The news of Lincoln's assassination attempt was transmitted with the highest priority via the War Department's dedicated telegraph line to the Argyle Bank building.
Frost rushed into Felix's office, forgetting even to knock.
"Boss, something happened in Washington! The President was assassinated!"
Felix abruptly lifted his head from the documents.
But he wasn't panicked; instead, he displayed a calmness he had expected.
"What was the result?"
Frost placed the telegram on the desk.
"President Lincoln survived. On Pennsylvania Avenue, two shots! The second shot pierced the wooden door panel but was stopped by the steel plate inside."
Felix let out a long breath.
He leaned back in his chair, a chill running down his spine.
Although he had changed the course of history, ending the war early and preventing Lincoln from going to the theater, he had always worried that the damned "fate" would still occur.
That's why he had specially commissioned that carriage and forcibly gifted it to the White House under the pretext of "preventing retaliation from residual Southern forces."
He was gambling. Gambling that the assassination would happen, and gambling that the steel plate could block Death.
He won the gamble.
"Secretary Stanton said in the telegram that the assassin was captured on the spot. The bullet he used only left a dent in the alloy plate. The Secretary said... it was a miracle of Lex Steel."
"No, Edward. That's physics."
"The assassin used a large-caliber pistol. It's powerful at close range, but against half an inch of prometheus alloy, it's a joke. Unless he was carrying one of our breech-loading steel cannons."
"Prepare the carriage," Felix turned around. "To the train station. We are going to Washington."
"Now? Aren't you supposed to meet Rockefeller?"
"Yes, now." Felix adjusted his collar.
"The President was startled. At this time, as his savior, I must be by his side."
"This isn't just about concern, Edward. It's the best time to convert this 'favor' into 'political capital.' As for Rockefeller, let him grow a little more."
...The next day, Washington.
The entire city was under martial law.
The military blocked all intersections, searching for possible accomplices. But inside the War Department building, the atmosphere was unusually fervent.
Inside Secretary Stanton's office, the carriage door panel struck by the bullet had been removed and placed like a relic in the center of the table.
Several experts from the Ordnance Bureau were gathered around the bullet hole, marveling at it.
"The hardness is incredible," a colonel said, tracing the bullet mark with his finger. "This thin layer of steel has undergone special quenching; ordinary tool steel simply can't achieve this level of toughness. It's practically a shield."
The door opened, and Felix walked in.
The room instantly fell silent. All eyes focused on the young man.
It was admiration, and gratitude.
If the President had died, the country would have plunged back into chaos. This man, however, saved the Federal Government with a steel plate.
"Felix!"
Stanton strode forward and embraced him tightly.
The Iron-Fisted Secretary rarely showed emotion, but his eyes were red-rimmed now.
"You saved him. You saved all of us," Stanton's voice was choked. "If Abe had died on the street yesterday... I dare not imagine the consequences."
"I just did what a friend should do, Edwin." Felix patted the Secretary's back, his tone modest. "That carriage was originally built to guard against lunatics like that."
"The President is waiting for you," Stanton released him. "At the White House. He insists on seeing you, and only you."
...The White House, Presidential Study.
Security here was ten times tighter than usual.
The curtains were tightly drawn, and even the windows had temporary wooden boards installed behind them.
Lincoln sat in his old rocking chair, a blanket covering his legs. Mary sat beside him, still quietly sobbing.
Seeing Felix enter, Lincoln tried to stand up.
"No, please remain seated, Mr. President." Felix quickly stepped forward and gently pressed him down.
"Felix."
Lincoln looked at him; his eyes, devoid of their usual weariness, held only deep gratitude.
"They say, God bless America. But I believe God sent you to protect me."
"That was just Lex's Number One Steel, sir." Felix smiled and sat down nearby.
"No." Lincoln shook his head. "That was fate, my life."
He pulled the deformed bullet from his pocket.
"I looked at this thing all night," Lincoln said.
"I kept thinking, if it had penetrated that panel... what would America look like now? Johnson is a good man, but he can't control the radicals. The South would turn into scorched earth, and hatred would last a hundred years."
"You didn't just save me, Felix."
Lincoln grasped Felix's hand, which was trembling slightly from emotion.
