The top floor of the Empire Bank Building.
The office door opened, and Felix walked in.
Frost followed behind and casually closed the door.
The desk was piled with business briefings sent from various places last night. Felix walked behind the desk, sat down, and casually opened the top document.
"Boss, Mr. Bill has arrived."
"Let him in." Felix didn't even look up.
Frost turned and left.
Less than two minutes later, Bill, the president of the Metropolitan Trading Company, walked in holding a thick shipping manifest and sat down in the chair opposite the desk.
"Boss, the berths for the cargo ships in Philadelphia have been cleared, and we are ready to load the next batch of wheat for Europe at any time. Did you want to see me?" Bill placed the shipping manifest on the desk.
Felix closed the document in his hand and pushed it aside.
"Proceed with the wheat as planned. I called you here to handle another matter."
"Send a telegram to the manager of the European branch of the Metropolitan Trading Company. Have him draw a one-million-dollar cashier's check through the Austrian National Bank."
Bill felt a bit confused.
A million dollars was not a small sum, whether in America or Europe, and it was strange that it wouldn't go through the regular trade settlement accounts.
"This... who should I make it out to?"
Bill took out his notebook, ready to record it.
"Hmm... make it out to Duke Antoine in Vienna, that old man from the Orléanists of the House of Bourbon in France." Felix's tone didn't fluctuate much.
"The House of Bourbon?"
The fountain pen in Bill's hand stopped.
He looked up, his face full of confusion.
"Boss, the reputation of these exiled nobles in Europe has long since gone bankrupt. I heard that even the Rothschild Family is unwilling to lend them money. What is this money for? A loan? Or an advance payment for arms?"
"Consider it a living allowance." Felix leaned back in his chair.
Bill widened his eyes.
Since when did Felix have a connection with the House of Bourbon?
"A living allowance? One million? God, that's quite a luxurious allowance!"
"Do not attach any commercial conditions to this money."
Felix ignored Bill's surprise and continued giving instructions.
"In addition to this check, have the European branch procure a batch of scarce goods. High-quality coffee beans, Cuban cigars, red wine from southern France, the best wool winter clothing, and coal. Send them by the train carload to Duke Antoine's residence in Vienna."
Seeing the increasingly curious look on Bill's face, Felix explained helplessly.
"Alright, alright, don't look at me like that. That Duke Antoine is now my father-in-law, in a way. You know I have a mistress recently, right? It's her. So, I have to save face. I heard they can barely afford to heat their fireplace over there. Send this money and the supplies over, and tell him this is a small gesture from the Argyle Family."
Bill swallowed hard.
He hadn't expected the "canary" the boss had been keeping to be a woman from the House of Bourbon, and that he'd acquired a father-in-law in Europe.
What juicy gossip.
However, Bill knew not to ask about things he shouldn't.
"I understand, Boss. The telegram will be sent to Europe this afternoon. I will book this as a special public relations expense for Metropolis; it won't appear on the public financial reports."
Bill recorded the matter.
"Alright, let's talk business." Felix tapped the desk.
"How is the news from O'Neill? How is the business in the Qing Empire going?"
At the mention of the Qing Empire, a speechless expression immediately appeared on Bill's face.
He flipped through the shipping manifest with a rustle and couldn't help but curse.
"What the hell, Boss. Those oriental bureaucrats with their queues are the stingiest people I've ever met. If O'Neill hadn't sworn to me in the telegram, I wouldn't have believed this was done by the same big spenders who dropped three million in gold at Tianjin Port."
Bill pointed to the numbers on the manifest.
"The batch of arms we sold them. They watched the demonstration of the Gatling Gun, and their eyes were glued to it. And the result? When it came time to sign the second order, they only wanted twenty Gatling Guns and ten breech-loading cannons. They spent the rest of the damn budget on the most outdated muzzle-loading rifles and smoothbore cannons!"
Felix raised an eyebrow.
"What was the reason?"
"The reason is simply ridiculous!"
Bill spread his hands and imitated the content of the telegram in an extremely exaggerated tone.
"O'Neill asked them why they didn't buy the Gatling Guns. Those officials said, 'This foreign gun spits out hundreds of rounds a minute; it's all pure silver being fired away! How can the treasury of the Qing Empire withstand such consumption?'"
Bill scratched his hair.
"They actually think the bullets are too expensive. Boss, we aren't selling the bullet production lines. They did the math: if they equipped a battalion with Gatling Guns, the fixed brass ammunition consumed in a single battle would have to be shipped over by Metropolis merchant ships. The cost of this ammunition is dozens of times more expensive than the guns themselves."
