April 19, 1920, Tuesday morning.
Boston Harbor.
The sea wind, sharp as a blade, slapped across his face.
The salty, briny smell mixed with the reek of fish burrowed deep into his lungs. Above, seagulls screeched, “Kkiruk! Kkiruk!” in an irritable chorus.
Lee Jun-hyuk stood at the end of the pier, looking over the line of red brick warehouses.
He pointed his finger at the biggest, oldest building among them.
“How about that one?”
He deliberately asked in a loud voice, enough for everyone nearby to hear.
At his shout, the dockworkers carrying cargo and the merchants smoking cigarettes glanced over.
And… so did the man in the black coat mingling among them.
He’d been following them around like a shadow since yesterday—a subordinate of Bancroft.
Lee Jun-hyuk tried hard to ignore his gaze.
No, instead, he raised his voice even more, as if to flaunt it.
“La Choy’s Boston Second Factory site—this is perfect! We need at least this scale!”
Robert instantly caught on and joined in smoothly.
“Absolutely, sir! If we start producing canned goods here, we can dominate all of New England!”
“I mean the entire East Coast!”
Yu Ilhan joined in, a little awkward but with a booming voice.
At their commotion, a chubby real estate agent with a thick mustache approached, scratching the ground with his shoe.
“So, shall we finalize the contract? The monthly rent is $500.”
“Hmm, let me think a bit more. There are a few other candidates.”
Lee Jun-hyuk replied in an arrogant tone.
As he spoke, he slipped several $5 bills into the agent’s hand.
“Until tomorrow, don’t show this to anyone else. Consider it a kind of reservation deposit.”
“Of course, sir! Don’t worry!”
The agent beamed as he pocketed the money.
Lee Jun-hyuk and his group left the harbor.
But they walked deliberately slow.
They purposely struck up conversations with people coming and going along the docks, spreading rumors.
“Have you heard of La Choy Canned Goods? The hottest company in New York right now!”
“We’re La Choy! We’re planning to build a factory here in Boston soon!”
“A massive investment is coming!”
Lunchtime.
Parker House Hotel restaurant.
The most luxurious hotel in Boston.
The lobby was adorned with gleaming marble, and the giant chandeliers on the ceiling rained dazzling light down upon them.
“Do you have a reservation, gentlemen?”
A waiter with a butterfly bowtie asked in English tinged with a French accent.
“No, but…”
Lee Jun-hyuk quietly pulled out a $10 bill and pressed it into his hand.
“A window seat, please, where we can see the whole restaurant.”
The waiter’s stiff expression instantly softened.
“Certainly, sir. Please follow me.”
They sat at the best window table.
Looking at the menu.
Steak: $3. Because of Prohibition, there was no wine, but instead they sold ‘French Grape Juice’—a drink more expensive than most wines.
“Three steaks. And your most expensive grape juice.”
After ordering, Lee Jun-hyuk deliberately continued his conversation in a voice loud enough for everyone around to hear.
“I met with Charles Ponzi yesterday.”
“Ah, that’s the investment company that’s all the rage in Boston society these days, right?”
“50% in 45 days… Quite a tempting offer, isn’t it?”
As expected, people at the surrounding tables paused with their spoons mid-air, ears pricked. Boston’s crème de la crème. Most of them had already invested with Ponzi, or were seriously considering it.
“But $100,000 is a lot of money.”
Lee Jun-hyuk heaved a deep sigh, playing the part of someone deeply torn.
“It’s the precious capital for our second factory. The risk is just too great.”
“But sir, in 45 days, that’s $150,000!”
Robert argued passionately.
“That would cover not only the factory rent, but all the initial operating capital as well!”
Just then—
The heavy revolving door of the restaurant opened, and the man in the black coat entered.
A subordinate of Bancroft.
He glanced around the restaurant, then sat in a corner seat by the bar (620).
He opened a newspaper, but his eyes kept darting to Lee Jun-hyuk’s table, watching them through the mirror.
“Good. He’s taken the bait perfectly.”
Lee Jun-hyuk smiled coldly to himself.
The steak arrived.
He cut the thick meat with his knife.
Juices, pink and fresh, oozed out.
He put it in his mouth.
The top-grade fillet mignon melted on his tongue.
But he could barely taste it.
Every nerve in his body was focused on the man behind him.
“I’ll make my final decision this afternoon.”
Lee Jun-hyuk spoke as if he had just made up his mind.
“One hundred thousand dollars. Whether to invest with Ponzi or not.”
