How I Raised a Slush Fund in South America (3)
Isabella's drive was astonishing.
"We'll start with the paperwork. I happen to know a broker, so we should be able to move the money in two days."
After printing the documents from the USB, she immediately set to work transferring Tortilla Corporation's shares into nominee accounts.
"Isabella, have you done this kind of thing before? You're remarkably good at it."
"In university, I worked as a money-laundering broker for pocket money. That experience is actually how I got into the SIA."
"......"
Two days later, having finished the groundwork, she went straight to the tax authority and ordered Tortilla Corporation's headquarters relocated to San Marcos.
It was the kind of process that should have taken days. But Isabella was Chief of Staff to the President and Director of the SIA. Faced with a request from the power behind the throne, the tax commissioner stamped the documents without so much as glancing at them. On the way over, she called ahead and opened an account at the San Marcos National Reserve Bank.
The receiving end was ready. Now it was time to put the money in.
"I'll be on my way, then."
"While you're there, enjoy a bit of shopping."
She flew out, met with a transfer agent, sold off the securities in parcels, split the proceeds across three ghost accounts in Panama, and finally succeeded in depositing everything into the San Marcos Reserve Bank.
In any developed financial nation, the whole operation would have reeked of illegality enough to demand an explanation. Here, the very agencies meant to police it — the tax authority and the Ministry of Finance — rolled up their sleeves and jumped in to help, so the work wrapped up with remarkable ease.
The total: $6,509,889,408. Money making money — in just a few days, the sum had swollen by another three million dollars.
"You've worked hard."
"Not at all."
"So, when should we start putting the plan into action?"
"I'd prefer we take our time. No one in San Marcos has ever managed a sum of this scale."
"Fair enough. The nation's fortune is on the line, so we should be careful. How much time would you recommend?"
"I think we should split the project into several tracks and proceed as cautiously as possible."
"Hmm. Wouldn't that take too long? I'm someone who'll be heading back soon."
"Pardon?"
Isabella blinked.
"I'm not sure I follow..."
"I'm the acting president. Obviously, once enough time passes, there'll be an election, I'll hand power over to the winner, and I'll leave. No matter what else I do, I'm not someone who'll stay more than a year."
A look of bewilderment crossed Isabella's face, utterly unlike her usual composure.
"...Are you speaking in earnest?"
"Of course I am. Completely serious. I've mentioned this a few times already, haven't I?"
"Hmm."
She frowned at what should have been an obvious statement.
"I believe Your Excellency is mistaken."
"Excuse me? About what?"
"W-why not?"
"The moment an election is held and a new president lifts martial law, the military we've been forcibly holding down will make its move."
"Well... Commander Pedro would handle that, wouldn't he?"
"Even with the title of Martial Law Commander, he's only barely walking a tightrope. The instant martial law is dissolved, civil war becomes highly likely."
"Uh... well... rather than looking at it so pessimistically, maybe a bit more hopefully..."
"Even if civil war doesn't break out, I cannot guarantee Your Excellency's safety."
"What?"
What on earth was she talking about?
"I-I don't understand. I haven't done anything wrong..."
"San Marcos has not changed leaders in fifty years. In a country like that, what do you think a new administration would need to do to win popularity?"
"Govern well...?"
"Expose the previous regime's incompetence and pin every crime on it. 'I am different. I am not corrupt like the last administration' — that's the slogan. And the easiest method is... sending the previous leader to prison."
"......"
"President Juan is already dead and buried, so a new administration would almost certainly come after Your Excellency."
Hearing it laid out like that, it actually made sense.
This is not a small problem.
If that happened, my FIRE life would be utterly destroyed.
San Marcos and Korea didn't have an extradition treaty, but if a formal state request came in, the Korean government would have no choice but to review it. If luck ran against me, they might even send me back to San Marcos.
A San Marcos prison? How well could a prison run in a country with no money? You might as well call it hell.
"Hold on — shouldn't you have told me this in advance?"
"I assumed Your Excellency already knew."
"......"
She nodded, as if this were all working out rather well.
"Why not give up on going home, and reform San Marcos together with me? As long as you hold power, you'll be safe."
"I-I was definitely going to retire and live a leisurely FIRE life..."
"After about twenty years of work, that day will come. Once the people of San Marcos praise Your Excellency's achievements, the next administration won't have any way to touch you."
A vivid crimson rose bloomed into a brilliant smile and held out her hand.
"Well then. Let's give today our all."
As if bewitched, I took the rose's hand.
So why... did it feel like a thorn had pierced my skin?
After imposing martial law, I carved my days into minutes and lived them as if they were forty-eight hours long. I established public order in Libertad, where more than half the population lived, and convened cabinet meetings every day in an effort to resolve the most urgent issues.
But for all that effort, little actually changed.
