Chương 28: Foundations of Tomorrow IV

Arc II: Foundations of Tomorrow Tuesday, January 12, 1971 The second week of January was moving quickly. School occupied my mornings. Thompson Manufacturing usually occupied my afternoons. And somewhere in between... Vendetta Investments was quietly coming to life. That afternoon, Grandpa picked me up from school as usual. The familiar growl of the crimson Maranello Cavallo V12 echoed softly as we made our way toward Thompson Manufacturing.

Snow from the previous week still lingered along the edges of the sidewalks, though most of Manhattan had already returned to its usual pace. When we arrived, Leslie greeted us with a warm smile.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Lombardi."

"James."

"Anthony is already waiting in Mr. Lombardi's office." Grandpa nodded.

"Thank you, Leslie." The three of us exchanged smiles before entering the office. Anthony was already seated in one of the leather chairs, a brown folder resting neatly on his lap. The moment we entered, he stood.

"Good afternoon."

"Afternoon, Anthony," Enzo replied as he removed his overcoat. I sat beside Grandpa, eager to hear the news. Anthony smiled before opening the folder.

"I believe you'll be pleased." He slid several documents across Enzo's desk.

"As of this morning, Vendetta Investments has officially been incorporated in Delaware." He paused long enough for both of us to look over the certificate.

"The corporation now legally exists." I couldn't help smiling. One more piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Anthony continued.

"I've also completed the corporate account at Empire National Bank." He pulled another document from the folder.

"And the brokerage account has been established through Hamilton & Pierce Securities." Grandpa nodded approvingly.

"Excellent work." Anthony smiled modestly.

"There was one final detail." He reached into the folder once again before handing me a business card.

"If you ever decide to purchase securities..."

"... this will be your broker." I examined the elegant white card. Richard Walsh Senior Investment Broker Hamilton & Pierce Securities Beneath his name appeared the firm's Manhattan office telephone number. Anthony folded his hands.

"Richard has worked in the investment business for many years."

"Professional."

"Discreet."

"And trustworthy." Grandpa glanced toward me.

"I imagine you'll become acquainted before long."

"I expect so." Anthony chuckled.

"I suspected you'd say that." I looked toward Grandpa.

"Grandpa..." He already knew I was about to ask for something.

"What is it this time?"

"I'd like to begin funding Vendetta Investments." Anthony quietly listened.

"The profits of Las Vegas Trip totaled twenty-two thousand dollars after taxes." Grandpa nodded.

"I remember."

"I'd like to transfer ten thousand dollars into Vendetta's corporate account at Empire National Bank."

"And another ten thousand into the brokerage account." Anthony immediately made a note.

"That's easy enough." I continued.

"I'd also like to withdraw the remaining two thousand dollars in cash." Grandpa looked thoughtfully at me.

"Planning another investment?"

"Eventually." He smiled.

"I suppose there's no point asking whether you've already planned the next five moves." I grinned.

"Probably not." Anthony laughed.

"I'll prepare the necessary transfer instructions this afternoon." Grandpa picked up his fountain pen.

"I'll authorize everything before the end of the day." For the first time since returning to 1970... My money finally had a proper home. Vendetta Investments was no longer an idea. It was real.

Thursday, January 14, 1971 The newspaper greeted me with another interesting headline during breakfast. Buried halfway down the financial page was an article about Jefferson Consumer Products. The company had officially begun trading on the American Stock Exchange. What made the story remarkable wasn't simply another business entering the stock market. It was history. Jefferson Consumer Products had become the first Black-owned company ever listed on the American Stock Exchange. I read the entire article carefully.

It was another reminder that America was changing. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Slowly. Sometimes unevenly. But changing nonetheless. I quietly folded the newspaper.

"Interesting?" Grandpa asked.

"It is."

"What happened?"

"A company made history today." Grandpa smiled.

"I suppose you found that in the business section."

"Of course."

"I should've known."

Friday, January 15, 1971 Dinner that evening was unusually quiet. Claire had stopped by earlier in the afternoon and cleaned the apartment before leaving for the day. Grandpa had finished the meal himself, cooking fresh pasta the way only an Italian could. Normally, we talked throughout dinner. That evening... I barely spoke. Not because I had nothing to say. Quite the opposite. I was trying to determine the best way to say it. Grandpa noticed almost immediately.

Halfway through dinner, he set down his fork and smiled knowingly.

"So..." I looked up.

"What do you need from me this time?" I blinked.

"How did you know I needed something?" He laughed.

"Because you've hardly spoken all evening."

