Chương 51: Seeds of Expansion

Arc 5 — Seeds of Expansion Thursday, April 1, 1971 7: 05 a. m. Apartment 4B — East Street Manhattan, New York The first day of April greeted Manhattan with a crisp spring morning. The last traces of winter had finally disappeared. Outside Apartment 4B, delivery trucks rumbled through the streets while pedestrians hurried toward subway stations and office buildings. Inside... The aroma of freshly brewed Italian coffee and toasted bread filled the apartment.

Enzo Lombardi stood at the stove preparing breakfast, humming an old Italian tune almost absentmindedly. James sat at the dining table. As always... The morning edition of the New York Herald rested beside his plate. Reading the newspaper every morning had become a habit, and neither of them questioned anymore. It had become part of their routine. James slowly turned the pages. Politics. International affairs. Wall Street. Sports. Then... His eyes suddenly stopped. Completely.

A business article occupied nearly half a page. The headline immediately caught his attention.

Young Oregon Distributor Continues Steady Growth Summit Athletic Supply Expands West Coast Operations The article described a relatively unknown company headquartered in Oregon. Unlike the nation's established footwear manufacturers... Summit Athletic Supply did not manufacture shoes itself. Instead... The company specialized in importing high-quality running shoes from Japan before distributing them throughout the western United States. Sales had continued growing among collegiate runners.

Several university track coaches had reportedly begun recommending the brand. Its two founders believed that running would become one of America's fastest-growing sports during the coming decade. Most financial analysts considered that prediction... Optimistic. James nearly forgot his breakfast.

"Summit Athletic Supply..." His eyes moved quickly across every paragraph. Distribution model. Revenue growth. Retail expansion. Cash limitations. Future ambitions. Every sentence mattered. Because James wasn't reading the article as a businessman in 1971. He was reading it with the knowledge of someone who had lived until 2024. His heart began beating slightly faster.

"No..."

"Not yet..."

"They're still too small."

"Which means..."

"Vendetta could actually become one of their earliest major investors." Numbers immediately began forming inside his mind. Investment percentages. Future valuations. Manufacturing costs. Expansion possibilities. International growth. Licensing. Marketing. Athlete endorsements. His pencil unconsciously appeared in his hand. He began writing small calculations in the margin of the newspaper. Enzo noticed immediately. Without even looking up from the stove, he smiled.

"Another interesting company?" James finally looked up.

"You could say that."

"What kind?"

"A shoe company." Enzo laughed softly.

"A shoe company has you making calculations before breakfast?" James smiled.

"I think this one..."

"... could become something extraordinary." Enzo carried breakfast to the table. Over the past six months... He had learned something. Whenever James described a company as "interesting, "... It usually deserved his attention. Still... He didn't ask another question.

"He'll tell me when he's ready," Enzo thought.

"He always does."

8: 00 a. m. A few minutes later... Enzo drove James toward Public School 87 in his dark blue Cavallo V12. The powerful Italian engine echoed softly through Manhattan's streets. Traffic remained moderate. Construction workers had already begun another day's work. Street vendors prepared newspaper stands. Children carrying schoolbags crossed intersections under the supervision of crossing guards. Inside the car... James barely spoke. His eyes remained fixed on the folded newspaper resting on his lap.

He wasn't reading anymore. He was imagining.

"Forty percent..."

"No..."

"Maybe thirty..."

"How much capital would they actually need?"

"Could Vendetta help them before anyone else notices?"

"If we enter now..."

"What would they become twenty... thirty years from now?" Enzo glanced toward his grandson.

"He's planning something again."

"Whatever company that article mentioned..."

"It clearly isn't leaving his mind." The Cavallo stopped outside the school entrance. James gathered his books.

"See you this afternoon, Grandpa."

"I'll be here." James smiled.

"I know."

Public School 87 Classes began normally. Mrs. Eleanor Parker explained mathematics. Reading comprehension. American history. James answered every question correctly. Yet... His notebook told another story entirely. Instead of school notes... Entire sections contained rough business calculations. Projected ownership percentages. Future capital requirements. Possible investment structures. Michael Henderson quietly glanced toward James.

"He's doing it again..."

"He's in class..."

"But somehow..."

"He's somewhere else entirely." Even Mrs. Parker noticed. She smiled inwardly.

"Whatever occupies James Lombardi's mind..."

"It always seems years ahead of everyone else's."

