Chương 32: Rising Horizons II

Arc III — Rising Horizons Thursday, February 4, 1971 Winter continued to hold New York City in its icy grip. A layer of fresh snow covered the sidewalks of East Street, while steam drifted lazily from the manhole covers as taxis splashed through slushy intersections. Despite the cold, Manhattan had already awakened.

Delivery trucks rumbled through the avenues, businessmen hurried toward office buildings with briefcases tucked beneath their arms, and the aroma of fresh bread drifted from neighborhood bakeries beginning another day's work.

Apartment 4B was no different. The kitchen was comfortably warm, filled with the smell of scrambled eggs, toasted Italian bread, and freshly brewed coffee. Enzo Lombardi stood in front of the stove wearing a white apron over his dress shirt, humming softly in Italian while finishing breakfast. James entered a moment later, still buttoning the collar of his school uniform.

"Morning, Grandpa." Enzo turned around with a smile.

"Good morning." He placed a plate on the table.

"Eat before it gets cold." James sat down.

"I still think you're wasting your talent running a manufacturing company." Enzo laughed.

"And what talent is that?"

"You'd make an excellent cook."

"Oh?" Enzo raised an eyebrow while pouring coffee into his favorite porcelain cup.

"So you're saying I should close Thompson Manufacturing and open an Italian restaurant?" James grinned.

"I don't know about that."

"I've already got plans for Thompson." They shared a laugh before silence settled over the table. Like nearly every morning... The New York Herald lay folded beside James's plate. He unfolded the newspaper and instinctively turned to the business pages. The first headline immediately caught his attention.

THE NATION'S FIRST ELECTRONIC STOCK MARKET OPENS TODAY NEW AUTOMATED SECURITIES EXCHANGE BEGINS OPERATIONS IN NEW YORK James slowly read the article. A newly established electronic quotation system had officially begun operations that morning. Unlike the traditional exchanges where brokers shouted across crowded trading floors... This new market relied upon computer terminals linking brokers throughout the country. More than twenty-five hundred over-the-counter companies had already been listed.

James quietly smiled. History. Very few people around him truly understood what they were reading. Most investors dismissed it as merely another stock exchange. James knew better. He knew this electronic marketplace would eventually transform investing around the world. Countless innovative companies... Many of which had not even been founded yet... Would someday call it home. Enzo noticed the smile.

"Something good?" James folded the newspaper.

"Very good."

"What kind of news?"

"I think..." James paused.

"People won't fully appreciate today's headline until many years from now." Enzo chuckled.

"You always manage to make ordinary newspaper articles sound mysterious." James simply smiled.

"If only you knew."

Further down the page... Another international headline captured his attention.

BRITANNIA AERO MOTORS ENTERS GOVERNMENT ADMINISTRATION The article detailed the financial collapse of one of Britain's most prestigious luxury automobile and aerospace manufacturers. Development costs for its newest commercial jet engine had spiraled far beyond expectations. Billions of dollars' worth of future contracts now hung in uncertainty. To prevent complete collapse, the British government had stepped in to take temporary control of the company. James slowly lowered the newspaper.

He wasn't thinking about airplanes. He was thinking about business. No company... No matter how famous... No matter how respected... Was immune to poor financial decisions. One failed project. One series of bad investments. One cash-flow crisis. That was all it took. His eyes drifted toward Enzo. That...... is exactly what happened to Thompson Manufacturing in my previous life. He quietly promised himself once again. Never again.

School passed peacefully. Mrs. Eleanor Parker spent the morning reviewing arithmetic before assigning a reading exercise after recess. James participated like every other student. During lunchtime, Michael Henderson challenged him to another baseball game after classes ended. James laughed.

"Tomorrow."

"You've been saying tomorrow all week."

"I know."

"And tomorrow I'll finally mean it." His classmates laughed. For a little while... James allowed himself to simply be ten years old.

That evening... James expected another quiet dinner at home. Instead... As soon as Enzo entered Apartment 4B carrying his overcoat, he wore an unusually satisfied grin. James noticed immediately.

"What happened?" Enzo carefully hung his coat before reaching inside the inner pocket.

"I brought something home." James raised an eyebrow.

"For Thompson Manufacturing?"

"No."

"For us." He produced two cream-colored tickets and laid them carefully on the dining table. James leaned forward. His eyes widened. The tickets bore the elegant crest of Empire Metropolitan Arena, New York City's premier indoor sports venue. Saturday evening. New York Titans vs. Chicago Stallions Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. James looked back toward his grandfather in surprise.

"Court-side?"