“I hope you’ll make a wise decision, sir.”
Yu Ilhan replied, his expression awkward but earnest.
They finished their meal. The bill came to $12. Including tip, he left $15 on the table.
“With this, I could buy 100 cans of La Choy Canned Goods…”
The unnecessary calculation flashed through his mind.
They exited the hotel. The afternoon sunlight was dazzling.
“So, where to now?”
Robert asked.
“Let’s wander around the city a bit more. So the rumors spread even further.”
They intentionally visited Boston’s famous spots.
Boston Common. Massachusetts State House. Quincy Market.
Everywhere they went, they made a commotion, drawing people’s attention.
“La Choy Boston Factory!”
“Massive investment from New York capital!”
“Dominating the Eastern market!”
4 PM.
Back at 27 School Street.
The line in front of the Securities Exchange Company was even longer than the day before.
Human greed spread faster than the plague.
“Mr. Lee.”
At the building entrance, Charles Ponzi himself came out to greet him. Wearing the radiant smile of a millionaire, he waved.
“You’ve returned! May I hope for good news?”
“Yes. I’ve come to make my decision.”
Lee Jun-hyuk entered the building.
The lobby was even hotter and more crowded than the day before.
The sound of money being counted was louder and faster.
“Did you think hard about it last night?”
As they went up to the second-floor office, Ponzi asked.
“Yes. I couldn’t sleep a wink.”
In truth, he had slept soundly and peacefully.
Everything was proceeding perfectly according to plan.
“So, what is your decision?”
Ponzi’s eyes glinted with greed.
One hundred thousand dollars.
The excitement of landing a big fish was written all over his face.
Lee Jun-hyuk kept a dramatic silence for a moment.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Even the noise from the lobby seemed to fade away in the tension.
And then—
“Ah, what the hell, let’s do it!”
Lee Jun-hyuk shouted in a voice loud enough to fill the entire lobby, as if making a momentous decision.
“Let’s give it a shot! I’ll invest $100,000!”
“Oh! An excellent, wise decision!”
Ponzi rubbed his hands and grinned broadly.
“Exactly forty-five days from now, on June 3, your $100,000 will become $150,000!”
Lee Jun-hyuk took two thick envelopes out of his briefcase.
Inside were cashier’s checks issued by the bank.
He deliberately counted them out, one by one, very slowly.
So that everyone in the lobby could see.
“One hundred thousand dollars. All correct.”
Ponzi confirmed it himself and nodded.
“Here is your receipt.”
A single slip of paper. That was all he got for $100,000.
“A piece of paper that’ll be nothing but scrap in a month.”
But Lee Jun-hyuk tucked it carefully deep into his wallet, as if it were the most precious thing in the world.
“I’ll see you in forty-five days.”
“Of course! By then, I hope you’ll consider an even bigger investment!”
Ponzi extended his hand for a handshake with an oily smile.
Lee Jun-hyuk left the office.
It was already growing dark outside.
Street lamps began to flicker on, one by one.
He saw the man in the black coat from the restaurant rushing into a payphone booth across the street.
“He’ll be reporting to Bancroft.”
Lee Jun-hyuk’s lips curled in a cold smile.
The bait had been cast.
Now all that remained was to wait for that giant, greedy fish to bite.
Boston South Station.
April 20, 1920, Wednesday morning.
Lee Jun-hyuk waited on the platform for the train to New York, unfolding his newspaper.
The front page of the Boston Herald still carried the success story of Ponzi’s company in huge print. “One Million Dollars in Daily Investments, The American Dream Is Here!”—the sensational headline screamed in bold type.
“Sir, are you sure this is alright?”
Yu Ilhan asked nervously by his side.
His face was pale.
“One hundred thousand dollars… That’s more than enough to buy out our entire company. If by chance…”
“It’s alright. In any case, in forty-five days I’ll get it all back—with interest.”
Lee Jun-hyuk folded the newspaper and replied.
But inside, he was doing different calculations.
“How much will Bancroft invest, I wonder?
A million? Two million? No, for the sake of his pride, he’ll invest at least a hundred times more than me.”
The train arrived.
Spewing black smoke, the massive iron behemoth slid into the platform.
“New York! The train to New York is departing soon!”
They boarded the first-class carriage.
Once again, the plush red velvet seats welcomed them.
He looked out the window.
The man in the black coat was just coming out of the payphone booth.
He looked anxious.
He must have reported everything to Bancroft.
The train departed.
“Sir, but… do you really think Bancroft will take the bait?”