"You saved this country's 'Reconciliation'."
"You exaggerate my role."
"I do not exaggerate." Lincoln's gaze became resolute.
"Before this, I regarded you as a shrewd businessman, a useful ally. But starting today..."
"You are my family."
The President's promise was heavier than gold in this era.
"What can I do for you?" Lincoln asked. "Besides medals, besides money. What do you want?"
Felix was silent for a moment. He knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
"Mr. President, I don't need a medal. I want the Federal Government to be safer."
"Safer?"
"Yes." Felix pointed to the bullet.
"This time it was a pistol. Next time it might be a rifle, or even explosives. A single carriage is not enough."
"I propose establishing a professional protective force. It should not report to the military or the police. It should report directly to the President. Like my 'Corporate Security Team.'"
"The Secret Service." Felix borrowed the name from later generations.
"It would be funded by the Treasury Department, but its function could be expanded. Not only to combat counterfeiting but also to be responsible for protecting the safety of the head of state."
"Furthermore," Felix added, "I am willing to transfer the most elite instructors from Militech's Shadow Force to help train this unit. And even provide the best equipment."
Lincoln pondered this.
"A... Presidential Guard?"
"Yes, a guard that is loyal only to the Constitution and to you."
"Good." Lincoln nodded. "That's an excellent idea. The Treasury Department had previously proposed a similar department; I will have them proceed with it."
Felix understood; it seemed the people inside the White House weren't entirely foolish. "Next is regarding Lex Steel."
"Tell me."
"That steel plate that stopped the bullet. I want to 'commercialize' it."
"That material is your private property; commercializing it is only natural."
"Yes, and I believe it should be used for more than just carriages. Armored cars, bank vault doors, and even the armor of future warships will need this type of steel."
"I hope the War Department can approve Lex Steel to establish a production line specifically for 'Special Bulletproof Steel Plates' and designate it as a national strategic material."
"This means that, aside from the Federal Government and specific allies, this steel... will be prohibited from export."
Lincoln looked at him, understanding Felix's intent.
This was an attempt to monopolize "security," while simultaneously demonstrating loyalty to the government, ensuring the best material went only to the Federal Government. It would tie Lex Steel, or rather the Argyle Family, even closer to the Federal Government.
"No problem." Lincoln did not hesitate. "Since it saved my life, it is a national secret. You build it, and I will pay for it. You set the price!"
********
Since the news of the presidential assassination attempt reached New York, the air in Manhattan no longer smelled only of soot and sea breeze; it also carried an emotion called "panic."
The news that the bullet fired at the President was stopped by a steel plate also spread, and the wealthy residents across the entire East Coast seemed to realize overnight that their respectable wool suits were as thin as paper in the face of death.
The doorbells of the mansions on Fifth Avenue hardly ever stopped ringing.
Edward Frost sat in the outer room of the study, piles of business cards and urgent letters stacked before him.
His fingers tapped rapidly on the standard typewriter, but the speed at which he processed requests still couldn't keep up with the rate at which the letters accumulated.
"Boss," Frost reported to the inner room during a break to change the ribbon, "Henry Wells, a partner at Wells Fargo Bank, has been waiting downstairs for two hours. Also, a director from the New York Central Bank, and three cotton magnates from the South. They all want 'that carriage'."
Felix Argyle sat behind his desk, holding a production capacity report for the Lex Steel Company.
"Tell them the President's carriage is unique for now."
"I did," Frost said with a wry smile.
"But Wells said he wants to reinforce stagecoaches used for transporting gold. And those magnates said that as long as it can stop bullets, they'll ride it even if the carriage is made into an iron box."
Felix put down the report and tapped his fingers lightly on the desktop.
The West needs protection against bandits, and the Eastern elite need protection against assassins.
This is a highly lucrative market.
Felix leaned back in his chair. "Just tell Mr. Wells to go directly to Lex to discuss the modifications."
"Right, besides the Wells Fargo order. Notify Coleman, and have him design a 'civilian luxury armored carriage'."
"Civilian?"
Felix pointed downstairs. "Build it for those rich people who are afraid of dying. The exterior must be low-key and luxurious, but the interior lining must be entirely steel plate. Price it at two thousand dollars a carriage. Tell them this is 'Presidential-grade technology,' limited supply."