"And you have that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The one that tells me you've already created another plan." I couldn't help smiling. He knew me far too well.

"Grandpa..."

"I'm going to be completely honest with you." He nodded.

"I expect nothing less." I rested my hands on the table.

"I need my own money." He tilted his head.

"You already have twenty-two thousand dollars."

"I know."

"And if I ever needed something..."

"You'd probably help me."

"I would."

"But that's not enough." He remained silent, allowing me to continue.

"I want enough money to help Thompson Manufacturing if it ever faces difficult times."

"And..."

"I want enough money to accomplish my own ambitions." Grandpa smiled faintly.

"A man without ambitions..."

"... isn't much of a man."

"I understand what you're saying." He leaned back.

"The question is..."

"How do you intend to obtain that money?" I met his eyes.

"I need to take advantage of what I'm good at." His expression immediately became more serious.

"And that means sports betting?"

"Yes." For several seconds, he simply looked at me. Then he spoke in a calm but firm voice.

"James."

"I don't want betting to become a habit."

"It can become an addiction."

"I know, Grandpa."

"And I agree with you." I spoke honestly.

"It isn't something I want to do forever."

"It's simply the fastest way I know to build the capital I'll need."

"When I have enough..."

"I won't need it anymore." Enzo sighed deeply. He knew arguing rarely changed my mind once I'd carefully thought something through.

"It doesn't matter what I say, does it?" I smiled sheepishly.

"Probably not." He pointed at me with his fork.

"You're exactly like me."

"When you've made up your mind..."

"There's no moving you." I laughed.

"I learned from the best." That earned me a smile.

"So..."

"What impossible idea have you come up with now?" I finally said it.

"We need to go to London." Enzo stared at me.

"Europe?" He almost whispered the word. I nodded.

"The Fourth Round of the FA Cup is coming on January twenty-third."

"I think we should leave on the twentieth." He looked at me as though I had suggested flying to the moon.

"James..."

"Everything about that sentence sounds completely insane." Without saying a word, I reached into my schoolbag and removed my notebook. I opened it to a carefully prepared page. There, neatly written in pencil, was my prediction for a particular FA Cup match scheduled for January 23. Alongside it... The estimated betting odds. And the projected return from a four-thousand-dollar wager. Grandpa studied the page for nearly a full minute. Then he slowly looked back at me.

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely."

"It's the best opportunity we'll have this month." He sighed once more. A long... Resigned sigh. Finally, he smiled.

"Well..."

"Let's do it."

"You only live once, after all." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Every day, I become more convinced that you're either a genius..."

"... or somehow capable of seeing the future." I couldn't resist.

"Maybe both." For a second... Enzo simply stared at me. Then, both of us burst into laughter. When the laughter finally subsided, he pointed at me again.

"And now you're becoming a comedian, too." The conversation ended with smiles on both our faces. In just a few days... Grandfather and grandson would once again be boarding an airplane. This time... Their destination lay across the Atlantic. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Arc II: Foundations of Tomorrow Saturday, January 16, 1971 Saturday mornings at Thompson Manufacturing were always quieter than weekdays. Most of the factory continued operating, but the administrative offices carried a much calmer atmosphere.

Grandpa had asked me to accompany him that morning. Not because I had business to attend to. Simply because he enjoyed having me around. We had barely settled into his office when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Enzo called. Leslie stepped inside carrying her notebook.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Lombardi?"

"Yes." He motioned toward one of the chairs.

"Please, have a seat." She did.

"I have a couple of arrangements I'd like you to make." Leslie uncapped her pen.

"I'm ready." Grandpa glanced at me before continuing.

"James and I will be traveling to London." She looked up in mild surprise.

"London?"

"That's right."

"We'll be departing on January twentieth."

"And we'll return on January twenty-eighth." She quickly wrote down the dates.

"I'll arrange the flights this morning."

"Thank you."

"There is one more thing." She looked up again.

"We'll also need a hotel."

"For the same dates." Leslie nodded.

"I'll look for one close to the city center."

"Somewhere comfortable."

"But not overly extravagant." Grandpa smiled.

"I trust your judgment."

"I'll have several options ready before Monday."

"Excellent." She closed her notebook.

"I'll contact the travel agency immediately." As she stood to leave, she smiled at me.

"I hope you enjoy London, James."

"So do I." After she left the office, Grandpa leaned back in his chair.

"She always gets things done." I nodded.

"She's very organized."

"One of the reasons she's become so valuable to this company."

Later that morning, Marcus and Anthony joined us in the office. Both men carried folders beneath their arms. Grandpa stood as they entered.

