Chương 9: A New Ambition II

Arc 1: A Second Beginning November 2, 1970 The applause continued for nearly a full minute. Enzo didn't interrupt it. He simply stood on the wooden platform, cap in hand, looking at the men and women who had spent years building Thompson Manufacturing alongside him. When the applause finally died down, he raised his hand once more.

"There is something else." The workers quieted immediately.

"I don't expect blind trust." Several people looked at one another.

"I expect questions." A few smiles appeared throughout the crowd.

"If you've worked beside me for twenty or thirty years..."

"... then you've earned the right to ask them." The atmosphere immediately relaxed. That was Enzo. He never hid behind authority.

A young employee near the back raised his hand. He couldn't have been older than twenty-three.

"Chairman."

"Your name?"

"David Walker."

"Go ahead, David." The young man shifted nervously.

"If military equipment has made this company successful..."

"... why stop now?" A murmur spread through the factory. It was a fair question. Enzo nodded approvingly.

"An excellent question." He climbed down from the platform and walked closer to the workers instead of speaking from above them.

"When I came to America in 1940..."

"I owned almost nothing."

"A suitcase."

"A few dollars."

"And a dream." Many older employees smiled. They had heard parts of that story before.

"I started on this very factory floor."

"I swept floors."

"I carried fabric."

"I loaded trucks."

"I learned every machine in this building." He paused.

"Back then..."

"Thompson Manufacturing produced almost entirely civilian textiles." Several younger workers looked surprised. They had only ever known the company as a military supplier. Enzo continued.

"Then the world changed."

"Wars."

"Government demand."

"New opportunities."

"So..."

"We changed with it." He spread his arms.

"And that decision saved this company." Everyone nodded. It was true. Military contracts had transformed the business.

"So let me ask all of you something." His voice became louder.

"If changing once saved Thompson Manufacturing..."

"... why should changing again frighten us?" The factory became silent. No one answered. Not because they disagreed. But because the question made sense.

Another hand rose. This time it belonged to Helen Brooks from Quality Control. She had been part of Marcus's confidential prototype team. Naturally, she already knew much more than most people present.

"Chairman."

"Yes, Helen?"

"Will the standards change?" Enzo smiled immediately.

"No." His answer came without hesitation.

"In fact..."

"They'll become even stricter." A few eyebrows rose.

"We built our reputation by producing equipment capable of surviving military use." He picked up a military field pack resting nearby.

"This backpack..."

"... is expected to survive mud."

"Rain."

"Snow."

"Heat."

"Years of abuse." He placed it back down.

"Now imagine a father taking his family camping." He looked around the room.

"He deserves the same quality." A mechanic near the front nodded slowly.

"So does a construction worker." Another nodded.

"So does a farmer." More heads began to nod.

"So does every customer who spends hard-earned money on something carrying our name." The atmosphere noticeably shifted. Workers weren't hearing about abandoning quality. They were hearing about expanding it.

Marcus watched quietly from the side. He couldn't help smiling. The Chairman wasn't merely announcing a business decision. He was selling a vision. A vision every employee could understand. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Then came the inevitable question. An older cutter named Frank Donovan raised his hand.

"I've been cutting military canvas for almost fifteen years." Enzo nodded respectfully.

"I know."

"I've got one concern."

"Go ahead." Frank scratched his chin.

"I don't know a damn thing about hiking." Laughter swept through the factory. Even Enzo laughed.

"Wahaha!"

"Neither do I." The laughter grew louder. Enzo pointed toward him.

"But..."

"You know canvas."

"You know stitching."

"You know strength."

"You know craftsmanship." Frank shrugged.

"I suppose."

"The customer changes." Enzo smiled.

"Our standards don't." Frank slowly nodded.

"... That I can do."

The mood had become noticeably lighter. Questions continued for nearly half an hour. Some asked about production schedules. Others wondered about overtime. Several asked whether salaries would change. Anthony stepped forward to answer legal concerns. Marcus explained how retraining would work. Leslie carefully wrote down every concern raised by the workers. Nothing was ignored. By the time the meeting ended, uncertainty remained. But panic had disappeared.

As employees slowly returned to their stations, conversations erupted throughout the factory.

"... Camping gear?"

"... Never thought we'd make that."

"I heard the Chairman say backpacks."

"My brother works construction."

"He'd probably buy those jackets."

"Wonder what they'll look like."

"At least nobody's getting laid off."

"That's what matters." Marcus walked beside Enzo as they made their way back toward the administrative building.

"That went better than I expected." Enzo nodded.

"So did I." Marcus smiled.

"You've still got it."

"What?"

"The ability to calm three hundred nervous workers." Enzo laughed softly.