"Understood, Boss. This business will definitely boom."
...After sending off a batch of visitors, Felix's mansion received another guest.
This time it wasn't a businessman, but an official wearing a dark blue uniform.
William Wood, the first director of the recently established Secret Service.
"Mr. Argyle." Director Wood's expression was serious, even a little reserved.
Facing this young man who had just saved the President and held immense wealth, he felt an invisible pressure.
"Please sit, Director." Felix pointed to the sofa and went to pour two cups of coffee. "It seems the Treasury Department finally approved the budget?"
"Yes," Wood replied, taking the coffee but not daring to drink it.
"After all, the President's safety is paramount. Congress has secretly approved a fund. But we face a problem."
"Personnel?"
"Yes, personnel," Wood stated frankly.
"To be honest, my men aren't good at stopping bullets, nor do they know how to identify professional assassins. I need your help."
"I recall mentioning this to the President," Felix said, taking a sip of coffee. "My people can provide assistance."
"That's why I came to you. We need the best marksmen and tactical experts. Have them train my agents. Teach them how to identify threats, how to set up defenses, and how to shoot faster than the assassin when necessary."
"No problem." Felix agreed readily.
"I will have Rambo, the commander of the Nebraska Operation, personally select five senior instructors to report to Washington. The term will be three months."
"How will the costs be calculated?" Wood asked awkwardly. "Although our budget was approved, it's not large."
"Free of charge." Felix waved his hand.
"This is my contribution to the States, and also to ensure the President can sleep soundly."
Wood's eyes softened slightly. He stood up and gave a solemn salute.
"The States will remember your generosity."
"Wait a moment..."
Felix stopped the Director just as he was preparing to leave. He opened his desk drawer and took out two compact, short-barreled revolvers.
"This is the 'Vanguard-Guardian'," Felix introduced. "It's lighter than the Colt used by the Army, faster to draw, and suitable for concealed carry. It's yours."
Wood took the guns and tested the feel; these were weapons designed specifically for close combat.
"If you find them effective, remember to have the Treasury Department place an order. It won't be free then."
...In the evening, Catherine returned to the mansion.
Her belly was visibly rounded, making movement somewhat inconvenient, but her spirits were high.
"How was your day?" Felix helped her sit down.
"The official opening went very smoothly."
Catherine accepted the hot milk Felix handed her, a tired yet satisfied smile on her face.
"This morning, the first thirty patients were admitted to the wards. The operating room also conducted its first surgery, which was a success."
"That's good." Felix nodded.
"This is the best gift we can give New York, more valuable than those steel plates."
"Speaking of steel plates," Catherine said, taking a newspaper from her bag. "Look at this."
It was the evening edition of the New York Herald.
The front page featured a large woodcut print: not an actual photograph, but a concept drawing of a carriage fitted with menacing steel plate shielding, accompanied by news of the contract signing between Wells Fargo Bank and the Lex Steel Company.
The headline read: "The Promise of Steel—Lex Armor to Escort Western Gold."
Felix glanced at it. "This Wells moves fast, and he understands promotion. He dares to do this right after signing the contract."
"Now all of New York is talking about Lex. Even jewelers are asking if this steel can be used to make safes. They say current safes are too easy to drill open."
"Safes?" Felix's eyes lit up.
"That's a very good idea."
Steel isn't just for making cannons and paving roads. It can also be used to manufacture a sense of security.
In this turbulent post-war era, law and order were poor due to the large number of demobilized soldiers and economic volatility.
A sense of security is a commodity scarcer than gold.
"Edward." Felix called out toward the door.
"Yes, Boss." Frost pushed the door open and entered.
"Send a telegram to Coleman. Have him expand the 'Special Steel Workshop.' Besides fulfilling orders for the War Department and Wells Fargo Bank, I want him to develop a new production line."
"To produce what?"
"Vault doors, safety deposit boxes, and..." Felix pointed to the window, "burglar bars."
"Establish a new subsidiary company called 'Lex Security Equipment Company'."
"I've already thought up the slogan."
"Lex Steel—Trustworthy."