Chapter 4

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***

The day after the charity reception and introduction to the royal family, Richie had a hard day's work with immersing himself in his studies.

After a week, the hitman noticed that his memory in this body was much better than in his previous life. Not eidetic, but close to it.

It became clear how the child could learn ahead of the programme.

At first Richard didn't pay attention to his mind's abilities because of the sudden change of environment and the need to get into a new skin. But gradually he began to settle in and notice the little things. The initial stress went away.

The boy had been accustomed to thinking of Gerald as his father from the beginning, and he was slowly getting used to the idea.

Now that he had settled into Richard's body, he began to wonder how the body change could have happened.

Since, not being a scientist, it is impossible to explain such a thing scientifically, the trapped man turned to the fiction books he had once read.

In fantasy literature, getting the heroes of the work occurred in different ways. Usually they found themselves in another world in their own body. But there was also such a thing that the soul was invested in someone else's body. Usually the authors of these books used several techniques. The first one is the involution by the will of a higher entity: a god, demon, archmage, and so on. Another option - rebirth of the soul (reincarnation) with the preservation of memories of the past life. The third option is when the hero had special abilities: psychokinesis, magic, mutation, developed and trained mind and so on. And thanks to these superpowers, the hero of the book could either be reborn in another body on his own, or retain the memory of his past life after reincarnation. In Richie's situation partially suited any of these options and at the same time none of them.

In his past life, he didn't have any supernatural abilities and didn't believe in their existence. He was a realist from top to toe, believing in the power of reason and science. He didn't believe in gods either, nor did he believe in reincarnation. It is possible that with higher entities as with the gopher, which you can not see, but it is there. But since Richard remained a realist even now, he thought of another option - scientific. For example, a group of scientists had invented a way to copy information from a person's head. Other scientists had invented a way to travel through time, which would require rewriting a person's personality into the brain of a past resident. In this case, it appeared that the body of a hit man, hit by a cargo gravicar, could be used for experiments for the benefit of science. His memory was read, recorded on a computer and somehow written into the head of a child from the past. What's not to like? No better and no worse than the soul being put into another body at the will of a higher entity. Besides in confirmation of this theory spoke that scientists of the future have long ago learnt to read information from a human brain and used it in technologies of virtual and augmented reality.

Shortly before the death of the trainee everywhere in the holonet was spinning adverts for a new communicator, which allows you to use thought communication. This technology among holonet users immediately received the unofficial name "technical telepathy" or technopathy. So why couldn't there be a lab somewhere in a secret research institute to study temporal travelling?!

Richie had no time to be distracted by nonsense, he had a goal, which he had sensibly broken down into many small sub-goals. As they say, don't eat the whole elephant - cut up the carcass, store it in the freezer and eat it in small pieces. That's exactly the principle the hit man followed.

The first sub-goal was to graduate as soon as possible. And Ritchie used the wonderful memory given by his body, absorbing information like a sponge. Tutors could not be pleased with the diligent young genius, as they thought. Teachers put more and more new knowledge into the child's head.

In the frenzied rhythm Richard did not notice how another month and a half flew by and a series of examinations began, which he had to pass to a specially assembled commission. And the boy passed all the exams for the fifth and sixth grade for the highest grades "A". It could not be otherwise, because in the body of a child with a good memory the mind of an adult was hidden. The only subject that was given automatic credit was physical education. And that was only because Richard continued to attend the fencing section three times a week, from which he provided a certificate.

Of course, in addition to that Richard continued to do aerobics or health gymnastics six days a week every morning under the guidance of an experienced personal trainer. But the certificate from the coach was not quoted, unlike the official paper from a solid fencing section.

The last exam was the most difficult for Richie - English. The guy was so exhausted that he was emotionally drained. When he got home, his father was waiting for the boy in the living room. He immediately rushed towards the child and enclosed him in a hug.

- Congratulations, Richie! - said the happy father. - You're a good boy!

- Thank you, Dad," Ritchie replied tiredly. - But the grades aren't in yet.

- I already got a call from the school saying that you passed with honours," said Gerald. - Congratulations, you're the first Grosvenor to graduate from junior school at the age of eight. Way to go!

