chapter 84

Title: The Power Game: Negotiations with Morgan

When Charlie Lee saw the man sitting quietly at the table, adjusting his suit meticulously and gazing out of the window, he approached with an air of humility and said politely, "Mr. Morgan, I'm sorry for being late."

Although the Morgan family represented the pinnacle of financial power and weren't known for their compassion, Charlie couldn't help but respect them. Reaching such heights, regardless of the methods employed, was an admirable feat.

For Charlie, a man who held heaven and earth in equal regard but never bowed to either, such respect didn't come naturally. Yet, it was warranted here.

"Sit down, Lee," Mr. Morgan said with a warm smile. "No need to apologize. I arrived early."

As Charlie took his seat, Mr. Morgan looked back out the window, his expression softening. "It's been a long time since I've done this—just sitting quietly and enjoying a moment to myself."

The fatigue and yearning in Mr. Morgan's voice caught Charlie off guard, almost making him choke. Big guy, you almost broke my back with your sudden sentimentality! he thought.

But Mr. Morgan's vulnerability faded quickly. In his world, dwelling on weakness could turn a hunter into prey.

"I've been watching you since your first venture with J.P. Morgan, Charlie," Mr. Morgan began, his tone casual as though recounting a distant memory.

"It was your bold gamble in the stock market, followed by your timely exit, that gave me the confidence to assess the market's risks differently. You saved me from significant losses. For that, I thank you."

The praise didn't inflate Charlie's ego. He knew his role was overstated.

J.P. Morgan's assets before the Great Depression totaled a staggering $70 billion—a figure far beyond the influence of a single individual like him.

Charlie understood his actions might have served as a cautionary tale, but the idea that they had shaped Morgan's overall strategy was nothing short of exaggeration.

Still, Charlie's greatest strength was his ability to remain grounded. Inflated egos often led to catastrophic falls, and he had no intention of becoming one of those cautionary tales.

"Mr. Morgan, you're too kind. J.P. Morgan's financial analysts are the true geniuses craved by the financial world," Charlie replied modestly, returning the compliment.

Mr. Morgan chuckled softly and set his glass down. "Charlie, do you know what Morgan is doing in Africa?"

"I don't," Charlie admitted, taking a measured sip of his wine.

"That fertile land, teeming with natural resources, hides some of the world's richest mineral deposits," Mr. Morgan said, his tone almost wistful.

Charlie frowned slightly. "What's the connection? Is Morgan branching out into industrial ventures?"

Mr. Morgan's expression sharpened. "American Steel," he said, dropping the name deliberately.

Recognition flickered across Charlie's face. He vaguely recalled hearing about new mines discovered in Africa by American Steel not long ago.

"Is someone else bold enough to challenge you?" Charlie asked, clearly intrigued.

"They wouldn't dare do so openly," Mr. Morgan replied, his tone layered with implication. "But under the guise of 'aboriginal rebels,' they've created quite the nuisance."

Charlie smirked. He knew this wasn't the work of actual natives but likely covert operatives supported by rival powers. Few would dare provoke the Morgan consortium directly, but through such proxies, anything was possible.

"You want the help of my Aegis Bureau?" Charlie cut straight to the point, showing no signs of concern.

"Exactly," Mr. Morgan admitted. "Morgan is under intense scrutiny from Congress. Our enemies are actively working to weaken us with antitrust laws. Publicly forming our own armed force would only add fuel to the fire."

Mr. Morgan's gaze darkened for a moment. The constraints of their position left no room for overt action. Within Morgan's circle, there was even internal disagreement about forming a private military. Many believed it unnecessary, arguing that anything could be purchased with enough money.

"But operating under the Morgan name is far too risky," Mr. Morgan added. "A separate entity would be more appropriate."

"What's in it for me?" Charlie asked directly, showing no hesitation.

"I hear you've set your sights on the West," Mr. Morgan said knowingly, his tone almost teasing.

Charlie didn't deny it. "That's right. I'm after the land, minerals, and railway lines tied up in bankruptcies."

Mr. Morgan's eyebrows twitched slightly. Charlie's ambitions were larger than anticipated.

Land and minerals were one thing—small mines meant little to giants like American Steel—but the railway lines? That was another matter entirely.

During America's westward expansion, federal and state governments had offered substantial subsidies and tax exemptions for railway construction. On plains, builders received $12,000 per mile; in hilly areas, $25,000; and in mountainous regions, $40,000.

Additionally, completed railways came with ownership of land extending ten miles on either side of the tracks. The potential for hidden resources, such as oil or minerals, made these assets invaluable.

"How much are you prepared to invest?" Mr. Morgan asked, his tone cautious.

"One hundred million dollars," Charlie said confidently, holding up a single finger.

Mr. Morgan's expression flickered with a mix of surprise and envy.

Charlie's success in the stock market was a sore spot for Morgan. As masters of finance, they prided themselves on being the best. Yet, while they had made significant profits, Charlie's gains had been far greater, achieved with far fewer resources.

Morgan's miscalculation of the Depression's impact had cost them dearly, limiting their ability to exploit the market's collapse.

After a moment of deliberation, Mr. Morgan nodded. "All right, I agree."

The deal made sense for Morgan. It would inject much-needed liquidity, divert congressional attention, and establish a relationship with Charlie's Aegis Bureau.

For Morgan, who stood at the apex of American power, the unstable international climate demanded new alliances and strategies.

In Africa, Morgan's operations had taken a hit. Twelve employees had been killed within a month, forcing them to abandon a lucrative mine. Each passing day saw their profits being plundered by so-called "rebels."

Mr. Morgan's frustration was evident. If he could, he'd personally ensure those responsible paid dearly.

"Deal," Charlie said, clenching his fist beneath the table to conceal his excitement. Turning to his assistant, Aimo, he waved her over.

"Call Ben. Tell him to drop everything and get to New York immediately," he instructed.

Aimo's eyes sparkled with understanding as she hurried to make the call.

Mr. Morgan, meanwhile, felt no concern about trusting Charlie. In his mind, Charlie's racial background ensured he could never truly threaten Morgan's position in a white-dominated society.

"Pity," Mr. Morgan muttered under his breath, a fleeting thought he didn't care to dwell on.

Unaware of this condescension, Charlie remained focused on the opportunities ahead. After wrapping up their conversation, he watched Mr. Morgan leave the restaurant and returned to his meal.

"Charlie, are you ready?" Juliana, who had been speaking with Aimo, approached him.

"Yes," Charlie replied between bites. Hunger gnawed at him after a day of exhaustive work.

"Is that watch really from Uncle West?" Juliana asked, her tone curious.

"If you don't believe me, ask him yourself," Charlie said dismissively, barely looking up.

Juliana frowned, but her expression betrayed deeper thoughts. She turned away, determined to get to the bottom of the matter.

As she left, Charlie muttered under his breath, "One of these days, you'll get yourself killed."

Then, waving to the waiter, he added, "Five more steaks, please."