Philadelphia Stock Exchange.
There wasn't the clamor of New York, which prided itself on being the nation's center.
But the smell of money, greed, and sweat in the air was exactly the same.
Arthur, a local broker with thinning hair but eyes as sharp as an eagle's, was looking impatiently at the blackboard in the center of the trading floor, where prices moved as slowly as a crawling snail.
"Sir, an urgent telegram from Mr. Hayes in New York."
His assistant respectfully handed him a thin slip of paper.
Arthur took the telegram, quickly scanned it, and muttered to himself.
"Gold certificates, gold certificates again! What in the world is Tom Hayes, that old fox, up to?"
Seeing this, the assistant asked with a hint of inquiry, "Sir, should we continue to buy? This is the third telegram we've received. Our account is almost full of those paper slips."
"The market isn't reacting to gold at all. Everyone is still discussing the bond market crash from the day before yesterday."
To his surprise, Arthur revealed a smile that only veterans understood.
"That's why Tom is a true fox. He never competes with those vultures for food."
He handed the telegram back to the assistant.
"Do as he says, buy another five hundred ounces of gold certificates. Remember, use our most inconspicuous accounts. Make everything look like nothing has happened."
Meanwhile, in New York, on Wall Street.
At the Patriot Investment Company office, encrypted telegrams from Boston and Philadelphia were successively received.
"Boston has succeeded."
Hayes jotted down the latest figures on a piece of paper.
"Arthur in Philadelphia has also completed his final purchase. Boss, as of now, we collectively hold gold certificates worth sixty thousand dollars. The average purchase price is just under twenty-one dollars per ounce."
"Has the market reacted?" Felix asked.
Hayes shrugged and replied with what he considered a humorous tone.
"Oh, the market is calm, and the big players are busy frantically acquiring war bonds, which are being dumped by the public due to panic, as if they were bargains. Their attention is still on yesterday's battlefield. Perhaps they haven't had time to think about how the Federal Government will respond yet, who knows?"
And not far from them, in a private room at Delmonico's Restaurant.
Several Wall Street magnates were enjoying lunch.
Leading them was a man named Silas Thorne.
He was one of Wall Street's most famous speculators, known for his insatiable appetite and ruthless methods.
"McClellan's failure is simply a gift from God."
Thorne said, cutting his steak, in a tone full of amusement.
"The public is selling everything in a panic. And we just need to open our pockets and catch the gold coins that fall."
"Exactly." Another banker echoed, "I've already bought fifty thousand dollars worth of five-year bonds. Wars always end. And the government, for the sake of its reputation, will always pay its bills. This is the most reliable business in this country."
"Any news from London?" Thorne asked thoughtfully.
"The Rothschild family is as cautious as ever," the banker said with a frown, and then replied with an uncertain tone.
"They are buying gold. But at the same time, they are also taking small positions in Federal bonds. The old money in London believes that our war is a high-risk gamble."
"Heh... what a naive idea." A hint of disdain flashed across Thorne's brow, believing that such conservative thinking disgraced financial professionals.
It seemed the Rothschild family was nothing special, the 'Economic Czars of Europe' indeed, more like leeches.
Of course, Thorne thought this in his mind, but he would never say it out loud.
"Then let them rot with their cautious ideas."
"True wealth never belongs to the cautious. It only belongs to us, the warriors who dare to bet in a pool of blood."
That evening, Felix returned to his factory along the East River, as usual.
Here, there was no Wall Street intrigue, only the roar of steel and the passion of creation.
Catherine was waiting for him in the office.
"Felix, welcome back. Everything at the factory is going well. The fourth batch of military orders has also been delivered on time. The sales department has signed contracts for iron boxes with five more tobacco companies."
"You've worked hard, Catherine." Felix's tone was very gentle.
"However," Catherine's face showed a hint of worry, which only she dared to show in front of Felix.
"The fifty thousand dollars you transferred from the company's account... Felix, our cash reserves are now below the set safety line. This new game you're playing is too risky."
Felix put his hand on her waist, pulled her into his arms, and whispered in her ear.
"This is a speculative short-term investment, darling, a short-term risk for greater profit. Trust me, okay? Besides, even if gold doesn't rise, we won't lose money. Given my current situation, I can completely handle it."
"Of course, I always trust you, Felix." Catherine's reply was soft, but firm.
"I just prefer businesses that are tangible and visible."
