"My God..."
Drew gasped, then burst into a fit of wild laughter.
"Hahaha, this is simply wonderful! A fire, and a vault fire at that. This is truly a gift from God."
He snatched the paper tape to confirm once more.
Yes, it was that specific encrypted format.
"Five minutes!" Drew roared.
"We only have five minutes! The entire Union doesn't know this news yet. Quick! Notify all our traders on the floor."
"Hurry up and buy! Buy all the gold futures! Take as much as you can get. I'm going to make a killing this time, hahahaha."
"By the way, mortgage my shares in the telegraph company immediately. I want leverage—tenfold leverage to buy gold."
Drew was insane.
In this era without regulation, inside information was a money-printing machine.
He could almost see countless gold coins falling from the sky, burying him beneath them.
Saul's face was also flushed with excitement. He immediately sent instructions through another transmitter to his henchmen already lying in wait at the exchange... Meanwhile, at the New York Gold Exchange.
Known as the "Gold Room," it was a circular trading hall. Hundreds of traders were screaming, waving, and shoving like madmen inside.
Suddenly, several traders belonging to Drew's camp rushed onto the floor.
"Make way, make way! I want to buy gold. One-thirty-five, a thousand ounces!"
"One-thirty-six, five thousand ounces!"
"One-thirty-eight, I'll take as much as you have!"
This sudden, cost-be-damned buying instantly ignited the market.
"What's going on? Drew's people are buying like crazy?"
"Is there some big news?"
"Follow them! Quick, follow them!"
Panic and greed are the fastest-spreading viruses; after all, people naturally follow the crowd.
Seeing someone buying gold in such large quantities, they must have heard something.
So, no one dared to delay, immediately entering the market for fear of missing out on the profit.
Consequently, the price of gold began to soar.
From the initial $135 an ounce, it surged to $145 in an instant and continued to climb.
Meanwhile, in the VIP room on the second floor of the exchange, someone was watching coldly.
Tom Hayes was holding a cup of tea, looking down coldly through the glass window at the frenzied crowd.
Behind him sat Felix.
Felix held a pocket watch, watching the second hand tick by.
"Two minutes have passed," Felix said calmly. "It seems that fellow Drew should have entered the market by now."
"Yes, Boss. Otherwise, there's no way the gold market would suddenly explode. It must be your news that reached him."
Hayes looked at the quote board below and sneered slightly.
To rush in with unverified news—he simply has a death wish.
"Gold has reached 148. Drew's people have likely taken in at least a million dollars' worth of contracts."
"Good," Felix closed his pocket watch.
"That's enough. Don't let the price rise too high; that would hurt innocent people."
"Dump it."
Felix issued the death sentence.
"Dump all our gold contracts in inventory. Smash as many as we have, and drive the price back down to hell."
Hayes nodded and ordered into the internal microphone: "Sell everything from the Patriot Company account, right now!"
...On the blackboard inside the trading floor.
Just as the gold price was about to break the 150 mark, a massive wave of selling pressure suddenly descended from the sky.
"Sell! One-forty-eight! Ten thousand ounces of gold!"
"Sell! One-forty-five! Twenty thousand ounces of gold!"
That was the selling pressure from Patriot Investment.
It was like a mountain collapsing, instantly crushing all the buy orders.
"What's happening? Who's selling?"
"It's Argyle's people!"
The price of gold, like a kite with a broken string, instantly turned downward. 148, 145, 140... 44 Broad Street.
Drew stared at the plummeting numbers on the ticker, his entire body freezing up.
"What's going on? Why is it falling? Didn't the news say the vault was on fire?" Drew roared.
"Did the London market not open higher?"
"I... I don't know..." Saul panicked as well. "By all rights, it should have gone crazy!"
Just then, that special telegraph machine rang again.
But this time, what it spat out was not good news.
Instead, it was the official opening announcement from the London Stock Exchange:
"London gold prices are stable today. Rumors regarding a vault fire are purely fabricated. Everything at the Bank of England is normal."
"Pfft..."
Drew felt as if he had been punched hard in the chest; he couldn't catch his breath and nearly fainted.
"Fake?!"
"How could it be fake? That was sent by G-7!" Saul clutched the paper tape, his hands shaking like a sieve.
"Was it Simon... Did that Simon lie to us?"
"You idiot!"
Drew slapped Saul across the face.
"Didn't you say there was absolutely no problem?!"
"It's over... everything is over..."
Drew slumped onto the floor.
He had just used tenfold leverage.
For every dollar gold dropped, his losses were astronomical.
Now the price of gold had dropped below 135 and was still falling.
