Spend It Like a Child
I strode up to the manager and said,
"Can you ship the combination you just played for us overseas?"
"If you cover the shipping, I don't see any difficulty."
"And the total?"
The manager tapped at a calculator at once. Fifty-five million won. A perfectly good price—and yet.
Hmm.
I sank into a small quandary, and the graduate student interpreting for me didn't miss the faint shift.
"Sir, is something the matter?"
"Nothing serious."
"...?"
"My older brother loves audio. I was thinking of buying a second set as a gift, but I'm about ten million short. I may have to stop by a bank..."
"Leave that to me."
"What?"
"I'll take care of it."
The interpreter pushed his glasses up and turned to the manager.
"He'd like one more set of this same combination."
"Oh! Two Goldmund and Paragon pairings?"
"Yes."
"Understood. I'll have them ready right—"
"Before that."
I cut him off, firm, and a question mark all but rose over the manager's face.
"We're buying two sets. Isn't there something you can do for us?"
"I'm not sure what you..."
"A discount. These are expensive pieces, and we're taking two of them."
"But this is very high-end equipment..."
"One payment. Cash. Hard cash, right here."
"Y-you're buying this in cash?"
The interpreter held out the bag he'd been carrying, as if inviting the man to see for himself.
"Have a look. Counting it will take you a while."
"Thanks to you, we got them cheap."
"Heh heh heh. A purchase isn't a purchase until you've haggled."
A few words, and ten million won had come off the price.
Of course there ought to be a reward.
Pressing a wad of bills into his hand would have been a little graceless. Better to tell Jo Sudeok to fatten the bonus.
Having spent money with a proper flourish, we made for a restaurant in high spirits. A hamburger would have been plenty for me, but I'd chosen a fine place with the interpreter in mind.
"What will you have?"
"Hmm."
"Shall we order the two most expensive things?"
"Sorry?"
"Steak, and a seafood platter. I'd like to share."
"Ah. If you'd like."
My stomach was small anyway; I couldn't eat much. With two dishes on the table, the interpreter would get at least a serving and a half.
Maybe it was the speakers I'd just bought. I found myself listening. A deep, smoky jazz filled the restaurant.
Chet Baker?
While I was lost in it, the interpreter bent an ear to the music as well, and the quiet let me set my thoughts in order.
Thirty billion won, after tax. Ah—I'd just spent a hundred million, so was it 29.9 billion now? Either way, I had made a staggering amount of money. There was a work presumed to be a da Vinci as well, which might bring in still more. Measured in money alone, this trip to America was a triumph.
A question followed at once. Was someone my age even allowed to earn so much? The money had been sitting in front of me, and I hadn't been able to keep my hands off it. But if this went on—if they recognized the gift and dragged me onto the front line of the business—then I'd have no time left to spend a thing, only to spend my days doing favors for other people.
No!
Grandfather, I'm sorry, but please give both the wealth and the honor to my brother. I'll take half of his share—no more, no less—and only the money!
That was the plan, at any rate. Adult hearts had a way of running in other directions.
Hmm.
This would be a good moment to bleed off a little aggro, wouldn't it?
For instance: his knack for making money was impressive, but look at how he spent it. Nothing but a child, wasn't he? Plant exactly that impression. A kid without a scrap of sense. If I wanted an image like that, then—
For a while, I'd have to throw money at foolish things.
Once the goal was set, concrete methods began to surface one by one. The sort of nonsense adults were most eager to misunderstand. Even in my previous life, the air around addiction and all the rest of it had been sour enough. How much worse would the 1980s be?
A rough picture was just taking shape when the food arrived.
"Your order is ready."
One tempting dish after another was set down in front of me. Eat first. Right. The fine points can wait. If I ate, the interpreter would be able to enjoy his meal with an easy mind too.
"Let's eat!"
And with that, I picked up my fork.
Meanwhile, Jo Sudeok was seeing to Dürer's last drawing.
A specialist firm was handling the work, so there wasn't much for him to do himself. Even so—
This thing is worth tens of billions of won!
Checking every step with care was only natural.
"We're finished. Please confirm."
Jo Sudeok signed the papers. The crew bowed and withdrew from the lab. The packing left nothing to be desired, and they'd even brought in an art-transport vehicle built to keep vibration to a minimum, so... well.
All done.
He was about to go in and rest when another knock came. Knock, knock. Wondering if they'd forgotten something, he opened the door.
Huh?
A young white man he had never seen was standing in the hall. A loose plaid shirt, glasses slid down to the tip of his nose. Not a look anyone would believe belonged to a transport crew.
"Who are you?"
"Hello. I'm... Martin. I came to see the president."
"The president?"
