Time flew by in a flash.
The expansion of Charlie Lee's think tank concluded on the fifth day, having sifted through nearly 40,000 resumes—a daunting task that left the selection committee nearly blind from the effort.
No one could comprehend the sheer volume of talent available unless they saw it for themselves. The economic impact of the Great Depression had displaced thousands of professionals who, before the financial crash, would have been welcomed into the think tank without question. Now, only the cream of the crop could be selected.
For every position, the ideal candidates had to demonstrate rich experience and impeccable qualifications. Work achievements, previous salaries, commissions, performance reviews, and overall reputation all factored into the decision-making process.
When the process ended, the rejected resumes were collected, sorted into five large bags, and placed in the hall for owners to retrieve. For many of the unemployed, even printing such an extensive resume had been an expense they could barely afford.
On the evening after recruitment closed, Charlie Lee hosted a grand welcome dinner at the Ritz Hotel.
"Welcome to the think tank," he addressed the gathered talent with a confident smile. "From today, I hope this place will bring you growth, honor, and friendship—and most importantly, Franklin."
Once prone to stage fright, Charlie had become accustomed to public speaking. Experience and his growing empire had replaced his earlier anxiety with composure. He had learned that with the right mix of wealth and status, even the smallest action could inspire awe.
"Thank you. Now, it's time to celebrate. Forget about decorum for a while and enjoy yourselves!" Charlie raised his glass, officially kicking off the evening. The room erupted with cheers.
As the festivities began, Jonathan approached Charlie, his expression glowing with satisfaction. By the next morning, Jonathan would head to the United Nations National Bank to secure $150 million, a feat that had put him in high spirits.
"There's no swimsuit party tonight," Charlie teased, raising an eyebrow.
"If you want, we could plan one. How about chartering a cruise ship, British style?" Jonathan joked back, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
"A cruise ship filled with 4,000 hot girls and just the three of us?" Charlie smirked. "What happens when the ship docks—will we crawl off the deck from exhaustion?"
Jonathan laughed. "Sounds like a dream—or a death sentence."
Lawrence, who had just arrived with a woman on his arm, caught the conversation. "What's this about cruise ships?"
"Charlie's thinking of buying a shipping company to build luxury liners," Jonathan informed him.
"That's ambitious," Lawrence chuckled, then added, "If you're serious, you should look into the White Star Line. They're struggling financially, but they still have the Olympic, one of the most luxurious ships in service."
Charlie leaned in, intrigued. "You mean the same company that built the Titanic?"
"Don't mention that cursed ship," Lawrence replied with a grimace. "I'm talking about the Olympic—its sister ship. Despite the disaster, the Olympic remains a symbol of luxury."
Jonathan, whose father had perished on the Titanic, gave a measured nod. "It's fine. Let's talk about business."
"Is the White Star Line open to a deal?" Charlie asked.
Lawrence shrugged. "They're not doing well. The government has provided some protection, but with the Great Depression, even that might not last."
"How much do they want for the Olympic?"
"Six million dollars. But that's just for the ship. Public relations fees to appease the British government could cost just as much."
"Spending $12 million on a cruise ship?" Charlie exclaimed, eyebrows raised.
"It's not just the ship," Lawrence countered. "It includes its routes, customer base, and reputation."
Charlie dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. "Its reputation is tied to British pride. That's hardly an asset to me."
Lawrence conceded the point, then suggested, "Why not build your own shipyard instead?"
Jonathan chimed in. "Mississippi or New Mexico might be good locations. They already have small shipyards and suppliers."
Charlie considered this for a moment, then said, "I like the Gulf of Mexico. It's ideal."
"Why not collaborate?" Charlie proposed. "We each invest $2 million and split the ownership evenly."
Jonathan smiled, nodding. "Sounds like a plan."
The three agreed to form a company, reserving 1% of shares for management incentives. Charlie was already outlining his vision.
"I want the most luxurious sea palace ever built," he declared. "It should surpass anything in existence or under construction—faster, larger, and more luxurious."
Lawrence groaned, "That'll keep us busy for the next decade."
Jonathan, however, had another idea. "The John Brown Shipyard in Scotland has been struggling. They were building a ship called the Queen Mary, but the original buyer went bankrupt."
Lawrence added, "It's a masterpiece—43 meters tall, 305 meters long, 44 meters wide, with an estimated speed of 32 knots and a displacement of 80,000 tons."
Charlie's interest piqued. "How much?"
"2.6 million dollars should secure it," Jonathan said.
"And the name?" Lawrence asked. "The British won't let you keep 'Queen Mary.'"
Charlie laughed. "I don't need their queen's name. We'll rename it something better—something uniquely ours."
Jonathan volunteered to handle the negotiations, confident that his connections could smooth the process.
"Good," Charlie said. "I expect results soon."