Now Kathy felt like she had to go. He was making it too easy. “I’m curious; what do you expect to find?”
“Kathy, I think Sam Mueller may be the key to everything.”
“How?”
“Imagine if the man who is most responsible for keeping people alive reversed his philosophy. Imagine that. If this guy were to say that fixing old bones was not as important as improving the lives of young people, wouldn’t that be amazing?”
“But that’s his business. Is he ever going to turn on his own discoveries?”
“That’s why we’re going. Someone must bring this to his attention.”
Kathy had to admit it was an admirable goal. How Max was going to get the master of living longer to acknowledge the inherent problem in it, well, that she didn’t know. But damn it, she admired him for trying.
When they arrived in Dallas, they rented the electric Kar, made in Korea. If you had enough money you would never buy a Kar, but it was fun to rent just to check in and see how the frugal half lived. Max was impressed. It could seat five comfortably, could go one hundred twenty miles an hour, and got almost three hundred miles on a charge. There was an optional engine switch that gave it the sound of an old-fashioned race car if that was what one desired, and there was also a mock shifting knob that emerged from the center console when the driver got in, giving the feeling of shifting through gears, even though it did nothing.
What the Koreans did so well, Max thought, were the seats. These were one-piece bucket seats stamped from resin and cushioned perfectly. They could be adjusted by rocking them forward or back—the seat back itself would not move independently, which saved a fortune in manufacturing. The air-conditioning cooled the car to seventy-three degrees; the heater warmed it up to seventy-eight. It had no adjustment. And for the car’s size it was considered very safe. The Koreans put the money in the metal and used a fusion of steel and resin that was almost impossible to destroy. They had actually had to add back weakness so the car would fold in a crash and not bounce off another vehicle and jolt the driver to death. The Kar didn’t come in a luxury model, but Max thought that if the Koreans ever built one, it would be world-class.
Max and Kathy decided to stay in the finest hotel in the city because they assumed that was where Sam Mueller would be. The hotel was part of the Imperial group, a French-Italian lodging company that built small ultraluxury hotels. If Max hadn’t been born rich, they would never have stayed there, but the chance of running into Sam Mueller and actually having the conversation was worth the expense.
Kathy was in awe. She had never seen a hotel like this before. Three hundred rooms, all suites. One-, two-, and three-bedroom configurations. A butler for each floor and food to die for, which was included in the price. There was always a buffet prepared by a world-class chef, and it could be served in their suite or they could go down to the mezzanine and eat at any time, even in the middle of the night. If someone called the concierge or room service or the valet, they would not only answer with their name but always on the first ring. They were known for that. And then there was the spa. The Imperial group was famous for its spas. Beyond luxury and with all the latest beauty machines.
For example, after decades of teasing women with false claims, a cellulite machine was invented that really did take the dimples away. Not permanently, but for up to a year. These machines were very expensive. They used a new laser technology along with a sound wave generator that got under the skin and massaged it from the inside. Each one was priced at two million dollars. The Imperial chain was the only hotel that had them in all of their spas.
Another impressive thing about the Imperial was that its hotels were the first to have virtual walls in every room. When visitors walked into their living room, the wall looked like a wall. But it was actually a picture of a wall. At the flick of a button it would turn into entertainment, or a babbling brook, or a famous artwork. Billionaires had these virtual walls first, but they were too expensive for regular people. When the Imperial group first installed the walls thousands of guests checked in just to see them. When Kathy pressed the Picasso button, the wall in the living room turned into the Museum of Modern Art. Six Picassos hanging there, so real that she wanted to go over and touch them. Something that was never allowed in a real museum.
Their gamble paid off. Max found a comfortable chair in the lobby and, sure enough, after about an hour he saw Sam Mueller come out of the elevator and walk to a waiting car. And who was with him? His son, Mark. The same kid Max met in Chicago. When the boy saw him, he smiled. Max smiled back. Mueller and his son got in the car and drove off, and Max just sat there, planning. When he finally pled his case to this man, how could Mueller not understand? Especially since he had a young son. Doesn’t he want a better life for his children? Then he had to laugh. Mueller’s children were going to have more money than God. Probably not the best example.
Max and Kathy were among the first in line the following morning to get seats at the opening of the Immunicate annual stockholders’ breakfast. The stockholders’ meeting was a two-day affair. On the first day they fed people, got them in a good mood, and showed them product reels, all before the actual meeting itself, which was on the second day. The company had figured out a long time ago that if they wined and dined everyone who showed up, made them feel important and gave them lots of free stuff before the actual meeting, people were in a far better mood and didn’t complain as much when they were told the compensation of the company’s directors.