Just then, a messenger practically tumbled into the office.
His hat was askew, and he was wearing a Western Union uniform.
"Mr. Argyle, urgent! Urgent news announcement!"
Felix took the thin slip of paper, which still carried the warmth of the telegraph machine.
After just one glance, his pupils suddenly constricted.
It read:
"To cope with the growing war expenditures, the Federal Treasury has received emergency authorization from Congress. It will immediately issue one hundred million dollars in legal tender not backed by gold reserves, i.e., Greenbacks."
"They've finally started printing money." Felix murmured softly.
Hayes also received the same news after Felix left.
He looked at the announcement, and a nearly cruel smile appeared on his always calm face.
"It's here." He picked up his top hat and walked out of the office.
"What's here, sir?" His assistant, Johnny, asked, puzzled.
"The signal," Hayes replied, "that final straw that breaks the camel's back. And the bugle call to begin the feast."
When this news appears on the front page of all newspapers tomorrow morning.
A frenzy of food and gold hoarding, triggered by distrust of paper money, will completely sweep across the entire United States.
And they, had already been waiting at the vault's door.
As the New York sun had just illuminated the narrow streets of Wall Street, a financial storm, ignited by last night's telegram from Washington, had already erupted.
The front page of The New York Herald announced the news with a headline that was almost apocalyptic.
"One Hundred Million, or One Billion? The Federal Government Will Start the Printing Press to Pay for the War!"
The article was like a lit match thrown into the already dry tinder of public sentiment.
Early in the morning, all banks and grocery stores in New York had endless queues stretching out their doors.
"I want to exchange for gold! Convert all my deposits into gold coins!"
A man, who looked like a small shop owner, frantically pounded on the closed bank doors.
"You swindlers! Greenbacks are about to become waste paper! Do you want to swallow all our money?!"
"Gold! We want gold!"
Panic spread like a plague throughout the city.
Meanwhile, in a private room at Delmonico's Restaurant, Wall Street's speculative magnate, Silas Thorne, angrily crumpled the newspaper in his hand.
"These damnable politicians! A bunch of idiots who can't do anything but print money!" he roared at his partners, whose faces were equally grim.
"Mr. Thorne," a banker said anxiously.
"Now is not the time for complaints. The Gold Exchange just opened. The price of gold instantly jumped from twenty-two dollars to twenty-eight dollars!"
"Then buy!" Thorne's answer was simple and blunt.
"Immediately use all our cash! Before the price goes through the roof, buy as much gold as possible! This is the only way to hedge against inflation!"
"But, sir..." his broker stammered.
"On the market... on the market, there aren't enough sellers at all. Everyone is buying. No one is willing to sell gold at a time like this."
"Then go find it for me!" Thorne's eyes were bloodshot. "Go to London! Go to Paris! No matter the cost, buy me gold!"
The entire Wall Street was caught in a frenzy of one-way buying.
Yet, at the center of this frenzy, the Patriot Investment Company's office was incredibly calm.
"Good morning, everyone."
Felix, holding a cup of hot milk, walked into the office with Catherine.
"Good morning, Boss, Miss O'Brien."
Tom Hayes rose from his desk to greet them.
His assistant, Johnny, would bring back the latest intelligence from the exchange every half hour.
"Boss, Mr. Hayes!"
Johnny, once again, rushed in, out of breath.
"The price has broken thirty dollars an ounce! I heard Thorne's people are frantically searching for sellers on the market like madmen! They're practically burning through the prices on the blackboard."
"It seems things are going very well." Hayes glanced at the clock on the wall, then looked at Felix.
"Boss. The time is almost right."
"How so?" Felix asked.
"Greed has triumphed over reason," Hayes, the seasoned trader, offered his analysis.
"The current price has detached from its intrinsic value. It's merely a huge bubble inflated by panic. And we, as the clear-headed ones in the market, it's now time to satisfy the demands of those 'feverish' individuals."
"I agree."
Felix nodded in satisfaction upon hearing this. It seemed Hayes hadn't been carried away by victory.
"We are not insatiable gamblers, but merchants who profit from information asymmetry. The profits from this battle are already firmly in our hands."
"Then arrange it."
Upon hearing his Boss grant permission, Hayes quickly gave instructions to his young assistant.
"Johnny, notify all our agents in New York, Philadelphia, and Boston."
"Begin selling."
"Remember, do not dump everything at once; it's easy to expose us."
