The Wheels Need Grease
“The thorium reactors aren’t selling. Isn’t that the real problem?”
“Are you a fortune-teller?”
“Fortune-teller, my foot… Tiffany must have noticed how anxious you’ve been looking.”
Frederick’s words meant that Tiffany had read the tension in Yoo Jae-won’s face, grown worried, and passed her concerns on to him. When Frederick heard the story from Tiffany, he had laughed. Normally the man seemed like an unquestionable genius, yet every so often he appeared two percent less perceptive than an ordinary person. This was one of those moments.
“Tell me, do you understand how the reactor business actually works?”
“Of course.”
Yoo Jae-won answered as though the question were absurd. When electricity demand rose sharply and existing generation capacity looked insufficient, a feasibility study was conducted. Suitable generation methods and sites were then selected, followed by public hearings and environmental impact assessments.
“And bids are invited.”
“Exactly!”
That was why Yoo Jae-won had thrown himself into every reactor project currently out for tender. He had poured enormous effort into preparing the proposals—more precisely, Chairman Clark and the staff at ID Westinghouse had prepared them, but the documents were so strong that no competing firm should have stood a chance. Yet no good news had arrived. He had even been eliminated from Italy’s nuclear project, announced only days earlier, on the grounds of insufficient safety verification. Italy had never been a priority, but watching the country choose an outdated uranium reactor had made his impatience flare.
“Hmm? You still don’t realize that in many countries the bidding process is purely ceremonial?”
“Pardon?”
Ceremonial?
“In other words, the winner is already decided.”
“Well, I can’t say it’s one hundred percent true everywhere. In low-corruption Nordic countries, perhaps not. But in most nations, a leading company is usually chosen before the bids even open. And it’s common knowledge that factors beyond specifications play a significant role.”
Yoo Jae-won grasped Frederick’s meaning at once.
“A project as large as a nuclear power plant attracts many interest groups, and those groups require careful management of their respective interests to keep functioning.”
“Surely not.”
Even as he spoke the words, Yoo Jae-won found Frederick’s argument disturbingly persuasive. Since announcing the thorium reactor, he had tried almost everything. The lightning acquisition of Westinghouse had been the crowning touch, and the one-plus-one promotional event had been equally bold. Yet one possibility had never occurred to him: lobbying. He had assumed the thorium reactor’s superiority meant it would not require the kind of lobbying other vendors used. The one-plus-one offer, he had thought, removed any need for it. Even in Korea, where the power industry was state-run, no company would sell electricity generated by a thorium reactor at a loss.
“The nuclear industry is even more tightly knit than the oil business. That’s why people talk about the ‘nuclear mafia.’ They understand the thorium reactor’s advantages better than anyone, so they’ll fight it to the death.”
Yoo Jae-won already knew how threatened the existing nuclear vendors felt. Westinghouse had risen from the dead while rival firms were openly declaring they were finished. Their stock prices had been falling steadily, like birds that had lost their wings.
“What about North Korea, then?”
“Haha. North Korea may be sealed behind an iron curtain, but people still live there. Why would it be any different?”
Oddly, Frederick’s answer left Yoo Jae-won feeling betrayed. Choi Kang-geon, Vice Minister of the Power Industry of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, had traveled all the way to the United States. He had inspected the thorium reactor under construction in the Mojave Desert and the test reactor in Waterville. When he met Yoo Jae-won he had showered him with extravagant praise, even invoking their shared Korean bloodline. Yet the lack of a firm commitment, according to Frederick, came down to the absence of lobbying.
Of course, Frederick’s words could not be applied wholesale. Even in countries where the nuclear mafia held sway, a basic level of common sense still existed. Nevertheless, Yoo Jae-won found his thoughts drifting heavily toward Frederick’s view. The thorium reactor was good for humanity and good for plant operators alike; why should he have to lobby to sell something so obviously superior? The plants would have to be built somewhat larger than conventional reactors, but the simpler design meant lower construction costs. When fuel-rod prices and the cost of managing spent nuclear waste were factored in, the advantages became overwhelming.
“You don’t need to destroy an entire dam to bring it down. A few well-placed holes are enough.”
Yoo Jae-won, who had been on the verge of giving up, nodded at Frederick’s words. He was the one in need. With the coming great earthquake in mind, replacing aging reactors in high-risk zones with thorium reactors was urgent. From the standpoint of personal or corporate profit the effort was unnecessary, yet it was part of the mission he had shouldered for a sustainable future. He could not abandon it.
“Thank you for the advice.”
“Hm? I’m not finished yet.”
Frederick decided that since he was offering counsel, he might as well share his full experience.
“Lobbying is legal in the United States, but many countries do not permit it. Besides, lobbying can be interpreted however the listener chooses—earring on the ear, nose-ring on the nose.”
Yoo Jae-won listened again.
“Therefore, it is dangerous for you or your company to lobby directly. It is safer and more reliable to hire a firm or specialist to act on your behalf.”
