Chapter 585 - 585: 557. Meeting McKinley & Roosevelt

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Caleb then introduced Nikola Tesla, who was greeted with genuine and full respect by the cabinet officials, who were well aware of his towering scientific reputation. However, before the delegation could be escorted into the heart of the mansion, a senior detail of federal guards and military personnel stepped forward, blocking the ornate doorway.

"Standard protocol, Mr. Thorne," the captain of the guard said politely but firmly. "No weapons are permitted in the presence of the President. They will be safely secured and returned to your men upon your departure."

Caleb smiled, offering no resistance whatsoever. He reached beneath his suit jacket, unholstering his custom M1911 and handing it to the captain handle first.

"I suppose this is the one place in the country I cannot simply walk into armed," Caleb joked quietly. Mary-Beth offered a small, amused smile.

But as the rest of the gang stepped forward to comply, the federal guards' eyes widened in sheer, mounting disbelief.

Arthur unbuckled his heavy gun belt, handing over his two M1911 handguns and also two cattlelman revolver s, followed by a heavy hunting knife. John deposited his own twin M1911 handgun and a sawed off shotgun he had hidden under his coat. Javier pulled three throwing knives from his boots. Sadie handed over a pair of Schofields she loves to use, and Bill grumbled loudly as he surrendered his Vanguard rifle.

By the time Silvio and the capos finished disarming, a small mountain of lethal and maintained firepower sat on the collection table. The federal guards looked at Caleb's entourage with a mixture of intense alarm and quiet respect. Tesla merely watched the procedure with mild, detached fascination.

Once cleared, the group was escorted through the sweeping, historic corridors of the Executive Mansion. The building was deeply impressive, filled with heavy portraits of past presidents, rich carpets, and quiet, bustling aides, but it lacked the gaudy, overwhelming extravagance of a European palace. It felt like a working headquarters.

They were finally led into a large, elegant reception room bathed in natural light.

Standing near a massive fireplace were two men who commanded the absolute attention of the room.

President William McKinley stood tall, projecting a calm, deeply dignified, and courteous presence. He looked exactly like a man who carried the staggering weight of a rapidly expanding nation on his shoulders.

Beside him stood Vice President Theodore Roosevelt. The contrast was incredible. Roosevelt possessed a robust, intensely energetic presence. He looked practically restless, his eyes darting toward Caleb, burning with a fierce, undisguised curiosity about the firearms and the legendary radio technology he had read about in the morning papers.

Caleb Thorne maintained perfect, icy composure. He stepped forward, stopping at a respectful distance.

The moment carried a heavy historical gravity. The outlaw who had dragged himself out of the freezing mud of the Grizzlies was now standing in the absolute center of American power.

"Mr. Thorne," President McKinley spoke, his voice measured and welcoming. "Welcome to Washington. I have been following the reports regarding Thorne-Marlin, your industrial expansion, and this extraordinary new invention of yours very closely."

"We are eager to see the demonstrations, Mr. Thorne!" Roosevelt cut in, his voice booming with enthusiasm. "Particularly the Vanguard rifle. If the reports from the armory are accurate, you have reinvented the infantry."

Caleb offered a slight, respectful bow to both men, while Tesla practically vibrated with excitement behind him.

"We are entirely at your disposal, Mr. President, Mr. Vice President," Caleb replied quietly, holding McKinley's gaze.

McKinley smiled, gesturing toward the heavy chairs arranged around the center of the room.

"Excellent," the President of the United States said. "Gentlemen, please. Sit down."

The heavy, mahogany doors of the Executive Mansion's reception room clicked shut, sealing out the bustling noise of federal aides and cabinet secretaries. The room was bathed in the soft, golden light of the late afternoon, illuminating the rich oil portraits and the thick, imported carpets.

Caleb took his seat in a high backed leather chair opposite President William McKinley, while Mary-Beth sat gracefully beside him. Hosea Matthews and Vincenzo took the adjacent seats, their postures relaxed but intensely observant. Nikola Tesla sat on the edge of a velvet sofa, his eyes already darting around the room as if calculating the electrical wiring hidden behind the plaster.

Standing silently along the far wall, forming an impenetrable, unblinking perimeter, were Arthur, John, Silvio, Bill, Javier, and Sadie. Though they had surrendered their arsenals at the door, the sheer, raw physical presence of the six enforcers was impossible to ignore. They did not look like standard corporate security. They looked like people who had survived a very different kind of world.

"May I offer you gentlemen something to drink after your long journey?" President McKinley asked, his voice an even, courteous baritone. "We have an excellent Kentucky bourbon, or perhaps a sherry for Mrs. Thorne?"

