5 Chapter 5

Working as a courier is, in principle, not difficult, especially if you have to work only inside an office building. Carry pieces of paper and small parcels to the addressees from the reception, pick up the letters by phone from the employees and take them to the office.

Richie was allocated a space on the third floor near the kitchen: a small nook in which there was a coffee machine, an electric kettle, a refrigerator and a microwave oven. There was such a small kitchen on each of the four floors. Office employees kept food brought from home in the refrigerator and came there to pour themselves tea or coffee. The main influx of people was during lunch, when people went to warm up their food. But by this time, Richie was ending his working day.

There was an office nearby, run by a young-looking, slender girl with brown hair, gray eyes and a thin face. Her name was Helen, she wore bright, ankle-length dresses and in her thirties she looked no more than twenty-five years old.

Richie's workstation is a chair at the end of Helen's desk. The boy was given a radiotelephone - black, massive, with a retractable antenna.

The telephone rang. Richie held out his hand, picked up the phone and answered:

- The courier is listening.

- Hee-hee! - came a female giggle from the speaker. - Hmm ... Mr. Courier, a package has arrived for the contract department. The courier is waiting on the ground floor.

"I understand you, Miss Mayer," Richard replied calmly. - I'll go down now.

Helen, hiding a smile, glanced at the important-looking boy, who slowly got up from his chair with dignity, straightened his jacket and walked towards the elevator.

Richie soon reached the turnstile in front of the reception desk on the first floor. The guard immediately opened the passage through the turnstile.

The courier who brought the parcel turned out to be a young man of about twenty years old. Thin as a pole, wearing a navy blue tracksuit. He had bright red hair. A swamp-colored canvas messenger bag hung from his belt.

- Did you bring a package for the contract department? Richard asked.

- What?!

The red-haired courier stared in surprise at the boy with large green eyes.

- Boy, who are you? - he asked.

Richie revealingly adjusted the badge on his chest, which read:

Richard

Courier

"Grosvenor Group"

The eyes of the red-haired guy got out of their sockets even more. He said in surprise, almost exclaimed:

- Are you kidding! I went through hell to get a job as a courier for a prestigious company. How so? Boy, how old are you and how did you get here?

Richie, drawing out his words in a manner, replied to the young man:

- I'm eight, and I got a job here by pull.

The secretary, watching the new courier, who became the topic of gossip throughout the office, burst into her fist. The corners of her lips were directed upward. The girl knew perfectly well whose relative Richard was. And if you judge so, then the child really got a job out of pull. But if you know his last name, then it becomes clear that Richie does not need this job.

The guard sat with a stone face, not paying attention to anything. It seemed that even if Richie stood up on his arms and started moving his ears, he still won't pay attention, just helpfully open the turnstile.

Employees of the "Grosvenor Group" in the smoking room or over a cup of coffee built different theories for what reason they had such a peculiar courier. In the first place was the theory that Richie was guilty of something, and he was forced to work as punishment. The second most popular version is that the father decided to accustom the child to work so that the boy grows up as a worthy member of society, and does not turn into another irresponsible and immoral major who wastes parental money. There were other, less popular versions, for example, the most interesting of them said that the Duke of Westminster decided to promote himself in this way, they say, look, my son is working.

- Um ... - the red-haired courier came to his senses. - I was told that I need to hand over the parcel personally to the head of the contract department.

"You never know what you've been told," Richard replied. - We have our own rules in the company. How do you imagine that? You will not be allowed inside the office. And chasing a respected person who manages an entire department in order to pick up a parcel from a courier is stupidity. That's what I am for. Young man, if you wish, I can take your paper to Mr. Summers for him to sign. Or I can sign it myself.

- Uh-uh ... - drawled the red-haired messenger. - I have to call the office and clarify.

- No problem! Richie grinned. - Look, there is a telephone on the wall behind you. Call.

Ginger turned around, walked over to the telephone and began to call somewhere. After a while, he came back and handed the boy the package. Then he slipped him a tablet with a fixed sheet.

"Sign here," he said.

Richie put a sweeping signature, after which he dexterously intercepted a small parcel, nodded to the guard, who immediately opened the turnstile, and left in the direction of the elevator.

At this time, the red-haired courier froze like an operating system installed on a faulty hard drive. He, without taking his eyes off the signature, muttered angrily:

- Here is a little asshole! Fucking comedian! Where did it come from on my head?