Meanwhile... 9: 30 a. m. Conference Room Thompson Manufacturing Brooklyn The monthly executive meeting had already begun. Morning sunlight entered through the conference room windows overlooking the enormous production floor. Hundreds of sewing machines continued operating below. Project Horizon had become the heartbeat of Thompson Manufacturing. Around the conference table sat familiar faces. Enzo Lombardi. Anthony Russo. Marcus Carter. Leslie Carter. And another man whom everyone in the room had known for years.

Walter Greene. Age fifty-two. Chief Accountant of Thompson Manufacturing. Walter had joined the company in 1955, sixteen years earlier. He had witnessed the signing of the first military contracts. He had watched the corporate account grow from barely over a million dollars into one of New York's healthiest privately owned manufacturing companies. Quiet. Methodical. Almost incapable of making mathematical mistakes. Most employees joked that Walter probably counted numbers in his sleep.

Marcus smiled as Walter adjusted his glasses.

"Morning, Walter."

"Morning." Leslie handed him a cup of coffee.

"The usual?" Walter smiled politely.

"You know me too well."

"Same room..." Walter thought.

"Same people..."

"Yet this company feels completely different than it did six months ago."

"Civilian manufacturing changed everything." Enzo opened the meeting.

"Let's begin."

Marcus stood first. He placed several production charts onto the conference table.

"Our March target finished exactly as scheduled." He pointed toward the latest figures.

"Eight thousand three hundred civilian products." He changed to the next sheet.

"This month..."

"We're increasing production." Large black numbers appeared across the page. April Production Target 9, 000 Units Marcus looked around the room.

"That's an increase of seven hundred products compared to March."

"We're not adding another production line."

"We're simply becoming more efficient." Anthony nodded.

"No hiring required?" Marcus answered immediately. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

"No."

"The supervisors have improved workflow."

"Our teams are producing more without sacrificing quality."

"And I'll make sure quality never slips," Marcus thought.

"A reputation takes years to build..."

"And one careless month to destroy." Enzo smiled.

"Excellent."

Leslie stood next. She opened a large folder filled with photographs, newspaper advertisements, retailer reports, and marketing schedules.

"Our advertising campaign continues performing above expectations." She placed several newspaper advertisements onto the table.

"Our newspaper advertisements remain active across New York."

"Radio advertisements continue during morning and evening commuting hours."

"The outdoor magazines have requested another shipment of promotional photographs." She smiled.

"Arthur Bennett completed another excellent photography session last week." Another folder followed.

"We've also produced another printing of our retailer catalogs."

"Several Connecticut retailers specifically requested additional copies." Marcus quietly examined one advertisement.

"She has an eye for this."

"People aren't just buying jackets anymore..."

"They're remembering Thompson." Leslie continued.

"Our roadside billboards entering Manhattan continue generating retailer inquiries."

"More stores are contacting us..."

"... instead of the other way around." Enzo couldn't hide a satisfied smile.

"Exactly what we hoped would happen."

Anthony opened his leather briefcase.

"I have expansion news." Everyone looked toward him.

"I've finalized agreements with several retailers throughout Connecticut." He placed signed contracts onto the table.

"Beginning this month..."

"Project Horizon products will officially enter the Connecticut market." Marcus smiled broadly.

"Already?" Anthony nodded.

"And discussions continue." He turned another page.

"I'm currently negotiating with several retailers in Pennsylvania..."

"... and New Jersey."

"My objective remains unchanged."

"I'd like both markets operating before summer begins."

"One careful step after another," Anthony thought.

"Rapid expansion ruins companies."

"Disciplined expansion builds them." Enzo nodded approvingly.

"Excellent work."

Finally... Walter Greene quietly opened the thick financial ledger before him. The room naturally became quieter. Whenever Walter spoke... It meant numbers. And numbers never lied. He adjusted his glasses.

"I've completed the civilian division's first-quarter financial report." He began.

"January." Revenue: $200, 000 Expenses: $145, 000 Net Profit After Taxes: $32, 000 He calmly turned the page.

"February." Revenue: $360, 000 Expenses: $240, 000 Net Profit After Taxes: $70, 000 Another page.

"March." Revenue: $600, 000 Expenses: $385, 000 Net Profit After Taxes: $125, 000 Finally... He reached the summary.

"First Quarter." He read each figure slowly. Revenue: approximately $1. 16 million. Expenses: approximately $770, 000. Operating Profit: approximately $390, 000. Net Profit After Taxes: approximately $227, 000. Walter gently closed the ledger.