- Yeah," Richie nodded tiredly.

The muffled sound of a hammering machine came from downstairs in the basement. Even though it was barely audible, Richie grimaced at the slight headache.

- Dad, are the builders going to be doing any more renovations for a while?

- No, son," Gerald shook his head. - They found some ancient buried underground passages, but they didn't find the cavity where the explosion took place. But the guys have given their verdict that our house is perfectly safe. They'll just finish the repairs and leave soon. It'll just be a couple of days. Richie, if you want, can we stay at the other estate?

- We have another estate?

Gerald grinned, patted his son on the top of his head and said:

- 'Son, we have plenty of them. There are two large estates left in the UK along with this one. There are also a villa each in Spain, Australia and France. There used to be more estates in Britain, but I gave three of them to my daughters.

- What am I going to give my children when they come along? - the boy asked.

- Richie, don't worry about that. I've got it all figured out. When I can get some inexpensive land in prime locations, I will build three modern estates for your children. But you, son, you must try and give me at least three grandchildren.- I will try...

Richie spoke as if the process by which children were born was the hardest job in the world. This caused Gerald a great deal of amusement, which he did not even think of hiding. The man laughed merrily.

- Dad, what about your promise?

- You mean the office job? - Gerald asked. - Have you changed your mind yet?

- No!" Richard shook his head. - I want to get a good look at the family finances.

- That's a commendable eagerness, son," Gerald smiled warmly. - Of course I'll keep my promise, but... Hmm... You've finished junior high school, and that's worthy of a reward. Being a delivery boy doesn't sound like much of a prize. Tell me, Richie, what would you like for a present?

- Dad, can I ask for anything I want?

- Yes, but within reason," Gerald smiled slyly and added: "I can't get you the moon from the sky.

- Pfft! - Richard snorted, a smile appearing on his lips. - Who needs the moon? Give me some money.

- Money? - Gerald was surprised. - How much do you need and for what?

- Dad, don't laugh...

Richard hesitated like a maiden on her wedding night. He had no idea how he could ask a man for a fabulous sum of money.

- I promise I'll try not to laugh," Gerald said.

- All right, then, I'll tell you," said Richie. - Dad, you see, I want to learn how to manage money. I learnt a lot from my economics tutor and I want to put my knowledge to the test. I'm going to start by investing in what I think are the most promising companies.

- Oh, what a serious son I have! - Gerald said proudly. - Well, these things don't just happen. Let's sit down and talk about it in detail.

Ritchie nodded silently and followed his father. The man and the boy sat down near the fireplace in comfortable armchairs. As if by magic, the duke had a radiotelephone receiver in his hand. He called the servant and ordered tea.

A moment later the table between father and son was filled with a pair of white porcelain tea cups on saucers, a vase of sweets, wafers and biscuits, as well as an empty teapot in case the gentlemen wanted more.

Gerald took a sip of the flavoured tea, returned the cup to the saucer and said:

- Richie, what firms would you like to invest in?

- Dad, I've been perusing the newspapers you subscribe to," the boy began cautiously. - And... there are no firms I'd like to invest in. In fact, I don't know the names of the companies yet, I need to consult specialists. One thing I can say for sure is that now is the time when electronics is actively developing. There are many companies that produce electronic equipment, chips, microchips, computers, phones, software and so on. Their stocks are steadily rising in price, and I predict that the growth in the securities of such firms will be the best.

- Let's say. And you, Richie, you want to get into investing?

- Yes, Dad.

- By yourself?! - Gerald grinned slyly.

- No, of course not," Richard said tiredly. He moistened his throat with tea and continued:- An eight-year-old boy can't trade on the stock exchange by himself. I'll need assistants: a broker, a financial adviser who will get information about new companies, and a financial analyst who will forecast the prospects for investment.

- So, Richie, you're going to do long-term investments? - Gerald asked.

- Yes, Dad. Long-term investments, often venture capital investments.

Venture capital investment is the financing of new, growing or struggling businesses and firms (start-ups), so it involves a high or relatively high degree of risk.

