Georgetown in Washington retains its ancient red brick pavement.
Thomas Clark's private residence was situated behind a grove of oak trees.
The curtains in the study were drawn, blocking out the somewhat blinding afternoon sun. The room was filled with the strong scent of cigars and the aroma of Black coffee.
There were no outsiders here.
The newly appointed Secretary of the Interior, Thomas Clark, sat in the main seat.
He hadn't even had the chance to officially take office at the department yet, but he was already prepared to begin fulfilling his duties here. Secretary of War Edwin Stanton sat across from him, fiddling with an ivory pipe in his hand.
Felix sat on the sofa near the window, holding a draft regarding the allocation of Western lands.
"Congratulations, Thomas." Felix set down the document.
"The Department of the Interior is a good place; it's much more practical than arguing with those Southern sympathizers in the Senate."
"I have your maneuvering to thank for that, Felix."
Clark poured a cup of coffee for Felix, unable to help but feel somewhat emotional.
"If you hadn't used those newspapers to rally support for me, and specifically sought out Tweed to handle several Democratic senators, my nomination might have been stalled in the Senate. Not to mention, because of you, His Excellency the President was also willing to trust me."
Felix picked up the coffee and took a small sip, then exhaled a breath of hot steam.
"We are friends, aren't we? The reports in the newspapers were simply the facts of your achievements; there was no wild boasting."
"As for Tweed, that was just a transaction. After all, if they don't oppose you, I won't oppose the kickbacks they get from those municipal projects in New York."
As for Lincoln's subjective assessment, Felix did not refute it. After all, it was the truth; without the friendship between Felix and Lincoln, the other man truly wouldn't have stood up for Clark.
Even though they belonged to the same party, the President still needed to maintain a balance within the party.
"Alright, save the pleasantries for Congress."
Stanton tapped the table, his tone somewhat blunt.
"We aren't sitting here to celebrate a promotion. Felix, you said there was an important situation to discuss. Is it about the South?"
Felix's expression also became serious.
He took several photographs out of his briefcase—they were of the charred bodies Silas had photographed at the execution site, along with the file of that man who had attempted the arson.
There were also several letters intercepted locally.
"This is what happened earlier at my Oak Manor." As he spoke, Felix pushed the photos to the center of the table.
Clark glanced at them and frowned. Stanton remained expressionless; he had seen many such scenes.
"I know about this," Stanton said.
"Your security team executed twelve thugs. The War Department had already issued commissions for 'Auxiliary Militia' to Vanguard Security, so legally, these were lawful wartime actions. Furthermore, I've already had the local garrison suppress the matter."
"Edwin, this wasn't an ordinary riot."
Felix pointed to an inconspicuous detail in a photo: near the pocket of a white man's corpse, a piece of white cloth was visible, with a strange cross symbol drawn on it.
"According to information my people gathered, these individuals are organized," Felix said.
"They call themselves the 'KKK.' It's a new fringe group. They prefer to operate at night, wearing white hoods and riding horses to specifically attack Union loyalists, Black laborers, and Northern investors like me."
"Of course, the problem isn't these few thugs on horseback." Felix's voice became cold.
"During this time, my intelligence network has been tracing their sources of funding. Those horses, firearms, and those uniformly made white robes all require money."
Felix took another list out of his bag.
"These are the lists for the Democratic Party committees in several counties in South Carolina and Georgia. Look here; several names overlap with those providing funds to the KKK."
"You mean..." Clark took the list and looked at it carefully, his face changing shortly after.
"Exactly. Treason. I'm certain the Democratic Party is behind them," Felix said, his words startling.
"The KKK are the democrats' thugs. And I believe their purpose isn't just to vent their anger, but to turn the South into a monolithic voting bloc."
"You must realize that although we disenfranchised high-ranking former Confederacy officials, we didn't dissolve the Democratic Party's grassroots organizations.
They use terror tactics to intimidate black people, making them afraid to vote, or forcing them to vote for agents nominated by the Democratic Party."
Felix looked at the two secretaries, his expression very grave.
"If they are allowed to succeed, then by next year's midterms or the general election the year after, the Democratic Party will make a comeback. When the time comes and the Federal Army withdraws, the South will be back in their hands."
Stanton slammed his pipe onto the table.
"Damn it, this is a rebellion!"
Fire blazed in the eyes of this iron-fisted secretary.
"These bastards, they put down their guns only to pick up daggers. I'll send the army to wipe them out!"
"The army is useless here, Edwin." Felix shook his head.