"I wasn't calming them."

"No?"

"I was telling them the truth." Marcus nodded.

"And that's exactly why they believed you."

Meanwhile... At Public School 87 in Manhattan... James sat through his mathematics lesson. The teacher was explaining long division on the blackboard. Most students were paying attention. James... Was trying to solve an entirely different equation. He had spent the previous evening reviewing everything he knew about the coming years. Every opportunity. Every major sporting event. Every economic boom. Every famous investment. Every championship. Every upset. He had written pages of notes.

Then crossed most of them out. Too risky. Too uncertain. Too far away. He sighed quietly. Saving Thompson Manufacturing is one thing. Building my own capital...... is another. Two thousand dollars. That was everything he truly controlled. It sounded like a lot for a ten-year-old. In reality... It wasn't. Not for what he wanted to accomplish. He needed enough money to invest independently. Enough to seize opportunities before anyone else.

Enough so that, if Thompson Manufacturing ever needed help again, he could provide it from his own resources. The answer kept returning to him. Sports. He disliked it. Not sports themselves. Using them as a financial tool. But every other path had obstacles he couldn't overcome. He was too young to open brokerage accounts. Too young to sign contracts. Too young to start a company on his own. Sports betting... Was the one field where future knowledge could create an overwhelming advantage.

Yet even that path was filled with problems. He took out a small notebook beneath his desk and quietly wrote a title. Private Capital Plan Then, underneath it, he listed the obstacles. 1. Sports betting is illegal in New York. 2. Nevada is the safest option. 3. I am only ten years old. 4. I need adults I trust absolutely. 5. Never attract attention by placing one large wager. 6. Bets must be spread across multiple casinos and sportsbooks. 7. No connection to Thompson Manufacturing. Ever.

He stared at the final point for a long moment. That rule... Would never be broken. No matter how successful he became. If anything ever went wrong, he wanted the consequences to fall on him alone—not on his grandfather, not on Anthony, and certainly not on the company that was fighting to reinvent itself. ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ Arc 1: A Second Beginning November 3–5, 1970 The announcement spread faster than anyone inside Thompson Manufacturing had anticipated.

Within two days, nearly every textile supplier the company worked with had heard some version of the news. Some versions were accurate. Others... Not so much.

"... I heard Thompson is leaving government work."

"... No, they're expanding."

"... Someone told me they landed a huge civilian contract."

"... My cousin says they're changing the entire factory." Rumors traveled through New York faster than freight trains. Fortunately... Enzo had expected that.

On Tuesday morning, Leslie entered the Chairman's office carrying a folder thicker than usual.

"You asked me to keep track of what people are saying." Enzo looked up from his paperwork.

"And?" She opened the folder.

"There are good rumors."

"And bad ones." Anthony, who had arrived only minutes earlier, smiled.

"I imagine the bad ones are more interesting." Leslie couldn't help but laugh.

"They usually are." She pulled out the first page.

"Several suppliers believe we're preparing to enter the workwear market." Marcus nodded.

"Good."

"Another group believes we're struggling financially." Anthony sighed.

"I expected that." Leslie continued.

"One newspaper even mentioned that Thompson Manufacturing is considering 'strategic diversification.'" Enzo raised an eyebrow.

"A newspaper already?" She nodded.

"It was only a short business column."

"But the wording wasn't negative." Anthony extended his hand.

"May I?" Leslie handed him the clipping. Anthony adjusted his glasses and read aloud. > 'Sources close to New York's textile industry suggest that Thompson Manufacturing may be preparing a broader commercial expansion following years of successful government production.' He lowered the paper.

"... That's actually better than I expected." Enzo smiled.

"It means someone is paying attention."

Marcus placed another folder on the desk.

"My report." Enzo opened it immediately. The first page contained a detailed breakdown of the factory's equipment. Marcus spoke while the Chairman read.

"I spent the last two days walking every production line."

"I had supervisors inspect every major machine."

"What did you find?" Marcus smiled.

"Better news than I expected." He pointed to the report.

"Roughly seventy-two percent of our machinery can be adapted to civilian production." Anthony looked impressed.

"Without replacement?"

"Without replacement."

"What about the remaining twenty-eight percent?" Marcus shrugged.

"We keep it." Enzo looked up.

"You don't recommend selling it?" Marcus shook his head.

"No."

"Why?"

"Insurance." Everyone looked at him. Marcus explained.

"If our civilian line struggles..."

"... or if an emergency government order ever appears..."

"... we still retain the ability to manufacture military equipment." Anthony slowly nodded.

"A contingency plan."

"Exactly." Enzo smiled.

"I like contingency plans."