When Immunicate started out they made the mistake of holding the meeting on the first day. People were tired and ornery and channeled all of that energy into bitching about one thing or another. “He’s getting too much money.” “Your advertising stinks.” “Get rid of all the private jets.” So the company looked around, saw how several other successful corporations did these yearly events, and copied the best of them. Some of the electronic and cosmetic giants gave out an abundance of free swag, understanding that if someone was sitting there with a new holographic picture generator, his mood was much improved. When a woman knew that she had just been given over two thousand dollars’ worth of the newest cosmetic creams, her tough questions to the board faded away along with the spots on her hands.
Immunicate couldn’t give out it products—they made drugs, afters all—so they started out trying different ideas. At first they offered a free physical for every stockholder who showed up. That wasn’t a big success. One year they even tried free MRIs, but the liability issue raised its ugly head. And telling someone he had a tumor and then sending him to the luncheon buffet really didn’t go down that well. So the company settled on pampering. They didn’t want to pick up the cost of the hotel because they would have too many freeloaders, people buying one share of stock just to get free lodging wherever the meetings were held. But they did offer world-class buffets, roaming masseuses, free use of the hotel spas, city tours, and small gifts like wrist phones, jewelry, and commemorative coins with the stockholders’ names engraved on them.
Max Leonard owned a thousand shares that his father had given to him when he turned eighteen. He never paid any attention to them and in one decade they had made him almost a million dollars. But more importantly, it was enough shares to give him some cachet. The company was aware of who owned what, and even though they let small shareholders in for the free food, they had no respect for them. Those who owned a thousand shares were treated differently.
So Max and Kathy were told that first morning that they didn’t have to wait in line for the buffet. They were escorted inside the dining room and given a lovely table, where they were served a delicious breakfast by waiters dressed in tuxedos. They were also given free use of a car service if they wanted to see some of Dallas’s tourist sites. And someone privately told them that when they checked out of the Imperial, their stay there would be heavily comped. They were being treated so nicely, Max had to remember why they had come in the first place. Weren’t they there to try to
talk to the devil himself? This is how the devil does it, Max thought, he plies you with goodies. Well, I’ll take your goodies, but it won’t work.
Kathy and Max filled their stomachs with crepes and fresh fruit and the most delicious lattes they’d ever tasted, and then they spent the first day in Dallas just being old-fashioned tourists. The driver took them by George W. Bush’s house. The former president was known to walk the neighborhood and talk to the sightseers. Bush thought that if he could hang around long enough, history would show him in a favorable light, but at eighty-four years old, history hadn’t arrived yet.
Kathy had to admit she loved being a tourist, but all Max could think about was how to get Sam Mueller alone.
* * *
Over the previous month, the United States and China had worked out an unprecedented historic agreement that would change the world. No more borrowed money. Now they had full partnerships, and Los Angeles would be the beginning. Teams of negotiators worked out the minutiae. The agreement was more than two thousand pages long, covering everything from the rights of Chinese workers in the United States to what would happen if there was another earthquake. The Chinese insisted that their citizens who were going to come to the U.S. be given certain stature that other nationalities did not receive. They did not like the whole green-card routine. They wanted something new, something that was closer to citizenship than a work permit.
“What exactly are you asking for?” the United States team wanted to know.
“We want our people who uproot their lives to make your lives better to know how important they are. Our first choice would be dual citizenship.”
“Well, if they stay here long enough and go through the process, we can certainly consider that.”
“We need more than consideration. We need a guarantee. The only way for our people to accomplish such a great task set before them is to ensure that they will be part of what they build. Part of America. Most will take such pride in their workmanship that they will want to stay here. We ask that those who are approved to work on the reconstruction will automatically gain their citizenship.”
“We can’t do that,” the United States said. “They can’t just come here and become citizens immediately; that would be unfair to the rest of the world. They have to live here for five years minimum to apply for citizenship, like anyone else who comes here.”
The Chinese were insistent. “All of the foreigners who have come to your country have come here because they chose to do so. This is not the case with us. You are asking us to come and therefore we do not feel it is right that we have to live under the same rules as those who come here uninvited.”
The bargaining went on like that over many marathon sessions until the agreement was reached. As far as citizenship, it was agreed that after two years of work on the “project,” as it was referred to in the contract, a Chinese-born person could apply for dual citizenship in America, providing his or her work record was clean and they had no issues with the law. The Americans thought they were giving up a lot on this point, but they gained a lot on another issue, that of the possibility of another great quake. At first the Chinese didn’t want to address that, but finally language was put in the agreement that said, “Once China rebuilds and co-owns, they will take the responsibility of keeping the city from further decay, including any act of God, which will also include any further earthquakes.” The U.S. was thrilled. If there was ever another natural catastrophe, the Chinese would shoulder the cost.
The part of the contract that dealt with disputes was a bit of a joke. If either party had grievances, it was allowed to bring them before a combined panel of American and Chinese officials that would then arbitrate. The Chinese asked, “What if there is a situation that cannot be arbitrated; how will that be approached?”
The Americans laughed. “That’s called war, and we don’t want to spell out an attack in the agreement.”