"All figures have been reconciled and verified." Silence settled over the conference room. Leslie looked toward Marcus. Marcus looked toward Anthony. Anthony looked toward Enzo. Enzo remained still. His eyes rested on one number. $227, 000.

"Three months..."

"Only three months..."

"When James first spoke about ending military production..."

"I thought we were risking everything."

"Instead..."

"We've built something entirely new." A faint smile appeared across his face.

"Not bad..."

"We've nearly recovered half of our initial five-hundred-thousand-dollar investment..."

"In only three months." For the first time since Project Horizon had been conceived... No one in the room viewed the civilian division as an experiment. It had become... A profitable pillar of Thompson Manufacturing's future. 》 Arc 5 — Seeds of Expansion Thursday, April 1, 1971 3: 20 p. m. Public School 87 Manhattan The final bell echoed through the corridors. Within seconds, the quiet school transformed into a sea of children laughing, talking, and running toward the front entrance.

Teachers reminded students about homework while parents and relatives waited outside. Parked across the street sat a familiar dark blue Cavallo V12, its polished body reflecting the afternoon sun. Enzo Lombardi leaned casually against the driver's door, greeting a few parents who recognized him from previous afternoons. A moment later... James emerged from the school building. Unlike most days, he wasn't chatting with Michael Henderson, Robert Miller, or Sarah Collins. He walked quietly.

His schoolbag rested over one shoulder, while the folded business section of the New York Herald remained tucked under his arm. Enzo immediately noticed.

"He's been carrying that newspaper around since this morning..." Enzo thought.

"Whatever he read... it hasn't left his mind." James opened the passenger door.

"Afternoon, Grandpa."

"Afternoon." The powerful twelve-cylinder engine came alive with its familiar smooth growl as Enzo pulled away from the curb. For several blocks... Silence. Inside James' mind was a different story, though. He had read the article at least six times throughout the day. Every time… Another possibility appeared. Another calculation. Another question.

"Forty percent?"

"Too much?"

"Maybe not..."

"What if we finance growth instead?"

"No..."

"I still don't know enough." It was not an uncomfortable silence. But an unusual one. James normally pointed out buildings, asked questions, or spoke about something he had learned. Today... Nothing. Only the quiet hum of the engine filled the cabin. Enzo glanced sideways for a brief moment before returning his attention to the road.

"You've been awfully quiet today." James continued looking through the windshield.

"I know." Another block passed. Finally, Enzo smiled.

"Something on your mind?" James let out a slow breath.

"There is."

"What is it?" James hesitated. Not because he doubted Enzo... But because he was still organizing everything inside his own head.

"I think..."

"... Vendetta Investments should make another investment." Enzo's eyebrows rose slightly.

"So soon?" James nodded.

"I wasn't planning on it."

"But today's newspaper changed that." Enzo kept both hands on the steering wheel. His expression remained calm.

"Another company..."

"Another opportunity..."

"Evergreen Coffee & Tea sounded just as unusual when he first mentioned it."

"Now we own forty percent of it."

"What company?" James finally answered.

"... Summit Athletic Supply." The name meant nothing to Enzo. He searched his memory. Nothing. I've never heard of it.

"What do they do?"

"They sell running shoes." Enzo couldn't help smiling.

"A shoe company." James nodded.

"Yes." Enzo chuckled softly.

"I suppose I shouldn't underestimate shoe companies anymore." James smiled for the first time all afternoon.

"No..."

"You probably shouldn't."

4: 05 p. m. Chairman's Office Thompson Manufacturing Brooklyn The familiar scent of polished wood, coffee, and machine oil greeted them as they entered the executive floor. Outside Enzo's office windows... Thousands of pieces of canvas, cotton, and denim moved through the production floor below. Thompson outdoor gear continued operating at full capacity. Enzo removed his suit jacket before sitting behind his desk. James remained standing. Still holding the newspaper. Enzo noticed immediately.

"You've been carrying that article around all day."

"I have."

"Then I assume it's important." James unfolded the newspaper and placed it on the desk. His finger rested over the article.

"Summit Athletic Supply." Enzo adjusted his glasses and glanced down. The article described a small athletic footwear distributor located in Beaverton, Oregon. James began explaining.

"They're tiny."

"Only a few dozen employees."

"They operate from a small corporate office in Beaverton." He pointed lower into the article.

"They also own only two retail stores."

"One in Santa Monica, California."