"Like the most cautious milkman, little by little, feed our gold certificates to those hungry, eager buyers."
"Our goal is to clear all our gold positions and convert them into the most adorable cash before the market closes at three o'clock this afternoon."
"Yes, sir!"
Subsequently, as Johnny began transmitting the instructions via telegram to the three major financial centers on the East Coast, a silent sell-off began.
In the frenzied New York Gold Exchange, a market with only buy orders and no sell orders, some sporadic small-scale sell orders suddenly appeared.
"Hey! Here are fifty ounces of certificates! Thirty-one dollars, who wants them?!"
"I do!" Thorne's broker pounced immediately like a hungry tiger.
"Why are you snatching? I want them too, I'll pay thirty-two dollars!" the man who had been pushed aside shouted angrily, then also stepped forward to contend for them.
And in Philadelphia and Boston, the same scene was playing out.
Those ghost accounts that had quietly absorbed some gold in the previous few days were now quietly releasing these priceless gold ounces back into the market, little by little.
While everyone was frantic, searching for prey, they were quietly harvesting their spoils.
At exactly three o'clock that afternoon, the closing bell of the exchange rang on time, and Johnny placed the final, compiled transaction report in front of Hayes.
His hands were still trembling slightly from excitement.
Looking at the slip of paper filled with numbers, a look, named 'the return of a king,' reappeared on Hayes's face, which had long been smoothed by years and failures.
He slowly pushed the slip of paper towards Felix.
"Boss, our gold campaign is over."
"We invested a total capital of fifty-five thousand dollars."
"And the cash we recovered today is one hundred and six thousand dollars."
"Excluding all commissions and expenses, our net profit this time is..."
"Fifty-one thousand dollars."
Fifty-one thousand dollars in one week.
This figure greatly surprised Catherine, whom Felix had specifically called to witness this moment.
She couldn't imagine that such a mad way of making money existed in this world.
"Very good."
Felix looked at the number, a satisfied smile on his face.
Tom Hayes pushed a celebratory glass of whiskey in front of Felix.
"Boss," his voice was filled with barely suppressed excitement.
"A perfect victory, though not large in scale. But we accurately predicted every market fluctuation, from shorting bonds to buying gold.
We silently tore a piece of rich meat from the mouths of those most greedy sharks."
Felix looked at the net profit figure of fifty-one thousand dollars on the note.
"You're right, Tom," he nodded, "This was a successful test."
"A test?" Hayes was a little confused, "Boss, this is more than just a test. This is enough to make any small brokerage firm go crazy."
"Yes, but for me, it's just a test," Felix said seriously. "We tested three things at the lowest cost."
"First, we tested our intelligence analysis capabilities. It proved that my judgment combined with your experience is effective."
"Second, your secret trading network spanning three cities. It proved to be reliable and untraceable."
"Finally, we also tested our mutual trust. Now the test is over, and I am very satisfied with the results."
Hayes grinned and rubbed his hands excitedly.
"So, Boss, when will the real attack be? Where will it be directed? Arms stocks? Or those cotton futures whose prices fluctuate due to war?"
"No rush, let's talk about it in a week."
Felix's answer made Hayes feel puzzled.
"A week later? Why?"
"Because I need to wait for the funds to arrive."
A smile appeared on Felix's face that made even Hayes feel a chill.
"Tom, you are an excellent financial expert. But now the company's available funds are too small."
Patting the other party's arm, Felix's eyes sparkled with a strange light.
"In a week, my factory will complete the military's million-dollar contract. At that time, a final payment of two hundred thousand dollars will be deposited into our account."
"That means in a week, Patriot Investment Company's account will have three hundred thousand dollars in available cash."
"That is the real capital I have prepared for you."
Hayes was stunned by Felix's methods.
He, of course, knew that Felix's food company had received a million-dollar order from the military; everyone in New York knew.
But what he didn't expect was that this young Boss had such courage, daring to gamble all his profits.
"This… Boss, shouldn't you reconsider? Although we won these two times, the capital market is full of uncertainties. There's no need to put all our cash in."
Hayes's initially passionate heart instantly regained its rationality, and he quickly tried to persuade Felix.
Even Catherine, who was nearby, couldn't help but offer a few words of advice. Although she was also shocked by the speed at which money was made in the financial market, she didn't like this kind of heart-pounding game.
"Boss, it's better not to be so aggressive."