Robert asked cautiously.
“He has no choice. Absolutely.”
Lee Jun-hyuk answered with certainty.
“He wants to trample me. Seeing me invest $100,000 and gain $50,000, he’ll want to invest a million and earn half a million to prove his superiority. That’s the kind of man William Bancroft is.”
The scenery outside the window flew by.
Boston’s buildings receded, and the radiant green woods of spring appeared in the suburbs.
Lee Jun-hyuk took out the receipt from his wallet and looked at it again.
“Securities Exchange Company – $100,000 – Matures June 3, 1920”
A simple piece of paper.
But this would become the sharp trigger to bring down Bancroft.
Grand Central Station.
The familiar noise of New York welcomed them.
Lee Jun-hyuk left the station and headed straight for the office on Fifth Avenue.
“Sir, you’re back.”
Mary stood up and greeted him.
“There was a call from Welcome Radio Station. They want a short interview with you on the 7 o’clock news program tonight.”
“Alright. Please get things ready.”
Lee Jun-hyuk entered his office.
He looked down on Fifth Avenue through the window.
“Now it begins.”
7 PM, Welcome Radio Station.
“Tonight’s special guest is Mr. Lee Jun-hyuk, president of ‘La Choy Food,’ the hottest topic in New York these days.”
The host’s voice spread throughout New York via the microphone. Lee Jun-hyuk sat calmly in front of the mic and began to speak.
“We hear you’re considering entering Boston soon.”
“Yes, that’s right. We’ve found a very good site near Boston Harbor. It’s planned to be La Choy’s second factory.”
“Bancroft, you’re listening, aren’t you?”
“How much are you planning to invest?”
“At least $100,000. It will be a production base covering the entire Eastern region.”
“One hundred thousand dollars! That’s an impressive investment!”
The host exclaimed.
“Boston is a great city. Especially these days, the investment fever is burning hot. I visited a place called the Securities Exchange Company, and it was truly impressive.”
Lee Jun-hyuk tossed the crucial bait, this time to all of New York.
“Ah, you mean Mr. Ponzi’s company! That’s the hottest place in Boston now.”
“50% in 45 days—that’s an amazing return. I was impressed by the vision, so I decided to invest for the future.”
“Oh, is that so?”
The broadcast ended.
Lee Jun-hyuk left the studio.
The night air was cold, but sweat clung to his forehead.
“Now it’s Bancroft’s turn to make a move.”
The next day, April 21, 1920, Thursday.
Lee Jun-hyuk was in his office, reviewing La Choy’s April sales report.
Knock, knock.
“Come in.”
Thomas entered with a grave expression.
“Sir, urgent news just came in from our informant.”
“What is it?”
“William Bancroft left for Boston this morning on the first train.”
Lee Jun-hyuk’s lips curled in deep satisfaction. It was sooner than expected.
“And… according to word from Wall Street, he’s rumored to have withdrawn $10 million in cash, using his stocks as collateral.”
“Ten million dollars?”
Lee Jun-hyuk pretended to be surprised, but inwardly he was cheering. Bancroft had taken the bait in a far bigger way than he’d imagined.
“Why on earth would he take out that much cash…”
Thomas looked perplexed.
“Well, I suppose he’s preparing for a very big, certain investment.”
Lee Jun-hyuk shrugged, feigning ignorance.
2 PM.
The phone rang.
It was Petrucci.
“Mr. Lee? I’ve got some very interesting news. Bancroft went to meet Ponzi in Boston, carrying ten million dollars.”
“Really?”
“My man saw it himself. In Ponzi’s office, Bancroft supposedly shouted, ‘If that monkey-faced Oriental invested $100,000, I’ll invest a hundred times more—ten million dollars!’”
Holding the receiver, Lee Jun-hyuk had to bite his lip to keep from bursting out laughing.
Everything was perfect.
William Bancroft was now digging the grave of his own empire with his own hands.
“Thank you, Mr. Petrucci.”
“Be careful, though. Bancroft seems to have lost his mind. He’s ranting everywhere that he’ll destroy you completely.”
He hung up.
Lee Jun-hyuk looked out the window.
Fifth Avenue was as lively as ever.
Countless people were busily chasing their dreams.
And among them, one man was about to lose everything.
He would pay dearly for his greed and arrogance.
“William Bancroft, this is the path you chose for yourself.”
Lee Jun-hyuk turned his eyes back to the documents.
Now he had to prepare for the future of La Choy.
For the true future, after Bancroft fell.
That future was less than four months away.