A New Beginning (28)
Expressing my gratitude to the senior who would be staying in Hawaii, I continued the story. The deputy chief warned me to stay cautious anyway. They were willing to tolerate the products the original organization had been moving in Incheon for a limited time, but if the same goods kept flooding the market, they would realize someone new was involved and start hunting us again. That sounded right. Returning to the main issue, what should we do?
Director Jo offered an idea. "Director Jo suggested splitting off just the product supply function from the logistics department. I think it's worth considering," Hamo-hamo (37.0) wrote.
I didn't quite follow, so I asked for more details. Director Jo explained that what we called the logistics department was really closer to sales. The proposal was to reorganize the current third-department structure into a proper sales division, then create a separate delivery unit beneath it. Line Manager Seon would move into sales, and any section chief or higher in sales would request product from the logistics department as needed.
"Hmm. Not bad," I muttered to myself while staring at the phone.
"What about personnel?" GB (37.8)
"It would be ideal if the farm or factory could handle it, but we'll need to look around," Hamo-hamo (37.0) replied.
The farm was out of the question. Yangcho knew the man's style; the moment we gave the order, everything would fall apart. The factory, though, could work. Yeoni had already been feeling uneasy about having nothing to do. Her younger brother handled the physical labor while she only supervised the recipes, and the idleness was starting to wear on her.
"How about the section chief in Gyeongnam for the weed? He has connections on the hashish line, and sales have been slipping anyway. A little pressure might be good for the organization. I'll talk to him," Hamo-hamo (37.0) suggested.
It was a cruel move, but that was how organizations worked. Whether the idea came from the deputy chief or Director Jo, I approved it. The next day the new organizational chart arrived. I signed off. It looked solid. Still, what was this "advisory board" section? I needed to study up.
That afternoon the deputy chief called. Blueandgreen had agreed to take the position. I said it was fortunate. The deputy chief echoed the word in a different tone, and it sent a chill down my spine.
I asked about the advisory board. He wanted to retire. The mention of PTSD made me flinch. Why? I took good care of him, didn't I? He would still receive his annual stipend tax-free. When money came up he seemed to hesitate, then said he wanted to receive a small incentive and work at the welfare center. After the restructuring, the logistics team work he had been doing as a deputy chief was being transferred, so he no longer had a clear role. His body was also giving him trouble. If the organization ever ran into problems or needed extra hands, he would step in. Think of him as reserve personnel. Since the reorganization had been approved, he planned to wrap things up here, wash his hands of it, and sever as many ties as possible with the current structure. If there was something he wanted to do, I should let him go. The organization was barely three years old and already talking about generational change? A sudden gloom settled over me.
Still, every department needed a leader, so I asked him to keep his name on the chart. The deputy chiefs could retire. He laughed at that. I would see him at the welfare center, he said. Something about starting the second act of his life.
I gave Line Manager Seon a brief rundown of the changes and told him to work hard. Then I remembered I had to contact Nakamura next week to place an order for raw materials. The speed at which our stock was disappearing surprised me. Yeoni just smiled. When I called, the man sounded genuinely shocked, and the reaction instantly lifted the gloom the reorganization had left behind.
I finally understood why personnel changes were necessary. Director Jo sent up the sales report: a twenty-percent increase over last month. Line Manager Seon was the main reason, but other regions had also seen gains. When I asked Director Jo why, he said rumors that Blueandgreen had been shipped off to Gyeongnam had sparked a temporary surge, and word that three deputy chiefs had been replaced had put the entire organization on edge. There was also hunger for the next deputy-chief positions. I asked telepathically whether they hadn't already retired. I could almost see Director Jo smiling. Look how well everyone gets along when they laugh together. The welfare center officially reopened. I wanted to visit and offer congratulations, but they preferred to keep the opening modest. Besides, who was I to show up as the boss and disrupt things? I offered money instead, framed as severance. Director Jo swore at me. What was he supposed to do if I suddenly dumped that on him?
The next morning I heard about myself on the news.
This guy again? Still, he had helped, so I should at least act friendly.
I had just wired a billion won to the welfare center the other day, and now the temperature had risen. He was like one of those greedy goblin bankers from fantasy novels. Still, I was grateful; anything over a billion only took a seven-percent cut. One percent less meant ten million won saved.
Was this guy insane? Moving thirty kilos a month meant selling a kilo every single day.
The moment it arrived I had torn the wrapping to shreds.
He wasn't literally dying, was he?
Then he started whining for Chinese contacts. What was I supposed to do about my inventory costs? I had learned a bit about financial management; while he was eating, the real value of my bank account was shrinking by the time value. That was opportunity cost and sunk cost, some famous economist had said. There was a practical problem too. Taking this shipment would push my stock past sixty kilos. I couldn't handle that.
No thanks, I don't handle those. Wait—guns? I had been needing some anyway. Maybe I should buy a few.
This wasn't Mexico. I ordered seven Makarov pistols, five AK-47s, two Dragunov sniper rifles, and a thousand rounds of matching ammunition for each—except the sniper rounds, only three thousand of those. I figured I would be the only one using the sniper rifles for now. With five people on the security team, one spare each seemed reasonable, and I ordered extra in case we added personnel. He told me to take more. When I asked how much, he said at least as much as last time. At least he wasn't saying "the more the merrier." I added five more pistols and five more AKs. When I asked for a quote, he came back with thirty thousand dollars for the guns and twenty thousand for the ammunition. I looked up prices online; a K2 apparently went for around a million won on military contracts, depending on production batch and quantity. It didn't seem overpriced, so I agreed. Since it was smuggling anyway, I asked for the rest in marijuana. The quality had been decent last time. We settled on twenty kilos. He said the goods would be ready within a week and suggested we do it the same way as before. The first time there had been no trust, so we had done it that way. Of course I hadn't believed him. This time I would exchange the money coolly through the Itaewon U.S. Army contact and leave everything else to Eun-seong. I also contacted the welfare center and asked them to build a shooting range. An empty lot would do. They said they understood; construction was already underway, so an empty lot wouldn't raise suspicion. I asked them to place it as far from the welfare center as possible and as close to the military base as possible. There was a base on the other side of the mountain. If we fired during the base's own shooting days, the noise might blend in. We would use suppressors anyway.