Because once the market realized it was a rumor, all the trend-followers were fleeing in panic.
130. 128.
"Liquidated..." Drew muttered to himself, his eyes hollow.
"My margin... my shares..."
This time, he had not only lost all his cash but would also be burdened with massive debt... Felix watched the mist slowly dissipate outside the window, his face showing no emotion.
"Hayes, close the net."
"Buy back the gold we just sold at the low to close the positions. How much did we make on this wave?"
Hayes calculated quickly.
"About 1.5 million dollars, mainly by devouring Drew's margin."
"Well done," Felix nodded.
"Flynn."
"Here."
"That Simon—give him some money and have him leave New York for the West or wherever. Don't let anyone find him."
"What about Saul The Cripple?" Flynn asked.
"No need for us to lift a finger," Felix sneered.
"Drew surely wants to tear him to pieces right now. Leave him to Drew to handle."
"However..." Felix's tone shifted.
"Go investigate that 'Delaware Technology' Saul mentioned. I feel this matter isn't that simple."
"Understood."
Felix stood up and straightened his collar.
"Let's go, Hayes. Let's take a stroll on Wall Street. I heard the share price of the Western Union Telegraph Company also plummeted today due to a 'leak of false information' scandal? How coincidental."
"Yes, quite coincidental indeed; it dropped 10%. I heard all of Drew's shares have been mortgaged."
"This is the opportunity God has given me."
Ambition gleamed in Felix's eyes.
"Try to acquire those shares. Drew definitely won't have the money to redeem them now. Also, try to buy up as many of the remaining shares on the market as possible. Not having one's own communication network is just too uncomfortable."
145 Broadway.
The headquarters of the Western Union Telegraph Company.
Yesterday's "Fake Vault Fire" scandal was like a heavy hammer, shattering the credibility of this telegraph monopoly giant.
It caused its stock price to drop 12% in a single day. Angry shareholders surrounded the building entrance, waving fists and worthless stock certificates, shouting for the management to get out.
In the boardroom on the third floor, the atmosphere was very discordant.
Around the long mahogany conference table sat a dozen well-dressed but grim-faced gentlemen. They were the directors of Western Union, the men who held the lifeblood of America's information.
But today, all their eyes were focused on the empty seat at the end of the long table.
That was the chair belonging to Daniel Drew.
This once-overbearing speculation tycoon had seen his positions liquidated in the gold market yesterday, losing over two million dollars.
It was said he was now hiding on a farm in New Jersey, transferring his assets into his relatives' names overnight to escape his creditors.
"This is simply a disaster."
A director with white sideburns broke the silence, tapping his finger on the table.
"The newspapers are calling us frauds and saying Western Union is an accomplice to speculators. If we can't give the public an explanation, Congress might revoke our charter."
"Explanation? How do we explain?" another director snorted coldly.
"Say that our shareholder, Mr. Drew, used a private line for insider trading and ended up nearly bankrupt because he was tricked by fake news? Oh God... if that gets out, our stock will drop another half!"
"Someone must take responsibility."
"Who? Drew has already run away!"
Just as the argument was about to turn into verbal abuse, the boardroom door was pushed open.
There was no announcement or knock.
Felix walked straight in, wearing a dark gray double-breasted overcoat with a ruby brooch pinned to his collar, symbolizing family power.
Behind him followed Tom Hayes and a lawyer carrying a briefcase.
The boardroom fell silent instantly as everyone looked at this uninvited guest.
"Mr. Argyle?" chairman Jepson frowned.
"I'm sorry... this is an internal board meeting. Although you are a shareholder, according to the bylaws..."
"Bylaws?"
Felix walked to the empty chair that belonged to Drew, pulled it out, and sat down calmly.
"Mr. Jepson, does anyone still care about bylaws? The people outside only care about whether this building will be burned down by an angry mob."
Felix looked around, his gaze lingering on each person's face for a moment.
"Right now, you should be more concerned about how to handle this matter. I didn't come here today to listen to you argue. I can solve this problem. Tom."
Hayes stepped forward upon hearing this and distributed a stack of documents to every director present.
"What is this?"
Jepson picked up the document, and after a glance, his face turned incredibly pale.
It was proof of equity.
"Through Patriot Investment Company, as well as a series of large off-market transactions we made yesterday afternoon," Felix said calmly.
"I now hold 18% of the Western Union Telegraph Company. Plus, the voting rights I just 'borrowed' from Captain Cornelius Vanderbilt—he gave me the 5% proxy rights he held."
Hearing Vanderbilt's name, everyone present felt their hearts skip a beat.
The Captain was a notorious hard-ass. If even he had sided with Argyle, it meant the tide had turned.
