Chapter 70: A Warning from the Radio

May 21st, Friday.

Lee Jun-hyuk boarded the train to Boston early in the morning.

This time, he was alone.

Robert and Yu Ilhan remained in New York to handle the explosive surge in orders, and to keep a close watch on Bancroft’s next moves.

On the train, he gazed out the window, lost in deep thought. The peaceful, spring-laden scenery of New England passed by in a blur, but his mind was filled only with thoughts of two men: Charles Ponzi and William Bancroft.

He arrived in Boston.

The road to School Street was far more crowded than a month ago.

The front of the Securities Exchange Company was still packed with a throng of people, and now the line stretched past two entire blocks.

“The height of greed. Soon, this Babel Tower will collapse.”

Entering the building, a stifling heat pressed against his face.

Thick cigarette smoke and the stench of people filled the air.

The sound of money being counted resounded from all directions—now surpassing the clatter of chips in a casino, it sounded like the desperate beating of moth wings as they hurled themselves at the flame.

“Mr. Lee!”

One of Ponzi’s employees recognized him in the crowd and hurried over.

“It’s been a while! The boss has been eagerly waiting for you!”

He went up to the second floor.

As Lee Jun-hyuk climbed the creaking stairs, worn down by countless investors’ feet, he thought about the fate that would soon befall this building.

The office door opened, and Ponzi sprang up from his desk, spreading his arms wide as he approached.

“Mr. Lee! Oh, I’m truly delighted to see you again!”

“Hello, Mr. Ponzi.”

They shook hands.

Ponzi’s hand was still soft, but it was clammy with sweat and trembled ever so slightly.

It was the hand of someone desperately trying to hide something. Or so it felt.

“June 3rd is approaching fast, isn’t it?”

Ponzi forced a smile as he spoke, but there was a deep shadow of anxiety hidden behind it.

“Yes. I’ve come by for a final confirmation.”

“Haha, don’t worry! Your $150,000 is prepared exactly, not a cent off.”

Ponzi spoke with unnecessary emphasis.

His hand, as he pulled out documents from the drawer, moved so quickly it seemed unnatural.

“Here. Mr. Lee’s account is under special management with us as /|0.”

“Thank you.”

Lee Jun-hyuk pretended to look over the documents.

“Are all the other investors’ funds prepared smoothly as well?”

“Of course! Every investor will receive the promised amount on the promised date!”

His voice grew defensively loud.

“Even William Bancroft’s fifteen million dollars?”

The moment that name was mentioned, Ponzi’s expression froze.

A brief but heavy silence filled the office.

The sound of a carriage passing outside could be faintly heard. Forcing another smile, Ponzi finally spoke.

“Ah, you mean that gentleman. Of course! Of course! It’s just that…”

“Just that?”

“The amount is so astronomical, preparing that much cash may take a bit of time.”

Ponzi cleared his dry throat and dabbed his forehead with a silk handkerchief.

“It’s never easy to withdraw that kind of cash from a Bank all at once. As you know, fifteen million dollars is… well, you’d have to empty out an entire Central Vault of a major Bank.”

Lee Jun-hyuk laughed coldly to himself.

“He’s already making excuses. He’s trying to avoid saying he’s insolvent.”

“So, you mean it could be delayed by a few days?”

“No, no! Absolutely not!”

Ponzi frantically waved his hands, almost in panic.

Sweat was running down his forehead in beads.

Even though it was only mid-May, he was sweating as if he were standing in a midsummer heatwave.

“I’m doing my best to have everything ready by June 3rd, no matter what. But if… by some small chance… just maybe… a day or two—surely you would be generous enough to understand.”

“I understand.”

Lee Jun-hyuk stood up.

“It is a very large sum, after all. Then, I’ll see you on June 3rd.”

“Yes, yes! You must come!”

Ponzi smiled excessively as he waved goodbye. The smile was so bright it seemed almost like a desperate plea.

“Your $150,000 will absolutely be ready, no matter what! I’d never let a valued investor like Mr. Lee be disappointed!”

Lee Jun-hyuk left the office.

He was certain now.

Charles Ponzi was already bankrupt, and Bancroft’s fifteen million dollars would never be paid.

The Eve of Catastrophe had begun its countdown.

He walked through downtown Boston.

Every street was filled with people singing Ponzi’s praises.

An old man, tapping along with his cane, muttered, “Thanks to Ponzi, my old age is finally secure,” while a young couple happily exclaimed, “We’ve finally managed to save up for our kids’ college tuition.”

“Soon, all this hope will turn to despair.”

He headed for the train station.

As he waited for the train back to New York, Lee Jun-hyuk organized what he would say on tomorrow’s radio broadcast.

He couldn’t stay silent any longer.

Separate from bringing down Bancroft, he had to stop any more victims from emerging.

That was the bare minimum of conscience for someone who had used this great fraud for his own ends.

May 22nd, Saturday evening, Welcome Radio Station.

Lee Jun-hyuk entered the Studio for a special emergency broadcast.

Saturday evenings usually had low ratings, but this time was different. The producer approached, looking excited, and said the phones had been ringing off the hook ever since the broadcast notice aired.

The red “On Air” sign lit up.

“Tonight, I have arranged to be here at the request of the Radio Station, to say something important.”

Lee Jun-hyuk spoke into the microphone.

“Last April, I mentioned on this broadcast that I had invested $100,000 in a Boston investment company.”

