An Angel, Just Missing the Wings
"From the Mad Bull buyout all the way through the branding. You can leave it to me, can't you?"
My answer was simple.
"The money? You're going to need money if you mean to buy it."
"I'll take care of that."
Huh?
"It was your idea, so I'll put up the cash."
A pause, here. From the comfortable position of a man who wasn't paying a cent, it was a slightly shameful thing to ask. Still, better to be sure.
"And the equity?"
"Fifty-fifty."
An angel. An actual angel. Just missing the wings.
He must have read it in my face.
"You're the top of this field. Figure some of it as the cost of learning from you."
Nothing in it for me to lose. Even if I'd funded the whole thing myself, the moment I put Tennessee up as the face I'd have promised him a fat share. And now he meant to learn the work and pay for it besides. Ahem.
I smoothed my expression and said it lightly.
"The sooner we close, the better."
"I'll have it done within the week."
"You got anyone around you can trust?"
"What?"
"You can't handle every last thing on your own. You need someone you can actually rely on."
"You've got a man like that?"
"Obviously."
Tennessee's face went distant with thought. Then, with some difficulty, he got one sentence out.
"What's he doing these days?"
"Who?"
"Your man."
Hm. Right about now he was probably at Grandfather's side, seeing to him.
Tennessee spoke again.
"Could you send him?"
"...?"
"Just through the acquisition prep. Send him. That man."
At that same hour, the man in question—question mark very much included—was behind the wheel.
Sweat kept seeping into the hands wrapped around it. One hard brake and the Chairman might startle, so it was care upon care.
Jo Sudeok stole a glance at Park Yonghak. A great deal on his mind, perhaps. The old man was staring out the window, sunk deep in thought, and through the heavy silence only the weight of the engine made itself heard now and then.
"That child we saw. He's this family's boy, ain't he?"
Quick on the uptake, Jo Sudeok had the answer ready at once.
"Yes. Tennessee Grosvenor. The friend who paid his respects to you before, Chairman."
"And how'd that rascal Jihoon go and make a friend of a boy like that?"
It wasn't a question that needed an answer, so Jo Sudeok quietly tightened his grip on the wheel. Since the name had come up, he turned Tennessee's face over in his mind. A pretty face, and yet rugby, and racing besides—and the racing, from what he'd heard, had even come with a prize. He was turning all of this over when the Chairman spoke.
"How's the car?"
"Ah. This one..."
They had come by helicopter, and the Grosvenor house had offered to lend them a car. There had been no shortage of great machines—McLaren, Aston Martin, Bentley, Rolls-Royce, and the rest—and Chairman Park had pointed straight at the Honda. The reason was simple. It was the engine McLaren had chosen, and he meant to see with his own hands just how formidable that was.
"Mm... it isn't bad, exactly. Not exactly... well. Not all that... not precisely..."
"What kind of talk is that?"
"..."
"It's fine. Say it straight."
Honestly, he was a little shocked. He had long heard that Japanese cars ran well, but that was the finish of ordinary, mass-market machines. What he was driving now was a top-flight sports car. Put bluntly, for this kind of money you bought a European badge. Why on earth buy Japanese?
Cold reason said so. And yet—
Vroooom!
Put your foot down and the thing simply went, smooth and eager, exactly as far as you asked it to.
"Why so quiet?"
"It's... good."
"Be specific."
"Thanks to the president, I've had the chance now and then to drive fine cars myself. The way it settles onto the road and runs... the way the body answers the instant you turn the wheel..."
"Hold it up next to a proper European thoroughbred and it don't come up short?"
"I wouldn't go quite that far. It doesn't fall far behind, I'd say. Yes. I'll leave it there."
Perhaps he had already come to the same impression. Chairman Park's face had grown very complicated. An age in which a Japanese engine seized a Formula One Grand Prix. The old powers of Europe were not enough; now Japan was running wild as well, and how reckless a thing it was to leap in as a latecomer. The Chairman could hardly fail to know it. And yet there was talent on hand that might bring a truly innovative change, and so giving up did not come easily. Jo Sudeok was turning the Chairman's heart over in just that light when the old man spoke.
"I wish that rascal would pick a fight with me and make me haul a painting out."
"Sir?"
"Grosvenor, I mean. If he digs in, bound and determined to have the da Vinci, wouldn't that be just the thing?"
"Just the thing in what sense..."
"Jihoon."
"...?"
Set to lock horns with the greatest house in Europe, a man ought to feel fear first. That was only natural. And yet look at this. Not a scrap of worry anywhere—only a face brimming, overflowing, with the pleasure of baiting his grandson.
President... this is not going to be easy.
At a loss, Jo Sudeok quietly swallowed on a dry throat.
Meanwhile, at the Grosvenor Estate, the Duke had returned to a banquet hall crowded with masterpieces.
A collection carried on for more than five hundred years. It boasted holdings enough to stand shoulder to shoulder with the great museums, save for a single flaw. There was no work by da Vinci. However much money a man had, a da Vinci could not be got. Every one of them belonged to a state. Nations had been known to joke that they would sell useless land before they sold a da Vinci, and so on. And then a private person had appeared who owned one. Whatever anyone said, this was an opportunity dropped from heaven.
The Duke of Grosvenor was looking up at the empty stretch of wall in the banquet hall when a voice came.