So from the elder Grosvenor's point of view, which is following a time-honoured real estate business strategy, his son's intended investment in risky securities, in the expectation of high returns, is a squandering of capital.

- In that case I might...

Richard held his breath, eagerly awaiting his father's reply.

- I can," Gerald continued, "lend you ten million pounds.

- Lend?!

Richard's eyes widened in amazement. He didn't know how to react to such a thing. He had expected his father to give him a small sum, like one hundred or two hundred thousand. He would, not borrow it! But ten million...

- Yes, yes, son, I will.

Gerald was clearly having fun at the child's expense. He grinned, and the man's eyes were filled with laughter.

- How's that, Dad?

Richard wanted to know exactly under what conditions he would be given the loan.

- Hm... - the grin was hidden behind the grin of the amused duke. - Son, you have a savings account in your name, into which fifty thousand pounds is transferred every month from your birth until the age of twenty-one. All this money was supposed to be in your name when you reached the age of majority. At the moment you have four and a half million pounds in the account. You can use that money, and I'll add another five and a half million to it, but.....

- But?! - Richie sprang forward. The boy's breathing was rapid. His palms were sweating with worry. He was anxious to hear his father's verdict.

- But on one condition," Gerald continued.

- What?! - Richard asked excitedly.

The duke grinned and said:

- Richie, by the time you turn twenty-one, you must have at least twelve million, six hundred thousand pounds in this savings account!

- Mm-hm..." said Richie, confused. - So I'm borrowing from myself. Is that it?

- No, son, you're borrowing from me," said Gerald. - But you're going to pay the money back to yourself, because it's for you.

- Dad, but if you made that condition, there must be something else, - Richard looked at his father with a puzzled look. - What if there's no money in the account?

- In that case, Richie," said Gerald, "you won't have a penny in your account for the next nine years after you come of age! And you can live any way you want. You'll be the poorest Grosvenor in history for nine years.

Richard felt as if he'd been hit over the head with a dust bag. He sat there trying to digest what he'd heard. But at first everything had seemed so bright... He was beginning to realise that it was not in vain that he had thought about personal capital. He was only eight years old, and his father was already threatening to deprive him of funding when he came of age.

"No way!" he thought. - We must take ten million while they give! Or they might just give me a kick up the arse later. I will definitely not lose this money, because although in my previous life I did not learn the history of economics very well, but I remember a lot of things, and after the lessons with the professor of economics, I slowly began to understand what to do".

Breathing a full chest of air, as if before diving to the depths, Richard calmed down and exhaled:

- Father, I agree.

- Have you thought carefully, Richie? - The man looked at the child carefully. - If you don't succeed, you'll be a beggar.

- If you don't take risks, you'll never be rich," Richard said. - So yes, Dad, I've thought it over and I agree to your terms.

- There's more, Richie," said Gerald.

'Well, here we go...' Richard thought doomfully. - New terms, just to keep the kid out of money. Although I'm not asking for a few coins for ice cream. It's more like buying an ice-cream factory."

- So, Richie," continued the sixth Duke of Westminster, "first you'll do an internship at my company. You'll learn the ins and outs of finance, and only if you do well and don't change your mind will you get ten million pounds.

- Dad, that's a great junior school leaving present! - Richard said sarcastically. - You're a nominee for the 'best dad in the world' award... Who else would give their kid a job in an office and lend him money?! Dad, do we happen to have any Jews in our family?

- Ha-ha-ha! - Gerald laughed good-naturedly. - I'm glad you're not giving up, son. Get some rest, you'll start work the day after tomorrow.

'Hmm... And he didn't answer...' Richie thought. - I'm getting a little suspicious."

***

The Grosvenor Group's head office is at 70 Grosvenor Street in London. It's in the heart of the city centre near Green Park and Hyde Park. The Royal Theatre, London Wax Museum, Royal Academy of Arts and Marble Arch are all nearby. Big Ben is a leisurely walk away.