The whole point was that in the line opposite the inscription "Delivery to Grosvenor Group", Grosvenor Street, 70 ", there was a sweeping signature:

Grosvenor

- Hey! Shouted the red-haired courier.

But Richie was already in the elevator. Its doors closed and took the boy away.

The red-haired young man, seething with rage, went to the reception desk and put his tablet on it. Pointing his finger at the line with the signatures, he exclaimed indignantly:

- What is this?! No, can you see what your employee did? I will be fined for such jokes.

"I don't see anything like that," Miss Mayer replied calmly.

- And the signature ?! Have you seen this damn signature? The courier said with the same indignation.

- Normal signature, - the secretary calmly shrugged her shoulders.

- Normal ?! - the redhead choked with indignation. - Your kid wrote here the name of the owner of the company!

- That's right, - the secretary looked mockingly at the courier. - And what else should he have signed? He's Grosvenor ...

- What ?!

The red-haired courier's eyes were the size of peaches. He froze like a statue from the nearby wax museum.

The secretary took great pains not to laugh at the sight of the extremely astonished boy. Even the guard's lips twitched, reaching up.

- Uh-uh ... - the mushroom scratched the top of his head. - Okay…

The courier took his tablet, turned around and went to the exit. He muttered softly to himself:

- A crazy company ... It is run by a young starlet, after whom not only the company was named, but also the street. So little of this, he still works as a courier in his company ... Yes, this does not happen! But ... the secretary won't lie?

***

Despite work, gymnastics under the guidance of a trainer, fencing training and classes with an economics coach, Richie has not been canceled. Only now the coach came to the boy in the capital's house, and for fencing he had to go to another section, which is located in London. He arrived there an hour after lunch.

At three o'clock in the afternoon, Richie had free time for the first time since the hit, which he was immensely happy about. But the boy did not know how to use this time.

Ordinary children in Richard's place would devote their free time to games and communication with peers. But such a pastime was not interesting for him.

On the first day, Richie decided to see the cultural sights of London "past".

The younger Grosvenor, accompanied by a valet, visited the wax museum.

The next day was marked by the fact that I had to start working fully, and not like yesterday, at nine in the morning.

At exactly eight in the morning, when Richard went up to the third floor, Helen was already at her workplace. She was wearing a blue dress with white lilies today. On the desk of the head of the office were stacks of letters.

"Good morning, Mrs. Philips," a young courier, sporting a brand new black three-piece suit, greeted the boss. - Wonderful dress. It harmonizes perfectly with your eyes.

Helen, smiling softly, looked at Richard. A little boy with blond slicked hair, dressed like an adult and acting like a young lord, made her tender.

- Hello, Richie. Thanks. At least someone in this office is able to compliment the girl. Are you ready for a working day?

"As a scout, I'm always ready, ma'am.

- Well, Richie, - the girl pouted out her lips. - We agreed that you call me Helen. I'm not that old.

"I'm sorry, Helen, but I was taught not to be familiar. Although for such a charming lady, I am ready to make concessions. What do we have today?

Helen Phillips' smile never left her lips. How can you take such a cutie seriously ?! She said in a soft tone:

- Richie, we need to deliver letters and documents to the addressees. I laid out everything by department and marked each stack with a sticker indicating the floor and office. Take a trolley for delivering correspondence in the closet, otherwise there are a lot of papers, you will not carry them in your hands.

- Yes, ma'am!

Richie flicked his heels in a spectacular way, and then went to the closet for a trolley, which looked like the one used by waiters to deliver food to their rooms: steel, on four wheels, with two shelves and a convenient push handle, compact in size. Soon the boy, with the active help of his boss, loaded stacks of papers into there and began to deliver them throughout the office. Along the way, he briefly familiarized himself with the contents of the documents.

So slowly Richard made his way to the second floor. Here was the rental department - the largest, it occupied half of the floor.

The arrival of a courier with a trolley led to a work stoppage. Office plankton with smiles on their lips watched the work of a serious young heir, who in the future will get the company.

Richie took the sheaf of papers and exclaimed loudly:

- Mr. Smith. Respond. Wave your hand so I can see you.

