[Chapter 572: Just Business]
The desert was heavily fortified, and to William White, the ti for the big man was slipping away. The longer he waited, the more failure seed inevitable.
William White didn't care about his fate; what mattered to him was his profit.
To raise military funds, Kuwait began liquidating its assets. These were valuable items, and with such significant markdowns, it was only natural that they wouldn't let them go to waste.
It was almost fate -- over the years, they hadn't hesitated to invest in William White's enterprises. Other investnts had depreciated to various extents, but strangely enough, sectors like gaming comics had actually seen an uptick.
While parting with so assets was tough, there was no doubt that selling this portion was the wisest move.
Looking back, it was clear he had been too timid at first. Just look at the Japanese; they were also offloading overseas assets. However, this group of folks still held onto shares of Legendary World.
So might say he was taking advantage of a crisis, which didn't reflect well on him. In the early stages of developnt, this capital had really helped him.
"Ha, it depends on how you see it. The stocks of Legendary World and Viking Comics never trap people. No matter what price you buy in at, you won't lose. As the actual controller of the company, that's quite generous," he replied.
If it weren't for the consistent high dividends, William believed the stock prices would have soared long ago. For this major shareholder who was always passively reducing his shares, Wall Street was left speechless. They thought there was no need for dividends -- they should be acquiring more companies instead.
"Boss, you seem unconcerned about this war," Jason remarked.
"Ha ha, Jason, does it even matter? It's just business to , and I've already turned a profit. Is there really a need to get involved?" William said.
"Co on, now the whole world is focused on the desert. Even in Australia, I hear people discussing this war in cafes and pubs. How has it beco just business to you?" Jason was sowhat astonished; he had been busy moving and found it odd that William seed unaffected despite the tense atmosphere in the U.S.
"Ha ha, you know, Jason, many people think like . Saddam is finished; there's no suspense about it. The news you're currently seeing has a credibility close to zero."
Jason was completely shocked; he had seen nurous reports lately ntioning the size of Iraq's army and the power of the Scud missiles.
If you only looked at the news, you would really think it would be a balanced fight. At least, the chances of a quick end to the conflict seed virtually nonexistent.
"Damn, if the gap is this wide, why make such a fuss?" Jason questioned.
"Business, Jason! You really think those arms dealers would pass up an opportunity for publicity? Ha ha, even my Bentley SUVs are sold out. Forget the bulletproof version -- just the standard one is selling like hotcakes," William laughed.
"Wow, is that even possible?" Jason replied, incredulous.
"You think it's just a global live broadcast of a war? What do you think?"
William wasn't just joking; the suits at Washington had already decided that unless absolutely necessary, they should avoid any ground war. A high-tech war that could be conducted from a distance was what they wanted.
This was why the war had beco more of a damp squib than a grand event. It wasn't that the Aricans lacked the capability to continue; they just hadn't anticipated that Saddam would prove so impotent.
Where were your million-strong army? Your armored columns? Were they rely there to help you escape a little quicker?
An armored column that loses control of its airspace is basically a joke. Hunting down those guys wasn't difficult at all.
"No wonder you're not worried about this stuff. Those conglorates must be thrilled," Jason said.
"Of course, they're going to make a fortune; it's just a pity I won't benefit much. By the way, how's Australia now?"
"Cheap. Everything's cheap. I can't quite figure out how much the Japanese people have invested."
William thought that those Japanese investors in Australia were quite lucky. At least when they were selling their assets, there were still buyers. Unlike now in their holand, where no one's buying.
William said he had no benefits, but that was sowhat untruthful. Not ntioning the Big Mac Security deal, just the SUVs alone had earned him a pretty penny.
Thanks to his early investnts, NBC had a significant first-mover advantage. Other than that, the ratings for their news channel had spiked by two percent, which was an incredibly impressive figure.
Getting used to such things can be achieved in just a week. After the war ended, a significant portion of these newly acquired viewers was likely to convert into loyal users.
The term "eyeball economy" really fit here. William believed that in the next advertising year, NBC's ad revenue would see a substantial increase.
Watching the chaotic scene on the dance floor, William felt a bit uncomfortable. It had been a while since he had visited a place like this, and his overly sensitive nerves made him a bit tense.
He sipped on his drinks, feeling sowhat speechless. People were still breakdancing; talk about outdated.
"Boss, you trying to drink yourself silly?" Jason asked.
"Go have fun; I enjoy the leisure of drinking. Just rember, safety first!" he quipped.
"Ha ha, don't worry, don't worry."
After downing more than half a bottle of whiskey, he felt much better. At this point, it seed the only thing that could help him relax was alcohol.
People often say that drunkenness leads to mischief, but that notion is utterly ridiculous. Usually, drinking is just an excuse. William was a case in point; now that he had drunk too much, he could do whatever he wanted.
...
The feeling of completely letting go was quite euphoric. However, it felt like every part of his body ached. Damn, what did he do last night? Why did his fingers hurt?
Shaking his heavy head, William headed to the bathroom. There was barely any space to move around in the room; damn, what had happened yesterday?
So say selective amnesia is just a form of deception. William felt it was a rather useful skill. Rembering those ridiculous events was just superfluous. Doing it occasionally might be fine, but if one got addicted to that feeling, it would eventually lead to self-destruction.
"Minor fracture? Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. White, based on your description, I think you were drunk at the ti," the doctor confird.
"Alright, do I need a cast?"
"Yes, for about a month."
"Okay, okay, thanks, doc."
William's face was gloomy, and a few of his bodyguards had strange looks on their faces. Their boss's fighting skills were top-notch; last night's crowd of hot chicks couldn't have stood a chance.
"Wow, no wonder there was such a commotion. But why did it have to be a finger fracture? What on earth happened?"
The news of the wealthy tycoon's finger injury spread like wildfire. Sources revealed that William had injured himself during training.
"Ha ha ha, William, you bastard, I just gotta ask -- do you usually use your fingers as weapons? Aren't those generally reserved for the middle finger? What's up with that pinky?"
"Shit, I was just training; cough, cough, those chicks were rely bystanders," William defended himself.
"Ha ha ha, you seriously crack up!" Bush Jr. was practically laughing himself silly on the other end of the line.
*****
spatreon/Sayonara816.
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