"The other in Wellesley, Massachusetts." Enzo listened without interrupting. James continued.

"Publicly..."

"Their entire business revolves around importing Kawasaki Tiger running shoes from Japan."

"They don't manufacture shoes."

"They distribute them."

"They've built a strong reputation among runners on the West Coast." Enzo slowly leaned back.

"So..."

"They're completely dependent on another company."

"Exactly."

"That dependency alone worries me," Enzo thought.

"If your supplier controls your business..."

"Your future isn't really your own." James continued explaining every detail he had extracted from the newspaper. Sales. Distribution. Growth. Running clubs. College athletics. Expansion into eastern markets. Every sentence only reinforced one conclusion. Summit Athletic Supply remained... Very small. Very focused. And almost invisible to Wall Street.

Inside James' Mind"If only Grandpa knew..."

"If only anyone in 1971 knew..." The newspaper painted a picture of a promising young distributor. Reality... Was dramatically different. Behind closed doors... Summit Athletic Supply stood at one of the most dangerous moments in its history. Its relationship with Kawasaki Tiger had begun quietly falling apart. The Japanese manufacturer wanted greater control over American distribution. Eventually... They intended to remove Summit Athletic Supply altogether. Patrick Keller understood the danger perfectly.

Without Kawasaki Tiger... His company would have nothing left to sell. Which explained what almost nobody outside the company knew. Patrick Keller had already begun searching for another path. Quietly. Carefully. Without attracting attention. He had recently opened discussions with a manufacturing factory in Guadalajara, Mexico. Leather running shoes. Private production. A backup supplier. Not because he wanted to replace Kawasaki Tiger... Because he feared Kawasaki Tiger would replace him first.

"He's fighting to keep his company alive..."

"He just doesn't realize..."

"That this crisis is exactly what will eventually transform Summit Athletic Supply into something much greater." James pushed the thought aside. None of that could be shared. Not yet.

Enzo folded the newspaper.

"What exactly are you proposing?" James shook his head.

"I'm not ready to propose anything." Enzo looked surprised.

"No?"

"No." James walked slowly toward the office window overlooking the production floor. Hundreds of employees continued sewing Thompson outdoor gear products below.

"I know enough to become interested."

"I don't know enough to invest." Enzo nodded slightly. That answer pleased him. James continued.

"We need information."

"Real information." He began counting on his fingers.

"I want to know who owns the company."

"How ownership is divided."

"If they've taken outside investment."

"What their financial condition looks like."

"Whether they're profitable."

"Whether they're carrying debt."

"Who they bank with."

"If there are legal disputes."

"If they're searching for additional capital."

"If they have supplier agreements."

"If Patrick Keller controls the company outright..."

"... or if William Barrett does." Enzo listened carefully.

"He's thinking like an investor now..."

"Not simply someone chasing opportunities." James turned back toward his grandfather.

"Once we know how Summit Athletic Supply is structured..."

"... I'll explain my complete idea."

"I'm still putting the pieces together." Enzo smiled.

"I had a feeling that was the case." He reached toward the telephone.

"I think Anthony will enjoy this assignment." James smiled.

"So do I." Enzo dialed Anthony Russo's office. Only two rings passed.

"Anthony Russo speaking."

"Anthony."

"It's Enzo."

"What can I do for you?"

"I need you to begin researching a company." Anthony immediately reached for his legal notebook.

"Another investigation..."

"James found something again."

"What company?" Enzo looked toward James. James answered clearly.

"Summit Athletic Supply." Anthony repeated the name while writing it down.

"Summit Athletic Supply..."

"I've heard the name."

"They distribute Japanese running shoes, don't they?"

"That's correct," Enzo replied.

"I want everything you can legally obtain." Anthony remained silent, already organizing the task in his mind.

"Corporate registration..."

"Articles of Incorporation..."

"Shareholder records..."

"State filings..."

"Commercial banking relationships..."

"Outstanding litigation..."

"Supplier agreements..."

"Credit history..."

"Anything that tells us what kind of company we're really looking at." He finally spoke.

"I'll contact Oregon tomorrow morning."

"No." He corrected himself.

"I'll begin tonight." Enzo smiled.

"I expected nothing less." Anthony closed his notebook.

"Out of curiosity..."

"Should I assume James has another idea?" Enzo looked toward his grandson. James merely smiled.

"I have..."

"... the beginning of one." Anthony laughed quietly.