Later that afternoon... Marcus led Enzo through a section of the factory that had been temporarily closed off with portable partitions. Only the six members of the prototype team were allowed inside. William Daniels looked up as they entered.

"Chairman." Enzo nodded warmly.

"How's it coming?" William smiled.

"We're arguing." Enzo laughed.

"Good."

"I hired talented people."

"I'd be worried if nobody argued." Linda Foster approached carrying several sheets of brown drafting paper. She carefully spread them across a large worktable. The papers contained hand-drawn designs. Different backpack shapes. Different pocket layouts. Different shoulder strap systems. Enzo studied them quietly.

"... These aren't military." Linda smiled proudly.

"No."

"They're inspired by them." She pointed at one drawing.

"We removed unnecessary weight." Another drawing.

"Wider shoulder straps for comfort." Another.

"Separate sleeping bag compartment." George Miller added,"We're also testing lighter canvas."

"It'll still be durable."

"But families don't want to carry unnecessary pounds." Enzo nodded approvingly.

"You've all been busy." William chuckled.

"We've barely gone home."

Enzo picked up one of the sample fabric rolls lying on the table. It felt familiar. Yet different. Softer. Lighter. Still sturdy.

"What blend is this?" George answered immediately.

"Heavy cotton canvas."

"Nylon reinforcement."

"We're experimenting with different weave densities." Enzo rubbed the fabric between his fingers.

"... Good." He looked at Marcus.

"Very good." Marcus smiled.

"I thought you'd like it."

Meanwhile... James sat alone in his bedroom that evening. A world map hung on the wall opposite his desk. He stared at it for several minutes. His eyes eventually settled on the western United States. Nevada. More specifically... Las Vegas. He picked up a pencil. Then began writing in his notebook.

Private Capital Plan Objective Build independent investment capital without involving Thompson Manufacturing.

Advantages Future knowledge. Small starting capital can grow quickly. December provides several sporting opportunities I remember clearly.

Risks Age. Gambling laws. Trust. Drawing unwanted attention. Losing credibility if the strategy fails.

He tapped the pencil against the desk. The first two problems already had obvious answers. He couldn't legally place the wagers. Someone else would have to. The question wasn't who. The question was... Who could keep a secret for decades? He wrote another line. > Candidate Requirements Completely trustworthy. Financially responsible. Able to travel if necessary. Loyal to me—not to money. Will never speak publicly. He stared at the page. Several names crossed his mind. Enzo. Anthony. Marcus. Leslie.

"No..." He whispered.

"They're all connected to Thompson Manufacturing." If something ever attracted attention... He refused to allow the company to become part of it. That rule was absolute. He leaned back in his chair. There had to be another way. Another person. Someone outside the company. Someone reliable. Someone whose involvement would never place Thompson Manufacturing at risk. The answer hadn't come to him yet. And he has those 4 people as an emergency plan in case he don't find a better idea, at least for thr first months.

But he wasn't worried. December was still weeks away. For now... His priority remained exactly where it belonged. Helping his grandfather build a future strong enough that, one day, Thompson Manufacturing would no longer fear bankruptcy. And only after securing that future... Would James begin building one of his own. ☆☆☆☆☆☆ Arc 1: A Second Beginning November 6, 1970 Friday mornings were always the busiest at Thompson Manufacturing. Production supervisors finalized weekly reports.

Shipping managers coordinated deliveries before the weekend. Accountants reconciled invoices. Forklifts moved constantly between warehouses. The factory was alive with activity. Inside the Chairman's office, however... The atmosphere was much calmer. A large pot of coffee sat in the center of the conference table. Anthony Russo had already arrived. Marcus Carter followed shortly after.

Leslie entered last, carrying a stack of appointment confirmations. She smiled.

"I've been busy." Enzo laughed.

"I can see that." She distributed copies to everyone.

"I contacted every major department store we identified." Anthony glanced at the list. It included some of the largest retail chains in New York, as well as several respected independent outfitters. Leslie continued.

"Most declined immediate meetings." Marcus frowned.

"As expected."

"They've never bought products from us before."

"Exactly." She turned another page.

"But..."

"Seven agreed." Enzo looked up.

"Seven?" Leslie nodded proudly.

"They're willing to meet after seeing product samples." Marcus smiled.

"That's better than I expected." Anthony agreed.

"So did I." Enzo carefully reviewed the names.

"This is enough." He looked at Leslie.

"Excellent work." She smiled modestly.

"Thank you, Chairman."

Marcus then opened another folder.

"The prototype team has narrowed the first product line." He placed several sketches on the table. One backpack. Two jacket variations. A heavy-duty work shirt. Work trousers. A canvas duffel bag. Enzo studied each design carefully. Unlike military equipment... The products looked simpler. Cleaner. More approachable. Still unmistakably rugged. Marcus pointed to the backpack.

