"Two proposals, Mr. Brown." Dutch began, his voice a low, confident purr, then he leaned back in his plush chair, slowly extracting a thick, fragrant cigar from his coat pocket.
Sunlight, slicing through the eaves of the balcony, painted half his face in a stark, dramatic shadow, leaving the other half illuminated with an almost angelic glow. The interplay of light and darkness rendered him less like a mere gang leader and more like some ancient, formidable mob boss, a king of shadows and light.
"First," he continued, striking a match and bringing the flame to the cigar, "we will invest two hundred thousand dollars, a mere trifle, along with these three incredibly promising mines. In return, you, Mr. Brown, will provide the corresponding cutting-edge technology and the necessary, top-of-the-line equipment.
We, the Van der Linde Gang, will, naturally, hold fifty-one percent of the shares, granting us the unassailable right to make all decisions regarding the mine's development. You, on the other hand, will graciously hold forty-nine percent of the shares, with the delightful right to all the ensuing dividends."
He took a slow, deliberate puff, a perfect ring of smoke swirling lazily towards the heavens. "Second," he resumed, his voice a silken thread, "we will operate the mines entirely independently, taking out a cool one-million-dollar loan from the esteemed Morgan Bank. This, of course, will be to purchase your exquisite technology and mining equipment at fair market price, and we will, naturally, continuously repay you thereafter. What, my dear Mr. Brown, are your thoughts on these most amenable propositions?" Dutch finished, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips.
Listening to Dutch's utterly audacious, yet undeniably generous, words, Mr. Brown's eyes practically bulged. He felt, once again, the sheer, intoxicating greatness of the Morgan Family. Both of these conditions, whichever one he chose, were not just advantageous to him; they were profoundly so! They were practically a benevolent gift from heaven, practically hand-delivering his performance targets on a silver platter!
Whether it was the promise of equity dividends or the lucrative prospect of loaning capital and selling technology and equipment, these were all guaranteed achievements for his illustrious career!
Mr. Dutch Van der Linde could have, with perfect justification, simply strolled into any Saint Denis bank, or even some other, lesser financial institution, and secured a loan to fund the mines' construction. He could have just as easily spent a pittance to acquire equipment from various factories and recruited his own personnel. But no! Instead, he was, in effect, simply giving away forty-nine percent of the mine's potentially colossal profits! Or rather, he was meticulously polishing and handing Mr. Brown a magnificent, undeniable achievement!
A one-million-dollar loan, along with the equipment and technology for three mines — no one else in Saint Denis, not a single soul, possessed such monumental audacity. Even in the sophisticated, cutthroat world of the East, those who dared to take out a one-million-dollar loan in one fell swoop were exceedingly rare. Moreover, Mr. Brown didn't need to fret in the slightest about Mr. Van der Linde's ability to repay. First, the mines, with their abundant resources, could not possibly lose money. Second, and crucially, the inherent value of these three mines was far, far greater than a mere one million dollars, which utterly obliterated any lingering concerns in his heart.
Just moments ago, in his own mansion, Mr. Brown had subtly hinted that he desired Mr. Van der Linde's assistance in accumulating wealth. He hadn't, in his wildest, greediest dreams, anticipated that in the blink of an eye, Dutch would not only indeed help him make money but would personally deliver a veritable mountain of it directly into his eager, grasping hands. Damn it! The sheer, overwhelming power of the Morgan Family was so immense it drove him mad with ambition, making him want to rush headlong, blindly, into its glorious, all-consuming center!
Mr. Brown's gaze, previously fixed on Dutch, now drifted, unfocused, as he sank into deep, self-satisfied thought. All the families in Saint Denis, those simpering, desperate fools, wanted to associate with the Morgan Family, a phenomenon they quaintly termed 'climbing a high branch.' Mr. Van der Linde, by casually surrendering so much potential profit for no apparent reason, was undoubtedly making his own fervent attempt to attach himself to the formidable Morgan Family. And that, in turn, truly made Mr. Brown feel the immense, intoxicating power of his own family's name. Simply for a name, countless desperate souls would scramble, practically trampling each other, to offer you their immense wealth — this was the true, terrifying display of unbridled power!