"Close enough to hear the coaches complain to the referees." Enzo smiled proudly. James picked up one of the tickets with both hands.

"They couldn't have been easy to find."

"They weren't." Enzo admitted with a laugh.

"The official ticket office had been sold out for days."

"So..."

"I had to buy them from a gentleman outside the arena." James couldn't help laughing.

"You bought them from a ticket scalper."

"I prefer to think of him as..." Enzo scratched his chin dramatically.

"... an independent entrepreneur." James burst into laughter.

"And how much did your independent entrepreneur charge?" Enzo sighed theatrically.

"The face value was ten dollars."

"I paid..." He hesitated.

"... twenty-five." James whistled softly.

"Grandpa..."

"That's expensive." Enzo shrugged.

"Perhaps."

"But..." He looked warmly at his grandson.

"I've spent the past several months watching you help rebuild our family's future."

"I thought one evening together without discussing production reports..."

"... would be worth twenty-five dollars." James looked down at the tickets once more. Then back at Enzo. A genuine smile spread across his face.

"Thank you." Enzo walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You've earned a day off." James nodded.

"I'll try not to spend the entire game thinking about investments." Enzo laughed.

"I'll believe that when I see it." The apartment soon filled once again with the aroma of dinner as the two began setting the table. For one evening... There would be no conversations about factories. There are no production quotas. No investment strategies. Just a grandfather... And his grandson... Looking forward to a basketball game together. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Friday, February 5, 1971 The next morning began much like every other weekday.

A light snowfall drifted past the apartment windows while the radio quietly played the morning news from the living room. Claire had already stopped by earlier that morning, leaving fresh groceries neatly arranged in the kitchen before heading to her next errand. Enzo stood over the stove, preparing breakfast. Eggs. Toast. Crispy bacon. James arrived a few minutes later carrying the latest edition of the New York Herald beneath his arm.

"Morning."

"Morning." Enzo placed another plate on the table.

"I imagine today's newspaper has another world-changing headline." James laughed.

"Probably." The two enjoyed breakfast while discussing ordinary things—school, the weather, and whether another snowstorm might arrive before the weekend. It was a peaceful start to the day.

Classes at Public School 87 passed quickly. Mrs. Eleanor Parker spent most of the morning reviewing multiplication before assigning several pages of reading. During recess, James finally accepted Michael Henderson's challenge to a baseball game. Although the schoolyard was too snowy for a proper match, the boys improvised with a tennis ball and a wooden stick. Robert Miller joined one team. Sarah Collins volunteered to keep score. For twenty minutes... James forgot entirely about corporations... Stocks...

And future fortunes. He was simply another ten-year-old enjoying recess.

Shortly after lunch... Brooklyn. Thompson Manufacturing. Inside Enzo's office, Leslie Carter knocked softly before entering. She carried her clipboard along with a cream-colored envelope stamped with the seal of Empire National Bank.

"Mr. Lombardi." Enzo looked up from reviewing production reports.

"Come in, Leslie." She crossed the office and handed him the envelope.

"This arrived by courier about fifteen minutes ago."

"The bank marked it as urgent." Anthony Russo happened to be sitting nearby reviewing several legal documents regarding Vendetta Investments. James, who had arrived from school only minutes earlier, looked toward the envelope with curiosity. Enzo carefully broke the seal. His eyes slowly moved across the document. A faint smile appeared.

"Well..."

"I believe London has officially paid us." James leaned forward.

"It cleared?" Enzo nodded.

"It did." He passed the statement across the desk. James immediately examined every line.

Empire National Bank Vendetta Investments Incoming International Wire Transfer Origin: Empire National Bank – London Branch Gross Collection: $158, 000. 00 Taxes and Banking Fees: $59, 300. 00 Net Funds Credited: $98, 700. 00 Current Corporate Balance: $98, 700. 00 James quietly exhaled. Everything had unfolded exactly as expected. The wager. The verification. The crossed check. The international collection. The currency conversion. The taxes. Every step had worked flawlessly.

Anthony smiled after reading the statement himself.

"I'll admit..."

"I was slightly nervous." James looked toward him.

"You?" Anthony nodded.

"I trusted the legal structure."

"What concerned me was international banking."

"There are many ways for cross-border transactions to become delayed." He tapped the paper.

"This..."

"... went smoother than I expected." Enzo folded the statement neatly.

"So."

"Our little investment company is now sitting on nearly one hundred thousand dollars." James smiled.

"For now." Anthony raised an eyebrow.

"For now?" James nodded.