"That's usually where the interesting stories begin." 》 Arc 5 — Seeds of Expansion Chapter 1 (Conclusion — Part I) Friday, April 2, 1971 7: 00 a. m. Apartment 4B – East Street, Manhattan The first rays of April sunlight filtered through the apartment windows, casting long golden beams across the polished hardwood floor. The aroma of freshly brewed Italian coffee drifted from the kitchen. Claire, the housekeeper, had already been there earlier that morning.

Before quietly leaving, she had prepared breakfast and neatly arranged everything on the dining table. Enzo poured himself a cup of coffee while James took his usual glass of milk. Outside, Manhattan was already awake. Car horns echoed between buildings. Delivery trucks stopped along the sidewalks. People hurried toward subway entrances as another workday began. For a few minutes... The apartment remained peaceful. Only the soft clink of silverware interrupted the silence. Finally...

James closed the small notebook resting beside his plate. Enzo noticed immediately.

"That notebook again..."

"Every time it appears at breakfast, another one of his ideas follows." He smiled.

"So..."

"You've been thinking." James nodded.

"I have."

"What is it this time?" James looked directly at his grandfather.

"I think we're ready." Enzo set down his coffee.

"Ready for what?" James lowered his voice instinctively.

"Another betting operation." Enzo wasn't surprised. Not anymore. Instead... He simply listened.

"What event?" James opened the notebook.

"The Masters Tournament." Enzo raised an eyebrow.

"The golf tournament?"

"Yes." He slid the notebook across the table. Several names. Dates. Estimated odds. Travel schedules. Everything had been written in James's careful handwriting.

"We're not changing anything."

"The system worked."

"So we repeat the system." Enzo silently read through the notes. James continued.

"Two employees."

"They'll travel on legitimate Thompson Manufacturing business."

"California first."

"They'll meet suppliers."

"They'll inspect several outdoor equipment retailers."

"Everything perfectly legitimate." He turned another page.

"Only after completing those meetings..."

"... will they quietly travel to Las Vegas."

"They'll stay in the Silver Star Hotel."

"They'll place the wagers separately."

"Different times."

"Different betting windows."

"They won't acknowledge one another."

"The same procedures Thomas Reynolds followed." Enzo slowly nodded. Inside... His thoughts began organizing everything.

"Three successful operations."

"Every one of them remained completely disconnected from Thompson Manufacturing."

"Exactly as planned."

"What kind of profit?" James smiled.

"You already know I won't answer that." Enzo laughed quietly.

"I had to ask." James became serious again.

"The important thing isn't the amount."

"It's consistency."

"If we become careless because we've won..."

"... we'll eventually lose." Enzo admired that answer.

"He's ten years old..."

"Yet he already understands one of the oldest rules in business."

"Success makes people overconfident."

"He's becoming more cautious instead." Enzo finally closed the notebook.

"I'll speak with Anthony today." James nodded.

"And don't tell the employees anything unnecessary."

"They only need to know what affects them." Enzo smiled proudly.

"Need-to-know." James returned the smile.

"Exactly."

7: 50 a. m. A few minutes later... The dark blue Cavallo V12 rolled through Manhattan traffic. James sat quietly in the passenger seat while Enzo drove toward Public School 87. The radio softly played one of Daniel Harrington's latest songs. Neither spoke much. Both are already thinking about the day ahead. As the school building appeared... Enzo pulled alongside the curb. James gathered his schoolbag.

"Have a good day, Grandpa."

"You too." James stepped out. Before closing the door... He leaned back inside.

"Don't choose the employees too quickly." Enzo smiled.

"I wasn't planning to." James nodded once.

"I'll see you this afternoon." The passenger door closed. Enzo watched his grandson disappear through the school's front entrance before shifting the Cavallo back into traffic. His destination... Brooklyn. Thompson Manufacturing.

8: 35 a. m. Thompson Manufacturing Chairman's Office The executive floor remained quieter than the bustling factory below. Through the large office windows... Rows of sewing machines have already operated at full capacity. Workers stitched backpacks. Others assembled work jackets. Finished duffel bags rolled toward inspection. The Thompson Outdoor Gear division had become the busiest section of the factory. Enzo entered his office carrying James's notebook. Only minutes later...

Anthony Russo knocked once before entering.

"Morning, Enzo."

"Morning, Anthony." Anthony immediately noticed the notebook resting on the desk. He smiled.

"I recognize that notebook."

"So do I." Anthony loosened his tie slightly before sitting.

