The Tale of Building a Casino in South America (3)
The residents withdrew, and once again only the sound of the waves remained on the beach. Only then did Lucio bring forward his cousin, Antonio Carvalho — who had been waiting behind the cars — and present him to Eugene.
"Your Excellency, this is Antonio Carvalho, as I mentioned."
Eugene turned to look at him. Slicked-back hair gleaming with product, a flashing gold Rolex, and a lavish silk suit that looked as though an Italian craftsman had stitched it by hand, stitch by stitch. It was a look that advertised I am a successful businessman with every inch of his body. Eugene offered a gentle smile and extended his hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Antonio. I'm Eugene Choi, President of San Marcos. Thank you for making the long journey."
"I-it's an honor, Your Excellency!"
Antonio's reaction was peculiar. He received Eugene's offered handshake with both hands, then dropped to his knees — his demeanor as devout as a worshipper about to kiss the Pope's ring. It was because he had just witnessed the miraculous scene of hundreds of residents wailing and prostrating themselves before Eugene.
This man… he's the real thing.
Antonio had lived with his nose in the air through every trial Florida could throw at him, but before Eugene's overwhelming popular support and authority, he had no choice but to become a meek lamb.
Eugene, on the other hand, was inwardly flustered by Antonio's excessive deference.
What's this? I heard he was a mafia godfather — why is he so terrified?
He wondered if Lucio had given him a look from the side, but either way, it wasn't a bad thing. Seizing the upper hand from the start was always an advantage in negotiations.
"Shall we change locations? There's something I'd like to show you."
Eugene and Antonio drove up to a high vantage point overlooking the entire coastline. Below the open vista, the cobalt-blue Pacific and a golden stretch of white sand unfurled like a painting.
Eugene raised his presidential longsword and pointed along the shore.
"What do you think? The view alone is spectacular, isn't it?"
"…Whew. It's magnificent. The water is clearer than Miami Beach, and the sand is far wider."
Antonio answered, visibly startled.
"I intend to build a second Las Vegas here."
At Eugene's words, Antonio took in the landscape. Then the sharp gaze of a seasoned businessman returned to his eyes, and he spoke.
"So Your Excellency means to build a city of gambling in San Marcos."
"Exactly. That's why I brought in you, Mr. Antonio — a native of San Marcos who knows that world better than anyone."
Antonio's brow furrowed slightly as he replied.
"To put it bluntly, gambling alone is no longer enough to succeed. With the rise of online betting, casino revenues inside the United States have dropped significantly. Even Sands, a storied Las Vegas company, has been running operating losses for a long time now."
"…Is that so?"
Eugene flinched. He had assumed that simply opening a casino would print money.
"But an integrated resort city that capitalizes on the natural setting — that's a different story. It could become a world-class destination like Dubai or Hawaii. The casino would merely be a supporting act."
"You have an impressive eye."
Even under Eugene's praise, Antonio did not get carried away. He coolly ran the numbers in his head.
"Then the problem is investment… To cut to the chase, there is no shortage of parties willing to invest. There are quite a few heavy hitters sitting on piles of money simply because they can't find a place to put it."
Antonio counted off on his fingers as he explained.
"The geography checks out as well. It's close to Miami, and the scenery is spectacular. Once the infrastructure is in place, the odds of success are more than sufficient. However…"
He let the pause hang.
"The real question is how you create a competitive edge that belongs to San Marcos alone."
"A competitive edge…"
"Tourism isn't something you can just plant a flag in and call done."
Antonio watched Eugene's expression carefully as he added, choosing his words with care.
"You need attractions. Only once tourists start gathering do the hotels begin testing the waters and moving in. In other words, it takes twenty years — perhaps thirty. Can Your Excellency wait that long?"
"No. I can't."
"……"
Despite the blunt answer, Eugene was inwardly impressed.
He really does know how to read the board.
When he had first drawn up the plan, time had been his greatest concern. A single hotel took a year and a half at minimum — how long would it take to build an entire city? Of course they could expand step by step, but the physical time involved was simply too precious to waste.
"I want to see results within three years."
"In that case… you'll need a game-changing weapon that can skip time altogether."
"What kind of weapon would that be?"
"The first thing that comes to mind is dismantling regulations. Lowering the corporate tax rate would be another option. As for other weapons, I'll need a little time to think."
"Good. I'll give you full authority — draw up the strategy."
"M-me, Your Excellency?"
Antonio blurted it back, startled by Eugene's words.
"Forgive me, Your Excellency, but I am not a public official of San Marcos. For someone like me to take part in the running of the nation…"
"Then you can take office starting now. I hereby appoint you as advisor to San Marcos's new city project. Director Lucio will fill you in on the salary and rank."
"…Pardon?"
Antonio stood there, dazed by the extraordinary appointment, until Lucio tapped him on the calf. Only then did the situation click, and Antonio cried out.
"I-I'll stake my life on it, Your Excellency!"
"…There's no need to stake your life."
Eugene gave a small nod and continued.
"Drumpf has already picked out a plot here. The best view on this entire coastline, in fact."
For a moment, Antonio's eyes looked ready to pop from his skull.
"D-Drumpf…? You mean the President of the United States?"
"Yes. He said he'll personally build the Drumpf International Casino Hotel."
