The rain in London pattered against the glass windows of the private box.
The waiter pushed in a cart, placed three sizzling Wellington steaks in front of the three people, and then withdrew again.
The cutlery clashed against the porcelain plate.
Negotiations to divide interests have officially begun.
" Mr. Morgan "
Vanderbilt spoke first, cutting off a small piece of beef but holding it with his fork instead of putting it in his mouth.
"The Dutch Vanderbilt family controls seven transatlantic shipping routes. We own twelve well-established rubber plantations in Java and northern Brazil."
If we proceed according to your plan, we will cease supplying the European free market and ship all high-purity rubber and insulating resin to Westinghouse Electric in Pittsburgh.
The shipping costs, the risk of maritime disasters, and the lost profits from missing out on high prices in the European market constitute an extremely large sum.
Vanderbilt put down his knife and fork and looked directly at Morgan.
"As compensation, and as one of the core initiators of the transatlantic ocean industrial syndicate, I request a 25 percent stake in this newly formed consortium. And, after the defeat of Korvact Argyle, the Metropolitan Trading Company in America... " All port warehouses and logistics networks along the East Coast and San Francisco on the West Coast must be unconditionally transferred to Vanderbilt Shipping Company.
Morgan listened to the Dutchman's offer and wiped his fingers with a napkin.
"Twenty-five percent? Yang, your appetite is bigger than the Atlantic Ocean." Morgan's voice was flat.
"Your rubber is indeed Edison's lifeline right now. But understand, once rubber leaves the tree trunk, it's just a bunch of sticky resin. Without Westinghouse Electric's AC transformer to turn it into insulation for the high-voltage power grid, your rubber won't sell for more than a shoe sole in North America."
Morgan looked at Vanderbilt.
"But I've put in eight million pounds of real money. That money is to establish a joint trust bank to provide ammunition for Westinghouse and Carnegie. All you've put in is raw materials."
"Fifteen percent."
Morgan cut its losses by ten percentage points.
" I can give you the port network of the Metropolitan Trading Company, but I have one condition. Your fleet must, on its return voyage, ship the steel produced by Carnegie and the equipment from Westinghouse to South America and Asia at cost price for dumping. We want to completely block Korvact's overseas expansion route."
Vanderbilt was calculating rapidly in his mind.
Although they lost 10 percent of the shares, gaining control of the port of San Francisco meant opening up the Pacific shipping route.
Adding in the return freight volume of transporting steel and electrical appliances, this deal is definitely not a loss.
"I accept, fifteen percent. Plus the port of San Francisco." Vanderbilt raised his glass in a toast.
Morgan turned to look at Lord Richard Grosvenor, who was sitting on his left.
"Richard, it's your turn."
Lord Grosvenor was slowly and methodically cutting his steak. He was a traditional old-money Englishman, much more deliberate in his manner than the Dutch.
" Junius. The Grosvenor family's coal mine in the Appalachian Mountains is currently producing 12,000 tons per month. That's almost the best anthracite coal in that region." Grosvenor put down his knife and fork.
"As planned, I will cut off coal supplies to Philadelphia and New York. I will send these 12,000 tons of coal directly to Carnegie's blast furnace in Braddock via a dedicated train on the Pennsylvania Railroad. This will directly reduce Carnegie's steelmaking costs by 15 percent."
Grosvenor looked at Morgan.
"I don't want the port of Metropolitan Trading Company, since I don't understand shipping. So I demand a 20 percent stake in this syndicate. And when Carnegie Steel Company merges into the syndicate, I want priority in receiving dividends from its three new blast furnaces in Pittsburgh."
Morgan tapped his fingers lightly twice on the table.
The coal mines of Appalachia are the lifeline for Carnegie's fight against Korvact.
Korvact had previously nearly suffocated Carnegie by controlling railways and waterways.
Grosvenor's direct supply of anthracite is like giving Carnegie an oxygen mask.
"Richard, your coal mine is indeed important. But you've overestimated the current value of Carnegie Steel Company." Morgan's tone became somewhat cryptic.
" Carnegie is now a dog cornered by Korvact. His warehouse is full of unsold rails. His cash flow comes entirely from mortgaging high-interest bonds to Drexel Bank. He's bleeding every month."
Morgan pointed at Grosvenor.
" Half of Carnegie's debt is in my hands. He's my hired hand in Pittsburgh. You're saving his life by throwing coal into his blast furnace. He has no right to give you any preferential dividends. Because every plate of his steel now belongs to London's creditors."
Morgan submitted its offer.
