The winter wind swept across the cobblestone pavement of Broadway.
Pedestrians wrapped their coats tight, heads bowed as they hurried along; only the newsboys remained in the biting wind, waving the freshly printed extras in their hands.
The top-floor office of the Empire State Building.
Anthracite burned in the fireplace, emitting a soft crackling sound.
Matthew Becker stood before the office desk.
Specks of Pennsylvania red clay clung to his boots, and the hem of his overcoat was damp.
He had just rushed over from the train station, not even having time for a sip of water.
"You're saying Carnegie didn't just dig up the earth, he's already burying sleepers?"
Felix sat in a high-backed leather chair, playing with a Tang Dynasty jade seal from the East.
"Yes, Boss," Becker's voice was somewhat dry.
"Our men originally had the situation under control. Mark brought thirty skilled hands and hounds; those coolies didn't dare move."
"And then?"
"And then Pinkerton arrived." Becker lowered his head.
"Allan Pinkerton led the team himself, with twelve detectives fully armed. They carried an injunction from the Federal Circuit Court and Vanguard Model 65 repeating rifles. If we had opened fire, it would have been an assault on federal law enforcement."
"Pinkerton."
Felix repeated the name, fingers still toying with the jade seal.
"So it was that 'Eye That Never Sleeps' (the logo of the Pinkerton Detective Agency is a wide-open eye)."
"Over the years, Flynn and the others have coexisted peacefully with Allan Pinkerton. During the Civil War, they even provided assistance to his intelligence network."
"I was surprised too," Becker wiped sweat from his forehead. "Pinkerton usually only takes contracts from the government or big banks. This time, Drexel clearly paid a fortune. It's said the security fee was as high as a hundred thousand dollars."
"Heh... a hundred thousand dollars." Felix gave a cold laugh.
"That miser Drexel really went through a lot of trouble for that railroad, but there's no way Pinkerton doesn't know I'm behind this."
"Boss, since Pinkerton has chosen to oppose you, should we..."
Becker made a cutting gesture.
"Perhaps we could arrange a little accident? Like Allan Pinkerton encountering 'bandits' on his way back?"
"Stupid."
Felix set down the jade seal and poured a cup of hot black tea.
"What's the use of killing Pinkerton? If he dies, there's his son William Pinkerton, and Robert Pinkerton. That detective agency has already become a massive institution. Killing their leader will only turn them into mad dogs biting everyone."
Felix walked back to the desk and took a top-secret document from a drawer.
It was a draft regarding the reorganization of the Federal Department of Justice.
"Matthew, you're looking too closely. You only see twelve rifles. But I see something far more dangerous."
Felix tossed the document onto the desk.
"President Grant is considering establishing a permanent federal investigative agency. Currently, the Department of Justice can only rely on state marshals, which is too inefficient. The President wants to peel off some of the War Department's intelligence functions to form a 'Bureau of Investigation' under the DOJ."
"Because of his friendship with President Grant, Pinkerton has been lobbying for this position. He wants to nationalize his private detective agency and turn it into federal police."
Becker's eyes widened.
"Oh my god, if he succeeds..."
Felix glanced at him and took over the thought.
"Yes, if he succeeds. Then what happens to my Intelligence Department and Action Department?"
"In this country, the highest form of violence is legally authorized violence. Whoever holds that badge can legally kill, search, and confiscate property."
A cold light flashed in Felix's eyes.
"I originally planned to have Flynn and Rambo slowly infiltrate this new agency. But now, since Pinkerton took Drexel's money and chose to actively stand against me..."
"Then he cannot remain. Not just his people, but that institution, the brand, even that damned eye—they must all go blind."
Felix rang the bell on his desk.
Edward Frost pushed the door open and entered.
"Boss."
"Where is Flynn?"
"He's in the basement archives, organizing dirt on the Philadelphia bankers."
"Call him up, and Rambo too."
