It wasn’t until the last course that Patrick realized Frederick had been neatly and efficiently cutting Liam down to size throughout dinner. Frederick was so elegant as he did it that Liam didn’t even realize what was happening. The young welder was simply too forthright to spot Frederick’s manipulation.
“Tell me about your work in the Philadelphia shipyards,” Frederick said as he stirred cream into his coffee. “I believe that’s where Vanderbilt’s latest steamship with the new screw-propulsion system was built. Did you take part in that?”
“I did!” Liam said proudly. “It was a monster of a job, and the engineers were looking over our shoulder during the entire installation, but it was a thing of beauty.”
Patrick had difficulty following the conversation as Liam spoke of how a steamship was welded together, using terms like bearing systems, impeller blades, and plenty of other shipbuilding jargon. He and Gwen both sat in silence during the discussion, but Frederick easily kept apace, and Liam loved every moment.
“Last year I worked on a triple-expansion steam engine,” he said. “I hear it’s the fastest thing on the water, and rumor among the crew is that there will be a quadruple engine soon.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Frederick said. “The British launched a new turbine design last year with the HMS Viper. It’s got four steam shafts and two propellers. It’s the fastest warship ever built, and it marks a revolution in steamship design. Things will get interesting in the next few years, which is why Vanderbilt is slowing production of his current design.”
Liam stared at Frederick in reluctant admiration. “How do you know all this stuff?”
“It’s my business to know,” the old man said. “I invest millions in ship construction every year. Before investing in a new ship, I must understand the design of the ship and all its competitors. I have to be conversant in every aspect of shipbuilding, but my bank also invests in railroads, port construction, skyscrapers, and the mining industry. Each project requires intimate knowledge of the industry before I can make an informed decision. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Yeah,” Liam said. “It means you spend a lot of time hitting the books.”
Frederick shook his head. “I have investment analysts who hit the books for me, but I must understand each report they submit to me. After reading their analysis, I tour the factories, meet with the company owners, and study the current market economy. Then I decide if our limited capital is better invested in Vanderbilt’s latest ship or in Rockefeller’s new oil wells in Texas.”
“Or buying up Carnegie Steel,” Liam added.
“Precisely,” Frederick said. “Right now, you are obsessed with how the steel merger will impact the workers. Your concern is not misplaced, but it’s narrow. You don’t have the perspective to exercise your voting shares. Most of our shareholders assign their votes to Oscar or myself because acquiring this level of industry knowledge is a daunting task. I want you to be able to converse as easily about railroads or cotton mills as you just did about ship building. I want you to be able to speak about foreign wars, international tariffs, and how the weather patterns affect crop revenues. Until you can do that, you have no business controlling voting shares.”
Patrick folded his arms across his chest. This all sounded like a clever strategy to keep Liam off the board forever.
“I can learn,” Liam said, but he looked uncertain as he shifted in his chair.
“Don’t be discouraged,” Frederick said. “I can arrange for you to start training with our business analysts on the third floor. Spend a few months in each department. Read the newspapers every day. In the meantime, work on your croquet. It’s likely to be the primary activity once the rest of the family arrives. Watch out for Oscar’s wife. Poppy takes her croquet more seriously than the Duke of Wellington staring down Napoleon at Waterloo.”
Gwen chimed in with a funny story about an epic croquet game from last summer, but Patrick was too distracted to pay attention. Frederick had been masterful in undermining Liam’s confidence and setting the stage to make it impossible for Liam to vote on banking affairs for years to come.
That meant the steel merger would face no opposition. And that Blackstone College wouldn’t have any allies on the board. Oscar’s one-year extension on their funding needed to be made permanent, which meant Patrick needed to help Liam get his voting shares. Banks were governed by operating agreements that were as binding as any public law. It would be a roadmap for how to get Liam on the board.
The evening air grew chilly, and servants began clearing the table. Gwen and Liam retreated inside, but Patrick followed Frederick into the garden.
“Can I have a word, sir?”
The older man hesitated for only a moment before gesturing to a crushed-oyster-shell path heading toward the rose garden. “I could use a smoke,” Frederick said, drawing a cigar from his suit pocket. “You?”
“No, thank you.”
The scratch of the match and the quick scent of sulfur prickled Patrick’s nose as he waited for Frederick to light his cigar, and then they set off for the rose garden.
There was no point in beating around the bush. “I would like to see the operating agreement that governs the bank,” Patrick said.
Frederick blew a puff of smoke into the air. “It makes for dull reading. Ask me what you want to know, and I’ll tell you.”
“I would like to know every word in that agreement,” Patrick replied. “A copy of the document would be the most efficient means of getting it.”
“Are you acting as Liam’s attorney?”
“For the time being. When can I see the operating agreement?”
“There is no hope of elevating an uneducated and politically radical man onto the board before next month’s meeting. It’s going to take years before he will be ready to exercise his voting rights, so why the urgency?”
Patrick deliberately emulated Frederick’s congenial tone. “The good friars at Saint Boniface taught me to pay attention to the letter of the law, and that operating agreement is the Holy Bible of the Blackstone Bank.”
Frederick smiled and nodded. “And what would the good friars say about a man who was repeatedly seen on a fire escape, embracing my granddaughter under the cover of darkness?”