"What did James come up with this time?" Enzo slid the notebook across the desk. Anthony read quietly. His smile slowly disappeared. Replacing it... Was the expression he always wore while analyzing legal matters. Several minutes passed before he finally looked up.

"The Masters." Enzo nodded. Anthony continued reading. His eyes paused over James's operational notes. Separate travel. Separate wagers. Separate cash-outs. Legitimate business cover. Anthony couldn't help thinking...

"Every operation becomes more organized than the previous one."

"James isn't relying on luck anymore."

"He's designing procedures." He closed the notebook.

"So..."

"We're selecting two more employees."

"Yes." Anthony folded his hands together.

"We should be even more careful." Enzo agreed immediately.

"The more successful we become..."

"... the greater the temptation for someone to talk." Anthony nodded.

"Exactly." Silence settled over the office. Both men already began mentally reviewing Thompson Manufacturing's workforce. Not everyone qualified. Not everyone could be trusted with even a small piece of such an operation. Anthony quietly broke the silence.

"I'll bring the personnel files." Enzo nodded once.

"And this afternoon..."

"When James arrives after school..."

"... the three of us will make the final decision." Anthony smiled.

"I suspect he'll reject more candidates than we will." Enzo chuckled.

"Probably." Outside the office... The steady rhythm of Thompson Manufacturing continued. Inside... Another carefully planned operation had quietly begun. 》 Arc 5 — Seeds of Expansion Chapter 1 (Conclusion — Part II) Friday, April 2, 1971 2: 55 p. m. Public School 87 Manhattan The final school bell echoed through the corridors. Within seconds, classrooms emptied into the hallways. Children laughed. Teachers reminded students not to forget their weekend homework.

The front entrance became crowded with parents waiting outside. Among them... The familiar dark blue Cavallo V12 rested along the curb. Enzo stood beside the driver's door, hands inside the pockets of his light gray overcoat. He smiled the moment he spotted James.

James walked across the sidewalk carrying his books beneath one arm.

"How was school?" James shrugged.

"Normal." Enzo laughed.

"I've learned that whenever you say 'normal,' you've usually spent the entire day thinking about business." James couldn't help smiling.

"You're probably right." The two climbed into the Cavallo. Instead of heading home... Enzo turned toward Brooklyn.

3: 40 p. m. Thompson Manufacturing Chairman's Office The executive floor had become quieter than it had been that morning. Most department heads had already returned to their offices. Inside the Chairman's office... Anthony Russo sat beside a large stack of personnel folders. Beside them... Walter Greene, Thompson Manufacturing's veteran Chief Accountant, had briefly stopped by to deliver several quarterly financial ledgers before excusing himself for the afternoon. As James entered, Walter smiled warmly.

"Afternoon, James."

"Afternoon, Mr. Greene." Walter gathered the ledgers.

"I'll leave these with Mr. Lombardi." Enzo nodded appreciatively.

"Thank you, Walter."

"My pleasure." Walter quietly left the office, carefully closing the door behind him. Anthony watched him disappear.

"Seventeen years with this company..."

"I don't think Walter has ever made a mistake in one of his reports." Enzo smiled proudly.

"That's why he's still here." James quietly listened. He admired something about Thompson Manufacturing. People stayed. Employees weren't merely workers. Many had spent decades building the company together.

Anthony turned toward the stack of personnel files.

"Now..."

"Business." He opened the first folder.

"This morning, I reviewed almost forty employees." James looked surprised.

"Forty?" Anthony smiled.

"I eliminated more than half before lunch." Enzo leaned back comfortably.

"Let's hear them." Anthony opened the first folder.

"Excellent machinist."

"Very dependable."

"But..."

"... he owes several thousand dollars." James shook his head immediately.

"No." Anthony wasn't surprised.

"I thought you'd say that." He placed the folder into another pile.

"Financial pressure creates temptation." James quietly added,"If something unexpected happens..."

"... he might make decisions based on desperation." Anthony nodded.

"Exactly."

The second folder.

"A warehouse supervisor."

"Outstanding work record." Marcus recommended him." James listened. Anthony continued.

"Unfortunately..."

"He talks." Enzo laughed.

"Far too much." James smiled.

"Rejected." Another folder moved aside.

A third candidate.

"Married."

"Three children."

"Excellent attendance."

"Trusted by everyone." James remained silent. Anthony continued reading.

"He also drinks heavily every Friday evening." James answered almost instantly.