"We're only getting started." Enzo laughed.

"I was afraid you'd say that." James reached into his school bag before removing a small notebook. He opened it to a page filled with handwritten calculations.

"Grandpa..."

"I think it's time." Enzo already knew what he meant.

"The brokerage." James nodded.

"We agreed twenty thousand dollars." Anthony leaned back.

"To Hamilton & Pierce Securities?"

"Exactly." Enzo looked toward Leslie.

"Would you call Empire National Bank for me?" Leslie nodded immediately.

"Of course." She stepped over to the telephone, resting on a nearby credenza, and dialed the familiar number. Only moments later, she looked toward Enzo.

"Mr. Whitmore is available." Enzo accepted the receiver.

"Richard." A warm voice answered through the line.

"Mr. Lombardi."

"I was expecting your call." Enzo smiled.

"You know me too well." Richard Whitmore chuckled softly.

"I suspected you wouldn't let ninety-eight thousand dollars sit idle very long." James grinned from across the room. Enzo continued.

"We'd like to wire twenty thousand dollars from Vendetta Investments to its brokerage account at Hamilton & Pierce Securities."

"Certainly."

"I already have the brokerage instructions Anthony provided last month."

"There won't be any delay."

"When should the funds arrive?" Whitmore answered confidently.

"If I process everything before the end of business today..."

"Hamilton & Pierce should receive the transfer on Monday morning."

"Perfect." Enzo replied.

"Please proceed."

"My pleasure." The call ended. Leslie made a note on her clipboard before filing the confirmation inside the Vendetta Investments folder Anthony had created. Anthony closed his leather briefcase.

"Once Hamilton & Pierce confirms receipt..."

"You'll officially become an active investment client." James looked down at the notebook, resting in front of him. The betting strategy had built the foundation. Now... The stock market would become the next battlefield. Outside Enzo's office window, the steady rhythm of Thompson Manufacturing continued uninterrupted. Sewing machines hummed. Forklifts carried pallets toward the loading docks. Workers moved from one production line to another. Project Horizon continued growing stronger every single day.

And quietly... Almost unnoticed... Vendetta Investments had just taken another decisive step toward the future. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Saturday, February 6, 1971 A bright winter sun rose over Manhattan. The snowfall from earlier in the week had finally stopped, leaving the city covered beneath a clean blanket of white. Snow had accumulated along the curbs, while workers shoveled sidewalks in front of apartment buildings and storefronts before the weekend crowds arrived. James woke earlier than usual. Not because of school.

Not because of Thompson Manufacturing. Today... He and Enzo had somewhere special to go. After breakfast, Enzo disappeared into his bedroom before emerging several minutes later wearing a charcoal-gray overcoat, a dark wool scarf, leather gloves, and a neatly pressed suit James couldn't help smiling.

"You look like you're going to negotiate another military contract." Enzo adjusted his tie in the hallway mirror.

"Presentation matters."

"Even at a basketball game." James laughed.

"I suppose it does." He finished buttoning his navy-blue winter coat before the two left Apartment 4B together.

Outside... The February air bit at their faces immediately. Their breath became visible with every step as they walked toward the underground parking garage beneath the apartment building. Waiting inside... Covered by a light layer of dust collected during the week... Sat Enzo's pride and joy. The deep-red Maranello Cavallo V12. Enzo smiled almost like a child.

"I still think she's the most beautiful automobile ever built." James ran a hand gently across the polished fender.

"I don't think anyone could convince you otherwise."

"They certainly couldn't." Enzo replied while unlocking the driver's door. The powerful twelve-cylinder engine roared to life a moment later, echoing softly through the concrete garage. James settled into the passenger seat.

"I'll never get tired of hearing that." Enzo grinned.

"Neither will I."

Traffic into Midtown Manhattan proved heavier than usual. Every intersection seemed crowded. Families. Young couples. Street vendors. Tourists. Everyone appeared to be taking advantage of the clear weather after several snowy days. Nearly forty minutes later... The unmistakable outline of Empire Metropolitan Arena appeared ahead. The enormous circular building dominated the surrounding streets. Its illuminated marquee stretched across the front entrance.

TONIGHT NEW YORK TITANS vs. CHICAGO STALLIONS 7: 30 PM Large crowds had already gathered outside despite tip-off still being nearly an hour away. Police officers directed traffic. Vendors sold roasted peanuts, hot pretzels, popcorn, and souvenir programs. Children bounced basketballs while pretending to imitate their favorite players. The atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Enzo slowly parked several blocks away.

"I wasn't lucky enough to find parking any closer." James smiled.

