In the old, ink-smelling office of the Chicago Chronicle.
Felix had just finished explaining to Fowler his perfect 'story script' about the Kansas Miners.
Fowler was immersed in a creative frenzy, feeling as if he was about to personally slay his enemies.
But the newly appointed editor in the office poured a bucket of cold water on their enthusiasm.
"Mr. Argyle, Mr. Fowler," he said, looking worried.
"This article is indeed... very powerful, but I must remind you both. Our newspaper's daily circulation is currently less than three thousand copies. Moreover, most of our readers are like us, small businessmen on the verge of bankruptcy. No matter how well written this article is, I'm afraid it won't make much of a splash in Chicago."
This was a very realistic problem.
No matter how good the weapon, if its range isn't enough, it can't hit the enemy.
"You're right."
Felix looked at him and nodded approvingly.
"So, before firing this cannonball, we need to equip it with a new cannon that can cover the entire city."
He looked at Fowler and the new editor, slowly outlining his next plan.
A plan that left both veteran media professionals dumbfounded.
"Starting tomorrow, the Chicago Chronicle will temporarily suspend publication for three days."
"Suspend publication?" The editor was stunned. "Sir, we're already losing readers; suspending publication again..."
"This is for an unprecedented rebirth," Felix interrupted him. "Three days later, when our newspaper reappears on newsstands, it will have a brand new name, layout, and a brand new price."
"I will rename it the Chicago Daily Truth. Its slogan will be 'Speaking Only for the People'."
"The layout will be personally designed by Mr. Fowler. No advertisements are allowed on the front page. Only our article about the Kansas Miners will be published."
"And its price," Felix held up a finger, "on the first day of its re-publication, it will only sell for one cent."
"One cent?!" the editor exclaimed. "Sir, are you mad? Our current cost per newspaper is over three cents! Selling it for one cent means we'll lose two cents for every copy sold! This... this is suicide!"
Felix shook his head, disagreeing with the editor's statement.
"NONONO, this isn't suicide; it's an investment. A gamble to buy the attention of the entire city with money."
He looked at the two confused men and began to explain the business logic behind the plan.
"Have you ever thought about why your newspaper didn't sell before? Because in the eyes of the public, you were no different from other newspapers in the city. Just a bunch of clichés and nonsense. And now, what we need to do is use the unprecedented price of 'one cent' to tell everyone that we are different."
"I want you to hire all the bill posters in the city during these three days of suspension. Plaster our flyers on every street corner, every factory gate, and every tavern in Chicago."
"Just a few lines: Tired of lies? Want to read the truth? Three days later, the Chicago Daily Truth launches! Telling you the secrets the railroad magnates never want you to know! Inaugural day special, only one cent city-wide!"
"I want this 'one-cent campaign' to be the only topic of discussion for all Chicagoans during these three days. I want everyone to be immensely curious about this 'truth' that sells for only one cent."
"As for the print run."
Felix turned to the editor and stated a number that almost made him faint.
"For the first issue, print me one hundred thousand copies."
"One... one hundred thousand copies?"
The editor felt his heart was about to stop beating.
"Sir, even at one cent, we won't sell that many. And the loss... the loss will be two thousand dollars! That will immediately burn through more than half of the funds we just injected."
"Who said we have to sell them all?" Felix smiled. "My goal isn't to make money. It's for 'delivery'.
Besides selling at newsstands, I want you to organize all the newsboys you can find to free ly insert tens of thousands of the remaining copies into every citizen's doorstep and every businessman's office. I want this article to appear in the sight of everyone in Chicago who can influence public opinion within twenty-four hours."
Fowler now fully understood Felix's intentions.
His eyes, as he looked at Felix, were filled with fervent admiration.
"Mr. Argyle..." he murmured, "You... you're not running a newspaper. You're waging a... people's war."
"The war has already begun, Mr. Fowler."
Felix looked at Fowler, staring into his eyes with a very serious tone.