"This bridge has been under construction for eight years. Why isn't it finished yet?"
"The budget ran short..."
"The school lunch program for low-income students ran through the year before last. Why wasn't it implemented this year?"
"The funding was cut..."
"I've heard the soldiers' conditions are dire. Even if we can't touch their pay, we should at least feed them until they're full, shouldn't we?"
"However..."
"What? Is there no budget?"
"Yes."
The nation's coffers were bone-dry. Even if you worked people for free, common decency said you still covered their travel and bought them a meal. With no money, there was nothing we could even attempt.
The one silver lining, if you could call it that, was that SIA agents were watching with eyes like hawks, so the amount of budget vanishing into black holes along the way had dropped significantly.
But from now on, things would be different.
"I will allocate a special budget of two hundred million dollars. It will be used to address urgent matters, including the cranes at Port Libertad. Each ministry is to submit a report."
"...!"
Look at those faces. Completely stunned.
If I'm going to rot in San Marcos anyway, I might as well savor a feeling like this.
In a country whose annual budget didn't even reach 4.5 billion dollars, two hundred million appearing out of thin air left them all looking ready to faint.
"Th-that kind of money... where did it even come from..."
"Do I need to explain every last detail?"
"I-I'm sorry!"
Following Isabella's advice that, even if it came out later, it was better to keep things as quiet as possible in such chaotic times, I glossed over it.
"As you all know, during the SIA's recent budget audit, a number of public officials whose embezzlement came to light couldn't make restitution, and a considerable number of them have gone off to the mines."
"......"
The vice ministers hung their heads. Well, if they had any conscience at all, they would.
What kind of country just takes the principal back and lets embezzlers walk?
They'd even arranged for those who came up short to take jobs at the relatively well-paying coal mines so they could work off the debt. At this point, you could call San Marcos a paradise for corrupt civil servants.
Granted, SIA agents had a tendency to estimate embezzled amounts a little on the high side — but if they didn't like that, they shouldn't have stolen in the first place.
"Let me say this in advance. Anyone — anyone at all — who plays games with this special budget will pay the price."
"......"
"I trust you all understand what I mean. That's all for today."
After sending the vice ministers on their way, I went to find Isabella, who was drafting Tortilla Corporation's first venture.
"So? Have you given it some thought?"
"For now, I was thinking textiles."
"Textiles... not a bad idea."
She'd probably landed on textiles because she was looking for something labor-intensive. Not a bad choice.
Korea started the same way — bringing in sewing machines and opening garment factories.
San Marcos had a fair number of women who could operate sewing machines. It would likely open up labor participation for women, which had been quite limited until now.
However.
"Can we actually be competitive?"
China was the problem. How do you compete with a mindset that will stamp out product as long as a single cent of profit remains?
Then again, doing business with no margin isn't exactly appealing either.
San Marcos's labor costs were cheaper than China's, so on price we could at least scrap. But the technical skill gap was large enough that building real competitiveness wouldn't be easy.
"I'm concerned about that as well... I was thinking we might take orders from the American side. We'd have an advantage in shipping costs, after all."
"And how were you planning to handle sales?"
"I was thinking we'd produce samples first, then go around to apparel manufacturers. The SIA happens to have a considerable number of English-speaking agents..."
"Hmm. That doesn't sound like a good approach."
"Pardon?"
"Even if this is a company we're building ourselves, we can't lean on a state agency. It could affect SIA agents' morale, and if we're not careful, the SIA's influence could bleed into Tortilla."
"Ah... I hadn't considered that."
"Which is why I wanted to suggest something."
I met her eyes.
"What if we bought ships instead?"
"Ships? Are you perhaps considering shipping?"
"Shipping? Come on, that's far too ambitious. We don't even have a shipyard to repair them."
"Then..."
"Fishing."
"F-fishing? As in, catching fish?"
"Yes. That fishing."
Isabella frowned. Well, of course she would. She'd just proposed launching a secondary industry, and I'd come back with fishing — a primary industry.
But not all fishing is the same.
"Look at where we are now. There are plenty of fishermen, but the boats they use are all coastal vessels under ten tons, aren't they?"
"That's correct."
"So here's my thought... what if we purchased several hundred-ton fishing vessels and started commercial fishing in earnest?"
"Would that... actually work?"
"It will. This is San Marcos, hometown of countless mariners. I understand a fair number of people earned their navigator's licenses working as crew in Chile and Mexico."
"But an industry of that scale would need a market..."
"That won't be difficult."
I looked straight at her puzzled face and answered.
"Because we won't be consuming the catch domestically."
"Then...?"
"We'll sell it in Korea."
"What?"
"There are a lot of fish that aren't popular here but are in demand in Korea. Skate, for instance."
Jungwoo hyung had tried to haul skate out of Suriname and sell it in Korea, after all.