The whistle of the paddle steamer informed every passenger on board that the station had arrived.
The port of Houston once again welcomed a Yankee consortium contingent.
This time the task force is more appropriately called the Escort Team.
The team, all composed of lawyers and bodyguards, arrived in Houston escorting box after box of gold.
The leader of the gold task force this time was Charles Francis Adams, a middle-aged man from the Boston Consortium.
Charles Francis Adams, who was fifty-nine years old at the time, was still a handsome middle-aged man according to the United Nations identification standards of Tom the First.
The five thousand German veterans led by John Muller were responsible for "receiving and cleansing" these guests from afar in the port.
and dozens of members of the Yankee Task Force under house arrest.
Among the dozens of members of the task force who were under house arrest, Charles immediately saw his unsatisfactory nephew—Samuel Adams.
Charles acted as if he had not seen his nephew at all and walked directly towards John.
"Mr. John Muller, on board is the three thousand hundredweight of gold that your company has requested. Please count it."
"No need, the credibility of Bostonians is still worthy of trust. Here, here is what you need."
John took it out and waved, and several Smith Company employees came up with several boxes of documents.
Charles also asked several of his employees to take these documents and bring them to the ship.
As for the details of legal issues, they have never been concerned about it. Every company has a professional legal affairs department.
Three thousand hundredweight of gold is not a small amount, and employees of Smith Company also began to move the gold.
John and Charles were sitting on makeshift tables and chairs set up by the port, waiting for the end of what was called a share sale, but was actually a "hostage redemption."
The movement of gold is much faster than the verification of patents and contracts.
There is no way, after all, gold is just gold, there are no winding text traps.
After about two hours, the verification of legal documents was finally completed.
A thin man wearing glasses slowly walked up to Charles and whispered something in a low voice. Adams just nodded slightly and told him to go back to the ship and wait.
"Mr. John Mueller, I'm really surprised. I didn't expect that your company would actually split its equity."
Adams was a little confused. He had just heard from the legal team that the document contained nothing but a contract for the transfer of shares signed by Tom's mother, Penny.
There is also a document specially signed by Tom to acknowledge his mother's signature. From a legal sense, Smith Company is currently jointly held by dozens of Yankee consortiums.
And these shares, with a market value of at least several hundred million US dollars, were sold for about 95 million.
"So, when will the shareholders' meeting be convened to specify the directors' powers in detail and the board of directors' rules and regulations have been formulated?"
"Isn't this the first time your company has engaged in "democratic" voting on the board of directors?"
Charles, an old fox, has already assumed that Tom Smith made such a compromise because he was afraid of the Yankee consortium.
He also started to sneer at John, the black glove man from Smith Company.
"Papa~"
John clapped his hands twice, and two strong employees from Smith Company walked behind John's chair and used their hands and bodies to support John who was leaning back to prevent him from falling backwards.
John put his hands on the pillow and crossed his legs arrogantly on the table between John and Charles.
"Smith Company is given to you, but I am not a member of Smith Company, so there is no point in asking me."
"Mr. John Mueller, please stop joking. Aren't you one of the managers of Smith Company?"
"Do you think I'm joking? By the way, let me tell you a little secret. Mr. Tom Smith recently established the hero company."
John tried his best to imitate Tom's meanness as much as possible, trying to make a squirming expression.
The result was a terrifying grimace.
"Also, there is no longer a Smith Company factory in Texas."
"All Smith factories were sold to Hero Company yesterday for a total price of $1."
"Don't tell me, Mr. Tom Smith always felt distressed when he bought those companies."
"Smith Company and Hero Company will be competitors from now on, remember to compete fairly. Hahaha~"
John laughed a few times like a robot. To be honest, the laughter was similar to the sharp sound made by the glass blackboard being rubbed by inferior chalk.
Even Charles, who was already in his fifties, could not hold back his anger and slammed his hands heavily on the makeshift table!
"Are you going to go into full-scale war with our Yankee government?!?!"
"Follow my instructions!"
John did not answer directly, but raised his right hand and shouted loudly, commanding the 5,000 neat armed personnel of the Hero Company behind him.
"Raise the gun!"
Five thousand Hero Company armed men raised their rifles high and pointed directly at the Gulf of Mexico.
"shot!"
Five thousand armed men fired at the same time. It was said that a thousand people fired, but the sound was not as noisy as Charles imagined.
If it weren't for the deafening sound of gunshots that echoed through the sky, Charles' ears could only recognize that it was a person shooting.
"Hold the gun!"
The uniform movements of the five thousand people, and even the timing of the friction of their clothes during the movements were so synchronized that Charles, who was more than ten meters away, could hear the neat "swish" sound of the clothes rubbing together.
Cold sweat instantly soaked Charles's entire body, and then Charles remembered that there were 5,000 armed men standing near the port to maintain the security of this transaction.
These five thousand people stood by the port with guns for two whole hours without making any sound.
In the cold winter of December, Charles ignored these silent armed men without any complaints.
John slowly sat back to his normal sitting position, his eyes like a poisonous snake edging its prey, staring closely at the angry and frightened Charles across the table.
"Do you think I'm kidding?"
"Gudong."
Charles swallowed, his fear overwhelming his anger.
Charles once met the "elite" members of the Civil War in Boston. The elite were nothing more than a group of state troopers or ruffians who joined the army for a hundred dollars.
This was the first time Charles had seen a real modern army. A group that should have appeared in Prussia, France or Great Britain in Europe just appeared in Texas.
Charles looked at the acquisition agreement in his hand, then looked around, and suddenly remembered that the man across the table, like the Boston Consortium, was neither a "kind" Yankee banker nor a "barbaric" Dixie slave owner, but a
A real mafia with "industry".
"let's go!"
Fear, anger, and unwillingness intertwined in Charles's heart. For his own safety, Charles could only board the ship with the members of the Yankee Task Force and leave.