[Chapter 465: A New Official Takes Office]
On January 20, 1989, George H.W. Bush took the oath of office. Although he won the election with a landslide, his inauguration felt somewhat lackluster.
This was truly unavoidable. Based on the current information, Flight 103 had suffered a terrorist attack, not some mechanical failure.
For the United States, this was a blatant slap in the face. You shot down their civilian aircraft, and they couldn't retaliate because they simply weren't a match for you. But now, you've got troubles of your own, and not even a clue as to who your adversary might be. It's frustrating to have all this muscle and nowhere to flex it.
In such circumstances, it was best to keep the inauguration low-key. The primary promise to the public should be to quickly identify the culprits.
Well, the United States had pissed off a lot of people over the years. If you thought about it, there were quite a few people with motives for the attack. Of course, since you shot down their plane, you were the prime suspect.
However, if they weren't crazy, they probably wouldn't have pulled something like this. Qatar Airlines was a suspect too; that Golden Canyon operation had caused them significant damage.
Naturally, all of this was conjecture. Even if the U.S. was unreasonable, they wouldn't be able to eliminate all the suspects.
Besides, given the current economic situation, there was simply no need to stir up trouble. If there was to be retaliation, it was best to deal with the Soviets first.
"Congratulations! Are you going to be called the Prince from now on?"
"Cut it out. Besides, it's just bad luck for my old man to have something like this happen."
William White thought to himself, your old man has had a lot of bad luck; one day, he'll have to learn a lesson from those numbskulls. These issues were all pinned on his predecessor.
"This is really unavoidable. They won't figure it out quickly. The only thing we can do is reassure the public."
...
William White's call was just a courtesy, as he had been quite busy this year. His car factory had started production, but capacity had not yet improved, making it very frustrating for him. Apparently, lean manufacturing wasn't a cure-all.
Holding a megabyte memory chip in his hand, William White was very pleased; his London factory was now capable of mass production.
Though it had come at a substantial cost, William believed it was worth it. Moving from 256K to a megabyte was a huge leap. He was confident that if Intel hadn't given up on dynamic memory, they would only be getting to 512K at most by now.
"Tom, speed up the development of the 3D accelerator card. With that under our belt, we'll have the advantage."
"Sure thing, sir. We've stopped developing the Apple-compatible cards, so all that effort is now being channeled into the 3D accelerator and sound cards."
"Yeah, this business is crucial. That damn Big Blue sure is slow; who knows when they'll release the 486 architecture?"
The sluggishness of IBM was indeed giving William White a headache. He could get engineering samples ahead of time; IBM could too. He just couldn't understand what they were waiting for.
With Bush taking office, William White planned to manage his U.S. operations carefully over the next four years, focusing on consolidating his industries. When the Donkeys came back, it would definitely be trouble.
There was no denying that William White had a bit of paranoia. Who would bother to offend a young tycoon so easily? If that tycoon happened to be a media mogul, even less so.
Though the Donkeys represented the interests of lower and middle-income earners, they wouldn't intentionally provoke the wealthy. William White had no political stance; both sides were well aware of it.
This headstrong tycoon could ignore Reagan's wishes but had decent ties with the Bush family. Many believed that Bush's smooth victory owed a lot to William White.
As a businessman, he could hardly lean too far toward one side. In fact, he had stakes in both camps.
In short, he didn't want any trouble with the unions or antitrust matters; this guy was quite easy to deal with.
The reason the auto union's wildchild hadn't kicked up a fuss was right there. The politicians were too wary to get involved, and the unions were hesitant.
...
"Sir, are we still planning to divest from Japan as scheduled?" Filson asked, looking conflicted. The assets in Japan kept rising, and he was starting to wonder if they should slow down.
"Ha! Let's skip the New Year. We'll go for the second quarter instead. No need to hold on to anything that doesn't perform. We can keep the commercial real estate, just speed up the sell-off."
William White shrugged it off. What did it matter? They still had plans to make a splash at year's end.
"The price of land in Japan could buy two U.S. states; that's just insane. The Dutch tulip craze didn't even reach such heights!" Filson couldn't quite comprehend this; had the Japanese really lost their minds, or had Wall Street gone crazy?
"Feels strange, huh? This is a conspiracy. The Japanese have already sensed the American intentions. The unfortunate truth is, they're too late; a speeding train can only slow down."
"Sir, if they raise interest rates immediately, is there a chance of a soft landing?"
"A soft landing? Ha, ha! Oh, they will land, but not just hard -- it'll be face-first."
The Japanese weren't entirely foolish. Their economists had already recognized the gravity of the situation.
Unfortunately, it was a deadlock now. The island nation felt that their stock market was overheating, hence the decision to impose a capital gains tax.
And what happened next?
The market sank into despair, with all stocks, good or bad, plummeting without any volume. This kind of drop was catastrophic; investors had no chance at all -- there was no selling their shares.
Their economic size was limited; at most, they'd just be unlucky. If this scene played out in Japan, there'd be no jumping off buildings -- it would just be too crowded. To save time, everyone might as well jump into the sea together.
Looking at his boss's face filled with schadenfreude, Filson felt utterly speechless. This guy was nothing like the cherry blossom faction the outside world talked about; it was a totally different ballgame.
"This time, the top ten consortia really cleaned up; they've sheared that wool a bit too harshly. Don't they fear directly killing off the Japanese?"
"Ha, Filson, when has Wall Street ever cared? To snag that last dime, they'll squeeze the Japanese dry. That's the essence of capitalism."
Filson found himself at a loss for words; he'd once been one of them, not too long ago.
"Ha, it's not wrong to 'shear the sheep,' is it? Shouldn't it be a slow process? If you kill it outright, you won't be able to fleece them later."
Alright, William White got it. It wasn't that Filson was delicate; he was just far more ruthless, planning to make off with the heart of a living bear.
"Don't worry; the Japanese have resilience that will surprise you. Though it will be brutal, they won't just vanish nor fall into hopelessness."
*****
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