The next day, Felix, accompanied by Miller and his security team, officially took over the massive complex. As the heavy iron gates slowly closed behind them, the cavernous space swallowed the noise of the city, and a surge of ambition, far grander than anything they'd felt in the basement, took hold of the small team.
"Sir, what should we do now?" Jones looked around the sprawling, silent factory floor, his eyes filled with both excitement and bewilderment.
Felix didn't answer directly. He unrolled a large parchment, the factory renovation blueprint he had personally drawn after staying up all night, and spread it on a clean stone slab.
"Our work is divided into three parts," Felix's voice echoed, sounding particularly clear and powerful in the vast space.
"Miller, your security team is responsible for the first and most crucial part: Defense. I want you to comb through this entire complex like a fine-tooth comb. All walls, blind spots, and entry/exit points must have defensive and patrol plans established. Before I turn this place into a gold mine, you must first turn it into an impregnable fortress."
"Yes, sir!" Miller snapped to attention, his eyes alight with military purpose.
"Jones," Felix turned to his other assistant, "you and your men are responsible for the second part: Logistics and Cleanup. All materials from the basement are to be transported here in batches. Simultaneously, recruit temporary workers to scrub every floor tile and every wall of this factory with water and brushes. I want this place to be cleaner than any resident's kitchen."
"Affirmative!"
Felix's finger tapped the core area of the blueprint. "I will be responsible for the third part: Design and Production. I will build the most efficient food production line in New York, no, in all of America, right here."
For the first time, he outlined his vision to his team. "We can no longer cook everything in one pot. We need division of labor; we need an assembly line."
He drew with charcoal on the stone. "Raw materials will enter the washing and cutting areas directly from the east gate, where dedicated personnel will cut beef into uniform specifications. The cut meat then enters the cooking area."
He pointed to the colossal furnace. "We will modify it to provide stable steam heating for ten huge copper cauldrons. This is far more uniform and efficient than burning coal briquettes."
"The cooked stew will follow this line to the canning area, then the sealing area. I will design a new foot-pedal-driven canning machine that will allow a skilled worker to operate at more than three times the efficiency of a hand-cranked machine. Finally, the finished products will move through a high-temperature sterilization and cooling area, before being loaded onto trucks from the west gate."
What he described was a system built on process optimization, breaking complex production into simple, standardized steps, with each worker responsible for a single function. This 'sequential' management philosophy, a blueprint for an industrial revolution in that era, left Miller and Jones dumbfounded, though they keenly understood the scale of the grand design being born.
Yet, the grander the plan, the more Felix's energy was dangerously dispersed.
In the subsequent days, he was swamped. He had to discuss equipment design with hired blacksmiths and engineers, supervise the workers' cleanup and relocation progress, and personally secure large-scale procurement agreements from slaughterhouses.
On top of this, the necessary paperwork flooded him like a tide. New factory regulations, land deeds, tax documents, payroll calculations for twenty newly recruited workers, inventory tracking, and merchant payment settlements with clients like Gable... He spent at least five hours daily wrestling with these tedious but vital numbers and documents.
This administrative burden relentlessly encroached upon his time for strategic thinking and technical improvements.
Late one night, annoyed by a tangled account, Felix threw down his pen and finally admitted he needed a specialized helper. He didn't need a strategist; the core plans would always remain hidden in his own mind.
He needed someone who could translate raw ambition into clear entries, accurate figures, and flawless administrative execution. He needed a precise, absolutely reliable office manager.
The next day, he sought out Mr. Gable, who was supervising the move of the last basement materials.
"Mr. Gable, I need your counsel. I'm looking for a trustworthy bookkeeper," Felix stated, getting straight to the point.
"Argyle, look how tired you are! Just tell me what's on your mind." Gable thought seriously. "Bookkeepers are common, but reliable and clear-headed? That's difficult." He then slapped his thigh. "Ah, how could I forget her! There really is such a person!"
"Oh?"
"A young lady named Catherine O'Brien." Gable's face showed genuine admiration. "She worked here for two years. Her mind is clearer than any accountant I've ever met! No matter how messy the accounts, they'd be flawless in her hands within half a day. And the girl has impeccable character."
"And now she's..."
"She had to resign to care for her seriously ill father, but I heard she's looking for work again to fund his medical expenses. If you can get her, you've found a treasure."
Felix immediately asked for the address.
Following the address, Felix arrived at a neat apartment building. The door was opened by a young lady with a delicate face, bright eyes, and black hair. Her simple clothes were spotless, and she possessed a scholarly tranquility.
"Miss O'Brien, hello. My name is Felix Argyle. Mr. Gable recommended me."
A flicker of surprise crossed Catherine's eyes, but she quickly invited him in. Felix explained his purpose. "...I need an office manager responsible for all company accounts, orders, inventory, and employee salaries. This position requires immense patience, meticulousness, and wisdom."
"Mr. Argyle," Catherine said quietly. "Forgive my presumption, but for such an important position, why would you consider a young woman with no background?"
"Because of Mr. Gable's recommendation, and my own judgment," Felix replied earnestly. "I only care whether a person can solve my problems. Therefore, I'd like to give you a small test. Just a simple question."
