The Art of Power and Persuasion
The next morning, the wild aftertaste of the previous night lingered like a stubborn shadow. Charlie stretched lazily in his luxurious suite, reflecting on the "friendly match" his Republican friends enjoyed. While the festivities left the maids exhausted, Charlie made sure their efforts were generously rewarded with twice their usual pay. To him, ensuring his "friends" had a good time was far more important than money.
"So, you scared them off, huh?" Nick drawled, lounging on the sofa in his nightgown with a cigar clamped between his teeth.
"I simply reminded them to play by the rules," Charlie replied, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. His gaze sharpened as he added, "And when it comes to qualifications, no one matches me."
The recent success in the stock market, his growing network of connections, and an indomitable confidence fueled Charlie's swagger. He had adopted a simple philosophy: if he couldn't be bullied, no one else could either. And if he bullied others, they'd better stay quiet and endure it. To survive in this land of ruthless ambition, restraint was seen as weakness. Charlie understood that respect here was earned by instilling a mix of fear and awe.
Nick, amused by Charlie's bravado, chuckled. "You're not like the other Chinese I've met."
"Different?" Charlie quipped, his voice dripping with mockery. "Maybe it's because you've never met someone whose ancestors wiped out the Huns and made them call Huo Qubing their father."
Their light-hearted banter gave way to discussions of more serious matters. Charlie, eager to solidify his long-term ambitions, shifted gears. "Nick, do you think there's any hope for pushing through that national defense license issue we discussed?"
Nick sighed, the grin fading from his face. "Charlie, you have to understand how difficult that is. Your skin color and background—well, let's just say it complicates things."
"Exactly why I need the help of friends," Charlie said, leaning forward, his tone resolute.
After a moment's contemplation, Nick nodded. "I'll see what I can do. But this will take some serious lobbying—and a lot of money."
Charlie smirked. "Money's not a problem."
In the afternoon, as Charlie prepared to leave for the next phase of his plans, an unexpected phone call forced him to change his itinerary. He hurriedly boarded a plane to Chicago and headed straight to the club, where Dwight, his ally, was enjoying a drink in the hall.
"Why didn't you let me know you were coming?" Charlie asked as he settled into a chair, feigning discomfort to highlight his "injury."
"I told you I'd visit," Dwight replied, scrutinizing him. "You look like you're doing fine."
"Luck was on my side. The bullet missed my heart and lungs by two millimeters. Any closer, and we'd be meeting at my grave."
Dwight smirked. "Well, since you're up and about, I guess there's no point in taking it easy. So, what's this I hear about you wanting a national defense license?"
Charlie raised an eyebrow. "How did you find out about that?"
Dwight shrugged. "There are no secrets when it comes to the military."
Charlie decided to seize the opportunity. "I believe the development of our military industry requires public support, advanced technology, and cutting-edge weapons. That's why I'm planning to invest in industries that align with national defense."
Dwight listened attentively as Charlie outlined his vision. He spoke of acquiring an aircraft company for developing high-powered engines and large planes, an electronics company for innovation in encryption and data analysis, and consolidating the automotive industry to produce specialized military vehicles. Though ambitious, Charlie's plans were laid out with the precision of someone who had deliberated over them for years.
"Do you even have the talent or technical expertise to back this up?" Dwight asked skeptically.
"No," Charlie admitted, grinning. "But there's a sea of talent out there waiting to be recruited."
Dwight's interest was piqued. "You mean the University of Chicago?"
"Exactly. Their labs and minds are unparalleled. If we can collaborate, the possibilities are endless."
Dwight rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The University of Chicago had long been on the military's radar for its cutting-edge research, but Congress had tied their hands with endless bureaucratic hurdles. If Charlie could make this work, it could be a game-changer.
"So, how much are you planning to invest?" Dwight asked.
Charlie flashed a mysterious smile and raised two fingers.
"Twenty million?" Dwight guessed.
Charlie leaned back with a smirk. "Try $200 million."
Dwight shot to his feet. "Two hundred million? Where the hell did you get that kind of money?"
"Legitimately," Charlie replied with a grin, though the gleam in his eye betrayed his mischief. "Fine, I pulled it out of the stock market."
Dwight groaned. "I knew it! The rumors were true. You milked the stock market dry—bleeding the sweat and savings of the American people!"
"Don't be dramatic," Charlie retorted. "Go have that conversation with Morgan or Goldman Sachs. I'm just a small crab picking scraps of meat."
"Yeah, but you must be a deep-sea crab," Dwight muttered, shaking his head.
Despite his complaints, Dwight couldn't deny the genius of Charlie's maneuvering. The origins of the money were aboveboard—any accusations otherwise would be laughable. And with the current financial system in shambles, pointing fingers at a lone investor like Charlie would only highlight Washington's failures.
"Alright," Dwight finally said. "I'll push this with the military. You just make sure your Congress buddies work their magic on Capitol Hill."
Charlie nodded, his eyes gleaming with determination. He knew the odds were stacked against him, but with $200 million on the table, even the staunchest opposition could be swayed. This was more than just business—it was a chance to build an empire that would redefine America's future. And Charlie wasn't one to miss an opportunity like that.