Mr. Brown's heart throbbed, growing even more pathologically obsessed with the dazzling center of power. And now, Mr. Van der Linde, with his inexplicable generosity, was clearly an excellent, sturdy stepping stone for his imminent, glorious ascent!
"Thump, thump, thump…" Mr. Brown's manicured finger began to tap a rapid, almost frantic rhythm on the desk in front of him. After what felt like an eternity of deeply calculating thought, he finally, slowly, spoke, his voice a deep, resonant rumble, filled with a newfound gravitas.
"Mr. Van der Linde, I know precisely what you desire , nothing more than some modest say and a whisper of influence from the Morgan Family. Although I do not know your exact intentions, that does not, in the slightest, prevent me from establishing a few... rules... for your future endeavors." He leaned forward, his eyes boring into Dutch's.
"Mr. Van der Linde," he declared, his voice firm, "I am the President of Morgan Commercial Bank in Saint Denis, Lemoyne." The unspoken meaning of this sentence hung in the air, thick and potent: Within the hallowed borders of Lemoyne, the Dutch Van der Linde Gang could act with impunity, under the glorious banner of the Morgan Family. And he, Rhodes Brown, would personally cover their every, audacious move. However, outside of Lemoyne, he would not, under any circumstances, involve himself in their nefarious affairs.
Dutch's face was a mask of serene smiles. He simply sat quietly, patiently, waiting for Mr. Brown to lay out the remainder of his golden terms.
"As for you, Mr. Van der Linde," Mr. Brown continued, a wide, triumphant grin stretching across his face, "I believe we can proceed with both Condition One and Condition Two simultaneously. You will, of course, take out a one-million-dollar loan from Saint Denis Morgan Commercial Bank. This substantial sum will serve as the professional startup capital for the mines, to be explicitly used to acquire shares in the Morgan Family's cutting-edge mining technology and secure our relevant professional assistance. At the very same time, I, on behalf of the Morgan Family, will invest with our state-of-the-art equipment, and in return, we will hold forty-nine percent of the shares. What, Mr. Van der Linde, do you say to such a magnanimous arrangement?"
Listening to Mr. Brown's utterly transparent, deliciously self-serving words, the serene smile on Dutch's face didn't change in the slightest; he merely, slowly, exhaled another perfect smoke ring. Excellent, he thought, a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes. He truly is a capitalist, straight from the mold.
To put Mr. Brown's proposal plainly: the condition of taking out a one-million-dollar loan as "professional startup capital" for the mines, and then immediately purchasing the Morgan Family's "mining technology and related professional assistance," meant, quite simply, that Dutch borrowed one million from Brown, then immediately gave it back to Brown to buy Brown's help.
In the end, Dutch would not only have to repay Brown the original million but also cough up the corresponding interest. This was utterly, gloriously, unrepentantly black-hearted! Money transferred from one hand to the other, magically gaining Brown one million dollars and corresponding interest without any real outlay on his part! And at the very same time, he'd be pocketing a princely forty-nine percent of the mine's shares!
Oh no, Dutch corrected himself internally, he did provide the illustrious Morgan Family's name, and some token mining technology. But even so, compared to a free one million dollars, it was practically getting something for nothing, demanding not only his banking performance but also personal achievements for his burgeoning career.
Dutch's face was filled with a profound, almost philosophical amusement. He suddenly felt that upper-class people were indeed a different breed entirely; the higher up they ascended, the more utterly greedy they became. That damned Signor Bronte at least knew to listen to reason, however grudgingly, and the families of Saint Denis at least provided some paltry resources. But this Mr. Rhodes Brown? He truly wanted everything from you, devouring you completely, leaving not a single crumb behind.
But wanting the Van der Linde Gang to repay the loan? Wasn't that, Dutch mused, giving the glorious Van der Linde Gang a bit too much credit?
