Chương 128: Book 4 - Chapter 12 C

Grandpa leaned in carefully, adjusting his glasses as he examined my machine. He looked at the mirror, the glass tubes and a long white ribbon that was slowly cycling through a tank of water. He stepped back and watched as the steam from the machine dissipated into the warm air.

"It looks like something from your Mad Science Lab in Tulsa," he said squinting in the sunshine.

"I thought you had better equipment at GA these days. What am I looking at?"

"In 1985 I showed you graphene felt that could filter drinking water from the ocean," I said, pointing to the heart of the machine.

"This puts that together with everything else I created in Tulsa. That white ribbon is CCP, a specialized anion-exchange resin. It is the lungs of the machine. That little solar panel powers a motor that keeps it moving as it dries," I said, pointing at where it exited the machine and dual squeegees pressed the dripping water out of the fibrous plastic cloth which puffed back into a fluffy cottony texture as it exited into the sunlight.

"When it is dry it absorbs carbon dioxide directly from the atmosphere. As the motor moves it into that water tank the resin gets wet and releases the CO2. You can see the bubbles being scraped off by the squeegee inside the glass tank." He watched the tiny bubbles rising into a chamber where they floated up and joined the froth of boiling water.

"And the mirror?"

"The parabolic mirror at the top is focusing sunlight onto a black steel plate that's boiling the water," I explained.

"Inside is a metallic catalyst I developed at GA," I said pointing at a mesh of what looked like steel wool. It combines the CO2 and the steam under heat and mild pressure from the boiling water. The vapor separates using the graphene filter. Steam and oxygen generated by the catalyst are pushed through the filter and into the air outside. What remains stays inside and is pushed down this pipe and passes through a condenser—that is what the ice bath on the side is for—and it drips out here."

I pointed to a small glass beaker at the end of the line. As we watched a single drop of light golden liquid fell from the tube. Grandpa leaned down and sniffed it. His eyes went wide.

"That is gasoline," he whispered.

"It is pure ninety-two octane synthetic fuel. I call it SynGas," I told him.

"The demonstration plant at Satsop will use heat from the nuclear reactor instead of mirrors. I'll be selling it for twenty-five cents a gallon." Grandpa sat down heavily in a wicker chair.

"Twenty-five cents? John, you are going to destroy every oil company on the planet. They will fight you with everything they have." I poured him a shot of Southern Comfort, and set it down in front of him. He grabbed it and downed it in one gulp.

"Sorry it's not Maker's Mark," I said.

"I got this from the neighbors at Christmas." He held out the cup, so I gave him a refill, which he sipped instead.

"John tell me why aren't you running already from the people who control big oil?"

"That is why I went to LA on Friday," I said, leaning against the railing.

"I met with Lodwrick Cook. I am buying ARCO for $30 billion. I need their gas stations and their pipelines. I am going to make their refineries and oil fields obsolete. We are going to sell off the production assets to the highest bidders while it's still worth something."

"Thirty billion dollars," Grandpa repeated, shaking his head.

"Where does a boy get thirty billion dollars?"

"I am pledging my stocks in TWP Media, Euro Motors, and Corning as collateral for a loan," I said.

"The banks are giving me fifty percent loan to value. It covers the purchase and gives me enough to take the company private. I am all in, Grandpa. Every cent from every deal I have made is on the line." He looked at me with a mix of pride and terror.

"If this goes south you lose everything. What's the payback after buying ARCO?" he asked using the terms he understood.

"Buying ARCO just gives me the distribution channels. My goal is production and I don't have enough money left for that," I told him. He understood I was asking for money.

"My money is all tied up in the hotel business," he said.

"I've invested and refurbished everywhere you told me, John." He took another sip of his drink.

"It's been fantastically profitable, but it has been constantly expanding for five years. I spent $500 million on the New Ambassador. I don't have money for production plants." Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"It is time to take the company public," I told him.

"I told you that at some point we would turn millions into billions. This is that time.

"IPO's take months, John. How soon do you need the money?" he asked.

"I need a billion-dollar bridge loan by the first week of October," I told him, looking him straight in the eye.