"Yes. He... said he'd arrange a place for me to stay..."
Sure enough, a large suitcase hung from the young man's hand.
"Our president is putting you up?"
Martin nodded, and nodded again.
"Ah! Would you be the... physics student?"
"Ah, yes, yes."
"Well, well. An honored guest. Come in, come in."
Martin bowed, and Jo Sudeok went on.
"The president has been running without a break. He stepped out for a change of air, to clear his head. Finding you a room isn't difficult, so I expect I can help with that."
"Ah, yes, yes."
"We're going to be one family anyway. Meeting like this is a kind of fate, so let's talk a little. All right?"
"Sure, I suppose."
"I'm Jo Sudeok, a professor of Western painting at Seoul National University."
"Martin, from Oxford. Until a few days ago I was aiming for a doctorate, but now I think I'll... stop."
"Aigoo, good thinking. A doctorate... that's no work for a human being."
"But you're a professor... and you say that..."
"Did I say anything untrue?"
Martin couldn't quite claim that he had. An awkward silence held for a moment.
"No, but really—how does a man of science end up in art?"
The talk that followed was much like the one with Park Jihoon. Martin, eyes alight over da Vinci, and Jo Sudeok, mildly thrown by that fervor. Even so, Jo Sudeok was a man who knew how to handle people.
"The president didn't single you out for nothing. Astonishing. That hypothesis of yours about da Vinci, especially—it was genuinely convincing."
"There's something even better I haven't told you yet..."
"No, no. Let's hear that later. Ah, not because it's a bother. We simply don't have much time."
"Right..."
While Martin swallowed his disappointment, Jo Sudeok hurried on.
"Any trouble putting a team together?"
"Ah... well."
"Tell me. It's work the president entrusted to you. If there's something I can do, we ought to do it together."
"Um, I'm a rather closed-off person. I don't have a wide circle... I don't know many people... so choosing someone is a little..."
Finding people was Jo Sudeok's specialty. Perhaps that was why he draped an arm over the back of the sofa and asked, perfectly at ease,
"What sort of talent are you after?"
"They only need to be smart."
"And what's your measure of smart? IQ? The school on the diploma? Grades?"
"Anything is fine, so long as they have one particular gift."
"Can you give me an example?"
"Even something as simple as memorizing a great many digits of pi would do. If they can fill about two blackboards with 3.14159265358979..., that's enough."
Pi? Two blackboards? Jo Sudeok wondered if he'd misheard, and dug at his ear. All the while, Martin went on muttering to himself.
"Or being able to solve a cube in any scramble in about five seconds... or glancing through a deck of cards and memorizing the entire order on the spot. That would be fine too..."
"Hold on."
"...?"
"What you just said. Can you do that?"
"I can. All of it."
What? What did he just say?
For an instant Jo Sudeok's Adam's apple bobbed, huge.
"You look through one deck of cards and memorize the whole order sitting right there?"
"Don't try to memorize it as information. Remember the scene entire. If you have the knack, it isn't particularly hard..."
Not hard, my ass!
Jo Sudeok snatched his hand down off the sofa back. Then, both hands gathered neatly before him, he spoke with careful courtesy.
"The trouble finding people... I don't think it's your temperament, or your connections."
"Then what is it?"
"Have you ever considered that your conditions might be demanding?"
"They only need to be smart. Is that a problem?"
Jo Sudeok drew a long breath, then pressed on.
"Well. For now, let's do it my way. We'll interview mainly graduates of good universities. If I put out a call, I can bring in fifty at the least..."
"..."
"Even if they're a little less brilliant, diligence is enough, isn't it? Don't you think?"
"Nnngh."
Martin let out a groan. Jo Sudeok did not.
"We'll start with the interviews. The cube? The cards? We'll talk about those later. Understood? That's how this is going to go."
He didn't even wait for an answer. He simply tied the matter off.
After the meal, I headed for an arcade.
When someone asked what I had done after making all that money, I wanted a clear answer ready. They wouldn't even be able to doubt it. I had a witness right here with me.
"No. I'm fine."
The moment we returned home, Chairman Park would summon the people around me. A man of his temper would never let a thing like this pass. He'd call the interpreter in and ask about this and that, and the disappointment would show on his face at once.
Heh heh heh.
For that, if nothing else, all I could do was hammer the buttons for all I was worth.
Tak. Tak-tak.
It stood to reason. When I was little, electronic games were precious things. The only way was to take a hundred won, two hundred won, and go down to the arcade. Money, of course, didn't make everything possible.
Aigoo. This is hard. So hard.
A short laugh escaped me. Even that is nothing but memory now.
Was it because I had sunk so deep into my thoughts?