"You are very generous, Mr. President," Caleb replied with a polite incline of his head. "But if it isn't too much trouble, tea would be perfectly fine for all of us. It has been a long week of travel across several states, and I prefer a clear mind for a momentous occasion."

McKinley offered an appreciative smile. He gestured to a steward waiting near the door, who bowed quietly and vanished to arrange the service.

Vice President Theodore Roosevelt, who had been pacing near the massive marble fireplace, suddenly stopped and planted his hands on his hips. He looked directly at the line of silent gunslingers standing by the wall, his walrus mustache twitching with undisguised curiosity.

"You travel like a feudal baron, Mr. Thorne," Roosevelt boomed, his voice echoing in the refined space. "I have hosted railroad tycoons and steel monopolists in this very room, and none of them bring a personal army to a polite afternoon tea. You strike me as a man who prepares for a war every time he leaves his front porch."

Caleb met the Vice President's intense gaze with a smooth, unbothered smile. "I assure you, Mr. Vice President, it is merely a symptom of logistics rather than hostility. The Thorne Holding Company has expanded rather violently over the last twelve months. We operate manufacturing hubs in Connecticut, bicycle supply chains across the Midwest, real estate ventures in New York, and, as of three days ago, a newly restructured automobile company in Detroit."

"Detroit?" Roosevelt interrupted, his eyes lighting up. "You are investing in motorcars?"

"I have acquired the controlling interest in Henry Ford's engineering firm," Caleb confirmed smoothly. "The point is, my businesses now operate across multiple states and require the movement of massive amounts of liquid capital and highly sensitive intellectual property. I need people around me that I can trust implicitly. The men and women standing behind me are not simply guards. They are the foundation of my organization."

Arthur shifted his weight very slightly at the mention, his face remaining a mask of stoic indifference, though John shot him a quick, subtle glance.

"Loyalty is a rare commodity in industry," McKinley noted approvingly as the steward returned, quietly distributing delicate porcelain cups of steaming black tea. "I can respect a man who values it."

The initial minutes of the meeting settled into a relatively relaxed, diplomatic rhythm. McKinley asked polite questions about the weather in Saint Denis and the staggering industrial output of the New Haven factories, while Roosevelt eagerly interrogated Tesla about the theoretical limits of alternating current. Mary-Beth navigated the small talk with flawless grace, charming the President with her observations of the capital's architecture.

But Caleb knew the polite chatter was merely the overture. The men sitting across from him commanded the United States armed forces. They had not cleared their afternoon schedules simply to discuss Detroit motorcars.

McKinley set his teacup down on the saucer with a soft, definitive clink. The atmosphere in the room instantly shifted, the casual warmth evaporating into sharp, political focus.

"Mr. Thorne," McKinley began, his tone dropping into the measured cadence of a head of state. "You are currently arming the United States military with the most advanced infantry weapons on the planet. I am told your advanced weapons are already shifting the tactical doctrines of our generals. Because you are so deeply intertwined with our military readiness, I am highly interested in your broader view of the world."

The President leaned forward slightly. "Tell me your thoughts on the ongoing conflict in the Philippines."

The room went completely still.

Arthur and John exchanged a brief look. Hosea's eyes narrowed by a fraction of an inch, immediately recognizing the magnitude of the test Caleb had just been handed. Vincenzo remained perfectly still. Tesla, who cared little for geopolitics, took a sip of his tea and began mentally calculating the acoustic resonance of the fireplace.

Caleb placed his own cup on the low table. He understood exactly what was happening. McKinley wasn't asking a factory owner about rifle ballistics; he was asking a powerful industrialist for a strategic geopolitical assessment.

"The conflict in the Philippines is brutal, Mr. President," Caleb answered carefully, his voice calm and authoritative. "But its historical importance extends far beyond the immediate violence of the insurgency. We are discussing what victory actually means for America's permanent place in the world."

Roosevelt leaned forward, practically vibrating with interest. "Go on."

"The victory over Spain last year proved that the United States could dismantle a decaying European empire and project naval force beyond our own hemisphere," Caleb explained. "But we are not yet the British Empire. Britain possesses a vast, entrenched global navy, centuries of financial influence, and huge commercial reach. The United States is entering an entirely new phase of international power. We are stepping onto the main stage."

Caleb held the President's gaze. "A successful, organized campaign in the Philippines does not just defeat an insurgency. It strengthens Washington's legitimacy. It proves to London, Paris, and Berlin that America can maintain overseas possessions, project sustained military logistics over thousands of miles of ocean, and permanently protect its interests in Asia."