"But that's not enough for a controlling interest," the director with white sideburns said, bracing himself. "You need 51%."
"But I don't think I need 51%."
Felix leaned back, crossing his hands.
"I only need to prove that the current management is incompetent and corrupt, and is leading the company into an abyss."
Felix snapped his fingers.
Hayes produced another document; it was a confession.
It bore the signature and thumbprint of the operator Simon, detailing the existence of the G-7 line and how Drew had bribed internal personnel to conduct commercial fraud.
"If this were sent to the federal prosecutor, or to Editor Fowler's desk at The Daily Truth in New York..."
Felix's voice was light, yet it echoed clearly in everyone's ears.
"Then Western Union is finished. The stock in your hands will become waste paper. Your names will become a disgrace."
No one dared to speak; no one even dared to breathe loudly.
They were all respectable men who cared deeply about their reputations and their wallets.
"What do you want?"
Jepson's voice was somewhat hoarse, as if he had suddenly aged ten years.
"It's simple."
Felix stood up, hands leaning on the table, looking down at this group of former tycoons.
"First, reorganize the board. I want three seats. Drew's position is mine, and the other two will come from kicking out those useless fools who only know how to take dividends."
"Second, pass a new resolution: Western Union Telegraph Company will enter into a 'deep strategic binding' with Argyle' railway system. We will jointly fund the laying of new telegraph lines in the currently desolate West."
"Finally..."
A disdainful sneer curled at the corner of Felix's mouth.
"I demand a thorough internal investigation. Everyone suspected of involvement with the G-7 line, from supervisors to janitors, will be fired. I want no more rats in this building."
"Of course... in exchange, I will inject one million dollars in cash to stabilize the stock price and upgrade equipment. Furthermore, I will use my connections to make Congress shut up."
This was a blatant coup de main, and also a deal that could not be refused.
Jepson looked at the confession in his hand, then at the directors around him who had long since wavered.
The times have changed.
"Fine, I mean, if you insist."
Jepson sighed and put down his fountain pen.
"As long as you can save the stock price, we... agree."
"A very wise choice."
Felix straightened his collar and turned toward the door.
"Tom, stay behind to handle the legal procedures. I want to see the list of the new board of directors in tomorrow morning's newspapers."
As he reached the door, Felix stopped and looked back.
"By the way, burn that chair." He pointed to the seat Drew had occupied. "I don't like the smell of a loser."
...Walking out of the boardroom, Felix did not leave the building.
Led by a pale-faced senior manager, he arrived at the building's basement.
This was the technology R&D center of Western Union.
It was filled with copper wires, batteries, acids, and that dizzying metallic smell.
In a corner piled with junk, a young man was hunched over a workbench, holding a screwdriver and dismantling what looked like a complex machine.
The man was in his early twenties, with messy hair like a bird's nest and shirt sleeves stained with oil. He was somewhat hard of hearing and didn't notice until Felix walked up behind him.
"Ahem." Felix coughed intentionally.
The young man jumped, and the screwdriver in his hand almost fell to the floor.
He turned around, revealing a face full of fatigue but with bright eyes.
According to the intelligence Felix had obtained, this person was the legendary 'Wizard of Invention.'
Thomas Alva Edison, a man almost as good as Nikola Tesla.
At this time, he was still just a wandering telegraph operator and an obscure inventor.
Because he was always conducting strange experiments, he had been fired from several telegraph offices. However, his obsession with technology had led him to find a temporary shelter in this basement.
"Sir, who are you?" Edison asked, tilting his ear.
"Are you going to kick me out? Mr. Jepson promised to let me stay until the end of the month!"
"Rest assured, I'm not kicking you out." Felix smiled and raised his voice, "I'm going to be the new owner here. And who are you?"
Felix pointed to the disassembled machine on the table.
"Introduce this. What is it?"
"Sorry sir, I am Thomas Alva Edison, and this is a prototype for a Stock Ticker."
Edison introduced it excitedly; as soon as he talked about technology, he forgot his nervousness.
"Current tickers are too slow, only typing a few words per minute, and they frequently jam. I'm improving its gear structure, trying to make it print letters and numbers simultaneously."
"How much faster can it be?" Felix asked.
Internally, he confirmed the intelligence; it really was Edison.
"At least twice as fast!" Edison gestured.
"And more stable, as long as there's enough current..."
"How much money do you need? I mean, to fully build this thing," Felix interrupted him.
"Huh?" Edison was stunned.
"Maybe, probably... probably fifty dollars to buy copper wire and magnets."
"I'll give you five thousand dollars."
Felix pulled a check from his pocket and placed it on the grease-stained table.