"I'm just choosing the most advantageous way for us to fight."
Three days later, the entire Chicago was in a frenzy because of a newspaper.
The Chicago Daily Truth, this new name that appeared out of nowhere, its disruptive 'one-cent' price, and its provocative advertising slogan, successfully ignited the curiosity of all the people.
Long lines formed in front of newsstands.
Newsboys shuttled through the streets and alleys, delivering copies of the 'truth,' still smelling of fresh ink, to every corner of the city.
And when people truly read Fowler's article about the Kansas Miners, full of blood and tears, curiosity quickly turned into anger.
An unprecedented storm of public opinion was instantly ignited.
"Damn vampires! They don't even give an ordinary farmer a way to live."
"This is how those big shots in the East treat us; they treat us like their slaves!"
"Mr. Charles Reeves is our own hero of the West! We must support him!"
Flames of anger burned fiercely in every corner of the city.
Several businesses closely related to the Eastern Railroad Alliance were even surrounded and boycotted by angry citizens.
The offices of several councilmen who had publicly spoken for the Railroad Alliance were pelted with rotten vegetables and eggs.
And at the center of the storm, in the Chicago Stock Exchange.
The small shareholders holding shares of Reeves's company were also swept up in this torrent of public opinion.
But their reaction was completely different from that of the public.
"Oh my god, have you seen the newspaper? Reeves has become the public enemy of all railroad companies in the East!"
"He's trying to hit a rock with an egg! Can public support be eaten? Can it turn into profit?"
"It's over! This company is doomed! Those tycoons will never let him go. I must sell these damn shares before they act."
Public 'sympathy' was coldly interpreted as 'risk' in the capital market.
A wave of panic selling, even more ferocious than before, once again unfolded without warning.
The stock price of Reeves's company, amidst the overwhelming 'support' of the people, plummeted, falling from three dollars all the way past the two-dollar mark.
Stockbroker Blackwood came to Felix to report on the situation.
"The weapon of public opinion is sharper than I imagined. The entire market is frantically selling Reeves's stock; they're like fleeing a sinking ship."
"And we are like the most patient fishermen, receiving everything they throw into the sea."
"Please instruct, what should be the next step?"
Felix held a telegram from New York in his hand, stating that the company's profits had reached a new high.
He poured Blackwood a cup of black tea and replied with one sentence.
"Keep buying."
---
New York, Union League Club.
In this smoke-filled private sanctuary, open only to America's most powerful bankers and entrepreneurs, a conversation about a small railroad company a thousand miles away was taking place.
"Mr. Sloan, things in Chicago have been a bit too noisy recently."
A corpulent man, representing the interests of the Pennsylvania Railroad, said with dissatisfaction.
"A third-rate tabloid, not even worth mentioning, dared to publicly slander us on its front page. Now even some congressmen in Washington are inquiring about this matter."
"Oh wow... it's not a third-rate newspaper anymore; it's sold a hundred thousand copies, enough to rank among the top five in Chicago."
A bespectacled, refined man next to him retorted sarcastically.
The man referred to as Mr. Sloan was a director of the New York Central Railroad.
He was a grim-faced man with a sinister gaze.
"It's just a sensationalist article; it won't cause much of a stir."
Sloan's tone was full of disdain for the so-called "public outrage."
"I'm not worried about the pen. I'm worried about the person paying behind the pen."
"Are you talking about that young man named Felix Argyle?"
"Yes," Sloan nodded, "This man appeared out of nowhere in New York, integrated the canning business in a very short time, and even gained the upper hand in conflicts with local wholesalers. Now, he's gone to Chicago and gotten involved with that old stubborn Charles Reeves. This is no coincidence."
"His objective is obvious," another director said, "He wants to use Reeves's dilapidated railroad to establish an independent transportation line that bypasses our alliance, continuously shipping beef from the West back to his factory."
"What a naive idea."
Sloan took a puff from his cigar, then let out a cold laugh after exhaling the smoke.