"Please proceed."
"Suppose," Felix said slowly, "I purchased one thousand pounds of beef at ten cents per pound. After processing it, I obtained eight hundred pounds of finished product. What is my raw material loss rate? And if I want to calculate the final product cost precisely down to every ounce, how should I design my ledger?"
This was, for the time, a complex cost accounting challenge. Catherine answered instantly.
"Your raw material loss rate is twenty percent," she stated. "As for cost accounting, you need a classified ledger to record all overhead: tinplate, charcoal, salt, workers' wages, and even your lamp oil. Then, add all costs together and divide by the total ounces of the final product. Only then can you determine the most accurate unit cost and set the most profitable selling price."
Her answer was not only quick but demonstrated a rigorous, complete grasp of business logic.
Felix smiled. "Miss O'Brien, you have perfectly passed my test." He formally extended his invitation. "I am willing to offer you a salary of eight dollars per week to serve as my chief clerk and personal assistant. You will report directly to me."
Eight dollars a week! This was an astonishing salary, generous enough to raise the eyebrows of some junior university professors. Disbelief flickered across Catherine's face, but she quickly composed herself, acknowledging the immense responsibility.
"Mr. Argyle, I accept this position. I guarantee that the company's ledgers will be as precise as a clock."
"Of course, I believe you." Felix extended his hand. "Welcome aboard, Miss Catherine. Our great voyage has only just begun."
On the tenth day after Argyle officially received the deed to Nolan Steel Mill, a brand new sign was hung above the heavy iron gate, Argyle & Co. Foods. The black lacquer lettering looked solemn and powerful in the morning light.
Inside, twenty newly recruited workers stood nervously, reverently observing their boss, the sensational 'Canned Hero' from the newspapers. Beside Argyle stood Sergeant Miller, stoic in his military coat, and Catherine, holding a thick ledger with calm confidence.
"Welcome everyone to Argyle & Co. Foods," Argyle began, skipping the pleasantries. "You are the first employees. Before today, this was just an empty factory, but I believe that in the near future, it will become the largest and best food company in all of America." Skepticism was evident on some workers' faces.
"My rules are very simple," Argyle's gaze swept over them. "First, work hard. The wages I give you are higher than what dock foremen pay; your sweat must be worthy of that wage. Second, obey the company's management. Third, and most importantly, absolute cleanliness. Your hands, tools, and workstations must be kept clean and tidy. Anyone who violates this, no matter who he is, will be immediately told to pack his bags and leave."
His stern tone instantly banished the workers' initial laxity.
"Of course, there will be rewards as well. You will get fresh work meals every day, our own stewed beef. Workers with excellent performance will receive an extra bonus every month. I will not mistreat anyone who works hard."
He delivered his final summary. "Now, my office supervisor, Miss Catherine, will register everyone and distribute your work badges and tasks for the first day. Remember, from the moment you step through this door, you are no longer street vagrants or dock laborers, but official employees of Argyle & Co. Foods. Be proud of this identity. Now, let's begin!"
He returned to his office, leaving the scene to Catherine.
The workers stirred. A young, beautiful woman in charge of their registration? She appeared soft and easily intimidated, and a few slick individuals immediately wore confident, dismissive smiles.
"Hey, beautiful lady, are you the one assigning our work?" a tall, burly man asked in a deliberately flippant tone.
Catherine ignored his tone, simply raising her head and looking at him calmly with her clear blue eyes. "Yes. I am responsible for registering your information and ensuring that on every payday, your wages will not be short by a single cent. If you feel that having me calculate your wages is beneath your status, you may submit your resignation to Mr. Argyle right now."
Her voice was soft, yet logically flawless, immediately short-circuiting the man's flippant retort. He was choked into a flush, and amidst the laughter of his fellow workers, he sullenly shut his mouth. Catherine had established her authority not through anger, but through professional clarity and dignity.
Argyle watched from his office window and nodded with satisfaction. As the workers were divided into groups for cleanup and equipment installation, he took Catherine into the factory's main structure.
"Catherine, this is where we will create miracles in the future." He articulated his assembly line concept for her in its entirety.
"...Raw materials enter from the east gate, where they are cleaned and cut. We will custom-order cutting boards with markings to ensure that every piece of beef is uniform in size. This is standardization, the first step in reducing waste and ensuring quality."
"The cut meat is then transported by special carts to the cooking area over there. The steam heating system provides an even temperature, preventing scorching."
"The finished stew is sent here, to the canning area, then sealed..."
Catherine listened, rapidly taking notes, her eyes growing brighter. She grasped the core advantages immediately: efficiency, professionalism, and ultimate control.
"Sir... this is simply a brilliant design!" she exclaimed. "Breaking down a complex process into so many simple steps not only allows workers to get started faster but also greatly improves efficiency! Our production speed will be ten, even dozens of times, that of a handmade workshop!"
"That is precisely my goal. However, there is always a gap between theory and reality. This requires us to conduct our first trial production."
That afternoon, the entire factory building was finally clean. Argyle planned to officially begin operation tomorrow.