In the distance, there was a muffled, masculine laugh that sounded like a grunt. Then someone in the distance, in a male baritone, commented:

- Smith, are you deaf? Your name.

- I hear, I hear ...

From behind the third gray office partition, if you count from Richard's whereabouts, a young guy of about twenty-seven in a dark business suit appeared. His brown hair was slicked to the side. Brown eyes studied the young courier.

"I'm Smith," the guy said.

"So, mister, for you invoices," Richard glanced sideways at the papers. - Come on, pick up. We do not force the young body to strain.

Smith chuckled and walked towards the boy. He took the papers and began to look through them.

Richie took a moment to ask:

"Mr. Smith, I noticed that you work with hotels. And how many hotels do we have?

"I have a dozen hotels on my balance sheet," Smith replied. - Or are you talking about something else?

"I generally wanted to know how many hotels are on the balance sheet of the Grosvenor Group," said the boy.

"Well…" Smith drawled thoughtfully. - More than fifty.

So, studying documents and in between times communicating with different employees, Richie gradually delved into the structure and scope of the company. Every hour, every day, he learned something new, and the puzzle gradually formed into a coherent picture.

Richie learned about the properties owned by the Grosvenor Group, about the turnover and profits of the company.

So he found out that the company allowed only a small part of the profit to pay dividends. The main share of net income went to the purchase of land and the construction of new real estate objects: shopping centers, office and residential buildings, hotels. The number of employees of the company around the world is approaching ten thousand people.

The firm has large divisions. The head office, to which all the money and documents flows, is already known; it is in this office that Richard works. But, besides this, there are two more divisions of the firm in London: the first - "Grosvenor Great Britain and Ireland"; the second is Grosvenor Fund Management. Three more large subsidiaries are located in different parts of the world: Grosvenor America, Grosvenor Europe and Grosvenor Asia-Pacific.

The company has a lot of money. The hundreds of millions of pounds a year that Gerald, his daughter, ex-wife and, to a lesser extent, Richard receive into the hands of Gerald, are cents against the background of the sums that are invested in business development.

Richie realized that even if he got ten million pounds in his hands and invested them extremely profitably in venture capital securities, even in this case, he would not catch up with his father in terms of the size of the fortune. The amount is not at all the same. Now, if he had half a billion in his hands ...

On the other hand, if you think about it, then with such money it would no longer make sense to strain too much. One could invest in successful companies and live on dividends. And no one will give such a huge amount. We need to rejoice at what we managed to bargain for.

The month passed quickly. It seemed that Richie just got into the rhythm: exercises, breakfast, work, lunch, fencing or economics classes, walks around tourist places in London with visits to museums - and then suddenly everything changed. The sharks of business took up the education of the young man, who introduced him to the course of the company's affairs and taught him how to do business.

If earlier Richard only briefly glanced into the managers' offices on the fourth floor, now he crawled out of there only closer to lunch.

So two more months passed, spring flashed by rapidly: it was March, and it was already June in the yard.

Richie was glad that the next marathon was finally over. The teachers who spent their working time on the child did not spare the boy. They saw that he grasps everything on the fly, which is why they did not make age discounts and cooked as if they were their successor. A week for one manager, a week for another. So Richie worked in all significant departments: financial, legal, contract, rental, marketing, logistics, construction, management.

Not to say that Richard turned into a financial guru in the blink of an eye, but he learned a lot and began to understand business, and this is the main thing. After all, dry academic knowledge in economics is empty. Thousands of economics students graduate from colleges every year. And where are they? What do they do? Has everyone opened his own business and is turning over millions? Of course not! Basically, these people go to work as clerks in banks or turn into office plankton. And if you are not lucky, then they do not work at all in their specialty.

The same professor who works with Richard. He is well versed in economics, but at the same time he is not involved in business. Maximum - invests free funds in securities.

Richie returned from fencing practice. Today was the last day at the Grosvenor Group office. The boy did not even bother to go anywhere, as usual, he immediately went home and began to wait impatiently for his father to return home. He was already mentally rubbing his palms in anticipation of the promised money. He had already roughly planned out how to dispose of them.

Amid the emotional excitement that followed the young man all day, Richard did not pay attention to the aching pain in the tooth. But at home, during dinner, food got into this tooth, and the boy howled in terrible pain.

John came running to the scream. He jumped up to Richie and asked in dismay:

- What's happened? Where does it hurt?