"Heh... does he think a railroad is just two tracks laid on sleepers? Does he not know that a real railroad is paved with money, connections, and power?"
"We must teach him a lesson."
The fat man who spoke first said fiercely.
"What do you want to do?"
"It's simple."
A cruel smile appeared on the fat man's face.
"Didn't Reeves's dilapidated railroad just receive some emergency funds from that young man? Isn't it currently transporting his first batch of cattle?"
He looked at Sloan, enunciating each word.
"Send someone to Chicago to create a small 'accident' for Reeves. For example, a moderate fire, or a perfectly timed signal malfunction.
We want that young man to see with his own eyes that the railroad he found is a pile of scrap metal that could fall apart at any moment. We want him to know that in this game, we are the only rule-makers."
Sloan was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded.
"Have it done."
Then, as if remembering something, he added softly, "Don't make too much of a fuss, and keep it clean."
A few days later, Chicago.
In Felix's hotel suite, Charles Reeves burst through the door like an enraged bull.
"Argyle, they've made their move! Those damned, cowardly bastards!"
As soon as he entered, he shouted angrily with his engineer's booming voice.
"Charles, sit down, and tell me slowly," Felix poured him a glass of water, "What happened?"
"My freight yard! My most important railway transshipment yard on the outskirts of the city!"
Reeves gulped down the water in his glass, panting heavily.
"It caught fire late last night! An 'accidental' fire!"
"The fire wasn't big and was quickly extinguished. But the most important central signal tower in the freight yard, which controls all westbound lines, was burned down! Also, two of my night watchmen were knocked unconscious from behind, tied up, and thrown into a nearby ditch. If they hadn't been discovered in time, they would have drowned!"
"This is a warning, Felix!"
Reeves's voice trembled slightly with anger.
"This is an outrageous warning from those railroad magnates, to me, and to you! They are telling us that even if they can't win public opinion, they can paralyze my railroad anytime, anywhere, and turn me into a truly pathetic fool!"
Felix listened quietly.
There was no hint of surprise on his face.
Because all of this was within his expectations.
After all, corporate warfare in America during this era was so unpretentious; it was already a good defense that those people hadn't given the two of them a 'dirt plane' ride.
"They are forcing us, Charles," Felix's tone was exceptionally calm, "They are forcing us to abandon the alliance."
"Then what should we do?"
A deep sense of powerlessness appeared on Reeves's face.
"Repairing the signal tower requires time and money, and what I fear more is their next move. I can't station guards along hundreds of miles of track. They can derail or crash my trains at any time. I... I really don't seem to be able to fight them."
Felix looked at the old man who was losing his fighting spirit.
He knew it was time to let him see the other side of this war.
"Charles."
Felix stood up and walked over to him.
"You're right, on the tracks and in tactics, you are temporarily at a disadvantage."
"But you might not know that on another invisible battlefield of this war, I am constantly achieving victory."
A profound light flickered in Felix's eyes.
"Invisible battlefield?" Reeves looked at him, puzzled.
"Yes."
Felix took a document from his safe and handed it to Reeves.
It was a daily stock trading summary report presented to him by the stockbroker Blackwood.
"What is this?"
"This is my weapon."
Felix said slowly, then enlightened him.
"Charles, did you think I bought that newspaper just to write a eulogy for you?"
"You're wrong."
"From the moment I decided to work with you, I had only one choice."
Felix looked at Reeves, and, word by word, spoke the truth that would surely shock him.
"That is to join the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company and become their opponent."
Reeves stood up abruptly as if struck by lightning.
He couldn't believe his ears.
"When shareholders panicked and dumped their stock because of that report, I hired brokers to frantically acquire those dumped shares on the stock exchange."
"They thought they were abandoning a sinking ship. But they didn't know that every share they threw away was firmly caught in my hands."
Felix looked at the completely stunned Reeves and made his final revelation.
"So Charles, I can tell you my current shares."
He pointed to the final number on the report.