"After all, they are farmers by day and thugs by night. If the army goes to arrest them, they just hide. Moreover, the ones you need to catch aren't just those fools on horseback, but..."
Felix tapped his finger on the list.
"...it's those lawyers, doctors, and former plantation owners sitting in offices in Charleston and Atlanta. Those local Democratic leaders wearing decent suits and writing checks for the thugs."
"The army can't move against these people because they are law-abiding citizens on the surface. If the army starts making indiscriminate arrests, the Northern newspapers will blast you for abusing military power."
"Then what should be done? Just watch them run wild? Watch them tear apart our country all over again?!" Stanton asked angrily.
"Don't be in a hurry. The army can't move, but the Department of the Interior can."
Felix looked at Clark.
"Thomas, your Department of the Interior has the authority to investigate cases of 'damaging federal land assets.' If these people are suspected of funding the destruction of plantations under federal trusteeship..."
Clark seemed to understand something. "You mean, use economic charges?"
"Not just economic charges." A slight curve appeared at the corner of Felix's mouth.
"Vanguard Security are already militia, but that's not enough. I need the Department of the Interior to authorize them as 'Special Investigators'."
Felix looked at the two of them.
"Just provide the paperwork and list the Democratic mainstays who have connections with the KKK—whether they are county councilmen or former judges."
"We can have the investigators go and 'talk' to them."
"If they disappear due to resisting arrest or some 'accident'..." Felix spread his hands. "That, too, would be for the sake of federal law and order."
"What we need to do is a physical liquidation."
After hearing Felix's words, Edwin Stanton leaned back in his leather chair with his eyes tightly closed.
He was weighing his options.
As a radical abolitionist, a fire burned within him.
He wished he could hang every last one of those stubborn Southern reactionaries from the streetlights of Charleston.
But he was a Union Secretary, his hands and feet bound by the constraints of the Constitution and Congressional regulations.
The regular army couldn't just arrest civilians at will unless martial law was declared. And once declared, Northern voters would complain about military spending.
It was a deadlock.
And Felix's proposal was an extremely sharp blade that didn't need to follow the rules.
"This plan is very dirty, Felix."
Stanton finally opened his eyes, a fierce glint showing within them.
"Handing law enforcement powers over to a private company... that will never pass a hearing in Washington. If this gets leaked, we'll all be in trouble."
"But it should be very effective."
Stanton's tone shifted as he leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"The army is like a sledgehammer; when it strikes, it makes too much noise. Letting your militia do it might be just right."
"As long as we can uproot those Democrats from the south, I don't mind getting a little more blood on my hands."
Stanton made his decision and looked at Felix.
"The War Department will cooperate with you. I will send a secret telegram to the commanders of the various Southern garrisons. If your 'militia' needs to blockade certain areas during an operation, have them contact the local commander directly."
"But I won't give you written orders," Stanton added. "This is a tacit understanding, not a military command."
"A tacit understanding is enough."
Felix nodded, not feeling dissatisfied by the lack of written endorsement. In a game at this level, leaving no paper trail was better for everyone.
"With the issue of firepower resolved, I still need to address the logistics." Felix turned his head to look at Thomas Clark, who sat in the main seat.
"Thomas, we're going to play for keeps. Vanguard United has over two thousand security personnel in the South. Feeding men and horses is a massive expense. Moreover, to expand the scope of the 'investigation' and dig out those Democratic financiers hiding behind the scenes, I need more manpower and more informant fees."
Felix's finger traced across the tabletop.
"The Department of the Interior just received an appropriation for 'Indian Affairs,' right?"
Clark had just picked up his coffee cup; hearing this, he froze, his hand stopping mid-air.
He then shook his head helplessly.
"Felix, you even calculated for that? Has your intelligence network already penetrated the Congressional Budget Committee?"
"You should know that money was approved by Congress specifically to buy blankets, beef, and farm tools for the Sioux in the West. It's meant to appease those restless tribes."
Clark set down his cup.
"Besides, you're so wealthy now, yet you're trying to scrape money from the Department of the Interior's meager budget. Wouldn't it look bad if word got out?"
"There's nothing bad about it," Felix said matter-of-factly.
"Let's be clear, Thomas. My men are now holding commissions from the War Department; they are 'auxiliary militia' shedding blood for the Union. Allocating funds is a normal defense expenditure, or internal security expenditure."
"As for the Sioux," Felix sneered.
"They clearly don't need that many blankets. Giving them too many supplies will only give them the strength to attack our railroad survey teams once they're full."
Felix walked to the map and poked his finger heavily onto the Southern territory.
