PDLP Chapter 168 Wild Gold
Chapter 168 Wild Gold
(Happy New Year to everyone! May the Year of the Horse bring you great fortune! In the new year, may your wallets only grow and never fall, reaching new heights!)
June 22, 1989, 2 PM.
30 Avenue Montaigne, Paris.
This is Christian Dior's flagship store, and the heart of this season's Parisian fashion scene.
A sign reading "Private Event" hung on the heavy glass door, isolating the throngs of tourists and reporters with cameras outside into another world.
Inside the store, the air was filled with the fragrance of lily of the valley.
Students at Saint-Étienne College sat in Louis XV-style armchairs, holding bone china teacups. Several models in black uniforms walked gracefully before them, showcasing the latest "New Look" collection.
"The waistline of this piece is very well defined."
Ayako Yoshino put down her teacup without even getting up, and simply tapped it lightly with her lace-gloved fingers.
"And that cashmere coat over there, I'll take that too. Have it delivered to the hotel."
"Yes, Ms. Yoshino."
The shop assistant knelt on the ground, quickly taking notes in a notebook, a humble smile on his face.
This is top-tier purchasing power.
They don't need to try on clothes, ask about prices, or even touch the merchandise. All they need to do is nod or shake their heads.
This "taken-for-granted extravagance" left even seasoned Parisian shop assistants breathless. These young women from the East bought haute couture gowns worth hundreds of thousands of francs as casually as buying a newspaper on the street.
In the corner, Satsuki sat alone on a single sofa.
She wasn't holding any product catalogs, but rather a picture book about the history of the Dior brand.
Her gaze did not linger on the model.
She was looking at the lights.
See how the spotlights hidden in the plaster moldings shine on the silk; see how the kneeling shop assistant adjusts the skirt without touching the customer's shoes; see how the shop manager hands over warm water the moment the customer's eyes wander.
"Standardized service procedures, 3000K color temperature lighting—this creates a 'queen illusion' for customers..."
Satsuki silently recited it in her heart.
She broke down these details and used them as a blueprint to build the future service system of the Tokyo S-Collection flagship store in her mind.
"Young Miss".
Fujita Tsuyoshi appeared silently behind her.
"It's almost time."
Satsuki closed the picture book.
She stood up and straightened her skirt.
"Let's go."
Without disturbing Ayako and Reiko, who were enthusiastically choosing evening gowns, she quietly left the gold-flecked palace through a side door with Fujita.
……
Outside the side gate is a quiet alley.
The sunlight here is blocked by tall sycamore trees, making it somewhat shady.
Satsuki walked along the stone-paved road, heading deeper into the street corner.
"Young Miss".
Fujita followed behind, lowering his voice.
"According to a briefing from SA Investment last night, our gold reserves in our vaults in London and Zurich are already severely overstocked. Storage costs are rising."
He looked at Satsuki's retreating figure, his tone tinged with confusion.
"Why bother seeing that Jew? If you want to buy gold, it's cheaper and the purity is more guaranteed if you go directly through UBS."
Satsuki stopped in her tracks.
She turned around and looked at the loyal butler.
"Fujita, did you see those clothes in the store earlier?"
"I saw it."
"Those clothes have labels, serial numbers, and certificates of origin. They are 'compliant' goods."
Satsuki's voice was calm.
"The same goes for the gold in our vault. Every gold bar is engraved with a number, and every transaction leaves a trace in the bank's records. That's 'platinum'."
"In this peaceful order, they are treasures."
She raised her head and looked north. In that direction lay a vast red empire (the Soviet Union), on the eve of violent upheaval.
"But in the coming chaos, those numbers will be the chains."
"If the situation deteriorates or regulations tighten, the assets lying in bank vaults could be frozen and tracked at any time."
Satsuki stretched out her hand and made a grasping motion in the air.
"I want to buy 'Wild Gold'."
"No serial number. No smelter mark. No transaction record."
"These substandard products are a burden in peacetime, representing illicit money that can't be laundered. But in places where order has collapsed, on borders where the law is ineffective..."
Her eyes became deep and unfathomable.
"It is often more useful."
Fujita felt a chill run down his spine.
He understood what the young lady was doing.
"Understood."
The two continued on their way.