"I, Felix Argyle, personally hold fifteen point seven percent of your company's outstanding shares. I am the second-largest individual shareholder of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company, apart from yourself."
"Now, do you still think we will lose this war?"
Felix's words shocked Charles Reeves.
He abruptly stood up from his chair, nearly knocking over the coffee table in front of him due to his haste.
His eyes were fixed on Felix, filled with shock, confusion, and even a hint of betrayed anger.
"You… what did you say?"
His voice was hoarse with disbelief.
"The second largest shareholder? You've been secretly acquiring shares in my company behind my back?"
"I prefer to call it an investment, Charles. I meant no harm."
Felix's tone carried a slight hint of shame; after all, they had just started cooperating, and he was already buying a large number of the company's shares, which was a questionable move.
"Believe me, while you were unaware, our enemies used money and public opinion to launch a silent strangulation of your company in the stock exchange. They wanted to turn your stock into worthless paper."
Felix pointed to the transaction report and continued.
"And I merely bent down and picked up every piece of paper as they, and those panic-stricken investors, threw them away."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Reeves's tone still carried a hint of hurt.
"We are partners, aren't we?"
"Because at that time, the timing wasn't right to tell you." Felix, feeling a bit helpless, had no choice but to continue explaining.
"Charles, with all due respect, you are a great engineer, a respectable idealist.
But you are not a qualified businessman.
If I had told you my plan in advance, your upright character would likely have caused you to inadvertently reveal emotions you shouldn't have.
And our enemies, those sharks in the stock exchange with a sense of smell sharper than a hound's, would immediately detect that something was amiss."
"Secrecy, at that stage, was our only powerful weapon."
Felix looked at him and said with utmost sincerity.
"Now, they have escalated the war from the stock exchange to your freight yard. They have started using violence and destruction. In that case, there's no need for me to hide anymore.
There's nothing bad about this, Mr. Reeves; our partnership can become even closer."
Reeves slumped back onto the sofa.
Felix's explanation, though cold, was impeccable, because he knew that everything he said was true.
Those railroad giants had no intention of letting his company off the hook.
After a long silence, Reeves's reason returned, and a glimmer of hope rose in his eyes.
After all, Felix wasn't wrong; a partnership isn't as secure as a shareholder relationship.
"Alright, Felix, you're right, but even with partial ownership, we're still no match for them."
Seeing Reeves regain his composure and accept the facts, Felix breathed a sigh of relief.
"Of course, there's a way, my friend. If we have controlling interest in the company, then we won't be afraid of them kicking you out or terminating the cooperation, as they can't keep doing this forever."
"Now that you mention it, that's true. Together, we now have forty-five percent of the shares."
"We are very close to gaining control."
"No, Charles."
"That's not enough. Far from enough."
Reeves was a bit bewildered; wasn't it just a little bit short? How could it be not enough?
"What do you mean?"
"A fragile alliance composed of two major shareholders cannot win this war."
Felix looked at him and said, every word carefully chosen.
"Our enemies have plenty of money; they can easily absorb shares in the market.
Then they will forever bicker and obstruct us in the board of directors.
They might even find ways to divide us, tempting you or me with greater benefits.
An unstable alliance is itself the biggest weakness."
He stood up and walked to Reeves, revealing his truest ambition.
"Therefore, my goal has never been for us to jointly control the company."
"Instead, I personally must hold at least fifty-one percent of this company's shares. I need absolute control."
Reeves couldn't believe his ears.
He had originally thought he was accepting a knight.
But he never expected that this knight wanted the entire kingdom.
"You… you want to swallow my company?"
Reeves's voice trembled with anger.
"NONONO, I want to save it, Charles."
Felix's tone was gentle, not wanting to overly provoke him.
"Only when this company has a single core, a strong will determined to win at all costs, can it survive."
"Only when the company becomes my property can I better join the war and fight back against those Eastern Railroad Alliance giants."
"And you, my partner, will continue to serve as the company's president and chief engineer."