The office occupies an entire four-storey yellow brick building from the nineteenth century. The building stretches for fifteen metres and is flanked on both sides by two four-storey buildings, a beige one on the left and a white one on the right. It is a classic central London development, with buildings of three or four storeys close together.

There is a pavement in front of the office and then a car road, part of which is used as a car park. There is a sign on a steel pole that says that only company cars can park here. There is not much space, just enough to park three cars.

The houses on the opposite side of the road house Sophia's Modern Art Gallery and Gatehouse Bank. A little to the right of the gallery is the Soho coffee shop. In front of the large transparent shop window, small tables for two people stand on the street. To avoid blocking the pavement, there are no umbrellas or awnings, and the tables and chairs are huddled orphanously against the wall.

The house next door to the Grosvenor Group office, which has "69" written on it, is in a slightly different style. It has light beige walls and the front door is hidden under a canopy supported by two round columns. The flat canopy has a balcony that extends all the way to the first floor. This house has the same four floors, but the windows, unlike the rectangular ones in the office, are slightly rounded at the top, giving them the appearance of arches. This house is only ten metres long. Apart from the common wall with the office, this structure is united by a parking space on the carriageway, which is an extension of the Grosvenor Group car park and can accommodate two miniature cars or one executive sedan. At the moment a beige coloured Bentley Ait was parked there.

In front of 69 Grosvenor Street, a tall wrought iron fence with a wicket stands a metre and a half from the wall directly under the balcony. The vertical steel bars almost rest against the bottom of the balcony, which also serves as a protection against precipitation. Behind the fence you can see the top of the door leading to the cellar. And if you get closer, you will find that the gate leads to the landing of the staircase that goes down to the basement.

What could possibly be so special about this house? But Richard knew exactly what it was.

When his father told Richard about the family's real estate, he only mentioned estates and villas. But beyond that, the Grosvenors had many other accommodations. For example, a modest house of five hundred square metres, if you count the basement, located right next to the office.

It makes sense that from an estate near Chester, it's not much of a commute to London. Four hours round trip, same time back. You end up driving all day. It was another thing to come to London on business, to sort out the accumulated papers and hang for two or three days in the "spartan" conditions of a "small" city house.

And so Richie was settling in at the new place. He had already had time to look round the whole house. He had been in the basement, the main way down to which was the stairs inside the house. There was nothing special there, just a gym with a couple of machines, a set of weights, a tourniquet wall and a free space for gymnastics.

On the ground floor there was also nothing special: an entrance hall with a small dressing room, a guest bathroom, a kitchen and a dining room.

The first floor was more interesting. There was a large living room with access to a balcony and floor-to-ceiling windows. There was also a bathroom and a small library.

On the third floor was the owner's suite. Gerald had a study, a spacious bedroom with a huge dressing room and a large private bathroom.

The fourth and final floor had three bedrooms. The largest of these, with a private bathroom, is occupied by Richie. The other two rooms share a bathroom and are for guests or servants. Now one of the rooms was occupied by the young gentleman's valet, John, and the other by an elderly lady, Jane Stein, the housekeeper who looks after the house.

Jane was about sixty years old, hiding her grey hair under a kerchief, and dressed in an austere, dark-coloured maid's dress. She tried to be inconspicuous, but it was obvious from the state of the house, from the cleanliness, that she was doing an excellent job.

The food was cooked by Mrs Stein, too. Of course, her cooking was inferior to the masterpieces that came out of the hands of the Duke of Westminster's personal chef, but Gerald was not going to drive the cook back and forth. Jane's cooking suited everyone, and in case of emergency they could order food from a restaurant.

And so Richie, dressed in a dark grey suit, accompanied by his father went out into the street.

A few passers-by were walking along the pavement.

Richard and Gerald walked seven metres and went through the transparent sliding doors inside the Grosvenor Group office building.

Inside was richly decorated. The walls were painted a light beige colour. The floors were white marble tiles.

After climbing the stairs, of which there were only four, the reception desk was located on the right, behind it on a chair sat a guard in a black uniform with a patch on the sleeve "Security" and a pretty secretary, who looked to be about twenty-five years old. The girl was dressed in a grey pantsuit, her black hair had a modern hairstyle - it was very bouffant and loose.

