Bruce idly flipped through the pale green card in his hand. Written on it was "permanent resident card," commonly known as a green card.
"The photo turned out pretty good," he mused.
The valuable residency right, which had troubled the former Bruce for a long time, was no longer an issue in the face of the mighty dollar. Bruce had left it all to Archibald to sort out, only showing up briefly at the end.
At the moment, they were on a flight from New York to Los Angeles, California. Of the three acquisition targets Archibald had chosen for him, two were located within Los Angeles, and the other was in Bakersfield, in the Central Valley.
Bruce was traveling in a chartered business jet, a Challenger 605, a premium private business jet from Bombardier. The cabin had undergone significant enhancements to maximize passenger comfort. Besides offering a more spacious cabin, the airplane's windows had been redesigned to allow more natural light. The interior, designed to accommodate up to 12 people, still seemed quite roomy.
"Maybe it's time to consider owning a private jet," Bruce mused. "With the company's expanding operations, I'll likely be traveling a lot. It'd make things much more convenient." Besides, the rooftop of "The Top of the Sun Shine" had a helipad. It'd be a waste not to use it.
"You seem to have high expectations for the new company," remarked Fowler, sitting beside him, accepting a glass of red wine from the flight attendant with a smile.
"Beyond what you can imagine," Bruce responded confidently, although he wasn't ready to reveal his grand plan. Everything still needed time.
"In that case, you might need a bigger plane. Strictly speaking, the Bombardier Challenger 605 is considered a midsize jet, with a maximum range of only about 7,500 kilometers," Fowler, evidently well-versed in this topic, suggested. He had long wanted to own a jet, but his finances were tight. "The Bombardier Global Express or the Gulfstream G500 might be more up your alley, Bruce."
"I'll leave it to Archibald. He'll handle it," Bruce replied, now accustomed to putting forth his demands and leaving it to this competent fellow to resolve them.
"He's almost become your personal secretary," Fowler laughed heartily.
"That's precisely his job," Bruce replied matter-of-factly. After all, the over six hundred million dollars in Citibank wasn't just sitting there for nothing. Money came fast and was spent just as quickly. After paying the law firm and Samson Bell's share, deducting the amount spent on the mansion and various expenses, he realized he'd spent over three hundred million dollars in less than a month.
Following Archibald's advice to save on taxes, he had to spend the money. Fortunately, the acquisitions were coming up next. Bruce worried that he might run short of funds.
Sitting opposite them were two professionally dressed individuals, both seemingly between 35 and 40. These were the investment analysts and personal assistants Archibald had sourced for Bruce. The slender one was Kit Leslie, an expert in taxation, leaning more towards financial management and accounting. The tall one with curly brown hair was Isaiah Christian, an elite in business investigations, negotiations, and decision-making.
They both possessed extensive experience, were energetic and passionate. Such a combination of professionals would undoubtedly boost Bruce's endeavors.
While both were reviewing the documents, their minds raced. Bruce Lee's name had recently become too prominent, seemingly emerging from obscurity due to "Vilda's" skyrocketing success.
Considering Bruce's youthful, tall, and handsome appearance, his influence was beginning to spill over into entertainment and gossip columns. Media reports about him were overwhelmingly abundant.
Isaiah and Kit had initially thought it was just a regular interview. Little did they know Bruce would ask them to accompany him on a cross-country flight to California to acquire several companies. After all, New York and Los Angeles are on opposite coasts, with a straight-line distance of over 4,500 kilometers!
"Mr. Leslie, Mr. Christian, any thoughts after reviewing the data?" Bruce inquired calmly, swirling his whiskey, its golden liquid creating ripples in the glass.
"Mr. Lee, the information you've provided concerns three unlisted companies. Their asset evaluations and financial reports are very detailed. Incyte and Sleipnir are in fairly good financial condition, whereas Cubist Genome Sciences isn't doing too well," Kit confidently replied, adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses.
After a pause, he added, "I must say, the team that prepared these reports was highly professional."
The report came from Citibank's team, but Bruce knew he couldn't rely solely on them for everything. He nodded silently, signaling Isaiah, seated next to him, to speak.
"While the financial states of these biotech companies are passable, from my perspective, none of them are great acquisition targets. Neither their research outcomes nor their core business stand out. The only commendable aspect is their relatively solid independent research teams. However, a tech-oriented company without tangible outcomes is inherently flawed. Especially CoBIS – it's burning through cash. I don't think it's worth acquiring."
Isaiah spoke his mind, though he toned it down slightly considering Bruce might be his future employer.
Bruce wasn't surprised. The companies Archibald had selected for him were all independent small biotech firms. Well-performing, larger companies either had market caps in the tens to hundreds of billions of dollars or were already acquired by giants like Roche and Pfizer.
Given the economic downturn, big companies weren't seeing growth and smaller ones found it hard to secure funding. Mergers and acquisitions seemed like the only viable route. This economic atmosphere was precisely why these giants lunged at "Vilda" so fiercely when it appeared.
Having gotten a measure of the two men's capabilities, Bruce smiled faintly, placing his glass down. His face was impassive, his eyes seemingly tranquil yet unfathomably deep as he scrutinized the two for a good half-minute.
To Kit and Isaiah, the congenial Bruce before them seemed to transform suddenly. His aura soared, reminiscent of a vast, calm ocean with turbulent waves brewing beneath, ready to engulf everything.
Despite his many negotiations, Isaiah swore he'd never encountered anyone with such a formidable presence. It was a kind of overwhelming power, the sort that comes with life-and-death authority.
Even Fowler, previously relaxed, became slightly tense sensing Bruce's shift. It reminded him of their first encounter, where Bruce's youthful appearance did nothing to mask his indescribable aura of authority.
Perhaps this version of Bruce was the real him.
"Mr. Leslie, Mr. Christian, I appreciate your professional capabilities. More importantly, I value your ambition, your thirst for more. Only warriors who continually crave for battle, for blood, are the fiercest, the most elite. But before we proceed, I want to remind you of three things when working for me," Bruce's voice, slightly deepened, echoed in the eerily quiet cabin.
"First, never question why. If I feel you need to know, I'll explain. When I set a target, your sole job is to achieve it."
"Second, never act on your own initiative. If you make decisions without my approval, you'd better ensure success."
"Third, what I give you is yours. What I don't, you cannot take."
"Now, do you understand?"
Kit and Isaiah, somewhat belatedly, nodded their heads. Under Bruce's imposing demeanor, they could feel the fine beads of sweat forming on their backs. Isaiah would swear that he even heard Kit swallow hard next to him.