Felix painted a brand new blueprint for him.
"You will have more ample funds than ever before to repair your trains, lay new tracks, and realize all your unfinished engineering dreams. You only need to focus on what you do best—making trains run faster and more steadily."
"And I…" Felix's eyes sparkled with dazzling light, "will handle all the wars beyond the tracks for you. Finance, public opinion, and… those arsonist scumbags."
These words once again successfully plunged Reeves's heart into a fierce internal struggle.
He had struggled for half his life to own a railroad that was entirely his, one where he could realize his ideals.
And now, his only choice was to hand over control of this "child" to a young man he had known for less than a month.
Because he knew.
If he didn't give it up, this child would soon be torn to shreds by those covetous beasts.
"Charles, this is a simple choice."
Felix saw through his struggle and continued to persuade him.
"Do you want to cling to the empty title of a king and sink with your Coming soon bankrupt kingdom? Or do you want to become a wealthy, respectable prince who can continue to realize his ideals?"
After a long while, Reeves closed his eyes and let out a long sigh.
"What… do I need to do?" he asked hoarsely and weakly.
Felix smiled; he knew he had won.
"It's very simple."
Felix sat back down, resuming the calmness of a businessman.
"Starting tomorrow, you and your loyal shareholders will sign a secret 'Acting in Concert' agreement with me. In any future board meeting, you will all cast the same vote as me."
"At the same time," he looked at Flynn and O'Malley, "my security company, 'Spartan,' will dispatch a ten-person elite security team led by Flynn to be stationed at the railroad company, fully responsible for your security work."
"Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company will sign a formal security service contract with my Spartan Security."
Felix smiled as he laid out his plan.
"As for the funds to repair the signal towers and form the security team."
He pushed over a bank draft for ten thousand dollars.
"This money will be treated as additional capital for shares, which should allow my stake to reach thirty percent. For now, that should be enough for us to resist those giants."
Reeves looked at the bank draft on the table, then at Felix.
He knew he had no way out, and he no longer wanted to retreat.
"Good."
Nodding heavily, Reeves's fighting spirit reignited in his eyes.
"I hope it's truly as you say, Felix."
A more stable and aggressive alliance was officially formed at this moment.
---
Chicago, the boardroom of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company.
Charles Reeves, the company's founder and president, sat upright at the desk.
Opposite him were several of the company's old shareholders, their faces filled with anxiety and panic.
Among them, a director named Henderson, an informant for the Eastern Railroad Alliance, had an expression of undisguised triumph.
"Charles."
Henderson was the first to speak, his tone filled with false sympathy.
"We all heard about the transshipment yard incident; it truly is an unfortunate tragedy. This proves once again that our small company simply cannot compete with those giants in the East."
"Therefore," he revealed his true intentions, "I propose again that we seriously consider the acquisition plan offered by New York Central Railroad. Although their price isn't high, it will at least allow us to withdraw gracefully from this hopeless war."
"I object."
Reeves's voice was not loud, but it was exceptionally firm.
"Why do you object? Do you care about the interests of us shareholders? Our stock has been falling, and we've suffered huge losses!"
Henderson's voice rose by an octave.
"Is it because of your ridiculous ideals? Can ideals repair a burned-down signal tower? Can they pay employees' salaries next month? Charles, you need to wake up!"
"Of course, I'm not relying on ideals."
Reeves's face showed a confident smile that Henderson found unfamiliar.
"I'm relying on this."
He pushed a document to the center of the conference table.
"This is an emergency proposal I'm submitting as the company's general manager," he said slowly.
"I propose that the company conduct a targeted new share issuance totaling ten thousand dollars to raise funds for equipment repair and enhanced security."
"Issuing new shares?"
Henderson sounded as if he had heard the biggest joke.
"Charles, are you crazy? Who would buy our shares at a time like this?!"
"I will."
A calm voice came from the doorway of the conference room.
Felix, accompanied by Flynn, walked uninvited into the room.
