Once they got downstairs, Bruce looked at the two huge woven sacks tucked under Hua Lei's thick arms and let out a quiet sigh.
There was no way they were getting a taxi like this.
And walking into a restaurant with that much luggage would be a mess too.
Fortunately, he still remembered the number of the rental company he had used before. He called, arranged for a Grand Cherokee, gave them the address, and solved that problem.
They left the luggage in the vehicle, had lunch first, then got the account information from the father and son and headed to ICBC's London branch to wire the money home. After that, Bruce took them to a clothing store and bought them both a fresh set of clothes before bringing them to the police station.
The first step was to get official loss reports for their documents. After that, they would have to go to the embassy and apply for replacement passports and tourist visas.
By the time they came out of the police station, though, it was already evening, and the embassy was closed for the day. That meant waiting until tomorrow.
Bruce had once lost a passport while traveling abroad in his previous life, so he knew exactly how embassy staff could be. After settling the Hua father and son into a place to stay, he called Christopher back in Exeter, borrowed the use of his office computer that evening, and put together high-quality scanned copies of replacement passports and tourist visas.
Then, using the hacking skills that came with a Stanford computer science degree, he slipped into the embassy's system, added the necessary data and entry records for the two men, and only then leaned back in satisfaction.
"My first serious use of my computer science degree after being reborn," he muttered to himself, "and instead of software development, I use it for this. What a waste."
After entertaining himself with a few pointless reflections, he called Christopher back, then returned to the hotel to rest.
The next morning, after breakfast, he took the Hua father and son to the embassy. With the groundwork already laid, and with Bruce acting as their guarantor, the whole thing was eventually resolved after a great deal of bureaucratic eye-rolling.
Still, the matter forced Bruce to remain in London for several more days.
"Mr. Guo, this time we really owe everything to you," Old Master Hua said emotionally just before boarding. He held Bruce's arm tightly, gratitude written all over his face. "You are a great benefactor to our family. I don't know how we could ever repay you."
"There's no need to keep thanking me," Bruce said. "Just remember what I told you. Once you get to Beijing, focus on getting the child treated first. After that, call me or send me an email. If you don't know how to use a computer, pay someone who does and have them write to me. Once I hear from you, I'll arrange to bring your whole family to the States."
"We'll remember," the old man said seriously.
"Good. Then it's time. Go board."
"We're going, then."
Bruce nodded and waved them on. He watched the father and son, each carrying his bags, move slowly into the boarding line and disappear down the jet bridge.
Only after they were gone did Bruce finally let out a long breath.
That issue was settled.
Once they landed in Beijing, even if the embassy ever discovered the data he had inserted into the system, there would be no practical way to send them back to Britain. At the end of the day, they were still Chinese nationals.
"And now it's my turn."
He looked out at the busy airport and tightened his grip on his own bag.
"There's still a lot left to do."
He walked toward a different gate.
The flight from London to San Francisco crossed both the Atlantic and the breadth of North America. More than ten hours later, Bruce stepped off the plane into San Francisco International Airport, looking slightly tired but still energized underneath it.
Coming back here again, the familiar feeling was stronger than ever, but this time it came mixed with something else.
Ambition.
With a total of $345 million at his disposal, counting the loan principal, he finally had enough money to start making real moves.
"Boss!"
Wendy was waiting outside the arrivals barrier, smiling and waving. Bruce smiled back and walked over. A handsome man and a striking woman standing together naturally drew plenty of glances from the people nearby.
Once they loaded his bags into the trunk and got on the road back to the office, Bruce immediately got to the point.
"How are the negotiations with Kleiner Perkins and Sequoia?"
"They're ongoing," Wendy said. "Kleiner Perkins is asking eighteen million dollars for the 6.5 percent of Google they hold. As for Sequoia, we've met with them several times, but Michael Moritz, the partner in charge of Fund III's technology portfolio, has rejected our offer three times in a row."
Bruce nodded thoughtfully.
"Do you think there's room to push Kleiner down?"
"Yes," Wendy said at once. "Nasdaq is still falling. Internet companies are shutting down every month. The market panic is strong enough to destroy most investors' confidence in the sector. Unless it's something like Yahoo or eBay, companies that have already proven profitability, there is no internet company whose shares can't be sold. And Google still has no real earnings. That gives us room."
Bruce glanced at her and smiled faintly.
Her confidence suited her.
"And Sequoia?"
"From the conversations we've had so far, Michael Moritz appears to have a great deal of confidence in the future of the internet and values Google's equity very highly. Based on what we've learned internally, he was also one of the main forces pushing Google's previous funding round. Convincing him directly will be difficult."
Bruce listened in silence for a moment.
"Do we have a second angle?"
"We do," Wendy replied. "We've been gathering material on Sequoia's CEO, Don Valentine. From what we've found so far, he doesn't share Moritz's enthusiasm for the internet sector. He seems more interested in already proven high-tech companies like Apple, Oracle, and Cisco, companies with measurable returns and clear competitive strength. That may give us a way in."
"A roundabout route," Bruce said. "Good."
Then his tone turned firmer.
"You have fifteen days, just like before. By June fifteenth at the latest, I want the Google shares in both of those firms' hands on my desk."
"Yes, Boss."
"Oh, and Andy Bechtolsheim still holds 3.25 percent. Buy that too. That one shouldn't be hard."
Wendy glanced at him.
She still had no idea why her young boss was so obsessed with Google, but that wasn't really her concern. She simply nodded.
"Should we take you home first, or...?"
"It's still early. Go straight to the office."
He didn't have much luggage anyway, so there was no need to make an extra trip.
Once they arrived, Bruce called in Tim George and Martin Alexander, went over several company matters, and then asked Wendy for the materials she had mentioned.
The moment he saw the file, Bruce's expression shifted.
"Michael Moritz. So that's why the name sounded familiar."
He looked down at the profile from Heidrick & Struggles and felt a flash of recognition.
In the future, Michael Moritz would become one of the most famous venture capitalists in the world on the strength of his investments in Google, PayPal, and Yahoo. Alongside Sequoia founder Don Valentine, Arthur Rock of Intel fame, and John Doerr of Kleiner Perkins, he would be counted among the four great kings of venture capital.
Bruce had once written a feature article about those exact four men during his old days at NetEase, which was why the memory hit so strongly now.
He paced the office with the file in hand, thinking.
After a long while, he reached for the phone on his desk.
"Wendy?"
"Boss."
"Set up a meeting with Michael Moritz. Tell him I want to see him."
"Understood. Do you have a preferred time?"
"No. Once he agrees, just call me."
"Yes, Boss."
After hanging up, Bruce remembered something else and called George Davis over.
Before long, the top commercial lawyer who had now become LinkedIn's legal counsel stepped through the glass door of Bruce's office.
"George," Bruce said without preamble, "how's the other thing I asked you to handle?"
They knew each other well enough now that neither bothered with extra ceremony.
"It's done."
George opened his briefcase and took out a thick set of documents, placing them in front of Bruce.
"These are the full formation documents for the Guo Charitable Foundation. Per your instructions, the registration documents make it very clear that you are the sole trustee and controlling executor of the foundation. You retain authority over all foundation decisions, including succession and transfer of governance. If something happens to you, the next executor must be chosen from among your direct bloodline descendants."
He paused, then continued.
"As for the foundation's charitable purposes, they are limited to medicine and education. That includes grants to nonprofit research institutions working on major human diseases, support for nonprofit hospitals, medical assistance for low-income populations, university scholarship funds, and financial support for students from poor backgrounds, including tuition and overseas study assistance."
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