Argyle & Co. Foods, the sailboat upon which Felix's enterprise embarked, encountered its first strong external resistance after sailing at full speed for half a month.
That morning, old man Bill, the newly appointed General Manager of Metropolitan Meat United Company, walked into Felix's office with a grim expression. He slammed a procurement bill onto the desk.
"Felix, we have a serious problem," his voice was a muffled roar, holding back a storm of frustration. "Those old bastards are coming after us."
Felix picked up the document. It detailed cattle Bill had urgently purchased from New Jersey farms over the last three days. The unit price was a full ten percent higher than the long-term contract price signed just a week prior.
"They breached the contract?" Felix asked coolly.
"No, not exactly," Bill scratched his head irritably. "The long-term contracts are being honored. But to meet your military order, we need far more meat than the contracts cover. We have to buy spot goods on the open market. And right now, the entire spot market around New York has gone insane."
"Elaborate."
"You remember the biggest meat wholesalers? They've formed something they call a 'Business Association.'" Bill's tone was full of contempt. "They've swarmed into every town and village in New Jersey and Pennsylvania like a plague of locusts, doing one thing: raising prices. No matter the cut or quality, as long as it's beef, they offer half a cent more than our quote. Those farmers aren't fools, they sell their surplus to the higher bidder."
Catherine, calculating costs nearby, quickly reached an unfavorable conclusion. "Sir, if our raw material costs universally increase by ten percent, our net profit on the military contract will be cut by more than half. And our civilian Red Label series will operate at almost zero profit."
Bill's face darkened further. "That's not the worst of it. They're also sabotaging our transport. Yesterday, two of our carriages, full of fresh meat en route to the factory, were intercepted by thugs. They didn't steal anything, but they spooked the horses, causing both carriages to overturn into a stinking ditch. We lost a thousand pounds of beef, all unusable. The thugs vanished before the police arrived."
In the office, Felix's mind raced. Price war coupled with logistics harassment. This combination punch was insidious, vicious, and left no actionable trace. Even if the hired thugs were caught, the wholesalers could never be directly implicated.
"They are trying to corner us," Felix said slowly, his face devoid of anger, only icy calm. "Forcing us to abandon our independent supply chain, forcing us back to the negotiating table to accept their unequal terms. They want to reduce us to a mere processing plant at the downstream of their industry, where they control our profit margin entirely."
"What should we do, Sir?" Jones asked, ready to deploy the security team. "Should Miller's men pay those thugs a visit?"
"No," Felix immediately rejected the idea. "We are now a military supplier, a 'star enterprise.' We cannot, and disdain to, solve business problems through street brawls. That would only drag us into their preset trap."
He rose and walked to the wall map, which showed New York radiating outwards. He shook his head. "Catherine, Jones, Bill. I made a mistake. I limited my vision to fighting a war of attrition on a battlefield set by the enemy."
"But look." His finger swept forcefully westward, over the Appalachian Mountains, pointing to the vast Midwest. "Their advantage is controlling the 'faucets' flowing into New York, like manor lords guarding a local well. But they forgot where this water originates."
"Why should we fight them to the death by the well for the price of a single bucket?" Felix's eyes hardened. "What we should do is go directly to the real great river that supplies all the wells!"
"They want to drag us down? They're dreaming." He suppressed his fury and refocused. "Since the other side is putting so much effort into entangling us here, then let's give them this battle, Bill."
"Tell me, Felix, I'll follow whatever you say!" Old Bill declared.
"Starting today, contract all our procurement lines. You continue to fulfill the long-term contracts, and continue to competitively bid against them for spot goods. But ultimately, do not buy them. Make sure they end up purchasing at the high price, and make them feel that our funds are nearly depleted, and we can't compete."
"Catherine."
"Yes, Sir."
"Draft a letter to Senator Clark in Washington. Report in detail how we, this 'patriotic' military supplier, are being maliciously sabotaged by a group of profiteering old interest groups. The wording should be full of grievance, but also imbued with the determination to serve the country."
"Understood."
Felix turned, looking at his core team. "I'm going to Chicago myself. I want to bypass these greedy middlemen and directly sign a massive contract with the Western ranchers, the ones who truly hold the cattle whips. A contract that will change the entire Eastern meat price."