"We're recommending this as the flagship product." Anthony picked up the drawing.

"It still resembles military gear." Marcus nodded.

"Intentionally."

"People already trust military durability."

"We're softening the appearance."

"Not removing its strengths." Enzo smiled.

"Good."

Anthony suddenly spoke.

"There's something we haven't discussed." Everyone looked toward him.

"The company name." Silence. Marcus tilted his head.

"What about it?" Anthony folded his hands.

"We're entering a completely different market."

"Should civilian products carry the Thompson Manufacturing name?" The room became thoughtful. Leslie answered first.

"I think they should." Marcus nodded.

"So do I." Anthony looked toward Enzo.

"Why?" Marcus answered before the Chairman could.

"Because we've spent thirty years building trust."

"It would be foolish to throw that away." Leslie added,"If customers discover a completely unknown brand is actually Thompson Manufacturing..."

"... they'll ask why we hid it." Anthony smiled.

"I was hoping someone would say that." Everyone laughed.

"I agree." He looked at Enzo.

"I simply wanted to hear everyone else's reasoning."

Enzo leaned back in his chair.

"I've made another decision." The room immediately became attentive.

"Our civilian division will not hide." He tapped the backpack drawing.

"It will proudly carry the Thompson name." Marcus smiled broadly.

"Good." Anthony nodded.

"The legal paperwork becomes much simpler." Leslie quickly made another note.

Just then... A knock sounded at the office door.

"Come in." A receptionist stepped inside.

"Chairman."

"Yes?"

"You have a visitor." Enzo frowned slightly.

"I wasn't expecting anyone."

"He says he represents Empire National Bank." Anthony immediately became attentive.

"The bank?" The receptionist nodded.

"He says he'd like to congratulate you personally." Enzo exchanged a brief glance with Anthony.

"Send him in." A moment later, a well-dressed gentleman entered carrying a leather briefcase. He appeared to be in his early fifties.

"Good morning."

"My name is Richard Bennett."

"Senior Commercial Accounts Manager at Empire National Bank." He extended his hand. Enzo shook it warmly.

"A pleasure."

"What brings you here?" Mr. Bennett smiled.

"I'll be honest."

"When newspapers begin mentioning one of our largest commercial clients..."

"... we become curious." Everyone in the room smiled politely. He continued.

"I wanted to hear directly from you rather than through rumors." Enzo appreciated the honesty.

"You'll get exactly that."

For the next thirty minutes... Enzo explained the transition. Not every detail. Only what was necessary. He emphasized three points. Existing military contracts would be fulfilled. The company remained financially strong. The transition would be gradual. Mr. Bennett listened without interrupting. When Enzo finished... The banker slowly smiled.

"I'll admit..."

"I expected something far worse." Anthony raised an eyebrow.

"Worse?" Mr. Bennett nodded.

"We've seen companies diversify because they're desperate." He looked around the room.

"You appear to be diversifying because you're prepared." Marcus smiled.

"That's the plan." The banker closed his briefcase.

"Empire National Bank has financed Thompson Manufacturing for decades." He looked directly at Enzo.

"I don't see any reason that relationship should change." Enzo smiled warmly.

"I'm glad to hear that." Mr. Bennett stood.

"And..." He added with a slight grin.

"When those backpacks are ready..."

"My son has recently become fascinated with camping." The room laughed.

"I may end up becoming one of your first customers." After he left, silence settled over the office. Anthony was the first to speak.

"That..."

"... went considerably better than expected." Enzo nodded.

"It did." Marcus smiled.

"The bank isn't worried."

"No." Enzo looked at the backpack sketch once more.

"And if the bank believes in us..."

"Perhaps retailers will too."

That afternoon... James walked home from school instead of waiting for Enzo. The cool November breeze carried the scent of fallen leaves through the streets of Manhattan. As he passed a newsstand, something caught his eye. A magazine devoted entirely to finance and business. He spent fifty cents from his pocket money and bought it. When he reached home, he sat at the kitchen table and began reading. Articles about inflation. Corporate mergers. Consumer trends. Retail growth.

Most children his age would have found the magazine unbearably dull. James found it invaluable. Every paragraph had the potential to awaken another memory. As he turned one particular page, he froze. An article discussing the rapid growth of legalized gaming tourism in Nevada. His eyes narrowed.

"... Las Vegas..." He whispered. Another fragment of memory surfaced. Not about sports. About the city itself. He quickly grabbed his notebook and wrote only four words. > Research Nevada thoroughly. Then he underlined them twice. He wasn't ready to act. Not yet. But every day... The outline of a much larger plan was becoming clearer.