"Those Empresses sitting behind the curtain heard the price and couldn't stand it. They said that the old-fashioned muzzle-loading guns weren't unusable; just load them with some black powder and iron sand, and they could still kill people."
After listening, Felix gave a scoff.
"That fits their accounting logic perfectly. They can afford the horse but not the saddle. The vision of feudal bureaucrats is always limited to the cash on the books. They don't understand what modern logistics is at all."
Felix picked up the water glass on the table and took a sip.
"Don't worry about them. They think old-fashioned guns are fine for now, but when they are mowed down on the battlefield like wheat by someone else's machine guns, they will be kneeling on the docks of Tianjin Port, begging Metropolis to ship them bullets."
Bill nodded.
"There is one more thing, Boss."
"Those Qing officials aren't all fools. They probably feel that buying our ammunition all the time is too much of a loss. That Prince asked O'Neill about a cooperation plan. They asked if it was possible, like with the Germans, to establish a large-scale ammunition factory in the Qing Empire, run by the Metropolitan Trading Company in cooperation with the Zongli Yamen. They provide the money and land, and we provide the machines and technology."
Bill couldn't make up his mind.
"Boss, this involves the transfer of military industrial capacity. O'Neill didn't dare to answer, so he asked me to consult you. We set up a factory in Germany because Bismarck gave us mining rights in the Ruhr Area. Can we cooperate to build a factory in the Qing Empire?"
Felix sat in his leather chair, his fingers gently rubbing the edge of the water glass as he thought for a moment.
"We can build it."
Bill was taken aback.
"Build a factory? Boss, if they have an ammunition factory domestically, we won't be able to earn the high subsequent ammunition consumption fees."
"No, no, no, you didn't understand what I meant, Bill."
Felix looked at Uncle Bill and said slowly and methodically.
"We can cooperate to build the factory, but we must set the rules. Tell O'Neill that next time he goes, he can tell them: The Qing Empire is only responsible for providing the land, bricks, wood, and copper, and for bearing all the construction funds. They can take thirty percent of the annual dividends from this arsenal."
Felix held up one finger.
"As for management rights, personnel rights, and financial approval rights, don't even think about it. Everything must be absolutely controlled and managed by the American team sent by Metropolis and Pioneer Military Industry. The Stars and Stripes must be flown within the factory area, and it must not be subject to the laws of the Qing Empire."
"This is paramount. Secondly, even if we build the factory, the production lines must absolutely not use the active equipment of Pioneer Military Industry. Go through the warehouse, refurbish the two generations of bullet presses and stamping machines we phased out during the Civil War, and ship them over. Those Qing workers won't be able to tell the difference."
"And the most critical point, the gunpowder." Felix stared at Bill.
"The arsenal is only permitted to produce brass casings and assemble warheads. The core formula for Smokeless Powder will absolutely not be granted. Not a single gram is allowed to be produced within the Qing Empire. However many bullets they need to assemble in their factory each day, the Smokeless Powder must be shipped over from America via the merchant ships of the Metropolis."
"As long as the lifeblood of the gunpowder is held in our hands, no matter how large that arsenal is built, it will be nothing more than a low-end assembly workshop we have set up in the Far East. They will never be able to shake off their dependence on the Argyle Family."
Listening to these harsh conditions, Bill was completely awestruck by his boss's business acumen.
This kind of cooperation, on the surface, was helping the Qing Empire build a factory, but in reality, it was binding them completely to America's war chariot.
"I understand, Boss."
Bill quickly noted down all the conditions.
"Additionally, Prince Gong and his group of nobles have obtained the inland agency rights. They are very satisfied with the potential profits from canned goods and kerosene. O'Neill mentioned in the telegram that they have already established trading firms in the capital and Tianjin, and are preparing to distribute the goods."
"Let them distribute it."
Felix waved his hand, somewhat indifferent.
"As long as the money arrives, it's fine. Go reply to O'Neill. Let him handle the matters in the Far East as he sees fit."
Not long after Bill left, the office door was knocked on again.
Tom Hayes, president of the Patriot Investment Company, walked in with a briefcase in hand.
He had just returned from inspecting the acquisition battlefields in Hartford and Ohio; his face bore the fatigue of long-distance travel, but his eyes remained sharp.
"Boss."
Hayes sat down in the chair and placed his briefcase on his lap.
"Has Cavendish quieted down?" Felix looked at Hayes.
"He has quieted down, or perhaps I should say, he has been driven to anger."
Hayes let out a low chuckle.