"Fifteen percent, Richard. The same as Young. Also, after taking down Korvact, the Grosvenor family acquired all of Lex Steel Company's iron ore mining rights in Ohio. The iron ore reserves there are far more valuable than your coal mine."
Lord Grosvenor pondered for a moment.
The iron ore mines in Ohio are the heart of Lex Steel's raw material supply.
If you could get your hands on that heart and put it in your pocket, the return on investment would be incredibly high.
"Yes, fifteen percent. Plus iron ore from Ohio." Grosvenor nodded.
Morgan leaned back in his chair.
Vanderbilt 15 percent, Grosvenor 15 percent.
The remaining 70% is firmly in the hands of the Morgan family.
He has absolute control, decision-making power, and veto power.
"Excellent, Gentlemen. It seems the boundaries of interests have been drawn."
Morgan took a solid gold pen from his vest pocket.
He took a piece of stationery bearing the Brooks Club crest. He quickly scribbled a few lines on it, outlining the share allocation and resource allocation terms that had just been negotiated.
He signed his name: Junius Morgan. Then he pushed the letter toward Grosvenor and Vanderbilt.
Without hesitation, the two partners signed their names on this seemingly informal napkin that would determine the future direction of North America's industry.
Oliver.
Morgan called out towards the door.
The butler, Sterling, pushed open the door and entered.
"gentlemen."
Morgan handed the letter to Sterling.
"Lock it in the highest-security safe in the basement of Broad Street. Tomorrow morning, notify the Legal Department to draft the formal business contract and trust documents according to this framework."
Morgan stood up and walked to the window of the box. He looked out at the cold, rainy London night.
"Also, Oliver, go to the telegraph office immediately. Send a transoceanic telegram to Cavendish in Pittsburgh via the highest encryption line."
Morgan's eyes held a chilling murderous intent.
"Tell them the rules of the game have changed. Tell them to stop their petty mud wrestling. Tell Edison his rubber and silicon steel sheets are already at sea. And Carnegie's coal is already on the train. Tell Cavendish, take my checkbook and go get Pittsburgh." Break down the doors of City Hall for me.
"I want them to set a massive fire on American soil that will burn through New York."
Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh.
The acrid smell of the Market Square fire still lingered in the early morning air.
The winter sun shone weakly through the thick coal smoke onto the uneven dirt road.
The atmosphere was oppressive in the second-floor laboratory of the Westinghouse Electric factory.
Edison was squatting on the ground.
He held a flat-headed scraper in his hand, mechanically scraping away the black asphalt smeared on his leather boots. The explosion not only destroyed the transformer but also shattered his pride.
George Westinghouse sat at a scratched wooden table, holding an account book in his hand. His brow was furrowed.
"The timber supplier sent someone this morning to demand payment. Thirty of the cedar utility poles we erected on the street were sawed down last night by City Hall police."
Westinghouse's voice was a little hoarse.
" The bills for steel that Carnegie provided to us are also sitting in the drawer. The factory's cash flow is only enough to pay the workers' wages for two weeks."
Edison stopped scraping.
"You're out of money?"
Edison looked up, his eyes filled with despair.
"Last night I recalculated the eddy current losses of the core on the blueprints. I need to buy a batch of high-purity silicon steel sheets. I also need to order high-temperature resistant insulating resin from a chemical plant. Without money, how can we build the next transformer?"
Westinghouse closed the ledger.
" Thomas, let's face it. The mayor's ban has been issued. We're now illegal to even run a high-voltage power line in our factory backyard for testing. Korvact has nailed us to our graves in Pittsburgh with a fire and a ban."
Just then, the wooden door to the laboratory was violently pushed open.
Andrew Carnegie strode in.
The steel tycoon looked like a gambler who had lost all his chips.
His coat was unbuttoned, and his tie was pulled crooked.
"There are police everywhere outside, they're sealing off our warehouse!" Carnegie yelled at Westinghouse.
"Several of my clients sent me telegrams this morning canceling their rail orders for next month. They said General Electric offered them lower-interest equipment loans on the condition that they stop purchasing steel from Carnegie! Korvact is closing in!"
Carnegie rushed up to Edison and grabbed him by the collar.
"You damned liar! What happened to the Alternating Current network? What happened to the cheap power that you promised to save my blast furnace? You've led me to hell!"
Edison did not resist; he let Carnegie shake him.
His eyes lost their sparkle, replaced by deep frustration.
"Let him go, Mr. Carnegie. There's no need to repeat what was said yesterday. Besides, biting each other is the behavior of wild dogs, not a gentleman."
Cavendish stood there.
He wore a crisp black double-breasted trench coat and carried a silver-tipped cane. He stood out starkly against the three disheveled men in the lab.