Dutch showed no anger whatsoever at the outrageously lopsided conditions Mr. Brown proposed; he didn't even need to think about them. Condition One was simply not applicable to the Van der Linde Gang; there was no archaic rule about repaying money within the Van der Linde Gang's illustrious regulations! Condition Two was even easier to deal with. The minerals extracted were for the sacred purpose of making guns and bullets! So what if some of the initial profits went to the Morgan Family? Once his army matured, the Morgan Family would have to the Van der Linde Family, which wouldn't be an issue either.
However, to appear more hesitant, more reluctant, Dutch feigned indecision for a painfully long time, stroking his chin, his brow furrowed in mock contemplation. Finally, with a heavy, put-upon sigh, he slowly, painstakingly opened his mouth.
"Alright, Mr. Brown," he conceded, his voice dripping with reluctant admiration. "You truly are a genuine capitalist, a master of your craft! Your terms are simply too harsh! To prevent us from going bankrupt directly because of this colossal one million dollars, I sincerely hope this loan can have a longer term!"
He leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Three years! I need three full years before this loan and its corresponding interest even begin to be due. After three years, I will, of course, be able to repay it in convenient, manageable installments." Dutch finished, a pained expression plastered across his face, as if he were being flayed alive.
Mr. Brown almost immediately, gleefully, agreed to Dutch's small, seemingly reasonable request. A million dollars gained for free — he didn't care how many years it would take to begin repayment. Honestly, starting repayment after three years already wildly exceeded his most optimistic expectations!
"Hahaha, it's a deal, Mr. Van der Linde! A most excellent deal!" Mr. Brown practically crowed, rubbing his hands together with unconcealed glee. "This one-million-dollar loan will officially begin repayment after three years. According to our standard interest rates, you will, of course, need to repay three hundred and fifty thousand dollars annually for three consecutive years after those initial three years.
I imagine, considering your truly astonishing scale of development, these expenses will be absolutely nothing but a mere pittance after three years!" Mr. Brown was overjoyed, practically vibrating with triumphant avarice. A one-million-dollar debt gained for free, and three continuously producing mines, this was simply an enormous, career-making achievement! Rhodes Brown could even, he knew, rely on this singular achievement to be directly transferred back, returning to the very center of the Morgan Family's power, truly beginning to control its core, unimaginable wealth!
Meanwhile, Dutch, who was sitting nearby, maintained his exquisitely crafted, worried expression. He looked at the beaming, ridiculously pleased Mr. Rhodes Brown with a pained, long-suffering face and complained, "Damn it, Mr. Brown, you've practically emptied out our Van der Linde Gang completely! You've left us with nothing but the shirts on our backs!"
Dutch's face was a picture of profound worry, but his heart, oh, his heart was blooming with the most glorious, wicked joy. He had not the slightest intention of repaying the one million dollars, and the forty-nine percent shares of the three mines were, in his eyes, utterly meaningless. In comparison, Mr. Rhodes Brown genuinely felt he had gained one million dollars and three mines for free, while Dutch had also gained the invaluable mining technology for three mines, along with corresponding equipment and technical personnel, and, most importantly, the untouchable, magnificent backing of the Morgan Family! This, to Dutch, was completely, utterly incomparable to the vast, world-changing arms business he was about to launch!
Only Arthur, standing to the side, his face a contorted mask of bewilderment and anxiety, had a hesitant expression, wanting desperately to speak, to yell, but holding back, his face filled with genuine, gut-wrenching worry. Damn it, he thought, clenching his fists at his sides, his eyes wide and accusing as he glared at Dutch's placid, pained expression. One million dollars?! The Van der Linde Gang's total assets were only one million dollars right now, and he was just... giving it away for free?! Arthur was profoundly anxious, his stomach churning. He didn't know what in the name of all that was sane Dutch was thinking, but he couldn't openly question him in front of an outsider right now, so he could only clamp his jaw shut, glaring silently, desperately hoping Dutch hadn't just signed their death warrant.