Antonio's pupils trembled as if an earthquake had struck.
Drumpf is coming in?
Even in the real estate world, Drumpf's name had always carried enormous weight. Now that he was serving a second term as president, it was in a league of its own.
Drumpf bought land here.
He hadn't actually bought it, of course — he'd been given it — but if Drumpf was investing, the publicity was already halfway done. No one would assume the President of the United States was making a bad investment.
This board… it's a guaranteed win.
A look of triumphant certainty bloomed across Antonio's face. A president who counted the most powerful man on earth as a friend. Antonio finally understood why Eugene had become the god of San Marcos.
"Will that be of some help?"
"That's not merely help — it could play a decisive role."
"Good. Then I have a proposal for you, Mr. Antonio."
Eugene looked him straight in the eye.
"Draw up the strategy and gather the investors who will come in here. If you succeed…"
Eugene laid down his card.
"I'll give you the operating rights to the Tortilla Casino Hotel that will be built on this site. Tax benefits included, as a bonus."
It was an enormous offer — tantamount to seating the man on a throne of money. He was being invited onto a board that couldn't lose.
But Antonio fell silent for a moment, then gave an unexpected answer.
"Your Excellency, if I may be so bold…"
Antonio looked up at Eugene with a gaze full of resolve. He had already made as much money as he would ever need. In Florida he had amassed a fortune he couldn't spend in a lifetime. But there was one thing he did not have — the thing a man who had clawed his way up from the bottom as an immigrant had always thirsted for.
Honor. Power. And the desire to be recognized by the living god standing before him, to leave his name in the history of San Marcos — that hunger stirred him now.
"More than money… I want to take part in Your Excellency's great work. Rather than operating rights, I would like a public office in service of San Marcos."
"A public office?"
Eugene's eyebrows shot up, as if the request had caught him off guard.
Why on earth would he want something like that?
To him, Antonio's proposal sounded like nothing more than volunteering for extra hardship. And yet —
No reason to refuse.
The man wanted to work. Why turn him down? No one knew this industry's inner workings better than Antonio. Putting him in a seat might even make management smoother. Besides, judging by what he was doing now, he seemed to have a genuine love for the country.
"Very well. Is there a position you have in mind?"
"I want to manage this new city… with my own hands."
Eugene nodded without hesitation.
"You're in."
"…Pardon?"
Mayor.
Antonio's chest swelled. He would become the administrator responsible for an entire city — and as one of the innermost confidants of the Excellency who had saved the homeland, no less.
"Y-Your Excellency…! I will devote my life to serving you!"
Antonio's eyes welled with tears of gratitude.
"…I'll say it again. There's no need to stake your life. Just give it your best."
Eugene let out a sigh.
Starting the next day, Antonio began drawing up a strategy to lure in investors, working alongside Lessa, the Senior Secretary for Resources and Tourism.
"Secretary, please take another look at the map."
"We need to scatter more bait. Bait so sweet and so lethal that investors couldn't refuse it even if they wanted to."
"What sort of things did you have in mind?"
"First, taxes. His Excellency mentioned a five-year corporate tax exemption followed by five years of reductions, but I'd like to propose something more aggressive."
"More aggressive?"
"Yes. Lock in a fifty percent corporate tax cut for five years, and have Tortilla Bank lend a portion of the initial investment capital — then credit that amount against taxes over a ten-year period. That way, fewer investors will feel the squeeze of startup costs."
"The Senior Secretary of Finance will foam at the mouth over that."
"Let him foam. We'll recoup all of it later from the money tourists leave behind."
"Any other strategies?"
Antonio's eyes lit up.
"The second thing we have to lock down is accessibility. Even the finest hotel is worthless if it's a pain to get to."
"So…?"
"We need to open direct routes to New York, LA, and Chicago — America's three major cities. Whether we codeshare with a US airline or not, we have to create nonstop flights. American rich people absolutely despise layovers."
Lessa nodded, taking notes.
"And one more thing. Let's launch a regular cruise line between Florida and San Marcos."
"A cruise?"
"Yes. Have them come sipping champagne all the way from Florida. Cut the fare in half for anyone staying at the hotels."
"That's certainly an attractive product."
"The last thing we need to lock down is things to do."
"Isn't the theme already the pinnacle of entertainment?"
"It's not enough."
Antonio pointed to the wetlands beside the coast.
"First, the golf course His Excellency mentioned — it can't just be any golf course. It has to be a world-class course capable of hosting a PGA Tour event."
"I'll put in a special order with Tortilla Construction for that."
"And on the beach, let's build a surf park and a yacht marina. Several clubs as well. The idea is to create a cycle that draws in ordinary tourists through golf, surfing, and parties — even without the casino."
Caught up in Antonio's passionate briefing, Lessa found himself gradually won over. What had been a vague blueprint for a tourism city was transforming, through Antonio's mouth, into a concrete and viable business model.
"You're truly remarkable. At this rate, investors from around the world will be lining up."
At Lessa's praise, Antonio grinned. In his mind's eye, he could already see himself holding a champagne flute, dazzling a room full of investors.
"Please report this to His Excellency, Secretary. I'll fly out tomorrow and start meeting with investors."
"Understood."
The two men clasped hands.