"The four bidding teams I dispatched to several independent steel mills in Ohio and Illinois forcibly drove up Cavendish's acquisition price by nearly double. Old Morgan's pounds in the secret vaults in Philadelphia have been significantly depleted by Cavendish. Although they managed to cobble together that 'Federal Steel Company', their liquid capital on the books has diminished. In the short term, they shouldn't have the capacity to attend to other areas..."
"Well done."
Felix nodded with satisfaction.
Then Hayes opened his briefcase and took out a thick legal document.
"This is the equity transfer agreement and restructuring plan for the Colt Firearms Company." He said, handing the document to Felix.
"Elizabeth Colt, that widow, has signed. The Patriot Investment Company injected two million dollars, taking a thirty percent stake. Pioneer Military Industry, with the full set of steam assembly line technology, the engineering team, and the sharing of Department of the Army orders as conditions, contributed technology for equity, taking another thirty percent. We hold a combined sixty percent stake. We already possess veto power."
Felix flipped through the signatures and casually set the document aside.
"What is the reaction inside Colt?"
Hayes's expression became somewhat serious.
"Very intense, Boss. It's practically like a small-scale war."
Hayes reported in detail on the situation in Hartford.
"On the first day the Pioneer Military Industry chief engineer and his team moved into the Colt factory, they almost incited a worker riot. There is a large group of veteran gunsmiths at the Colt company. These people have worked in the factory for half their lives, and they are used to manually filing and sanding every hammer and gun barrel."
"When our engineers ordered the removal of all manual workbenches and demanded the implementation of absolute standardization of parts tolerances, those old craftsmen went on strike. They blocked the entrance to the factory manager's office, pointed at Elizabeth Colt's nose and cursed, saying she had sold out the soul of the Colt family, and that parts stamped out by machines were lifeless garbage."
Felix was somewhat speechless. What kind of 'great power craftsman spirit' is this?
"Lifeless garbage? On the battlefield, a gun with interchangeable parts is the only gun that can save lives. How did Elizabeth handle it?"
"She withstood the pressure."
Hayes also felt some admiration for that widow's methods.
"She didn't use the security team we sent over. She simply stood on the stairs herself, and in front of all the workers, directly fired the ten senior craftsmen who were leading the disturbance. Furthermore, she announced that any worker who did not operate according to the new standard blueprints would be fired immediately."
Hayes paused for a moment.
"She told those workers that if Colt couldn't produce with machines like Pioneer Military Industry, they would go bankrupt and close down tomorrow. When that happens, everyone will have to go begging on the streets."
Felix nodded; it seemed she was indeed a person of substance.
"That is why I kept her in the position of general manager; she is someone who understands survival. The era of the old craftsmen is over; now is the era of machines and capital."
"How is the progress of the technical transformation?" Felix asked.
"Very smoothly."
Hayes took out an engineering schedule.
"The three heavy steam engines shipped by Pioneer Military Industry have been installed, and the belt drive shafts run throughout the entire factory. The latest milling machines and presses imported from Germany are already in place. We are enforcing the extreme tolerance measurement system. It is expected that by the end of next month, Colt's first fully industrialized revolver assembly line will be able to officially operate."
Hayes looked at Felix.
"Boss, once this assembly line starts running, Colt's production capacity will quadruple, and costs will be halved. Coupled with their brand effect, this revolver will take the entire Midwest and South America markets by storm."
"Then let them go."
Felix didn't care at all about these fragmented markets.
"The more they sell, the more dividends Patriot and Pioneer Military Industry will receive. Old Morgan wants to use European capital to support military enterprises to deal with me. Now, not only have I snatched one of them, but I've also turned the gun around to earn money from the whole world."
Hayes closed his briefcase.
"The military industry side is mostly stabilized; it just depends on the actions of the two companies Old Morgan invested in. What about the steel side, Boss? Although we drained Cavendish's cash flow, that 'Federal Steel Company' is still an entity; they now hold the production capacity of four independent steel mills in their hands. As long as Old Morgan is willing, sooner or later, they will launch an assault on Lex Steel in the rail market."
Mentioning steel, Felix's brow furrowed slightly.
He knew Hayes's concerns were correct.
In commercial warfare, as long as the opponent is not completely annihilated, there is always the possibility of a counterattack.
"Rest assured, this is exactly the next problem I am going to solve. Just make sure you have Elizabeth keep an eye on the reactions from Remington and the others." Felix glanced at the wall clock.
"Edward, go notify Lex Steel and have William Coleman come to my office at three o'clock this afternoon."
Felix's tone became somewhat low.
"The Carnegie matter made me see one thing clearly. Coleman is an excellent engineer, but he is not a qualified battlefield commander. This time, I cannot let him sit in the office and wait for others to attack."