"How did you find it?"
Tennessee's tutor. Uncommonly sharp with figures, he was a man who, given one problem, came back having solved two or three—no, ten. Even now his face said that whatever the task, he had only to be given it.
"He did not look inclined to part with the work."
"Then may I proceed in my own fashion?"
"There is, however, a point that catches."
"...?"
"A strange face, one might say."
"A strange face..."
"The look of a man who wants someone to pick a fight with him."
"Bluffing is hardly rare, is it?"
"It was plainly sincere. Give him a pretext and he was ready to fight this very day."
Who in the world volunteered for a contest with the great house of Grosvenor?
"Does it worry you?"
"Worry? Nonsense."
He was only curious what the man was trusting, to carry himself so.
"The da Vinci. Restored, they say—but did they not also say it requires aftercare each year?"
"Yes. Being so very old, I was told it will need tending for several years at least."
In plain words: even if the work fell into his hands tomorrow, it could not be hauled off by force.
"There is no hurry. We shall watch."
"...Sir?"
"I know now what Hyeon-gang needs. I mean to look a while longer."
Eyes that had trembled, ever so finely, at the talk of Honda engines. The tutor seemed to have read what that meant.
"As you wish."
He bent deep at the waist.
Meanwhile, at Guccio headquarters, the chairman's mouth was hooked all the way to his ears.
The collaboration with Ultimate had sold out. Completely. Those people who had flapped and wailed that Guccio was finished—
Go on. Talk some more, if you dare.
Having set a tottering reputation upright again, he was planning a little shopping by way of celebrating his success. A villa with the whole wild sweep of Switzerland laid out beneath it? Or a yacht that could turn the middle of the Mediterranean into a party? In his heart he wanted both.
Why print only fifty thousand of each and leave a man agonizing? That's what I want to know.
Wait. If the problem was too little stock, then print more. Why collapse into choosing one or the other?
Crystal clear!
The chairman snatched up the receiver at once.
"You run the demand?"
"Yes. For the pieces that showed at the match, they say even two hundred thousand would be gone in three days."
"So how much of that lands in my account?"
The answer came back down the line. A fine tremor ran through the chairman's arm. A villa? What was a villa?
Put it bluntly, at my level even a castle comes up short.
The yacht was shabby, so that would be upgraded to a cruise ship as well. He was soaking happily in the daydream when the voice came again.
"But, Chairman. There's a bit of a problem."
Yes, well, a problem was a problem. He had been about to say, castle or cruise ship, damn it, forget choosing and just print five hundred thousand of each—
"Ultimate says they don't want any further production."
A utterly irrelevant remark came down the line.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"J-just what I said. They don't want any more made..."
"Did you tell them how much money there is to make?"
"Yes. I did tell them... They said however much it was, they didn't need it..."
"Does that make any sense? Where in the world is the man who doesn't need money!"
"Th-they say brand value matters more to them than money right now."
To a chairman who had kept himself alive by selling off trademarks, it was a thing he simply could not accept.
"Stow that garbage! That—that kid. You know the one."
"Do you mean President Park Jihoon?"
"Yes, him. Tell him to get over here. Book him first class, send a charter, I don't care. He comes. No arguments!"
"Ah, Chairman... this is a little awkward to say, but..."
"Now what!"
"E-even if you flew out there yourself, it doesn't look easy to get an appointment."
"...?"
"The word is that every luxury brand that's caught the scent of money is heading for London with a contract in hand."
In that instant the vast castle that had stood in the chairman's head shriveled into a villa jammed into the side of a hill. The cruise ship that had commanded the sea was reduced to a yacht staggering on the waves.
"N-no!"
"Sir?"
"Forget it! It's our company name on the goods, isn't it? If I want to print them my way, why do I need that brat's blessing!"
"..."
"Print them! I'll take the blame for all of it..."
He got that far, then seemed to feel a little chill.
"Or print them on the quiet and sell them however you can!"
He yanked the wheel and changed course. He had turned it at the last moment, yes, but anyone looking could see it for what it was: reckless driving. Blind with wanting, the chairman simply floored the accelerator.
In front of the house, unfamiliar cars stood parked in a line. As if they had agreed on it beforehand, every one of them was a large black sedan. A busy murmur rose from the gate.
What is this?
Quite a crowd had gathered before the front gate. The amusing part was that Jo Sudeok was out there directing traffic. Quick as ever, he spotted me and came hurrying over.
"President! You see them? Every one of them came to meet you."
How he had memorized it all in so short a time, I couldn't say. Brand names, the rank of each representative, what they had come to propose—Jo Sudeok poured out the whole of it.
"What are you, some kind of computer?"
"A computer's got no loyalty. No love for the company."
True enough. Nerve like his, and a gift for a joke—a hundred times better than a computer.
"They've come a long way. Might you hear each of them out, at least?"
"Sure. Why not."
"Then I'll send them through in order."
I had already talked a heap of business with Tennessee, and now it looked as if there would be more work waiting at home. Strange, though. I didn't feel tired in the slightest—ahem. Anyway.
"And Grandfather?"
"Watching from the second floor, I'd imagine."
At Jo Sudeok's words I lifted my head.
Oh, boy.
There was Grandfather, looking down at me with a thoroughly pleased face.