"Gentlemen."

"Good morning," Marcus replied. Anthony nodded.

"Morning." Grandpa walked toward the large calendar hanging on the wall.

"As you both know..."

"James and I will be away from January twentieth through the twenty-eighth." Marcus smiled.

"Another trip?" I simply smiled back. Anthony looked amused.

"I've stopped asking questions." That earned a laugh from everyone in the room. Grandpa pointed toward Marcus first.

"Marcus."

"While I'm away..."

"I want production to remain our highest priority." Marcus nodded immediately.

"It will."

"We're already increasing January output."

"I'll personally monitor every department."

"If any problems arise..."

"You'll hear about them immediately."

"I wouldn't expect anything less." Grandpa then turned toward Anthony.

"As for you..."

"I'd like you to continue negotiating with prospective retailers." Anthony opened his folder.

"I already have meetings scheduled throughout next week."

"Several companies have requested additional supply contracts."

"Good."

"If any agreement requires my approval..."

"Telephone me." Anthony smiled.

"I'll make sure London isn't too peaceful for you." Grandpa laughed.

"I have a feeling James will prevent that anyway." I shrugged innocently.

"I've done nothing." Marcus chuckled.

"Yet." The room filled with laughter once again. Despite the jokes... Everyone understood the importance of the coming week. Demand for Thompson's civilian products was increasing faster than anyone had expected. The company couldn't afford to lose momentum. Not even for eight days.

Monday, January 18, 1971 Monday morning returned everything to its familiar rhythm. Grandpa drove me to school before continuing toward Thompson Manufacturing. The streets were unusually busy. Delivery trucks rumbled through Manhattan. Storefronts opened one after another. The city never seemed to slow down. School itself passed much like any other Monday. Arithmetic. Reading. History. Recess. Nothing out of the ordinary. By the afternoon, my classmates were thinking about going home.

I was wondering how Grandpa's meetings were progressing.

At Thompson Manufacturing... The day had been anything but ordinary. Shortly after arriving at the office, Enzo, Anthony and Leslie welcomed representatives from several of the company's retail partners into the main conference room. Coffee was served. Folders containing sales reports and production schedules were placed neatly before each guest. Enzo opened the meeting.

"First, I'd like to thank all of you for coming."

"We appreciate your confidence in Thompson Manufacturing." One retailer smiled.

"The appreciation goes both ways."

"Our customers have responded very positively to your civilian line." Another representative nodded.

"The backpacks sold faster than we anticipated."

"We're nearly out of stock already." Anthony quietly took notes while Leslie distributed updated production sheets. Enzo folded his hands.

"I'm pleased to hear that."

"What additional quantities are you looking for?" The discussion continued for nearly an hour. Retailers requested larger orders. Some wanted exclusive arrangements within certain regions. Others asked whether new products would be introduced later in the year. Anthony answered legal and contractual questions. Leslie carefully recorded every request and every projection. When the first meeting ended... Another group of retailers arrived. Then another. The conference room remained occupied throughout the afternoon.

There was barely enough time between meetings for Enzo to refill his coffee.

Three o'clock came and went. Grandpa was still inside the conference room. Marcus glanced at his watch. Then toward Enzo.

"I'll pick James up from school." Without looking away from the retailer seated across the table, Enzo nodded.

"Thank you."

A little after three-thirty, I walked out the front entrance of my school expecting to see Grandpa's familiar crimson Maranello. Instead... A dark sedan that was one of the 2 corporate car of Thompson Manufacturing waited at the curb. Marcus stepped out and waved.

"Over here." I smiled.

"Where's Grandpa?" Marcus opened the passenger door for me.

"Still working." I climbed inside.

"The meetings are taking longer than expected?" He laughed.

"Much longer." He started the engine.

"We've been meeting with retailers since this morning."

"They just keep coming." I looked at him.

"That's a good sign."

"It certainly is." Marcus pulled away from the curb.

"Some of them are increasing their existing orders."

"Others want to become new retail partners."

"And a few have already started asking about products we haven't even released yet." I couldn't help smiling.

"Word travels fast." Marcus nodded.

"It does." He glanced at me for a moment before returning his attention to the road.

"James..."

"I've been with Thompson Manufacturing for eleven years."

"I've never seen retailers this enthusiastic about a completely new product line." Outside the window, Manhattan slowly rolled past. Inside the car... I quietly looked ahead. This was only January. The year was just beginning. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ Arc II: Foundations of Tomorrow Wednesday, January 20, 1971 The morning arrived sooner than I expected. Our suitcases had already been packed the previous evening.