- Tooth! - Tears gushed out of Richie's eyes, he grabbed his right cheek with his leading hand. - My tooth hurts…

- Oh! The valet sighed. It was difficult to interpret whether he was glad that this was not a serious injury, or whether he was worried that the child was bad. - So, in Chester to our dentist to go far, - he began to reason aloud. - Hmm ... So, let's go to the nearest private clinic. Nice clinic.

John armed himself with a huge yellow telephone directory and began flipping through it quickly. Finding a page with the phone numbers of dental clinics, he began looking for the nearest one. Having found the necessary hospital, the valet called the indicated number and made an appointment.

Soon Richie took a taxi with John to the dental clinic. Unfortunately, Gerald went to Bentley in the morning on business, so I had to use what was at hand. But Richie didn't care what to drive, for him all the surrounding transport was antediluvian. He wanted to get to the dentist as soon as possible and get rid of the pain, he didn't care about everything else.

John brought his ward to a small private dental clinic. There was a modest waiting room with a few chairs for visitors and a table. The clinic had only two dental offices.

After Dr. Granger healed the boy's tooth, Richard went into the waiting room. John went to the doctor's office in order to pay and discuss the nuances of further treatment, like a gargle. Since the valet was a very corrosive person, communication promised to stretch out for a long time.

Richie was incredibly happy to get rid of the toothache. Because of this, he felt euphoric.

In the waiting room, the boy found a girl who was sitting at a table and writing something in a notebook.

The girl, who looked about ten years old, had brown eyes and unruly thick brown hair. Her front teeth were slightly larger than usual. She was wearing a dark blue school uniform: a skirt, a jacket, a white blouse.

Noticing Richard, the girl looked up from her notebook and looked at the boy with curious eyes.

"Hi," she said. - Are you dad's client?

"If Dad is Dr. Granger, then yes. I'm Richie.

"I'm Hermione Granger. Nice to meet.

"I'm immensely glad too," Richie gave Hermione a white-toothed smile that shone with the absence of one tooth. - Until the anesthesia is gone, I am the happiest person in the world. By the way, a wonderful hairstyle, it suits you.

- Don't talk nonsense! Hermione pouted her cheeks, offended. - I forgot to comb my hair today.

- Yes? Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I thought you were an avid fashionista. In the office where I worked as a courier, all fashionistas do their own hairstyles.

- Do you work?! Hermione's face was filled with amazement. She stopped being offended, realizing that Richie was not joking with her.

- Not anymore. I was moonlighting a couple of months ago.

- Great! But how did you work? You're small.

- Hermione, it only seems, - Richie grinned and continued: - In fact, my father made me work part-time in his office. However, it should be noted that the "carrot" was large. For such a donkey would work hard.

- But what about the school? Or did you work after school?

- I graduated from elementary school.

"You don't look like a twelve-year-old," Hermione's face and voice showed skepticism. "Rather, you look like my age.

- I didn't say my age. This summer I will be nine years old.

- Can not be! Hermione exclaimed incredulously. - You are deceiving me!

- I didn't even think. I passed the exams as an external student and have been in the fifth grade for the last six months. But I got tired of it, so I put on my studies and passed the exams for the whole elementary school. My father and teachers consider me a genius, but I don't think so.

"Genius ..." Hermione was upset. - And I have to study in the fourth grade, although in September I will already be ten years old. And why wasn't I born three weeks earlier? It is unfair that some graduate early and others have to study longer!

"Life isn't fair at all," Richie shrugged and decided to change the subject. Nodding at the notebook, he asked: - What are you writing?

- Yes I…

Hermione's cheeks turned pink with embarrassment, and she covered the notebook with her hands.

- Do not be shy. If these are love poems, I will understand.

- No, these are not love poems! Hermione exclaimed. - This is different ...

- Mmm ... And you know how to stir up interest in a man.

- Pf! Hermione chuckled. - Man! She said sarcastically. - You are a boy and you will be for a long time.

- It depends on how you look. For some, a few years is a long time. As for me, I would have been a child as long as possible. The injuries heal almost instantly, the teeth grow back a second time, there is no need to work ... Although the latter is not about everyone. In any case, being a boy is better than being an adult.