"Mr. Argyle?"
All the directors stood up in surprise.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen."
Felix smiled, nodded to everyone, and then walked directly to Reeves's side.
"Charles, it seems I'm not late."
"You've come at just the right time, Felix."
Reeves also stood up, and the two stood side by side.
"Mr. Argyle... what do you intend to do?"
A hint of unease flashed in Henderson's eyes.
"Do what?" Felix looked at him and smiled. "Of course, become a new shareholder of this company, a major shareholder holding thirty percent of the shares."
He gently placed a ten-thousand-dollar bank cashier's check on top of the share issuance proposal.
"Now, I propose that the Board of Directors vote on this proposal."
Reeves continued his words with a raised voice.
Half an hour later, Henderson walked out of the conference room, his face ashen.
He knew that he and his boss behind him had made a fatal mistake.
The arson, which they had smugly thought would intimidate Reeves, had instead given Felix, an even more formidable enemy, a legitimate entry ticket.
Meanwhile, on the streets of Chicago, another silent war was entering its final stage.
In an underground tavern in the dock district.
Flynn pushed a heavy bag of silver coins toward a drunken informant.
"Tell me. Who did the job at the freight yard?"
Flynn's tone was cold and emotionless.
"I... I don't know..." the informant stammered.
"I'll give you one last chance to organize your thoughts, buddy."
Flynn plunged a dagger into the table.
"Say the name, and this money is yours. If you can't, this hand of yours stays here."
"It was... it was Kogan! 'Butcher' Kogan!" The informant completely broke down.
"He's a thug kept by a few big wholesalers in the city. He specializes in this kind of dirty work! Last night, he got drunk in another tavern and said it himself!"
"Very good."
Flynn withdrew the dagger and pushed the money bag over.
"Where is he now?"
...That night, at Chicago's most upscale restaurant, the "Golden Oak."
'Butcher' Kogan, a burly man with a scarred face, was flanked by women, enjoying caviar and French champagne with the payment he had just received from the wholesalers.
The restaurant door was pushed open.
Felix, accompanied by Flynn and O'Malley, walked slowly to his table like three gentlemen from hell.
"Mr. Kogan?"
Felix's face held a polite smile.
"Who are you? Get out! Don't disturb me while I'm eating!"
Kogan waved his hand impatiently.
Felix didn't speak, he just placed a small, heavy cloth bag next to Kogan's plate.
"A small gift," he said softly, "for your recent 'hard work.'"
Kogan heard this, glanced at the three men, and curiously opened the cloth bag.
The next second, his face instantly lost all color.
The bag contained not gold coins, but a pile of charcoal and ashes that still smelled of burning.
"You..." Kogan looked up in horror.
"Your masters, those gentlemen in New York, made a mistake."
Felix leaned down, his voice so soft that only their table could hear it.
"They thought this war could be fought from a thousand miles away, using their dirty little tricks."
"They were wrong."
"Because I am right here."
Felix's voice was like the Siberian cold wind, making Kogan feel as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.
"Don't worry, I won't do anything to you, but take a message back to your masters for me."
"Tell them that I, Felix Argyle, am now a major shareholder with thirty percent of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company. What they burned was my property."
"From today, the rules of the game have changed. For every dollar of loss they inflict on me, I will take back ten dollars from them."
A cold killing intent, which Kogan would never forget, flashed in Felix's eyes.
"And tell them, next time, if any of my employees suffer even the slightest harm, it won't just be public opinion reported in the newspapers."
With that, Felix straightened up and adjusted his tie.
"Enjoy your dinner, Mr. Kogan," he smiled.
"After all, this is very likely your last meal in this city."
He turned and calmly left the restaurant with his bodyguards.
Only the man known as 'Butcher' remained, slumped in his chair, trembling uncontrollably like a sieve.
----
It was still the New York United Alliance Club.
In that private room, perpetually shrouded in cigar smoke and conspiracies, a crack appeared in the atmosphere for the first time.