Seeing both of them trying to persuade him, Felix could understand their feelings.
"You don't have to worry. I didn't make this decision on a whim. This matter is settled."
Hayes finally understood that his young Boss's previous small ventures of fifty thousand dollars were truly just insignificant pre-war drills.
"Alright, I understand, Boss." His breathing became a little rapid. "So, during this week, my mission is…"
"Your mission is to find a perfect battlefield for this capital, which is about to arrive, one that will make it famous in one battle."
"Go research and analyze. I want a target that is large enough to accommodate our three hundred thousand dollars, and at the same time, has huge potential that has not yet been discovered by the market."
"Yes, Boss!"
Hayes immediately took his leave… Meanwhile, at the other end of New York, in front of an inconspicuous shoe-shine stand.
A well-dressed but arrogant young man placed his expensive Italian leather shoes on the footrest of the shoe box.
"Shine them brightly, kid."
After sitting down, the man read the newspaper while chatting with his companion next to him.
"Heard about it, Kevin? Our association is really going to get serious this time."
"Of course, but I don't understand. Haven't we already failed to restrict that upstart with raw materials? What else can we do?"
"Heh… Raw materials are just a low-level tactic," the man snorted disdainfully.
"I heard that after some guidance from the big shots, the directors have come to their senses and figured out how to deal with that upstart.
What is that Argyle's advantage? Isn't it just his factory's sealing and preservation technology that can produce new-style canned goods?"
"We need to have it too!" The man's voice was full of triumph.
"I heard from my Boss's secretary that the association has already raised a large sum of money. They hired a top mechanical engineer from England and have already started building a larger, more advanced canning factory in New Jersey!"
"Really? Is that true?"
Kevin evidently hadn't heard about this and was somewhat skeptical.
"Of course it's true! It's said that even the approximate design drawings for that Argyle's automatic canning machine have been obtained through some special channels, and they are preparing to modify some designs.
The bosses said, two months!
In two months at most, we will be able to produce canned goods similar to Argyle & Co. Foods's.
Hmph, we'll see how arrogant he can be then!"
His colleague smiled upon hearing this and quickly added,
"Then it seems our association can also make a comeback. You know, the previous two attempts to target him were both defused, which caused the association to lose a lot of face.
I'm in charge of transportation, and I heard that even the giants of the Eastern Railroad Alliance were made to look bad by that Argyle in Chicago."
Then, as if remembering something else, he couldn't help but sigh.
"Sometimes I think, this person is simply blessed by God. I heard he came out of the slums and actually built such a large enterprise in just one year, even making our association and the Eastern Railroad Alliance suffer losses."
"Oh, Kevin, my brother, you really… You absolutely must not say that in the association. The directors would love to hire a hitman to kill Felix Argyle."
The shoe-shine boy's hand paused involuntarily, drawing an annoyed sound from the man.
"Why did you stop? Hurry up and clean it properly, you little shoe-shining rascal. If you don't clean it properly, don't expect any money."
"Sorry, sir, I'll clean it right away."
Upon hearing this, the shoe-shine boy immediately made his brush dance quickly over the leather shoes.
Although he kept his head down, his ears absorbed every word the two men said, etching them firmly into his mind.
The next morning, in the offices of Argyle & Co. Foods, Felix was already hard at work.
He and Catherine were poring over a large map of New York, planning how the company's sales department should expand their products throughout the entire New York surrounding area.
Just then, there was a knock on the office door, and a clerk respectfully opened it.
"Boss, Mr. Gable is here. He said he needs to see you immediately. He also... he also brought a young boy."
"Mr. Gable?" Felix was a little surprised. "Please show him in quickly."
A moment later, Mr. Gable, pulling a thin, somewhat flustered figure, walked in quickly.
Felix's gaze fell on the child.
He recognized Timmy at a glance.
The clever boy who had once provided him with intelligence about the Viper Gang's warehouse.
Standing up to embrace Mr. Gable, Felix asked in confusion, "Mr. Gable, is there something important about you bringing Timmy here?"
"Felix."
Mr. Gable's tone was very serious.
"I apologize for dropping in unannounced, but this boy was waiting at my shop door early this morning. He said he had something important he had to tell you in person."
Felix looked at Timmy again.
He noticed that the boy had grown a bit taller since their last meeting and was dressed much cleaner.
Clearly, the previous rewards Felix had given him had slightly improved his life.