"They want to defeat us with money? Then I will go to a bigger capital card table, where all of them are out of their depth, and win all the chips. While they are still gloating over a few cents higher price for a single cow, I will have already bought the entire ranch."
Felix's bold idea electrified the room. Indeed, why bother fighting local skirmishes when they could change the entire strategic landscape?
"Sir, I'll go with you!" Miller volunteered. "The security in the West..."
"No, Miller. I need you and your team to guard our base camp." Felix refused instantly, knowing the wholesalers might escalate to burning down the factory. "This time I'm not going to fight; I'm going to redefine the rules of this industry."
"Trust me, everyone. When I return, this middleman war in New York will be over."
In the final hours before the train departed, Felix gathered his department heads. Present were Catherine, Miller, Jones, and Bill, attending his first company strategy meeting.
"Alright, everyone." Felix's clap was decisive. "I am heading to Chicago. During my absence, this home in New York is entirely in your hands."
His gaze fixed on Catherine. "Catherine, from the moment I board the train, you are Argyle & Co. Foods's highest executive in the New York area. All departments report to you. Your primary task is financial stability, keep a close eye on the purse strings, and aside from necessary production expenses, suspend all new expansion plans."
"Understood, sir."
"Secondly, stabilize our civilian market. The priority supply of the Gold Standard series to Mr. Tilford must be guaranteed. Do not engage in price wars; uphold our brand value. Our foundation must not be disrupted."
He turned to Production Supervisor Jones. "Jones, your task is arduous. I don't care what method you use, incentives or bonuses, the production schedule for the military contract absolutely cannot be delayed. This is our lifeline. If raw materials run short, you are authorized to cut civilian orders immediately to prioritize military supplies."
"Sir, rest assured, unless I am dead, there will be no problems with the factory's production." Jones stood, receiving the order like a military command.
Felix then looked at Bill. "Bill, you will operate as we discussed." A slight smile touched his lips. "You must string them along, make them think we're on our last legs and about to compromise. If you bid high and they don't follow, simply buy the goods afterwards at the usual price. If they buy high, act furious, but let them take the goods. The goal is to drain their cash and resources without depleting ours."
After finally confirming the delicate deceptive game with Bill, Felix looked at Miller. "Sergeant. The company's security is entirely up to you. Those wholesalers might resort to unconventional tactics. I need the factory, and all our personnel, to be absolutely safe."
"Sir," Miller's reply was firm as bedrock. "As long as there's one Spartan Security guard standing, your business will be absolutely safe."
As the others dispersed, Catherine remained. "Sir," she poured him a glass of water. "Chicago... I hear it's more chaotic, and more savage than New York."
"I know." Felix met her gaze, a hint of genuine concern softening his eyes. "People there don't believe in contracts, only in strength. I plan to bring Flynn and O'Malley, and also cash that can make anyone trustworthy."
He took a sealed kraft paper envelope from the safe and handed it to her. "This is an emergency plan. Don't open it now. Only if I have an accident and can't return, or if the company faces a life-or-death crisis that you absolutely cannot resolve, then you open it. Understand, Catherine?"
Catherine took the envelope, her hands trembling slightly. "Sir," her voice was choked. "May the Lord bless you; you will surely return safely."
"Of course." Felix smiled. "I still have many things to come back and complete with you all."
On the morning of his departure, at New York Central Station, Felix carried only a simple briefcase, flanked by his two silent, capable guards. Catherine, Miller, Jones, and Bill all came to see him off. There were no sentimental goodbyes, only deep, unspoken understanding.
"Guard the home, everyone." Felix said his last words before stepping onto the train.
"Sir, rest assured." Miller replied on behalf of the team.
The train whistle shrieked, and the wheels slowly began to turn.
Felix looked out the window at the city he had transformed. He remembered the seventy-five dollars in his pocket when he first arrived. Now, Catherine's latest valuation put the total assets of Argyle & Co. Foods and its associated entities, including cash flow and contracts, at an astonishing one hundred thousand dollars.
From seventy-five dollars to one hundred thousand, he had done it in just one year.
The train accelerated, leaving the familiar New York skyline behind. Felix's gaze passed through the window, fixed on the vast western horizon, full of the unknown and opportunity.