"No." Anthony closed the folder.

"I agree."

Nearly forty-five minutes passed. Folder after folder. Each discussion became increasingly detailed. Sometimes, Marcus's handwritten notes helped. Sometimes, Walter Greene's payroll records revealed financial difficulties. Sometimes, Anthony's legal experience identified risks invisible to everyone else. Enzo mostly listened. Occasionally asking only one question.

"Would you trust him with your own money?" If the answer wasn't an immediate yes... The folder disappeared.

Finally... Only four folders remained. Anthony arranged them carefully.

"I believe these four represent the strongest candidates." James leaned forward. The first employee. Steady. Quiet. Married. Eight years at Thompson Manufacturing. No disciplinary record. James nodded.

"Possible."

Second folder. Another experienced employee. Excellent evaluations. Never late. Respected on the production floor. James nodded again.

"Possible."

Third folder. Anthony stopped.

"This gentleman..."

"... has worked here nearly fifteen years." James carefully read every page. Excellent reputation. No debt. Stable family. Quiet personality. Marcus described him with one sentence.

"Never seeks attention." James smiled.

"I like him."

The fourth folder received similar attention. Again... Dependable. Responsible. It is financially stable. Little interest in gossip. Anthony closed the final folder.

"I believe our two employees are somewhere among these four." Enzo looked toward James.

"What do you think?" James remained silent for nearly a full minute. Inside his mind...

"Every successful operation depends on people."

"Not intelligence..."

"Character." He finally pointed toward two folders.

"These two." Anthony looked down. Exactly the same pair he had privately selected that morning. A small smile crossed his face.

"I had the same conclusion." Enzo laughed.

"I suppose that's settled."

4: 45 p. m. The two selected employees entered separately. Each had been told only that Chairman Lombardi wished to speak with them privately. The first man entered, looking slightly nervous.

"Mr. Lombardi..."

"You wished to see me?" Enzo smiled warmly.

"Please."

"Have a seat." The employee noticed Anthony. Then James. He looked mildly surprised that the Chairman's grandson was present. Enzo immediately began.

"What we discuss inside this office..."

"... remains inside this office." The employee nodded.

"Of course, sir." Anthony quietly opened a leather folder. Inside rested a familiar agreement. Nearly identical to the one Thomas Reynolds had signed weeks earlier. Enzo calmly explained.

"We're sending you on a special business assignment."

"It requires complete confidentiality."

"If you accept..."

"You'll receive additional compensation."

"If you decline..."

"Nothing changes."

"You'll continue your normal employment." The employee listened carefully. No pressure. No threats. Only professionalism. After several questions... He accepted. Anthony watched him sign. Then, he countersigned himself as Thompson Manufacturing's corporate attorney. Enzo signed last. James observed everything carefully. The procedure had become remarkably polished. Exactly what he wanted. When the first employee departed... The second entered. The same conversation. The same explanation. The same agreement.

Another signature. Another successful recruitment. When the office finally became quiet once more... Anthony carefully locked both agreements inside his briefcase. He looked toward Enzo.

"Everything is ready." Enzo slowly nodded.

"They leave tomorrow morning." James looked out the office window. Below... The Thompson Outdoor Gear production lines continued operating without interruption. Nobody on the factory floor had any idea another carefully planned Vendetta operation had just quietly begun. And that... Was exactly how James intended to keep it. 》 Arc 5 — Seeds of Expansion Chapter 1 (Conclusion — Part III) Saturday, April 3, 1971 6: 40 a. m. Manhattan Metropolitan Airport The airport had already come alive.

Business travelers carrying leather briefcases walked briskly through the terminal. Families prepared for vacations. Flight attendants in neatly pressed Atlantic Continental Airways uniforms welcomed passengers with practiced smiles. The departure board displayed dozens of domestic flights. Among them... Los Angeles, California. Near Gate 8... Two Thompson Manufacturing employees waited.

Just as Enzo had instructed... They remained several yards apart. To everyone around them... They were nothing more than two unrelated businessmen traveling west. Neither acknowledged the other. Neither even looked in the other's direction. From across the terminal... Enzo and Anthony observed quietly. Both stood beside one of the large panoramic windows overlooking the runway. Neither intended to approach the employees. Maintaining distance had become part of every operation.

Anthony glanced toward the boarding gate.

"I still find it remarkable." Enzo looked at him.

"What?"

"How naturally James thinks through these procedures." He paused.