Hermione froze briefly. She sat for a few seconds with an absent gaze. Then she roused herself and said:

- You're crazy!

- No, I'm a boy with the mind of an adult. This is not crazy. And in general, admit that geniuses and just smart people often seem abnormal to ordinary people. For example, instead of playing, a smart girl will sit with a notebook and write something into it.

"Um ..." Hermione was confused. - Aren't you going to laugh?

- I can't promise. Hermione, if you tell me something funny, I will not hold back my laughter. But I promise that when it comes to serious things, then I will try not to laugh.

"I ..." Hermione thought for a moment, after which her face took on a determined look. - I wrote a letter to the Queen!

"Mmm…" Richard drawled pointedly. - What for?

- I want to go to the annual meeting of the children with the queen. For this I wrote a letter to the queen, but I do not know what to write.

"Hmm… Hermione, do you know that the Queen receives thousands of letters every year from children who want to go on an excursion to Windsor Castle for tea with her? Naturally, she herself does not read the letters, for this there is a whole department of the office. Of all the children of Great Britain, only twenty to thirty are selected.

"I know." The girl looked upset. - But what if you were lucky? I so dream to see Windsor Castle ...

- Yes it is beautiful there. Gothic style, lots of gilding, shining armor ...

Hermione's eyes widened, she drew in a full chest and said indignantly:

- You were there! You were there!

- Yes, I was. Do you want to go there so much?

- Of course! This is the dream of every British student.

- Dreams Come True. I will help you.

- Joker! Hermione snorted, clearly not believing Richie's words.

Meanwhile, Richard climbed into the bag that John had left on a chair in the waiting room. From there he took out a monstrous-looking portable telephone, pulled out the antenna and dialed a number from memory.

- Hello, Uncle Charlie, good afternoon.

Hermione listened to the boy's conversation on the expensive phone. She once saw such devices in a store and perfectly imagined their insane cost. Her parents run a private clinic in which they work as dentists, that is, quite wealthy people. However, they cannot afford to buy a portable phone. And some boy, who is younger than her, easily takes out such a device and uses it as usual. Hermione was dumbfounded at the sight.

Feminine curiosity made the girl perk up her ears. A soft answer came to her ears in a man's voice from the telephone receiver:

- Hi, Richie. How are you, varmint?

- I'm not a varmint!

- Oh well! Who escaped with Bill from the party to play with toys?

- It was necessary. Uncle Charlie, you don't understand anything about toy varieties. Bill has such a gorgeous railroad! Any adult would love to play with one.

Laughter came from the telephone receiver.

"Uncle Charlie, I'm calling you on business.

- Yes, yes, I listen carefully.

- I have a friend who wants to go to the Queen's annual tea party with children. She's nine, so she's right for her age.

- Richie, this is not a problem. Although I do not do this, I will tell the tour organizer. What is the girl's name?

- Hermione. Hermione Granger.

- Yeah, I wrote it down. I need her address and phone number.

Richard covered the microphone of the phone with his hand and turned to Hermione:

- What is your address and telephone number?

Hermione couldn't answer. She was so dumbfounded by the simplicity with which Richie negotiated a "tea with the queen" that her mind refused to believe it. She thought it was a prank.

- Hey! Hermione, Richie is calling you for a session. Give your address and telephone number.

The girl straightened her back, frowned, pursed her lips and sharply said in an unhappy tone:

- Richie, this is a stupid joke!

- What kind of jokes? - widened his eyes Richard. "I called Uncle Charlie himself for you! And you are unable to assess the seriousness of what is happening ...

Hermione began to get angry, which was reflected on her pretty face. Richie realized that the girl didn't believe him, so he sighed heavily, shook his head and said:

- Okay, I'll explain it for understanding. Uncle Charlie is Prince Charles for you, and he is now waiting for your answer! Now it dawns that this is not a prank?

Hermione's eyebrows moved to the bridge of her nose. Her face showed a struggle between the desire to trust the boy and distrust. As a result, she, like any little girl, believed in a miracle. But because of this, she was shocked. The girl's fair skin turned pale.

"How so? If this boy calls Prince Charles an uncle and uses an expensive phone, then who is he? Is it a prince? Oh! And I was so rude to him. "

- Hermione! Richie called out to the girl, who was lost in thought.

- Oh, yes ... Address! - perked up Hermione. - Write down ...