Kogan the Butcher, the Eastern Railroad Alliance's "white glove" in Chicago, stood in the center of the room, trembling uncontrollably, like a dog that had lost its home.
He recounted Felix's words in the restaurant to his masters, verbatim.
"...He said he is now a major shareholder of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company. He also said that next time, it won't just be newspaper reports."
Kogan's voice was distorted by fear.
The room fell silent.
"Shit, you son of a bitch Irish bastard."
"Does he think he can scare us with just words?"
The fat director representing the Pennsylvania Railroad angrily stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray.
"It's not necessarily a bluff. You know, this Irish scoundrel is the Canning King, and he has very good relations with the military."
Mr. Sloan, the alliance leader who had been silent, finally spoke.
His voice was still sinister, but it now carried a hint more gravity than before.
After learning from Henderson's telegram that his opponent was Felix, he sent people to investigate him.
Roughly estimated, Felix's food company had a net income of nearly ten thousand dollars a month, with assets of at least several hundred thousand dollars. This was a formidable enemy.
Moreover, he had successively secured military logistics orders, which was no secret.
"And he really did acquire a major shareholding in the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company within a few days. My informant has confirmed this news from the company's shareholders' meeting."
"Fuck you, how is that possible in such a short time?!"
"Nothing is impossible."
A hint of coldness flashed in Sloan's eyes.
"We all underestimated this rising tycoon, and we underestimated that old stubborn Reeves. We thought a big fire would make them yield. Unexpectedly, we pushed Reeves directly into the arms of that Canning King."
"So what do we do now? Should we just get rid of that kid?"
"No, no, no, Charles. We can bully those weaker than us, but for those who are already at the table, this method is not advisable."
Sloan shook his head, rejecting the fat Charles's suggestion. After all, Felix's capital strength was not weak, and he had the military behind him.
"What we can do, they can also do. Do you want everyone to live in fear every day?"
"Besides... doesn't he want to play capital games?" Sloan sneered.
"Then let's play along! Immediately notify our brokers in Chicago to start acquiring shares of the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company in the market. That kid has thirty percent, and Reeves himself has thirty percent.
I don't believe their alliance is unbreakable.
As long as we get the remaining forty percent, we'll be the largest shareholder. Then that kid will understand who it's best to cooperate with. There will be opportunities, everyone."
...In Felix's hotel suite in Chicago.
Charles Reeves, the railroad company's general manager, had fully embraced his role as an ally.
"Felix."
His address to Felix was already very natural.
"Your name and thirty percent of the shares will officially appear on the company's shareholder roster tomorrow."
"Thank you, Charles."
After Felix embraced him in thanks, he pushed a recent stock market report, just delivered by Blackwood, in front of him.
"But now, Charles, our enemies have begun to act."
Reeves picked up the report, and his face instantly turned grim.
"Damn it... they've started buying the company's stock again? And the price is a full ten percent higher than the market price!"
"That's right, they've realized what's happening, and now they want to use their substantial capital to contend with us for control of the company."
"So what should we do...?"
"Of course, we can't let them lead us by the nose."
Felix took a puff of his cigar, letting the aroma spread in his mouth, then exhaled.
"They have more money. If we, like ordinary businessmen, compete with them in the exchange, we will undoubtedly lose."
Felix glanced at Reeves, then at Blackwood.
"We need to end this competition as quickly and effortlessly as possible."
"Blackwood."
"What do you need, Mr. Argyle?"
"Of course... I need you to issue a public 'tender offer' to the entire Chicago securities market, in my name."
"Tender offer?"
Even Blackwood was momentarily stunned to hear that term.
This was a sophisticated financial maneuver that had begun to appear in Europe but was still extremely rare in the rough-and-tumble Chicago market.
"Yes."
Seeing that Reeves was still a bit confused, Felix explained.
"No need to secretly buy shares in the market. Directly issue a public acquisition offer to all shareholders holding Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company stock."
