Chapter 110: Let's Buy Some Cola

His own security team was inadequate; establishing an intelligence agency was even more daunting. Though extremely challenging, it was absolutely necessary.

Who exactly were these people?

No one was without flaws; everyone had problems of one kind or another. Someone like him, harboring a great secret, naturally could not neglect security concerns.

Fortunately, he had enough dollars on hand, so there was no need to take gradual steps.

No intelligence agency? Just build one. As long as there was a reliable person, there would be no issues.

“Young master, the investment team you requested has been assembled. Would you like to meet them now?”

“No need. Just have Philson come over—I have some matters to arrange.”

“Understood, young master.” The butler closed the door and left.

He was confident it wouldn’t be long before Coca-Cola would welcome a new CEO. The stock price was at its lowest point now; if he didn’t seize the opportunity, there might never be another chance.

“Boss, Mr. Philson has arrived.” The assistant, dressed formally, looked quite presentable; they were very skilled at hiding their flaws.

“Suzuki, please make us a cup of coffee.”

“Certainly, boss.” As the footsteps faded away, William White sensed something odd. Had the recent usage been too heavy? The way the assistant walked seemed strange—it looked like some maintenance was due. After all, speeding was never good.

“Philson, take a look at this data and help me devise a detailed plan.” When working, William White preferred to get straight to the point.

“Coca-Cola? They haven’t been doing well lately. The brand value is huge, though, definitely worth attention.”

“Philson, I believe the current stock price is greatly undervalued. Their board is growing weary of that couple’s antics. We must position ourselves early.”

“Understood, boss. I’ll organize the relevant information immediately.”

“Remember, I want to hold long-term and avoid sharp fluctuations in the stock price.”

Coca-Cola was now on its last legs, the stock price having plummeted to historic lows.

When Buffett made his massive purchases, the stock was already above forty dollars. Now it was under ten. If he didn’t buy now, was he going to compete with Buffett?

The American Prohibition not only strengthened organized crime but also gave birth to an international brand.

This stuff was really just cough syrup—a failed laboratory product—so how did it become a global phenomenon? That was truly American ingenuity.

This was no joke: if you had a slight cough, simmering ginger with Coca-Cola could work wonders.

With alcohol banned, Americans who wanted a buzz could only turn to Coca-Cola. Its caffeine content was quite high and could indeed excite some people.

The so-called secret formula had long changed. If you produced it according to the recipe from the last century, it might have effects akin to Red Bull.

It was amusing to think that even soldiers carried Coca-Cola during wartime. The legend of the “young master soldier” was not entirely unfounded.

Speaking of beverages, William White remembered his glacier spring water.

American efficiency was frustrating—land was cheap now, so it was best to claim territory quickly.

“Suzuki, check on the status of the spring water project.”

“Boss, I asked. It seems heavy snow has blocked the roads, so they can’t reach the site.”

This assistant had done a decent job. American girls couldn’t compare; if they were involved with the boss, they wouldn’t bother with such trivial matters.

“Alright, I understand. Tell them to stay alert and notify me immediately of any updates.”

“Understood, boss.”

Given the weather conditions, there was nothing he could do. Future supply was also a concern—Montana was just too cold, with heavy snow for several months each year. Short-term, it was manageable; long-term, not so much.

For quality water resources, Tasmania or New Zealand were better options. Besides some indigenous peoples and pastoral farming, there was almost no industrial production, and the population was very limited.

Los Angeles air was terrible now. Europe had long advocated clean energy; their gasoline was better than America’s.

This was the downside of oil oligarchs—no 98-octane fuel. The quality of fuel was basically on par with China’s.

The price was genuinely affordable. China’s oil was poor, mainly due to distribution issues, but America’s situation was just odd.

Their oil came from the Gulf of Mexico and the North Sea’s Brent crude—both high-quality light crude. If such raw material couldn’t produce top-notch gasoline, it was purely a cost consideration.

Europe was different—they had endured grim times. The entire Rhine River had turned black, and air pollution had claimed many lives. Naturally, they wouldn’t mess around.

Staying in Los Angeles long-term was unwise. Now that he had money, he could scout out vacation spots.

Filming was entering its final stage. With experience from two movies, the director’s skills had naturally improved.

A man who churned out films like this and owned a movie company was a thorn in the side of Hollywood giants.

The good times at White Studios were over. Warner’s boss, Steve Ross, was wielding his little pickaxe, ready to poach.

“Can’t resist anymore, old man?” William White wasn’t surprised by the report. This was normal in Hollywood; as long as he played by the rules, a little competition was fine.

Steve Ross was reckless but knew when to hold back. The other party was a scoundrel; if you dared to cheat, they’d be even more shameless.

Other giants watched coldly. Even if they disliked William White, they still had some decency. If they jumped in now to gang up on him, things might escalate.

Warner was a giant predator, not as easy to handle as United Artists. In fact, not many considered United Artists a true major player.

Paramount, Universal, and Warner were the real giants. Fox was a step down. The now-legendary Disney was still self-destructing.

Family businesses were like that—without a reliable successor, even the best foundations were useless.

Speaking of Disney, it was tragic—how could Mickey Mouse and Donald Duck be unhealthy?

The successors were laughable. Running amusement parks well was profitable enough.

But Paris Disneyland became a half-finished project, and Tokyo Disneyland was cheaply handed over to Suzuki.

Even these were forgivable, but competing with Hollywood in films? That was courting death.

With assets of just over two billion dollars and loans exceeding a billion, continuing down this path would likely lead to insolvency.

Competing box office with horror and comedy films? William White admired Warner’s courage. They might as well put up Superman.

And what about Steve King?

No matter how good horror films were, they remained niche. Bring it on—he wasn’t afraid.

As for poaching, William White was indifferent. If they liked anyone, they could take them away.

That was that.