"It's alright, Mr. Gable, you can come to me anytime you wish, you are always welcome." Felix's tone was gentle. "Long time no see, Timmy, can you tell me what's going on?"
Timmy nervously clutched the corner of his clothes, but after seeing Felix's encouraging gaze, he still mustered his courage.
He recounted, word for word, the conversation he had overheard yesterday at the shoe-shining stand about the Trade Association employees.
"...hired engineers from England."
"They said they got the approximate blueprints for your can-making machine."
"...and they also said that in two months at most, they'll be able to produce canned goods similar to yours. Then we'll see how arrogant you can be."
Timmy even mimicked the man's contemptuous tone perfectly.
When Timmy finished his last word, the entire office fell into silence.
Mr. Gable's face, after listening, was filled with shock and anger.
"These damn bastards! They're stealing! This is the most shameless commercial theft."
Catherine's face also showed a grave expression.
"Boss." She looked at Felix. "If what Timmy heard is true, then this will be the biggest crisis our company has faced since its inception."
"Our technological advantage and scale are the foundation of all our victories. Once this advantage is replicated by them, we will be plunged into a brutal price war."
Felix didn't speak, just watched Timmy with a smile.
"You did very well, Timmy."
After a long while, he spoke, his voice betraying no hint of panic.
He took a stack of brand new banknotes from his drawer and handed them to Timmy.
"Here's a hundred dollars, your reward for this intelligence."
One hundred dollars!
Timmy and Mr. Gable both gasped.
"No... sir."
Timmy instinctively took a step back, waving his hands hurriedly.
"I... I'm not doing it for the money. I just felt that I had to tell you this. You... you are a good person."
Felix smiled.
"Of course, you're a good lad who isn't greedy for money, I know that very well."
"But good intelligence should have its due value, right? This is what you deserve, don't make it difficult for me, pal."
He pulled Timmy's hand and forced the money into his hand.
Then, he looked again at the boy with clear eyes, who, despite living in the dirtiest mire, still maintained a sense of simplicity.
"Timmy, what do you think fate is like?" he suddenly asked.
"Fate?" Timmy was stunned.
"Yes, last time, when I was targeted by the Viper Gang, you gave me a chance to fight back. This time, when my biggest enemy was about to show its fangs, you again sent me a warning in advance."
"Don't you think we have a lot of fate between us?"
"I..."
"Don't rush, listen to me, pal, I have a proposal."
Felix stared into his eyes and said seriously, "Don't go back to shining shoes on the street, that's too much of a waste of your talent."
"Stay and work for me, Timmy."
"Work?"
Timmy's eyes widened instantly, and he even stammered when he spoke.
"But... but sir, I... I don't know how to do anything except shine shoes and gather information."
"But isn't that precisely your talent, Miller, come in for a moment."
Miller, the head of security, who had been standing by the door and overheard everything, walked in.
"Is there anything you need, Boss?"
Felix stated the plan he had already thought of.
"Select some personnel from the Spartan Security Department to form an intelligence department."
"This department will only report to me, and its sole mission is to be my eyes and ears. It will be responsible for collecting all valuable intelligence in this city for me, whether commercial or otherwise."
"Miller, have Flynn return from Chicago to manage this department, and O'Malley will be responsible for the railway company's security."
"Yes, Boss!"
Felix's gaze returned to the boy, who was now completely stunned.
"And you, Timmy, will be the first official agent of my intelligence department."
"You will no longer be a street shoe-shiner; you will have a decent job, a high salary, and a clean, warm dormitory."
"Tell me, Timmy. Are you willing?"
Timmy looked at Felix, at the sincere, solemn invitation in his eyes, devoid of any hint of charity.
His eyes, though young, had seen the harsh realities of the world, and at this moment, they instantly reddened.
He didn't speak.
He just bowed deeply to Felix, using all his strength.
Then he looked up and said in a tone of unprecedented determination.
"Yes, Boss!"
That evening, at Felix's home.
Catherine brought him a cup of hot milk.
"Felix, you made a very... kind decision today."
"Kind?" Felix shook his head. "No, Catherine. This is actually just a rational business decision."
"A grateful and talented source of intelligence, its value is far greater than a hundred dollars. I am merely making a long-term investment."
He looked out the window.
"Moreover," a cold glint flashed in his eyes, "our enemies have already begun to reach into our internal affairs. So it's time for us to send some of our own 'little mice' to explore their granary."