Edison's eyes widened as if he were looking at an alien.
"Five thousand? You could buy this whole basement for that."
"I'm not buying the basement, I'm buying you."
Felix looked at this future Wizard of Invention.
"Mr. Edison, as long as you join the Argyle Central Laboratory as an electrical engineer, this money is yours. Of course, provided you are willing. Oh, right... I forgot to introduce myself: Felix Argyle."
"What? You are Mr. Argyle?"
Edison was greatly shocked. He had been in New York for several months now.
During these months, he had frequently heard of Felix's deeds and knew he was only a few years older than himself. In his heart, he had always greatly admired or envied him.
He also deeply desired to become a wealthy man, a legend revered by everyone. To have the man himself standing before him was an incredible surprise.
"Of course, Mr. Argyle. I mean, I am very willing to join the Central Laboratory you mentioned as an engineer."
"Then the first R&D product I want from you is to finish this ticker. Not only must it be fast, but it must also be able to connect all the exchanges together."
Felix patted the young man on the shoulder.
"Thomas, in this world there are people who control the present, like me. What you need to do is help me control the future."
Edison looked at the check, then at Felix.
The sense of inferiority he had developed from being long ignored vanished in an instant.
"No problem, Boss!" Edison shouted loudly.
"As long as there's money, I could pluck the beard off of God himself."
Felix laughed.
He walked out of the basement and back to the carriage parked in the rain.
Western Union was secured, and the seeds of technology had been sown.
Now, it was time to deal with that hunter in Washington... The federal capital of Washington was not as grand as it would later become.
Although the dome of the Capitol Building was finished, Pennsylvania Avenue remained a muddy dirt road.
Lining it were low brick buildings and wooden shacks; pigs and geese foraged in the foul ditches by the roadside.
The air was thick with the distinct rot of the Potomac marshes and the lingering scent of political intrigue that never seemed to dissipate.
In a cramped office of the Department of Justice.
Henry Sturgis was organizing documents. He was thirty years old, a Harvard Law graduate, wearing round-framed glasses with a gaze that betrayed a near-obsessive idealism.
As a newly appointed Federal Prosecutor, he was eager to make a name for himself in this gradually corrupting quagmire.
"This evidence is enough to send that Argyle to the gallows."
Sturgis picked up a file and spoke to his assistant sitting opposite him.
The cover of the file read: "Investigation Report on Freight Discrimination and Illegal Rebates in the Argyle Railway System."
"Look here," Sturgis pointed to a line of data.
"Transporting coal from Pennsylvania to New York costs only 50 cents per ton if it's coal from Saineng Minerals. If it's coal from other mine owners, it's 2 dollars per ton. Naked monopoly—this is the murder of free trade!"
"But, sir."
The assistant, who was in his forties, was somewhat hesitant. He wasn't like Sturgis, an idealistic youth who had just entered society.
He knew very well how deeply the Argyle system was tied to the federal government.
The railway matter alone couldn't possibly do anything to him; besides, the federal government hadn't explicitly banned monopolies or rebates.
It was truly a headache, having to deal with such a greenhorn.
Thus, he could only express it tactfully.
"Mr. Argyle is a major donor to the Republican Party, and they say his relationship with the President..."
"The President is not above the law!"
Sturgis slammed the file shut, his aura aggressive.
"This country exists to protect everyone, not to protect some robber baron building castles."
"I have already applied for a Congressional Hearing. Next Monday, I will subpoena that Miller from Militech and that railway supervisor named Reeves. I will make them swear before God and then drag all their dirty laundry into the light."
Just then, there was a knock on the office door.
A messenger in uniform walked in.
"Mr. Sturgis, there is a lady who wishes to see you. She says she represents the Argyle Charitable Foundation."
Sturgis gave a disdainful laugh.
"Heh, trying to corrupt me?"
He waved his hand at his assistant. "Let her in. I'm quite looking forward to seeing how much they intend to pay for my conscience."
A few minutes later, Anna Clark walked in.
She wore a dignified deep blue velvet suit and a small dress hat with a veil.
Even in this modest office, she still exuded an undeniable air of nobility.
"Good afternoon, Prosecutor Sturgis," Anna's voice was soft and proper. "I apologize for the intrusion; I hope I am not disturbing your work."
"If you are here to plead for mercy, then please leave, Miss Clark!"
Sturgis did not stand up, merely looking at her coldly.
So what if she was a Secretary's daughter? To work with a criminal like Argyle—it seemed Secretary Clark was deeply corrupted indeed.
This made Sturgis feel even angrier inside.
"My time is precious, and it is reserved only for justice."