At the end of the alley, there is an inconspicuous shop. The paint on the sign has peeled off, and the words "Rosenberg Antiques and Coins" can be barely made out.
The shop window was filled with yellowed old books and a few rusty copper coins, and the glass was covered with a layer of dust.
"jingle."
Pushing open the door, the brass bell on the door rang out with a dull sound.
The shop was dark.
The air was filled with the musty smell of old paper and the rusty smell of aged metal.
Behind the counter sat an old man wearing a small black top hat. He had a gray beard, and a heavy magnifying glass perched on his nose as he examined an ancient Roman gold coin.
Abel Rosenberg.
This Jewish survivor of World War II was one of the most crucial figures in Europe's underground gold trading network.
Welcome!
The old man didn't even look up, and said in German.
"If you're here to buy souvenirs, turn left after you exit; there's a model of the Eiffel Tower there."
I'm here to buy 'Silence'.
Satsuki answered in fluent German.
She walked to the counter and placed her black briefcase on the scratched oak table.
Abel stopped what he was doing.
He looked up, his eyes, hidden behind a magnifying glass, scrutinizing the young Eastern girl before him like an old snake lurking in the shadows.
"Silence is expensive," Abel said hoarsely, "especially the kind of... two-ton silence."
"I know."
Satsuki gestured for Fujita to open his briefcase.
There was only one document inside. It was an authorization letter regarding SA Investment's highly secretive offshore funding channels established on Wall Street.
"You are not short of money, Mr. Rosenberg."
Satsuki said calmly.
"What you lack is a route. A 'canal' that can safely transfer your shady assets to the New World."
"The pipes that the Saionji family laid on Wall Street can be opened for you once."
Abel picked up the document.
He read very quickly, his fingers tracing patterns on the paper.
A long time passed.
Two tons.
Abel put down the documents and took off the magnifying glass.
"They are all old gold bars from before the 1940s. They came from Eastern Europe. They are not numbered, and a little copper was added during the casting process, so the purity is only 99%."
"The item is in the basement of a private dental clinic in Zurich."
He took a napkin with an address and password written on it from the drawer and pushed it in front of Satsuki.
"in addition……"
Abel turned around and took a dusty roll from the bookshelf behind him.
"This is also part of the deal."
He opened the roll; inside were several yellowed sketches. The lines were messy and wild, yet they exuded a genius-like tension.
Unpublished manuscripts by Picasso.
"Take it," Abel waved his hand. "If anyone asks, just say this is why you're here today."
Satsuki put away the napkins and drawing tube.
"It's a pleasure working with you."
She did not reach out to shake the hand covered in age spots.
Goodbye, Mr. Rosenberg.
Satsuki turned and left.
"Little girl."
The old man's voice came from behind.
"That gold is stained with the blood and tears of many people. It's very heavy."
Satsuki's hand rested on the doorknob.
That was in the past.
She opened the door.
"In my hands, they are just metal."
……
I left the antique shop.
The sunlight outside was a bit too bright.
Satsuki stood at the street corner of Avenue Montaigne, squinting slightly as she adjusted to the contrast in light as she returned from the dark basement to the bright world.
Across the street, the doors of the Dior flagship store were open.
Ayako Yoshino and Reiko Isokawa came out. Behind them, waiters carrying several exquisite white paper bags respectfully saw them out.
Ayako tilted her head slightly, whispering something to Reiko, a satisfied smile on her face.
"Satsuki?"
Ayako noticed Satsuki standing on the street corner.
She raised her hand and gently beckoned.
"I looked around but didn't see you. The cut of that trench coat was really nice; the cinched waist really flattered my figure. It was the last one of the season, so I bought it."
The sunlight shone on them, making them appear composed, elegant, and radiant.
That is a delicate flower in peacetime.
Satsuki stood in the shadows at the street corner, holding the tube containing Picasso's manuscript in her hand and the code to the underground vault in her pocket.
Those were the bayonets of a broken and chaotic world.
She straightened the collar of her trench coat, and the perfect smile that belonged to the "young lady of the Saionji family" reappeared on her face.
"I went and bought some souvenirs."
Satsuki stepped out of the shadows and into the bright sunshine.
"Let's go. We should go have afternoon tea."