"The full IPO can hit on January 31st, six months from today. But the bankers will lend against the prospectus the moment we file. I need that cash to protect my positions before the market hits a rough patch this fall." He looked at me with a mix of pride and terror.

"A billion dollars by October. And where does that leave the family? If an IPO goes south we lose everything."

"It won't go south because the Grand Lux chain is sitting on the best real estate in the world and the books are spotless," I told him.

"We will set it up with two classes of stock. A shares for the public and B shares for us. You will keep twenty percent of the A shares but one hundred percent of the control."

"There's one other thing you need to do with the twenty percent you keep of Grand Lux. It needs to go into a trust."

"A trust? Why?" he asked, confused at the shift as he watched more drops fall into the beaker.

"I'll return double what I borrow to build the plants. Combine that with the twenty percent for a Carpenter Family Trust. Leave the control of the hotels to future generations and the wealth produced to care for all of your Grandkids far into the future."

"The Carpenter Family Trust," he said, sounding it out.

"I appreciate that, I had three daughters so there aren't going to be more Carpenters."

"This will give you a legacy equal to Rockefeller or Carnegie-Mellon."

"It's not very fast," he said watching my machine continue to drip. I could tell he was feeling emotionally overwhelmed by the legacy and was trying to change the subject.

"It is a tabletop demonstration, Grandpa. The big demonstrator in Washington will make 100, 000 gallons a day."

"Wow, that's a lot of gasoline!" he said.

"Not compared to the second purpose built reactor. It will make twenty million gallons a day."

"That's not enough money?" he asked.

"Surely that's enough for what you need."

"No. I need to produce more than half a billion gallons a day to meet the national demand. Your loan will get me through building the first few plants. Then it will be self sustaining."

"Is this the secret project you met with the President about?" he asked. I looked at him with raised eyebrows.

"How do you know about that?"

"Mary told your Grandma, who told me," he said with a grin. I shook my head, there was no stopping family gossip.

"Well, I hope you know not to mention this to anyone. Not even Grandma. The President has ordered it Top Secret, cross your heart, hope to die, double dog dare, burn before reading." He laughed and nodded.

"So do you think an IPO really will be successful?" he asked. I looked at him incredulous that he didn't believe in the value of his own company.

"Grandpa, your first twenty hotels are already in the black. The New Ambassador is hosting next year's Academy Awards. The whole country will see the New Ambassador on TV before the IPO, it is a rebuilt historical monument.

"Grand Lux technically doesn't have any debt since you've self funded with loans based on the investments I've had you make over the years."

"How did you know we got picked for the Academy Awards?" he asked, zeroing in on the thing that interested him the most.

"You know that Grandpa," I reminded him.

"Not only is the Ambassador historically the site for the awards, we built a new Embassy Ballroom just for that use." He looked from the steaming machine and its golden drops of wealth, out to the blue tinged sea in contemplation. I gave him a pat on the shoulder and we went into the house, leaving the machine to security to quickly pack away.

"Tell me all about the New Ambassador, I'm looking forward to seeing it," I told him as we entered the kitchen.

"It looks identical to the original when you compare pictures," Grandma said happily.

"Then you realized it's doubled in size. It's twice as tall and twice as wide."

"What did you do with the infamous kitchen and pantry?" I asked them.

"We had room to shift the internals around, so that space opens up onto a private atrium garden," Grandpa said.

"I gave the pictures you gave me of that garden in Japan to the designer for inspiration," Grandma added.

"It really is so lovely John. The garden is a very quiet contemplative space."

"How have you enjoyed LA?" I asked her.

"I've been to the beach two or three days a week all summer long, but I miss seeing Mattie and your cousins every day. I'm looking forward to getting back to Tulsa."

"I'm glad you've been able to enjoy it," I told her.

"It'll make a nice summer vacation spot for us until my Frank Lloyd Wright house is finished," she mentioned.

"When is that expected?" I asked.

"1992," Grandma informed me.

"Sorry it's taking so long," I told her.

"It's fine, I really love the house. It is the architects who are dragging it out. Without them it could probably have been finished already."

"But then it wouldn't be a real Frank Lloyd Wright," Grandpa added. She smiled in happy agreement.

"And you both promised me a Frank Lloyd Wright."