Felix sat back down, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Matthew, you go back to Pennsylvania first. Don't have a direct confrontation with Pinkerton. Since they have a court injunction, we'll play it legally."
"Legally?" Becker was somewhat puzzled.
"Go to the local Environmental Protection Agency—oh wait, that department doesn't exist yet—then go to the Health Department. Complain that Carnegie's construction site is polluting the water source. You can also go to the Bureau of Indian Affairs and say there might be relics under that land."
"Even use our moles in the labor unions. Let those workers know Carnegie is paying them below market rate. Incite a strike. Even if Pinkerton can block bullets, he can't block hundreds of workers with clubs who just want to eat."
"Anyway, just stall them," Felix ordered.
"Don't let them lay tracks too fast; I need time to 'tear down houses' here in Washington."
"Understood." Becker nodded.
"I'll make them pay ten times the price for every mile they lay."
Becker left.
A moment later, Flynn and Rambo walked in.
Flynn wore an unremarkable brown suit, looking like an accountant, while Rambo wore a dark trench coat, carrying the faint scent of gunpowder.
"Boss, you were looking for us?" Miller asked.
"Mhm... Pinkerton." Felix spat out the name.
"I want to destroy him. Of course, the kind where his reputation is completely ruined."
Flynn pushed up his glasses, a sinister smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"Him, Allan Pinkerton. A Scotsman. Stubborn, conceited. Prides himself as the embodiment of justice, but his hands aren't clean. To solve cases, he often uses deception, framing, and even kidnapping."
"Good that you have material." Felix pointed to the chairs.
"Sit down, let's formulate a plan first."
"The Federal Treasury will have a batch of retired gold bonds being transported from Washington to New York for destruction. Pinkerton has been vying for this escort mission, wanting to use it to prove his capability to President Grant."
"We're going to give him a hand."
Felix's voice was low and full of temptation.
"We'll make sure he gets the mission. And then, on that train, make him commit a mistake he can never wash away."
"Ah? What is it, Boss?"
Rambo was curious; as Felix's personal guard and the newly appointed Action Minister, he didn't like using his brain.
"For example, the gold disappears. And in a Pinkerton detective's pocket, the key to the safe is found."
"Or, even simpler," Flynn added.
"We don't need to steal the gold. We just need to prove that Pinkerton's men fired on innocent civilians to protect the gold."
Felix gave Flynn an appreciative look.
"Since you can think of that, go do it. You two discuss the script; I only care about the result."
"I want President Grant to see the newspapers and feel that Pinkerton is synonymous with 'incompetence' and 'brutality'."
"When that time comes, you two can take over the federal security work."
Rambo and Flynn looked at each other, both seeing the excitement in the other's eyes.
They knew that previously their two departments mostly operated in the shadows; it seemed the Boss intended for them to start stepping onto the public stage.
A good thing!
Just then, there was another knock on the office door.
This time it was Frost who entered, looking somewhat panicked.
"Boss!" Frost panted, "Miss Clark... she..."
Felix stood up abruptly, his chair making a harsh scraping sound on the floor.
"What's wrong with her?"
"She... she's going into labor."
"The doctor says the situation isn't great; the baby is in a breech position. She keeps calling your name."
The air in the room froze instantly.
The commercial monarch who had just been strategizing and discussing how to destroy a detective empire vanished.
In his place was panic.
"Then why haven't you prepared the train!"
Felix roared at Frost.
"I want the fastest special train to Washington!"
"It's already arranged, but Boss, you have a meeting with Vanderbilt in an hour..."
Felix grabbed his coat and strode toward the door.
"Tell him I have an emergency, we'll reschedule."
He rushed out the door, leaving the three men looking at each other.
Flynn shrugged and stood up.
"Looks like we're going to have a little one soon."
Rambo, meanwhile, looked expectant.
"Brother Flynn, let's get to work. We need to crush this Pinkerton bone as quickly as possible."