"I think everyone in New York had the same idea tonight." The two walked together toward the arena. As they approached... A man standing near the entrance called out loudly.

"Programs!"

"Official game programs!"

"Twenty-five cents!" James glanced toward Enzo.

"I kind of want one." Enzo reached into his coat pocket and handed him a dollar bill.

"Buy two."

"I'd like one myself." James returned moments later carrying two glossy programs featuring both teams on the cover. He handed one to Enzo. The older man immediately began flipping through the player profiles.

"I don't recognize half these fellows." James laughed.

"I'll teach you."

"Oh?" Enzo smiled.

"So now you're my basketball instructor?"

"I suppose I am."

Inside... Empire Metropolitan Arena seemed even larger than it had from the outside. Bright lights illuminated every corner of the massive building. Thousands of spectators slowly filled the seating bowl. Workers hurried through the aisles carrying trays loaded with soft drinks and popcorn. The polished hardwood court reflected the overhead lights almost like a mirror. Players from both teams were already warming up. The rhythmic sound of basketballs striking the floor echoed throughout the arena.

James stopped walking. For a brief moment... He simply admired everything around him. The smell of popcorn. The distant conversations. The squeak of sneakers against polished wood. The roar of thousands of fans slowly growing louder with each passing minute. Enzo noticed.

"First time this close?" James nodded.

"In both lives." Enzo looked at him curiously.

"What?" James quickly smiled.

"I mean..."

"My first time ever." Enzo narrowed his eyes slightly.

"I could've sworn you said—""I didn't." James interrupted with a grin. Enzo stared for another second before shaking his head.

"One of these days..."

"... you're actually going to explain all your mysterious comments." James only smiled.

"Maybe."

An usher greeted them politely.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

"May I see your tickets?" Enzo handed them over. The usher examined them before smiling.

"Excellent seats."

"This way, please." They followed him down several flights of steps toward the lower section. Row after row disappeared behind them until they finally stopped only a handful of rows away from the court. James slowly sat down. He looked around in amazement. The players suddenly seemed enormous. He could hear coaches shouting instructions during warmups. Even the sound of the ball bouncing felt different from this distance. Enzo leaned closer.

"Worth twenty-five dollars?" James smiled.

"I think you got a bargain." Enzo laughed heartily.

"I'll remember you said that." The arena lights dimmed slightly as the public-address announcer's deep voice echoed throughout the building.

"Ladies and gentlemen..."

"Welcome to Empire Metropolitan Arena..." The crowd erupted into thunderous applause. James settled comfortably into his seat. For tonight... There were no production reports waiting on his desk. No investment strategies to calculate. No business meetings. No worries about the future. Only the simple excitement of sharing a basketball game... With the man who had become far more than simply his grandfather. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ The arena lights dimmed.

One by one, the spotlights swept across the polished hardwood floor as the public-address announcer welcomed nearly twenty thousand spectators to Empire Metropolitan Arena. A wave of applause rolled through the building. Players from both teams gathered near their respective benches while the starting lineups were introduced individually. James watched everything with genuine fascination. Although he had seen countless basketball games on television during his previous life...

Being there in person was an entirely different experience. The crowd lived every possession. Every basket. Every foul. Every defensive stop. It was impossible not to become part of the atmosphere. Enzo unfolded the game program.

"So..." He glanced toward James.

"Educate me." James laughed.

"About what?"

"You've apparently become my basketball expert."

"I need to know who I'm watching." James looked toward the court as both teams continued their warm-ups.

"The Titans are one of the strongest teams in the league."

"They're disciplined."

"They move the ball well."

"They rarely beat themselves." Enzo nodded thoughtfully.

"And Chicago?" James smiled.

"The Stallions are younger."

"More athletic."

"They like playing at a faster pace."

"If they can force turnovers..."

"They become very dangerous." Enzo looked impressed.

"You really do pay attention to everything." James shrugged.

"I've always liked basketball." A whistle echoed across the arena. The referees walked toward center court carrying the game ball. The players gathered for the opening tip. The entire building rose to its feet. James and Enzo stood with everyone else. The ball shot upward. One of the Titans' centers managed to tap it toward a teammate, and the home crowd immediately erupted.

"Defense!"

"Defense!" The chants echoed around the arena. Enzo smiled.

"I wasn't expecting this much noise." James laughed.

"Wait until the game gets close."