Carnegie released Edison and turned to glare fiercely at Cavendish.
"A gentleman? Cavendish. Has your boss had enough of watching plays in London? What about the follow-up investments he promised? Did he lock up his checkbook in fear after seeing the fire?"
Cavendish ignored Carnegie's taunts.
He walked to the lab table and took a yellow telegram envelope from the inside pocket of his trench coat.
The envelope was stamped with British Empire The red expedited stamp of the London Telegraph Office.
"Okay, okay… Gentlemen. This is a top-secret cable that was transmitted to New York via the Atlantic Ocean submarine cable three hours ago, and then forwarded to Pittsburgh."
Cavendish looked around at the three men who were almost in dire straits.
"God bless the Queen and you all."
Cavendish tore open the envelope and took out a telegram filled with coded translations.
He cleared his throat and began to read aloud.
" No. 22 Broad Street, London, to Clive Cavendish."
Following a resolution by Morgan, Grosvenor, and Vanderbilt, the Atlantic Ocean Industrial Syndicate was officially established.
First, three cargo ships belonging to Vanderbilt Shipping Company, fully loaded with the highest purity natural rubber and insulating chemical raw materials from South America, have set sail from Rio de Janeiro for Philadelphia. They are required to arrive within twenty days.
Secondly, the Grosvenor family-owned Appalachia coal mine has cut off its supply to individual passengers on the East Coast, effective immediately. Two dedicated trains daily will deliver high-quality anthracite coal directly to Carnegie. Braddock Steelworks. Internal settlement price: cost price.
Third, the joint trust bank will soon be registered in New York. The initial cash reserve is eight million pounds sterling. This will be used entirely for Westinghouse Electric's R&D expansion, municipal relations, and equipment loans to counter General Electric.
Cavendish finished reading the telegram.
The laboratory was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Carnegie's mouth was slightly open, and his eyes instantly changed from despair to unbelievable ecstasy.
"Direct supply of anthracite? Settlement at cost price?" Carnegie muttered to himself.
"This...this can cut my steelmaking costs by 20%! My blast furnace is saved!"
Westinghouse snatched the telegram and stared intently at the numbers on it.
"Eight million pounds, a full forty million dollars in cash reserves." Westinghouse's hands were trembling.
"With this money, I can open a factory in New York that is ten times larger than General Electric."
Edison stood up from the ground, his eyes fixed on Cavendish.
"Pure natural rubber? The best insulating resin?"
Edison's breathing became extremely heavy, like that of a wild beast that had smelled blood.
"Not just rubber, Mr. Edison." Cavendish looked at him.
"The telegram also specifically instructed that as long as you provide a list, whether it's silicon steel sheets from Berlin or precision machine tools from Paris, the Syndicate's agents in Europe will buy them immediately and send them to you on the fastest steamships."
Cavendish tapped the ground with his cane.
"Now tell me. Do you still need to boil asphalt in that broken pot?"
Edison suddenly turned around and kicked the iron pot used to boil asphalt to the ground.
Black residue was scattered all over the ground.
"Fuck... Fuck the asphalt!"
Edison let out a wild roar.
He rushed to the workbench, ripped off the messy design drawings on the wall—drawn to compromise on inferior materials—and tore them to shreds.
He grabbed a charcoal pencil and started drawing frantically on the blank parchment.
"With real rubber and silicon steel, I no longer need to worry about overheating!"
Edison's pen nib made a soft, scratching sound as it scratched across the paper.
"I want to redesign the transformer core structure; I want to implement an oil-immersed cooling system!"
He turned to look at Westinghouse, his eyes burning with the flames of revenge.
" George, go and recruit people. Go and buy the best lathes. We're done with those small-scale experimental models. I'm going to build a heavy-duty transformer that can handle tens of thousands of volts."
Westinghouse nodded emphatically.
"But what about the mayor's ban? Do we still need to go to the suburbs as we said before?"
Carnegie calmed down and asked the most practical question.
Cavendish gave a cold laugh and walked to the window, looking at the gloomy sky over Pittsburgh.
" Mr. Carnegie, that mayor was bought for two thousand dollars. Now, I have forty million dollars in my pocket." Cavendish's tone was utterly arrogant.
"I will go see Mayor Jared and slam the United Trust Bank check on his desk. If he dares not tear up the injunction, I will buy out his opponent and knock him out of the election next month."
Cavendish turned around and looked at the laboratory that had been revitalized.
Korvact thought a fire had destroyed Alternating Current. But little did he know, only a layer of asphalt had been burned. Now, London's gold had arrived.
________________
Happy April Fools!