"Exactly!" Roosevelt slapped his knee, his teeth flashing in a fierce grin. "We cannot shrink from the responsibilities of a great power! The Pacific is the ocean of the new century!"

"It is," Caleb agreed seamlessly. "Economically, Manila is the gateway to the Asian markets. American shipping lines, our manufacturing exports, our heavy industry, they all require a secure and unbothered presence in the Pacific. If the weapons Thorne-Marlin is currently shipping to your armories help General MacArthur and General Funston to achieve a faster, more decisive victory, then I am proud of the contract."

Caleb paused, ensuring the room was hanging on his next words, before delivering the crucial pivot.

"However, Mr. President, military victory by itself is a temporary illusion."

Roosevelt frowned slightly, tilting his head. "Explain."

"The many advanced weapons can secure a province, but it cannot govern it," Caleb stated, his tone carrying the cold, pragmatic weight of a man who built empires for a living. "America's greatest challenge in the Philippines will be ensuring that our military success actually translates into durable political and economic strength. If we simply burn the villages and declare victory, we will fight them forever. We must follow the infantry with infrastructure. We must build deep water ports, lay telegraph lines, establish stable trade institutions, and create a functioning economy. We have to prove that the American flag brings prosperity, not just a repeating rifle."

McKinley stared at Caleb, very impressed. He had spent months listening to generals demand more troops and politicians demand immediate withdrawal. It was incredibly rare to hear an arms manufacturer argue that infrastructure and economics were more important than the weapons he was selling.

"A very astute analysis, Mr. Thorne," McKinley said quietly, exchanging a brief, meaningful glance with his Vice President.

The President picked up his tea again, his expression growing darker, more troubled. "Since you have such a firm grasp on the Pacific... tell me your thoughts on the Qing Empire. The reports crossing my desk from China are becoming incredibly grim. The Boxer uprising is spreading like wildfire. Foreign citizens are being butchered in the streets. Our missionaries are under siege, and the diplomatic legations in Peking are in severe danger."

McKinley sighed, the heavy burden of the office visible in the lines around his eyes. "There is a very real, growing terror in the State Department that this violence is going to trigger a massive, multi national military intervention."

Caleb recognized the huge historical significance of the question. He knew the Boxer Rebellion would inevitably lead to the Eight-Nation Alliance, the brutal sacking of Beijing, and the near collapse of the Chinese state.

"It is much more than a temporary disturbance, Mr. President," Caleb warned, his voice cutting through the quiet room. "If the Boxers continue slaughtering foreign nationals and threatening the diplomatic missions, military intervention by the European powers is an absolute certainty. But the danger is not the Boxers. The danger is what happens the day after the Boxers are defeated."

Caleb leaned forward, mapping out the geopolitical chessboard with chilling precision. "Once one major power lands troops to protect its citizens, the others will immediately follow. And they will not do so out of a noble desire to rescue missionaries. They will intervene because they are terrified that if they stay out, a rival power will use the chaos to seize Chinese territory, extract permanent commercial concessions, and dominate the ports."

"A chain reaction of greed," Hosea murmured from his chair, unable to help himself.

"Precisely," Caleb nodded to his mentor, before looking back at McKinley. "Britain will not allow Russia to gain a stranglehold on northern China. Russia will not allow Britain to dominate the Yangtze. The Japanese are watching like hawks, desperate to expand their own empire on the mainland. The Germans and the French will demand their own territorial slices. The Qing government is going to find itself facing the combined, competing armies of half the civilized world."

Roosevelt was pacing again, his hands clasped behind his back. "And where does that leave us, Mr. Thorne? The United States is now a Pacific power. We have the Philippines. If the Europeans are going to carve China into a pie, do we not have a strategic obligation to demand a slice for ourselves? To secure our own commercial concessions?"

Caleb openly acknowledged the brutal temptation. "The opportunity would be staggering, Mr. Vice President. We could seize a deep water port. We could establish a permanent military colony on the mainland. We could force exclusive trading monopolies for American companies. I understand perfectly why Washington is tempted to join the carving knife."

Caleb let the silence stretch for a heartbeat. "But I believe it would be a huge generational mistake."

McKinley's brow furrowed. "You oppose securing American interests?"

"I oppose securing them through colonial partition," Caleb corrected sharply. "We do not need to imitate the worst, decaying habits of European imperialism. I propose an alternative. The United States should position itself as the defender of the territorial integrity of the Qing Empire, while still ruthlessly protecting our citizens and our economic rights."

Caleb outlined the strategy that would, in the actual timeline, become the bedrock of American foreign policy in Asia.