Claire had stopped by the apartment before dinner to tidy everything up and leave a few prepared meals in the refrigerator for our return. As always, she made sure the apartment looked spotless before wishing us a pleasant journey. Now, before sunrise, Grandpa and I sat quietly at the breakfast table. Neither of us spoke much. Travel days always carried a different atmosphere.

There was excitement. There was anticipation. And there was always the feeling that something unexpected might happen. Enzo folded the morning newspaper and placed it beside his empty coffee cup.

"Ready?" I nodded.

"I've been ready for days." He chuckled.

"I know." After making one final check around the apartment, Grandpa picked up our luggage.

"Let's go."

The elevator carried us down to the lobby. Outside, the January air was crisp. Our crimson Maranello Cavallo V12 was waiting in its usual parking space. Grandpa carefully placed our luggage in the trunk before we climbed inside. The engine came to life with its familiar deep growl. Manhattan was already beginning to wake. Delivery trucks occupied the streets. Coffee shops welcomed their first customers. Office workers hurried toward subway stations. The city never truly slept.

As we drove toward Manhattan Metropolitan Airport, neither of us spoke for several minutes. Finally, Grandpa broke the silence.

"You've convinced me to cross the Atlantic because of a football match." I smiled.

"When you put it like that..."

"It sounds completely ridiculous."

"It does." He laughed.

"And yet..."

"Here I am."

"I appreciate it." Grandpa glanced at me briefly before returning his attention to the road.

"I still don't understand how you know these things."

"I probably never will." I simply looked out the window. Neither would I ever tell him.

About forty minutes later, the terminal of Manhattan Metropolitan Airport came into view. The airport bustled with activity despite the early hour. Families embraced before departures. Businessmen hurried through the entrance carrying briefcases. Porters pushed luggage carts in every direction. Grandpa parked the Maranello in the airport's long-term parking area.

"We'll leave her here until we get back." He locked the car before removing our luggage from the trunk. Together, we walked into the terminal. The departure boards listed flights to destinations across North America and Europe. Our flight stood out clearly. Atlantic Continental Airways Destination: London On Time Grandpa smiled.

"Looks like we're in luck." After checking our luggage and receiving our boarding passes, we made our way through the terminal. Atlantic Continental Airways had earned an excellent reputation over the past decade. The airline was known for punctual departures, attentive cabin crews, and comfortable transatlantic service. It wasn't the cheapest way to cross the ocean. But Grandpa had never believed in choosing the cheapest option simply to save a few dollars. Comfort mattered. Especially on a long flight.

Soon, boarding was announced. Passengers slowly formed a line. Grandpa picked up our carry-on bags.

"Ready?" I nodded.

"As I'll ever be." We presented our boarding passes before walking through the jet bridge toward the aircraft. Inside, a flight attendant greeted every passenger with a welcoming smile.

"Good morning."

"Welcome aboard." Our seats were located near the middle of the cabin. After storing our bags overhead, we settled into our seats. I looked out through the window. Ground crews moved purposefully around the aircraft. Fuel trucks. Baggage loaders. Airport vehicles. Everything operated with remarkable precision. Grandpa fastened his seat belt.

"So..." I looked toward him.

"Business trip?" I smiled.

"I like to think so." He laughed.

"I had a feeling that's exactly how you'd describe it."

"We're certainly not flying to London just to admire the scenery."

"Exactly."

"We have work to do." Grandpa folded his arms.

"You know..."

"Most ten-year-olds would be excited about seeing Buckingham Palace."

"I wouldn't mind seeing it."

"But that's not why we're going." He nodded approvingly.

"I suppose sightseeing can wait."

"It can."

"Our priority comes first." He smiled.

"I'll admit..."

"I've started enjoying these unusual adventures."

"Even if they continue to leave me scratching my head." Before I could answer, the captain's voice echoed through the cabin.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking."

"Welcome aboard Atlantic Continental Airways."

"Our flight to London is expected to take just under seven hours."

"We've received clearance for departure and should be leaving the gate shortly."

"On behalf of our crew, thank you for choosing to fly with us." The aircraft slowly pushed back from the gate. Moments later, it began taxiing toward the runway. I watched Manhattan disappear behind the airport buildings. A few minutes later, the engines roared with increasing power. The aircraft accelerated rapidly. Then... The ground fell away beneath us. New York slowly shrank below the clouds as we began our journey across the Atlantic Ocean. London awaited us. And with it...

Another opportunity to turn knowledge of the future into capital.