"The offer price is four dollars per share."
"Four dollars?!"
Reeves exclaimed in disbelief. This was double the price it had been when it fell previously.
"But Felix, the current market price has already been driven up to three dollars by them! Four dollars, those shareholders might not be willing to sell!"
"No, they will sell."
A smile that made even Blackwood feel a chill appeared on Felix's face.
"Because our offer has an additional condition."
"That is, this offer will immediately become void after I successfully acquire fifty-one percent of the shares."
Blackwood's eyes instantly lit up like two bright lamps in the dark night.
He immediately understood the core of Felix's plan.
"My goodness..." he murmured, "Mr. Argyle, you... you are, in effect, holding all the small and medium shareholders hostage!"
Felix exhaled a smoke ring, his tone indifferent.
"Perhaps."
"No, what kind of charade are you two playing? If they don't sell, how can you acquire fifty-one percent of the shares?"
Reeves frowned, watching the two play their double act, somewhat puzzled.
"No, no, no, Mr. Reeves, Mr. Argyle's brilliant plan is essentially telling all the small shareholders:
Now, there is an opportunity for you to sell your shares at a high price of four dollars and exit safely.
Mr. Reeves, you must understand that it's impossible for everyone holding shares not to sell. There are always some who are in urgent need of money or who are not optimistic about the company.
And when these people start selling their shares in a big way, those who are hesitant will also follow suit.
Because they cannot guarantee that this price will appear again in the future, they choose to take profits while they can.
And those shareholders who are waiting, hoping to sell at a higher price, seeing more and more people selling shares, will also worry that Mr. Argyle will stop acquiring once he is satisfied.
Because they clearly understand that the other party is willing to pay a high price to acquire company shares because they want to contend for control.
But if the company is controlled, then all of this becomes meaningless, so there will be no more acquisitions."
"This is no longer a simple acquisition."
Blackwood's emotions were slightly agitated, and he began to gesticulate wildly.
"This is an overt scheme that uses group psychology to create a 'prisoner's dilemma'!"
"Clap, clap, clap... A brilliant analysis!"
Felix clapped his hands with a smile, then turned to Reeves.
"This matter also needs you, Charles, to add the final layer of insurance to this overt scheme."
"Ah? Oh... I mean, what do you need me to do?"
Reeves, who had been listening in a daze, asked, still somewhat bewildered.
"Write an open letter to all your shareholders, in your personal capacity and as the company president," Felix said.
"In the letter, tell them in the most sincere tone that you, Charles Reeves, the founder of this company, fully and one hundred percent support and endorse my tender offer, Felix Argyle's acquisition offer."
"You must tell them that cooperation with me is the only and best future for this railroad. You must implore them, for the survival of the company and for their own interests, to accept my offer. You must use your 'honest' reputation to provide the final guarantee for me."
Reeves looked at Felix, silent for a long time.
Understanding Felix's plan, he knew that once he wrote this letter, it would be tantamount to personally handing over the business he had struggled for half his life to this young man.
However, he also understood that this was the only way for the company to survive.
Finally, he nodded heavily, "Okay, I'll write it, but promise me, Felix, that you won't let down my expectations."
"Of course, Charles, we will be very good partners, I guarantee it!"
That night, Blackwood mobilized all his connections and resources, and by early the next morning, the "tender offer" announcement, filled with devilish allure, was plastered in every corner of the Chicago exchange.
Fowler, meanwhile, published Reeves's "Open Letter to Shareholders," full of pathos and idealism, in the largest font on the front page of the Chicago Daily Truth.
And in New York, Catherine also received Felix's telegram.
Without any hesitation, she immediately wired the largest sum on the company's books, a total of twenty thousand dollars, to Blackwood's designated account in Chicago.
A general counterattack against the Mississippi and Eastern Railroad Company officially began at this moment.
The entire financial market of Chicago was plunged into unprecedented frenzy and upheaval by Felix's unheard-of combination of moves.