The opening quarter lived up to the excitement. The Titans moved the ball beautifully, relying on crisp passing and disciplined half-court offense. The Stallions answered with speed. Every defensive rebound immediately became a fast break. The lead changed hands repeatedly. One moment New York led by four. Two possessions later... Chicago answered with a pair of jump shots and reclaimed the advantage. Enzo found himself leaning farther forward with every possession.

"I thought basketball would be slower." James shook his head.

"Not when both teams are this good." Late in the first quarter... A Stallions guard stole the ball near midcourt before racing toward the basket. He elevated... Absorbed contact... And still finished the layup. The traveling Chicago supporters exploded with cheers. Even James couldn't help applauding. Enzo looked sideways.

"I thought you were trying not to show favoritism." James smiled sheepishly.

"I never promised that."

By halftime... The scoreboard showed an incredibly tight contest. The Titans trailed by only three points. The arena buzzed with conversation as spectators left their seats to buy refreshments. Enzo stretched his shoulders.

"I'll be right back."

"Want anything?" James thought for a second.

"A hot dog..."

"And one of those giant lemonades." Enzo laughed.

"Anything else?"

"I'm trying to save you money."

"I already cost you twenty-five dollars for the ticket." Enzo pointed a finger at him.

"You didn't cost me anything."

"I invited my grandson."

"Besides..."

"I've negotiated contracts worth millions."

"I think I can survive buying two hot dogs." James laughed.

"I suppose that's true." Several minutes later... Enzo returned, balancing two paper trays.

"I now understand why arena food is such good business." James accepted one of the hot dogs.

"Expensive?" Enzo raised an eyebrow.

"Let's just say..."

"... if Thompson Manufacturing ever starts selling food..."

"... I'm entering that market." James burst into laughter.

"I don't think backpacks and hot dogs go together."

"You'd be surprised." Enzo replied with a grin.

"I've learned never to underestimate American consumers."

The third quarter began with even greater intensity. The Titans slowly erased the deficit. The crowd sensed momentum shifting. Every successful defensive stop drew thunderous applause. Every basket shook the arena. Then... Chicago answered. Their defense tightened dramatically. Passing lanes disappeared. The Titans suddenly struggled to score. A quick eight-point run silenced much of the home crowd. James crossed his arms.

"There it is." Enzo looked toward him.

"What?"

"The adjustment."

"The Stallions changed their defensive coverage."

"They're forcing every possession toward the sidelines." Enzo watched carefully for several possessions.

"I'll be..."

"They actually are." James nodded.

"Their coach made a great adjustment."

The final quarter became a battle of endurance. Every possession mattered. The Titans fought desperately to stay within striking distance, but the Stallions remained composed under pressure. With less than a minute remaining... Chicago held a seven-point lead. The home crowd tried one last time to lift its team.

"Let's go, Titans!" The chant echoed throughout Empire Metropolitan Arena. The Titans answered with a quick basket. 109-102. Only seconds remained. The Stallions calmly dribbled out the clock. The final horn sounded. The scoreboard read: Chicago Stallions — 109 New York Titans — 102 Applause filled the arena. Although disappointed by the result, the home fans recognized they had witnessed an excellent basketball game. Players from both teams shook hands before walking toward their locker rooms.

James remained seated for another moment, watching the court slowly empty. Enzo looked over at him.

"So..."

"Worth coming?" James smiled warmly.

"Absolutely." Enzo stood, buttoning his overcoat.

"I'm glad." The two slowly joined the stream of spectators heading toward the exits. Outside... The cold February air greeted them once again. Snow crunched beneath their shoes as they made their way back toward the parked Maranello. Neither of them spoke for several moments. Finally... Enzo broke the silence.

"You know..." James looked over.

"We've spent months talking about factories..."

"Money..."

"Business..."

"And plans for the future." He smiled.

"I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to simply enjoy an evening with my grandson." James felt something tighten in his chest. He looked at the older man walking beside him. In his previous life... There had never been evenings like this. By 1975... Thompson Manufacturing had collapsed. By 1978... Enzo was gone. Those memories remained vivid. But now... They were creating new ones. Memories that neither bankruptcy nor regret would ever take away. Without saying a word...

James reached over and gently bumped Enzo's shoulder. Enzo looked at him, smiling.

"What was that for?" James returned the smile.

"For buying those overpriced tickets." Enzo laughed loudly enough that several nearby pedestrians turned toward them.

"Then I'll have to buy overpriced tickets more often." The two climbed into the Maranello. Its powerful V12 came to life with a familiar growl. As they drove through Manhattan's glowing streets toward Apartment 4B... Neither of them realized it. But years later... This ordinary Saturday night would become one of James's favorite memories of his grandfather.