Yoo Jae-won understood immediately. Once more he wondered whether such measures were truly necessary, yet some businesses could not be conducted without getting one’s hands dirty. Looking back, the IT sector had always been unusually favorable to him. All he had needed to do was present new technology and trends; netizens had responded with genuine enthusiasm. No matter how solid an incumbent’s foundation, capturing the end consumer ended the game. Nuclear power, however, was different. Even the thorium reactor could not instantly break through the order the established players had built.
With Frederick’s advice, Yoo Jae-won finally grasped the situation and completely revised his sales strategy for the thorium reactor.
A few days later.
Frederick’s generous donations had produced 13.43 million dollars at the charity event alone. Adding the ID Foundation’s 100 million dollars in emergency relief funds placed Yoo Jae-won’s contribution at the very top of the list for Katrina victims. Moreover, his donation did not simply pass through an intermediary; the money moved directly to the victims. Families needing funds to rebuild homes received construction support. Households whose furniture and appliances had been destroyed received new goods. Those requiring the most immediate help received gift cards. Because the ID Foundation had been created precisely so that donated money would reach its intended purpose, the difference from simply writing a check was enormous.
At the moment the articles appeared, Yoo Jae-won was meeting at ID Technology headquarters with a type of professional he had never dealt with before.
“Frederick said your skills are the best in the industry.”
“Of course. My firm, John Garni Company, has never disappointed a client. Even the exacting Chairman Frederick expressed satisfaction.”
The affable man who spoke his own name with such confidence was the lobbyist Frederick had recommended. Though in his mid-forties, he possessed the attractive appearance expected of a top lobbyist. In his youth he must have been called a flower boy; even now the description “handsome middle-aged man” was no exaggeration. The surname Garni was rare in America; he claimed French ancestry.
John Garni Company, named after its founder, was a specialized lobbying firm. It consisted of a small group of lobbyists including Garni himself. Frederick’s recommendation had led Yoo Jae-won to the firm, and a background check conducted by his intelligence team confirmed that its lobbying capabilities were indeed first-rate.
Coincidentally, while Yoo Jae-won had been arranging contact with John Garni, a report had arrived from Remington concerning the matter the security chief had promised to investigate after the charity event. Remington’s findings closely echoed Frederick’s advice: lubrication. In countries planning new reactor construction, the thorium reactor had received only cursory attention because the necessary lubrication for entangled interests had been absent. Lubrication was another word for bribes, though the terms rebate or commission were also used.
“Yes. That is why I would like to retain your services, Mr. Garni.”
“Would this be regarding the thorium reactor project?”
Yoo Jae-won’s principle was never to abuse power and never to be abused by it, yet the thorium reactor deal was an exception he could not avoid. As expected, John Garni immediately mentioned the thorium reactor, as though he had already been briefed.
“Which country’s nuclear project are you targeting? John Garni Company has extensive experience assisting reactor projects in more than ten countries.”
He could not name specific clients due to confidentiality, but the firm’s track record evidently justified Garni’s pride.
“Korea.”
“Ah, South Korea! Our firm is quite familiar with South Korea as well—”
“North Korea.”
At the mention of North Korea, John Garni’s eyes widened. The country was completely outside his expectations. That was understandable. Unlike before the regression, the current North Korea had opened special economic zones to attract foreign currency, and companies interested in cheap labor or mineral resources were running the numbers on entering the market. Yet no American firm had considered doing business with North Korea. Most interested parties were South Korean, Chinese, or Russian companies that enjoyed geographic advantages. Furthermore, because North Korea maintained a blood alliance with China, conducting business through Chinese connections was generally smoother.
The problem was that China remained uncharted territory for Yoo Jae-won as well. Although he had invested in Tencent, he had not expanded operations beyond that stake. Tencent served as ID Group’s de facto branch in China, but its activities were confined to the IT sector. Moreover, while North Korea was nominally allied with China, the proportion of pro-Chinese figures in its political leadership was not large. China’s territorial ambitions were extremely strong, and North Korea, sharing a border, was no exception. Had relations with the United States not improved, North Korea’s major mineral resources would still be flowing to China at bargain prices. Now that relations had improved, China’s suspicious gaze toward North Korea had only intensified, along with its interference.
Therefore, for Yoo Jae-won, using Chinese connections or commissioning John Garni Company amounted to the same thing.
“If we succeed, I will make you a six-million-dollar man, Mr. Garni.”
John Garni’s eyes grew even wider at the mention of a six-million-dollar success fee. In more than twenty years as a lobbyist, his largest success fee had been around one million dollars—and even that had been rare. Receiving six times his previous record naturally excited him.
Yoo Jae-won added one more sentence to stoke that enthusiasm further.
“I will also cover your operating expenses separately. Please do your best.”
“I will not disappoint you.”
Yoo Jae-won signed the contract with John Garni on the spot. That very day, John Garni Company began operating with everything on the line.
Remarkably, the results were immediate.
Mid-September.
Around the time the massive thorium reactor under construction in the Mojave Desert began to reveal its outline, an urgent meeting request arrived from Choi Kang-geon.