永勝溫荷銀行有限公司總部 – 蘭桂大廈 – 永勝技術民國
Wingsing Windhoek Banking Corporation Headquarters – Laan Gwai Tower – Technocratic Republic of Wing Sing
Wingsing Windhoek Banking Corporation Headquarters – Laan Gwai Tower – Technocratic Republic of Wing Sing
A red-haired man in a navy blue suit stepped into the elevator carrying a handsome leather suitcase. He tapped the button for the ninety ninth floor and looked to the younger Chinese man next to him, “Is the boss in a good mood?” He asked in Singlish,
“He was when I left,” the junior executive answered, checking his watch, “He won't be when he sees you.”
“Still hasn't gotten over it yet, eh?”
“I think the boss is going to hate Singers until the say he dies, Mr. Korteweg,” he shrugged, “You've got to lose that red hair before he'll offer you any more stock.”
“Well, I've got some news today that'll make me yellower than you in his eyes, Little Chan,” Korteweg tapped his briefcase smugly, “I think everyone's going to go home in a very good mood today.”
The elevator reached the ninety ninth floor with a ding as Korteweg and Chan's ears adjusted to the pressure change. The stepped off the lift and walked past the fountains and art deco lighting that adorned the approach to the boss's office. His secretary was busy chatting on the phone and simply waved the two visitors through, recognizing them immediately.
The two executives found the chairman's office empty. The curtains had been drawn over the enormous panel windows behind his desk, but low lights still illuminated the Chinese artifacts and scrolls that adorned his extravagant workplace.
“I'm in the break room.” His voice filled the room, being projected by some very high-quality speakers that otherwise played soft erhu music.
Chan knew what 'the break room' meant, and he waved for Korteweg to follow him down a side corridor and through a glass door. He was suddenly assaulted with a wall of intense heat and humidity, twice that of the typical Wing Sing summers.
“Good to see you, Mr. Korteweg, Mr. Chan,” the boss said, his visage obscured by a veil of steam, “You may want to make yourselves comfortable before you sweat up your suits.” They were meeting the chairman in his personal sauna.
“I have some reports about the new Community Exchange Program,” the red-haired executive said, loosening his tie and otherwise undressing.
“Favorable reports, I hope?” The sound of water splashing onto hot coals punctuated the chairman's question,
“Mr. Korteweg thinks it'll make him as yellow as me,” Chan joked as he struggled to hop out of his slacks,
The boss laughed, “We'll see.”
“I have all the details in my briefcase,” Korteweg gestured to the leather container outside the sauna, “You can look over the documents when it's a little less humid,”
“Go on,” the boss said skeptically,
“The gist of it is that our arrangement with the Bank of Makai is already realizing eight-figure revenues,” the Singer's face donned a smug grin, “And the well is far from tapped. More opportunities are popping up every day.”
“Nadiya Tan surfaced earlier today,” Chan added, taking a seat on the bench opposite the boss, “Apparently there's already a buyer interested in her.”
“Who?” The boss asked gruffly, letting his head fall back against the wall,
“Republican Jizhou pop princess and propaganda machine,” Korteweg sat down, “She was spotted in a Wong Gok tea house of all places.”
“And this Community Exchange Program can turn her into profit?”
“The Makai have been very receptive,” the Singer's smile widened, “We've cut through the red tape. BoM is getting what they want and we're seeing a very healthy return on investment.”
The boss stroked his chin pensively, “Leave the briefcase on my desk.”
That was not the reaction Korteweg wanted, “Then, you're finished?”
The boss stood up, “Get out.” Korteweg and Chan quickly stood up, heading hastily for the door, “Not you,” he said to Chan, who just as hastily sat back down.
The Singer stumbled out of the sauna and began dressing himself as fast as possible. As soon as the door closed, the chairman leaned back on his bench, “Korteweg does good work,” he said to Chan, “I'm glad he is where he is.”
“Vice President for Acquisitions?” Chan asked for clarification,
“Out of my break room.” The boss answered dryly.