount authorization for United Trust Bank. I can even help you keep the British out."
"Heh… and the condition?" Felix looked at the document.
"General Electric and American Telephone and Telegraph Company. These two enterprises must accept Federal Government equity supervision."
Grant laid out his trump card.
"You don't need to surrender control, but the Federal Government must occupy two seats on the board of directors. All interstate power grid and telephone line installations must be approved by the Federal Commerce Commission. Furthermore, your core technology patents must be openly licensed to several manufacturing plants designated by the Federal Government. You cannot monopolize everything."
Grant looked into Felix's eyes.
"This is my bottom line, Felix. You can make money. But this kind of infrastructure and communication lifeline, which concerns the nation's future, cannot be held in one hand. If you agree, then we are still allies. If you don't agree…"
Grant picked up the pen from the table.
"Then I'm sorry… I will sign the antitrust investigation order this afternoon. Even if Thomas stalls the budget in Congress, I will use the President's executive order to break you up."