Chapter 204: Lockheed: Do You Want a Plane? Hardy: NO

Hardy and David Mersey were discussing the future of their new casino. Mersey's primary concern was the flow of visitors. Hardy reassured him with a confident smile, "It's simple. Make Las Vegas a paradise for men, and guests will naturally flock here."

"A paradise for men?" Mersey echoed.

"Gambling, alcohol, women, and a variety of performances—everything men love will be here. This place will be all about enjoyment, like stepping into a man's paradise," Hardy explained.

"Las Vegas will also host events like the Miss World pageant, the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, lingerie shows, boxing matches, horse racing, and dog racing. These competitions will draw large crowds of tourists."

Mersey grinned, nodding in agreement. "I want to attend everything."

Suddenly, Hardy remembered something. "David, I have friends in the East who are in dire need of penicillin. Would it be possible to purchase a batch from you?"

"Penicillin is in short supply everywhere," Mersey responded. "There's high demand in China and Europe. We haven't officially supplied it to Eastern countries yet because they can't afford it. But since it's for your friends, I can make an exception."

"How much can you provide?" Hardy inquired.

Mersey thought for a moment. "How about 50,000 bottles a month?"

Hardy did a quick mental calculation. The wholesale price for 200,000 units of dry powder penicillin was $1 per bottle, and it sold for $2 to $3 per bottle in U.S. hospitals. In Hong Kong hospitals, the price was around $10 per bottle, with the black market charging over $30.

Fifty thousand bottles would cost $50,000 to purchase, sell for $500,000 to hospitals in Hong Kong, and potentially fetch $1.5 million on the black market—a lucrative opportunity.

"Fifty thousand bottles isn't enough," Hardy remarked.

Mersey shrugged. "Hardy, you have to understand—I'm only offering this because we're friends and partners. No one else would get this opportunity."

He leaned closer and whispered, "There's another reason we're not exporting large quantities of penicillin to the East—the government has imposed secret restrictions."

Hardy nodded, finally understanding. It wasn't that the capitalists were unaware of the profits to be made in the East, but government restrictions kept them at bay. The U.S. and European markets were profitable enough, and defying the government's export restrictions could lead to severe consequences for large pharmaceutical companies.

"One hundred thousand bottles or it's not worth the effort," Hardy insisted.

Mersey considered the offer before agreeing. "Alright, I can do that."

Hardy smiled, shaking Mersey's hand.

"David, have you ever considered setting up a pharmaceutical factory in the East?" Hardy asked.

Mersey chuckled. "I've thought about it, but it's too far away. The market isn't developed, and it doesn't compare to the profits we make in the U.S. and Europe."

"How about we partner to build a pharmaceutical factory in Hong Kong? You handle the technology, and I'll take care of the construction and sales. Our first product will be penicillin," Hardy proposed.

Mersey regarded Hardy seriously. "Are you really that optimistic about the East?"

"Too many people are focused on the U.S. and European markets. The East is a blank canvas, with a massive population—three times that of Europe and America combined. This is a huge, untapped market," Hardy explained.

After considering the idea, Mersey agreed. "Alright, I'll contribute the technology and take a 30% stake. You handle the rest."

For Mersey, it was a low-risk venture—if the business failed, he could withdraw his technicians and walk away without losing much. Hardy, on the other hand, would bear the financial risk.

"Deal. I'll have my team get in touch with Mersey Pharmaceuticals to work out the details," Hardy said, pleased with the outcome.

With another significant business deal secured, Hardy felt the advantages of joining the consortium. Sharing resources and growing together made them stronger, though he knew he had to stay vigilant—consortiums were filled with powerful entities that could turn against each other at any moment.

The party continued, and the next day, several casino owners gathered again. Meyer had traveled from Los Angeles to attend, though his role had diminished from leader to mere participant. He had heard that Hardy had officially joined the California consortium, and now Hardy's wealth and status far exceeded his own.

Giannini chaired the meeting, smiling at the group. "Let's discuss the issue of casino shares."

He turned to Hardy first. "Hardy, you originally requested a 20% stake, correct?"

Hardy nodded.

Giannini continued, "After negotiation, the remaining shares will be allocated as follows: MGM 10%, Mersey Pharmaceuticals 10%, Crocker Agricultural Company 15%, PepsiCo 7%, Lockheed Aircraft Manufacturing Company 10%, and Bank of America 28%."

Meyer had once aspired to lead the new casino, but with only 10% left, he had been reduced to a follower. Still, he was fortunate not to have been entirely cut out.

Giannini went on, "Regarding management, Hardy will continue to oversee the casino. Is everyone in agreement?"

The group consented, recognizing that Hardy's expertise was vital to the casino's success.

"Hardi has also requested that before the casino faces any major losses, management authority remains with him. Other shareholders will not intervene unless the casino suffers significant losses, at which point the shareholders can reclaim management and appoint a new CEO. Any objections?"

Most agreed, understanding that they were investing to make money. Companies like Lockheed, which specialized in building aircraft, had no desire to manage a casino.

"The final matter is the casino's name. Any ideas, Hardy?" Giannini asked.

After some thought, Hardy suggested, "How about Caesar's Palace?"

The name resonated with the group, and everyone agreed.

With the details finalized, champagne was brought in, and the group toasted to the casino's future success. Lawyers quickly drafted the contracts, and the agreement was signed, officially marking the birth of Caesar's Palace Hotel and Casino.

Later, while toasting with Hardy, David Mersey whispered, "Your actions are swift. I sent someone to the pharmaceutical factory yesterday, and the deal is signed. You can pick up the goods anytime."

"Thanks, David."

"It's nothing. I'm just hoping you'll make a fortune with the casino," Mersey said with a smile.

"Don't worry, casinos are my specialty," Hardy replied confidently.

"They're already negotiating the construction of the penicillin plant in Hong Kong. The estimated investment is $1.2 million. If the construction goes smoothly, it could be operational in six months."

As they chatted, Robert Gross, the head of Lockheed, approached them. Despite being sixty years old, Gross looked energetic, with his blond hair still vibrant. He greeted Hardy with a smile. "What are you two discussing?"

"Just a small business matter—building a penicillin factory," Hardy replied.

Penicillin, once considered a miracle drug, was now mass-produced, and Gross wasn't particularly interested. He had a different agenda.

"Hardi, I have a small business proposal for you," Gross began.

"What kind of business?" Hardy asked, intrigued.

"Your HD airline—do you need passenger and cargo planes? Lockheed produces excellent aircraft, including the L-049 Constellation. Would you be interested?" Gross inquired with a smile.

Hardy smiled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I don't need any planes at the moment."

His refusal was straightforward. Hardy's existing planes were purchased from the military at low prices, and buying new Lockheed planes at market prices didn't align with his strategy of maintaining a low-cost airline with standardized parts.

A look of disappointment crossed Robert Gross's face.