"If military intervention becomes unavoidable to save the legations, America must send troops," Caleb stated. "We fight alongside the Europeans to suppress the Boxer violence. But Washington must make a loud, ironclad public commitment, the moment order is restored, American forces will withdraw. We will not seize a single inch of Chinese territory. And we will use our diplomatic weight to demand that the other foreign powers do exactly the same."

McKinley looked deeply skeptical. "You are asking us to bleed for a foreign government, and then walk away empty handed."

"We would not walk away empty handed, Mr. President," Caleb countered, his voice carrying the persuasive, hypnotic rhythm he used in boardrooms. "Consider the long term reality. First, the Qing government, or whatever administration survives the chaos, would be very grateful for American restraint and it's advocate of their nation territorial integrity. We would be the only great power that didn't try to conquer them."

Caleb ticked off the strategic benefits on his fingers. "Second, by demanding an 'open door' for trade rather than locked colonial spheres, American businesses gain unrestricted commercial access to the entirety of China, without the United States government having to spend a single dollar administering or occupying a hostile, foreign population. We get the gold, but we don't have to pay for the garrison."

"And third," Caleb concluded, his eyes locking onto Roosevelt. "It maintains the balance of power. Russia and Japan are aggressively expanding. If either of them manages to conquer large swaths of a shattered China, they will eventually threaten American interests in the Pacific. A weakened, but functioning and intact Qing government acts as a massive, necessary counterweight to Moscow and Tokyo."

The room was completely silent, save for the crackle of the fireplace.

Hosea took a slow sip of his tea, masking a smile of a profound awe. He had shared his experience and teach Caleb in the past on how to run cons on naive rich people. Now, his pupil was sitting in the Executive Mansion, flawlessly instructing the President of the United States on how to manipulate the global balance of power.

McKinley leaned heavily into his chair, rubbing his chin. He looked at Caleb not with the polite tolerance reserved for a wealthy donor, but with the sharp, evaluating intensity of a fellow statesman.

"It is a brilliant theory, Mr. Thorne," McKinley admitted quietly. "But it relies on a fatal assumption. Do you honestly believe the Tsar of Russia or the Kaiser of Germany gives a damn about American demands for territorial integrity? If we ask them to leave, they will simply laugh at us and build their fortresses."

"I do not expect them to leave simply because we ask," Caleb answered, his tone turning ice cold. "Morality has no place in this negotiation. We have to prove to the major powers that preserving China is in their own selfish, strategic best interest."

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Name: Caleb Thorne

Age: 23

Body Attributes:

- Strength: 8/10

- Agility: 8/10

- Perception: 9/10

- Stamina: 8/10

- Charm: 8/10

- Luck: 9/10

Skills:

- Handgun (Lvl MAX)

- Rifle (Lvl MAX)

- Firearms Knowledge (Lvl MAX)

- Past Life Memory (Lvl MAX)

- Knife (Lvl MAX)

- Blunt Weapon (Lvl MAX)

- Sneaking (Lvl MAX)

- Horse Mastery (Lvl MAX)

- Poker (Lvl MAX)

- Hand to Hand Combat (Lvl MAX)

- Eagle Eye (Lvl MAX)

- Dead Eye (Lvl MAX)

- Bow (Lvl MAX)

- Pain Nullifier (Lvl MAX)

- Physical Regeneration (Lvl MAX)

- Crafting (Lvl MAX)

- Persuasion (Lvl MAX)

- Mental Fortitude (Lvl MAX)

- Cooking (Lvl MAX)

- Teaching (Lvl MAX)

- Trilingual Language Proficiency - G, I, & C (Lvl MAX)

- Inventory System (Permanent - 100x100x100)

- Acting (Lvl MAX)

- Alcohol Resistance (Lvl MAX)

- Treasure Hunter (Lvl MAX)

- Drugs Resistance (Lvl MAX)

- Business (Lvl MAX)

- Leadership (Lvl MAX)

Money: 2,772 dollars and 60 cents

Inventory: 283,392 dollars and 61 cents, 11 gold nuggets, 74 gold bars, 1 Double Action, 1 Schofield, 2 Colm's Schofields, 1 land deed (Parcel), 1 Mauser, 1 Semi Auto Pistol, 1 Lancaster Repeater, 1 Old Wood Jewelry Box, 1 F.F Mausoleum small brass key, 1 Ruby, 1 Broken Pirate Sword, 1 Milton's Safety Deposit Key, Proof Of Marlin-Thorne Firearms Co., 10 Dynamites, 1 LeMat, 1 M1899, 1 Carcano, 1 Ownership deed of Doyle's Tavern, 3 Diamonds, & Important Documents & Deeds Of Cornwall

Bank: -