"Furthermore, you have to look at the big picture. If we don't solve the trouble in the South, the KKK and the Democrats will disrupt production and even intimidate tax collectors. They'll ruin the Congressional tax revenue for next year. When the federal finances collapse, you won't even have money to buy bullets for the indians."
"This is to protect the larger interests."
Felix turned around and made a bold demand: "Allocate half to me."
"Half?" Clark gasped. "That's hundreds of thousands of dollars."
"I've already thought of a name for the line item for you."
Felix took a fountain pen from his briefcase and handed it over.
"Just write 'Asset Preservation and Special Service Fees for Southern Union Mandated Territories.' This money is essentially for buying coffins for those Democrats. I think it's a bargain."
A brief silence fell over the room.
Clark looked at the pen, then at Stanton.
However, Stanton remained expressionless, clearly acquiescing to this practice of 'robbing Peter to pay Paul.'
For these Northern politicians, the indians in the West were merely a nuisance, while the restoration of the Democrats in the South was a lethal threat.
Clark hesitated for a moment but finally sighed, took the pen, and signed the attachment to the appropriation document.
"Here you go."
Clark pushed the document over, his tone serious.
"But keep it clean. Don't let those bloodhound reporters from the Washington Post catch wind of anything. If anyone asks, this money is for repairing Southern Union warehouses."
"Don't worry."
Felix put away the document, placing it in his inner pocket and patting it gently.
"Dead men don't complain to newspapers. And in my ledger, every penny will have a legitimate destination."
With the official business concluded, the oppressive atmosphere of political conspiracy eased slightly.
Stanton relit his pipe, and Clark leaned back, rubbing his temples.
Felix straightened the collar of his overcoat. He didn't take his leave immediately but instead brought up another matter seemingly at random.
"By the way, Thomas. There's something I'd like to discuss with you regarding Miss Anna."
Hearing his daughter's name, Clark's hand paused. His gaze became somewhat complex, containing both a father's doting and a politician's helplessness.
"She hasn't stopped talking about you since she got back last night."
Clark sighed, looking at Felix.
"She was even asking about your business ventures at the breakfast table. Felix, she's my only daughter. Her mother passed away early, and I've spoiled her; she doesn't know the meaning of boundaries. I'm sorry for that."
Although Clark didn't say it explicitly, his meaning was clear: I don't want my daughter involved in a relationship that has no future or might cause a scandal. Especially not with a political ally.
"She is a very vibrant and intelligent girl."
Felix weighed his words, his tone sincere.
"She possesses a curiosity about business and the world that exceeds her peers."
"I think keeping her cooped up in your Washington home, letting her read boring novels all day or attend hypocritical social balls, is a waste. Furthermore, it's not conducive to helping her settle down."
"What do you suggest?" Clark asked warily.
"Under the Argyle Executive Committee, there is a 'Argyle Charitable Foundation'," Felix introduced.
"It's a non-profit organization independent of my other companies, managed directly by the Committee. The current head is Catherine."
"I would like to hire Miss Anna as the Vice Chairperson of the foundation."
"Work in New York?" Clark frowned. "Have her leave Washington?"
"Yes. Let her go to New York, and after she's learned the ropes, she can go to other cities for charity work." Felix nodded.
"There is real work to be done there. Let her help those war orphans, manage the schools and hospitals we've established in the South, and audit the use of every charitable fund."
"This fits her status as the daughter of the Secretary of the Interior, will earn you a good reputation, and will keep her thoroughly occupied."
Felix looked at Clark, his eyes clear and open.
"Moreover, Catherine is her direct superior. You know how serious she is about her work. With Catherine watching over her, along with so many tedious accounts and charity galas to prepare, I think... she will gradually shift her focus."
Clark was an old fox; he quickly ran through the proposal in his mind.
It was a good solution.
Sending Anna to New York under Catherine's nose was equivalent to telling everyone that the relationship between the two families was close yet transparent.
It would cut off Anna's romantic notions while saving everyone's face, ensuring that private matters wouldn't affect the political alliance.
More importantly, through the charitable foundation, the interests of the Clark and Argyle families would be tied even tighter together.
"Very well."
Clark nodded, his expression visibly relaxing.
"It's good for her to see the real world; it's better than her causing me trouble in Washington. She does need a sense of responsibility to suppress that restlessness."
"However, Felix..."
"Don't let her be mistreated. Not in her work, nor in any other aspect.She is my only daughter."
"I guarantee that she will receive the best care and guidance at the charitable foundation."