The host nodded.

“Yes, I remember. A return of 50% in 45 days—that was a shocking offer. Many people showed great interest.”

“That’s right. And the promised June 3rd is now just ten days away. However…”

Lee Jun-hyuk paused. Everyone in the Studio held their breath.

“Tonight, I sincerely want to warn our listeners, especially those who have invested in that company or are considering it.”

“A warning?”

The host’s voice was tinged with alarm.

“Yes. After closely observing that investment company over the past month, I have come to hold grave doubts that it may be a ‘mirage.’”

Lee Jun-hyuk drew a deep breath.

“A 50% return in 45 days is simply impossible through any normal economic activity. If $100 becomes $150 in just a month and a half, that would mean over $5,000 in a year. There is no such magic in this world.”

“Then, President Lee, are you saying you invested even knowing it could be a scam?”

The host asked, his voice unsettled.

From outside the Studio, the phones started ringing incessantly.

“To be honest, I was curious at first. And I was a little greedy, too. But now, I deeply regret it.”

“But hasn’t that company actually paid out the promised money so far?”

“That’s true. Up until now, yes.”

Lee Jun-hyuk nodded.

“But how long can it last? If it’s a method of paying existing investors with money from new investors—in other words, ‘robbing Peter to pay Paul’—then the moment new money stops coming in, everything will collapse.”

“So, countless people are pouring in their entire life savings into such a risky place.”

“Yes. That’s why I came here tonight. To warn everyone.”

Lee Jun-hyuk moved closer to the microphone.

“Everyone listening, please judge calmly. If something sounds too good to be true, you should not actually believe it.”

“Then, on June 3rd, what do you think will happen to your $100,000?”

“I will probably get it back.”

Lee Jun-hyuk spoke firmly.

“$100,000 is an amount they can easily handle—it’s bait to reassure other investors. But…”

He stopped, letting the words hang.

“What about those who invested far larger sums? For example, those who put in millions—almost their entire fortunes?”

The host drew in a sharp breath.

“Are you… referring to William Bancroft?”

“I don’t wish to name any individual. But anyone who has staked everything on such a place—it’s no longer investment. It’s a gamble headed for ruin.”

The broadcast ended. As Lee Jun-hyuk left the Studio, the producer rushed over, his face gleaming with sweat.

“We’ve gotten over three hundred calls! Most were people who invested with Ponzi and are now anxious after hearing your broadcast!”

“I expected as much.”

Lee Jun-hyuk smiled bitterly.

May 25th, Tuesday.

In Lee Jun-hyuk’s office, Robert spread out the freshly delivered Boston Herald on the desk.

It was a full-page ad.

“Don’t be fooled by the coward Lee Jun-hyuk’s pathetic lies!”

“On June 3rd, I will receive the full fifteen million dollars as promised!”

“And with that money, I’ll make sure that filthy canned food company, La Choy, disappears from this land forever!”

“Desperate, aren’t they?”

Lee Jun-hyuk set down the paper.

“It looks like he’s trying to convince himself. As if he really believes he’ll get the money…”

“It’s almost pitiful,” Robert shook his head.

Just then, the phone rang.

It was Joe Petrucci.

His voice was more agitated than usual.

“Big trouble! Bancroft has gone completely mad!”

“What happened?”

“He just stormed into Ponzi’s Office with a gun and started a rampage, demanding his money immediately!”

Lee Jun-hyuk let out a deep sigh.

“What did Ponzi say?”

“He told him to wait until June 3rd, and Bancroft grabbed Ponzi by the collar and threatened to kill him. The police had to come and barely managed to separate them.”

The situation was deteriorating much faster than expected.

May 28th, Friday.

It was Lee Jun-hyuk’s regular date night with Catherine.

Delmonico’s Restaurant was quiet.

“By next Friday, it’ll all be over, won’t it?”

Catherine said.

“Yes. And it’ll be the beginning of something new.”

Lee Jun-hyuk replied.

June 1st, Tuesday.

Two days left until the day of fate.

Several Telegrams were piled on Lee Jun-hyuk’s desk.

A Telegram from Petrucci.

“Bancroft, headed for Boston. Camping out in front of Ponzi’s Office all night.”

A Telegram from the Information Agency.

“Ponzi attempted to withdraw a large amount of cash, but all Banks refused. Bankruptcy imminent.”

And, unexpectedly, a Telegram from Jose in Cuba.

“Cuba business progressing smoothly. June dividend expected at $200,000. By the way, Mr. Lee, it’s already been three months—why haven’t you come? Is work in New York that busy? – Jose”

Lee Jun-hyuk read the third Telegram again.

He could hardly believe it had already been that long since he left Cuba.

“This summer, I must go to Cuba for a vacation. With Catherine.”

The thought came to him suddenly.

But for now, he had to end the war in front of him.

“Covert.”

“Yes, sir.”

“On June 3rd, you’ll have to come to Boston with me.”

“Understood.”

“Dr. Yu Ilhan will stay in New York and look after business. The two of us can handle it.”

Lee Jun-hyuk stared at the Red Circle drawn on June 3rd on the calendar.

June 2nd, Wednesday.

The day before the showdown.

Lee Jun-hyuk could hardly sleep. He woke at 4 a.m. and looked out the window; the city was still deep in slumber.

“Tomorrow, one way or another, it will all be decided.”

What outcome was waiting for him?