"When Thomas Reynolds completed the London operation..."

"I assumed it might have been luck."

"When the previous Las Vegas operation succeeded..."

"I thought perhaps James was simply becoming more organized." Anthony folded his arms.

"But now..."

"I've realized something." Enzo remained silent. Anthony continued.

"He's building a system." Enzo smiled faintly.

"I reached the same conclusion." Inside... His thoughts drifted toward his grandson.

"He's stopped thinking operation by operation."

"Now..."

"He's creating procedures that can be repeated."

"That's exactly how successful businesses are built." The loudspeaker interrupted their conversation. > "Atlantic Continental Airways Flight 214 to Los Angeles is now boarding." Passengers slowly formed a line. One Thompson employee joined it. Several minutes later... The second employee followed. Still strangers. Still completely disconnected from one another. Anthony quietly watched them disappear through the boarding gate.

"The California meetings are legitimate."

"They'll spend several days exactly where Thompson expects them to." Enzo nodded.

"Which makes everything afterward invisible." Anthony smiled.

"The best cover story..."

"... is one that's actually true." Both men watched as the aircraft slowly taxied away from the terminal. Its engines roared. Moments later... It lifted into the clear spring sky. Anthony adjusted his suit jacket.

"I'll prepare the paperwork for their return." Enzo nodded.

"And I'll wait for James to tell me whether golf is as profitable as boxing and basketball." Both men shared a quiet laugh before leaving the terminal.

Saturday 2: 30 p. m. Central Park Manhattan Unlike the seriousness that surrounded Thompson Manufacturing... Central Park belonged entirely to children. The spring air carried the scent of freshly cut grass. Trees had begun covering themselves with new green leaves. Families occupied nearly every bench. Children chased one another across open fields. Near one baseball diamond... James tightened the strap on his glove. Michael Henderson tossed him a baseball.

"C'mon, Lombardi!"

"Let's see if you've gotten any better." James caught it cleanly.

"I've been practicing." Robert Miller laughed loudly.

"You said that last time." Sarah Collins stood near second base, hands on her hips.

"I hope you're better than last week." James grinned.

"We're about to find out."

The game began. Michael pitched first. James connected solidly. The baseball soared toward shallow left field. Robert sprinted backward. Reached up... Missed. The ball bounced harmlessly onto the grass. Michael threw both hands into the air.

"Oh, come on!" James laughed as he reached first base.

"Told you I've been practicing." Robert picked up the ball.

"You got lucky." James smiled.

"Maybe." Inside... For the first time in several days... His thoughts weren't filled with investments. Or Summit Athletic Supply. Or Vendetta. Or Thompson Manufacturing. He simply enjoyed playing baseball. The afternoon passed quickly. Children laughed. Friendly arguments erupted over close plays. Sarah insisted Robert had stepped off the base. Robert insisted otherwise. Michael declared himself the official umpire despite everyone protesting. James found himself laughing harder than he had all week.

A short distance away... Enzo watched from a wooden bench beneath a large maple tree. He had brought the afternoon edition of the New York Herald intending to read. Instead... The newspaper remained folded beside him. His attention never left the baseball field. James dove attempting to catch a line drive. Missed completely. Rolled across the grass. Michael burst into laughter. Even James couldn't stop laughing. Enzo smiled quietly.

"There he is."

"Not the businessman..."

"Not the strategist..."

"Not the boy planning investments worth hundreds of thousands of dollars."

"Just..."

"James." He realized how important moments like these had become. Because every day... His grandson carried burdens that no ten-year-old should carry. Knowledge of another lifetime. Knowledge of loss. Knowledge of opportunities that had not yet happened. Watching him laugh with friends... Enzo felt relieved.

"As long as he still has afternoons like this..."

"Perhaps..."

"He won't lose the childhood fate almost stole from him." The baseball game continued until the afternoon sun began sinking lower over Manhattan. Eventually... Michael called out.

"Same time next Saturday?" James looked toward Enzo. His grandfather answered with a nod before James even had to ask. James smiled.

"You've got a deal." The four classmates bumped fists before heading their separate ways. James jogged toward the bench.

"You ready to go, Grandpa?" Enzo stood, placing one hand affectionately on his grandson's shoulder.

"I am." As they walked toward the parking area... Neither spoke about investments. Nor business. Nor betting operations. For one peaceful afternoon... Grandfather and grandson simply enjoyed the quiet satisfaction of an ordinary Saturday. End of Chapter 1.