As complicated as the contract was, the Americans were surprised by how quickly it was negotiated. Normally something like this would take years, but once the U.S. realized it was the only solution, everything was done in a matter of weeks. Many times the U.S. negotiating team went home at night imagining how beautiful and modern Los Angeles would be one day. Many of them had done business in China over the years and had become depressed leaving through one of China’s modern and spacious airports, only to come back to the United States and land at an airport that had been built a hundred years earlier. And one of the U.S. negotiators who had lived her entire life in Los Angeles was overheard saying, “Just to get these decrepit water mains replaced is worth the price of admission.”
* * *
The negotiations were secret, but word was slowly leaking out that something big was in the works. Brad Miller had moved in with his son until he was able to board the retirement ship The Sunset. Tom had taken out another loan on his small house to make this happen and he worried constantly about how he would pay it back, but he knew he had to do this for his father.
Brad was sharing a room with his eleven-year-old granddaughter, Melissa. He helped her at night with her homework and tried not to listen when she talked to her friends. When she was on her screen, he lay on the cot pretending to be asleep, staring at her posters of young hunks and looking at her falsie collection. The longer he stared at her pink wallpaper, the more he was ready to board the ship for the rest of his life.
One night at dinner, Tom asked his father, “Did you hear about the Chinese?”
“No.”
“There’s some deal in the works where they’re going to rebuild Los Angeles.”
Brad stopped eating. He wanted to make sure what he had just heard.
“Are you kidding? Does that mean I can get my condo back?”
“Do you want it back?”
“Well, I sure as hell want the money for it.”
“I don’t know what they’re going to do. No one knows if they are planning to rebuild everything as it was or what. I just know a lot of Chinese people are going to be coming here.”
“Who told you that?”
“I heard it at the post office.”
“Like they know anything.”
“But what if they did rebuild? Would you rather live there than on the ship?” Brad thought a moment. And the answer was no. It would take years to bring Los Angeles back and none of his friends would be there; they had died in the quake or moved away, and it only would reek of bad memories.
“I don’t want to go back. I’m excited about The Sunset.” His son smiled. He then addressed the issue that was always on his mind.
“Dad, if you do get some money from your condo, you will help us pay back the loan, right?” His father looked at him. He glanced over at Tom’s wife, Crystal, and both she and Melissa were staring at him, waiting for the answer.
“What do you think? That’s a silly question. I know this is a hardship on you and if I get a goddamn penny it’s yours. Didn’t I give you the twenty-five thousand I got from Auschwitz over there in Pasadena?”
“No,” Tom said. “You actually didn’t.”
“Well, I will. Just leave me enough money to live on. That’s all.”
“I don’t want the twenty-five grand you just got. I just want to know that if you … never mind. I’m sure you know our situation is not so great.”
“Tom, I’m sleeping on a cot in Melissa’s room. I understand your situation. Yes, I’m good for the money. And anyway, you’ll always know where to find me. I can never disappear once I’m on the ship, right?”
“You can leave the ship, Dad, you’re not a prisoner.”
“I’m a prisoner of poverty. That’s the biggest prisoner of all.”
And then the same discussion started all over again. “Do you not want to go on the boat?”
“You know I do. I’m just still shaken by having my life uprooted, but I know it will be a good thing. And I love you for helping me. As soon as I see real money it’s all yours.”
“
Okay, we don’t have to talk about it again.”
His father got up. “I’m going to lie down for a little bit. Melissa, who is that naked boy on the poster?”
“He’s a singer, Grandpa.”
“Nice shoulders.” Brad left the table. Tom looked at his wife. He was a little upset he’d brought up the money issue. She wasn’t.
“Why can’t he give us some of that twenty-five thousand now?”
“Honey, how is he going to live? You still have to buy things even if you’re on the ocean. We can’t say ‘bon voyage’ and not give him any money.”
“He can have ten thousand.”
“That’s not enough for anything.”
“What does he need? We’re paying for everything. It’s enough for snacks and souvenirs, isn’t it?” Tom didn’t want to have this discussion in front of his daughter.
“Let’s see how it goes. I really believe we’re going to see some of that condo money.”
“That’ll be the day,” Crystal said. “Melissa, get up and take down that poster. I don’t want your grandfather looking at that kid.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
When President Bernstein’s press secretary announced that he would be addressing the nation, she gave no specifics. She just said it would be the most important policy speech given in this century. The White House wanted it to be seen in real time, as it was being given, not a day later or read about in a news blog. They handed out no advance copies. They wanted everyone to watch.
Bernstein was going to tell America that something was about to happen that had never happened before and he wanted to sell it himself, with his expressions and his voice and his speech-making ability, which was quite formidable. He had a relaxed way of talking to people he didn’t know, as if he were sharing some information with a friend, and that was the way he wanted to let the country know that China was now a partner. If this was disseminated at a later time through sound bites and press clippings, he was afraid it would come off badly.
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