A little further away were the turnstiles. Behind them the wall was painted green and decorated with portraits of all the Dukes of Westminster. They were arranged from right to left from the first Duke to the sixth, whose portrait hung near the lift.

The guard and the secretary immediately recognised the main man in the company. Both stood up and stretched out in a straight line. The brunette's lips curved into a wide, welcoming smile.

- Mr Grosvenor, it's good to see you," she said.

- Good morning," Gerald said and gave a curt nod to the staff.

The guard immediately opened the two turnstiles in front of the duke and the boy.

Richie had expected the adults to have legitimate questions about him. They probably did, but neither the guard nor the secretary dared to voice their thoughts. And who were they, and who was Gerald Grosvenor, to speak out of turn to him?! That's just it! Birds of a feather.

But what could a mere guard and secretary know about Richie? Absolutely nothing. After all, the boy was not a public figure, nothing about him was known neither to the general public nor to the ordinary employees of the Grosvenor Group. Gerald does not really spread about the family, on the contrary, he tries to keep all information about his children as secret as possible.

Richie and his father took the lift to the fourth floor. As they walked down the corridor, all the people left their work and politely greeted the manager. The eyes of the office staff read the question, "Who is this boy?"

Soon father and son were seated in a spacious office with luxurious finishes. There was a massive mahogany desk and a luxurious executive chair in front of it. For visitors there was a leather sofa and a couple of armchairs in front of the desk.

From there, everything spun like a merry-go-round. Too many experiences for one day. Gerald summoned the head of HR, pointed to Richie with a nod of his head and "politely asked":

- Stephen, register the boy as a building courier.

Naturally, there was no objection from his subordinate, a man with brown hair, brown eyes and a thin face, who looked about forty years old in his black suit. He only turned to the boy and asked politely:

- What is your first and last name, young man? Do you have papers to sign?

- Richard Grosvenor, sir," he replied politely. - I don't have my papers with me, but they can be brought to me if you need them.

The head of the personnel department seemed to have disappeared into the public eye forever. His eyes began to resemble those of a toad, so much so that they came out of their orbits. He stretched as if he had sat on a stake, swallowed convulsively, and said in a slightly shaky voice:

- No, Mr Grosvenor..." He glanced at Gerald. - You don't need papers, do you, sir?

- No, no," the sixth Duke of Westminster said with a slight cheerfulness in his voice. - Stephen," he said to the head of the personnel department, "do everything properly. Your papers will be brought to you in a moment.

- What..." Stephen stretched out fearfully. - And let the new employee fill in the questionnaire?

- Of course, Stephen," Gerald nodded. - Everything must be as usual. No favours for the new courier.

- Erm... - Stephen caught the blue screen of a yet non-existent operating system. - No favours, sir! And when will the young man start work?

- Today," Gerald replied.

- Mmm-hmm-hmm-hmm," Stephen nodded like a dummy. - But, sir," he turned to the manager, "according to the law, we have to get permission from the local authorities to hire a minor.

- We have it, Stephen," said Gerald.

- And also, sir," said the personnel manager, "a young man of that age can't work more than twenty-five hours a week, or two hours a day if school is in session that day. And after four hours of work, a young man would have to take an hour's break.

- Stephen, don't worry about school," said Gerald. - Richie has just finished junior high school and he's currently on a long holiday before high school. And anyway, which one of us works in Human Resources? Steve, don't bullshit me. You know labour law, so schedule the new courier's hours. I reckon four hours a day, eight to noon, five days a week would do the trick. Wouldn't you? - He turned his eyes on his son.

- No problem! - The boy showed the adults a white-toothed smile. - Mister," he turned to Stephen, "will you show me around and bring me up to speed?

- Yes, yes, of course," Stephen agreed at once. - Can we go now, sir? - he asked the elder Grosvenor.

- 'Of course.

Gerald with a commanding gesture of his right hand released Stephen and Richard.

Thus began the labour life of the trapped man. It's funny to think - a small child, the son of a billionaire, working as a courier at half rate. Who to tell - they won't believe it.