Chapter 16: Wine Tasting

George, about to head to Ryan's room for dinner, turned toward the door.

A knock sounded. George opened the door to find Mori standing there.

"George, I heard you wanted to see me."

"Let's go. I have something good to show you," George replied with a smile. Since Arthur wasn't present, he assumed the man didn't want to get too involved.

Once they were in Mori's car, George gave him an address. "Mori, let's go to your base. I stored something there."

Neither of them spoke during the ride. Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the temporary warehouse George had rented. George unlocked the door, revealing barrels stacked like a small mountain.

Mori's surprise deepened. The fact that someone had moved so much wine into his territory without him noticing troubled him. What if it had been armed men instead of wine? He needed to understand how George had pulled this off without anyone knowing.

Circling the stacks, Mori asked, "How much wine is here?"

George picked up two 45-liter barrels. "There are 5,000 liters each of two kinds—Canadian whiskey and Canadian wine. Perfect for tasting later."

Still serious, Mori said, "George, tell me—who helped you transport this? It's important."

George understood his concern. "Don't worry. My teacher's people handled it. They're gifted in certain ways but have no interest in your operations. They only came because I asked."

He added, "And if they had bad intentions, you wouldn't be able to stop them." With that, George, who had been five meters away, appeared beside Mori and casually slung an arm around his shoulder.

Mori was stunned, pointing between where George had been and where he now stood. "FUCK! - Oh my God!"

George had intentionally revealed some of his strength. He knew that dealing with an underground organization—even one with a decent reputation—required leverage. Displaying a portion of his power encouraged more respectful cooperation.

"Just a small trick," George said lightly, picking up the two barrels and heading outside. "Let's go. We'll talk more later."

He loaded the barrels into the car and tossed the keys to Mori. "The rest is in there. You can have your people check it."

Mori handed the keys to a subordinate with a few instructions and got into the car.

About a dozen minutes later, they arrived at an underground parking lot. They entered a hidden door and emerged in an underground restaurant. Compared to the last place, this one felt a bit less refined.

They passed through the noisy main area and entered a private room. Once inside, the sound faded.

"This is one of our own restaurants. Business is great," Mori said as a waiter took the barrels away. Mori placed a food order.

In two minutes, the waiter returned with two bottles—George's Canadian whiskey and wine.

At Mori's signal, the waiter poured them each a glass and withdrew.

They picked up the wine first. Canadian wine, a sweet variety, is produced around 41 degrees north latitude.

George held the glass under his nose, swirling it gently. The aroma spread—blackcurrant and black olive, followed by notes of red berries, dark chocolate, and oak. The wine felt round and full, the tannins structured, the finish long and balanced. The flavor was rich and slightly tarry, lingering delicately.

However, to George, the wine was clearly of a lower grade. Compared to what he'd tasted at his own winery, the fruit notes and complexity were lacking. He took just one sip and set the glass down.

Still, he said nothing. Watching Mori savor it, he decided not to mention that this was only the cheaper variety.

After rinsing their mouths with water, they moved on to the whiskey.

Canadian whiskey is typically lighter than other types. It had a grain-forward aroma and a few visible impurities. That was expected—barrel-aged whiskey hadn't completed the full production process.

This batch had been blended but not yet filtered or bottled. Gwen Winery's equipment was damaged, and George had been in a hurry, so he delivered it early. Mori's people would have to handle the filtering and bottling.

Dinner passed mostly in silence. Afterward, one of Mori's subordinates entered.

"Did you inspect everything?" Mori asked.

"Yes, 5,000 liters each of whiskey and wine. Both are good quality and from a legitimate winery."

Mori nodded and dismissed him. Then he said, "I'll pay 20 dollars per liter for this batch. Deal?"

George sipped his whiskey slowly. He knew the wine's quality would place it among the best in current underground restaurants. Mori's side could easily sell it at 40 dollars per liter—and that was just for now. George expected prices to rise two hundredfold in the future.

He didn't show much reaction. "That's fine for this batch," he said, "but what about the future?"

"Going forward, I'll buy for 10 dollars per liter. I'll take as much as you have."

George laughed and shook his head. "I don't mind this price for now. But not for future batches—you wouldn't be able to handle that volume."

Mori tried to interject, but George held up a hand. "This wine hasn't been filtered or bottled yet. Once it is, its quality will improve. Selling it like some cheap moonshine would be a waste."

He continued, "You can have this batch at your price. Try selling it. I can supply 50,000 liters a month of this quality. Can you really handle that? My suggestion is a partnership. We can discuss the percentage split."

Mori paused to consider. "Can you guarantee 50,000 liters every month?"

"Easily. That's just this year's amount. There will be more next year."

"Alright. I'll give you my answer tonight. How do you want to be paid for this batch?"

"I'll wait for your decision. As for payment, how about we play a few rounds tonight?"

During Prohibition, smuggled alcohol was usually left at a border city for pickup. A more capable seller might deliver directly to U.S. cities, but that would raise costs. George's promise to deliver anywhere—and calling it a gesture of respect to Mr. Corleone—was a major concession.

"Playing a few rounds" meant laundering the payment via casino gambling. Mori's people would intentionally lose money to George.

Nothing dramatic happened at the casino. George acted like a wealthy playboy, took 10,000 dollars in chips, and requested to be the dealer at a blackjack table. Mori's people filled the seats. After a few rounds, all 150,000 dollars in chips had "accidentally" been lost to George, completing the transaction.

George returned to the hotel late. After showering, he went straight to bed, assigning ten clones to continue practicing Shikotsumyaku.

The next day, he didn't wake up until noon. After recalling the clones, he washed up and had lunch with Ryan.

Later, George stood before the Library of Congress in Washington, one of the largest libraries in the world. Located east of the U.S. Capitol, the complex includes the Jefferson, Adams, and Madison Buildings. It houses 20 million books and 80 million items, including maps, manuscripts, films, and recordings.

George paced for several minutes in front of the 200-year-old library before finally entering.

— End of Chapter 15 —

📝 Translator's Note

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