Chapter 238: Acquisition
"Honestly, I really don't want to sell it," Ted's voice was tinged with reluctance. "After my family went bankrupt, I invested my last bit of money into the arms industry, hoping to make a comeback. I never thought—sigh."
A complex expression appeared on his face, a mix of nostalgia for the past and helplessness about the present.
Trying to play the emotional card to prevent me from lowering the price, huh?
Lorne shook his head slightly but didn't expose him. Speaking of which, his cheap old man was in a similar situation back then; after going bankrupt, he also single-mindedly wanted to make a comeback—looking at it this way, you two are quite similar.
"I—I am willing to sell all of my remaining ownership," Ted raised his head, his voice carrying a trace of an almost imperceptible choke.
"Lorne has two-tenths, and you still have eight-tenths?"
"Yes."
"What about the price?"
"The price—let's go back to the office first. It's more convenient there with paper and pen," Ted didn't answer directly but suggested.
Returning to the Door of the office building, Lorne said to Old Kohler beside him, "Old Kohler, wait for me here for a moment."
"Okay," Old Kohler nodded repeatedly. He knew they were about to discuss serious business, and he, an outsider, would only be in the way if he stayed inside.
Entering the office, Lorne unceremoniously pulled out a chair and sat down, meeting the gaze of a nervous Ted behind the desk.
"According to my calculations," Ted spoke, forcing himself to remain calm, "Our factory buildings and equipment are probably worth over 11,000 pounds. Eight-tenths of the ownership would be 8,800 pounds. Plus, there's the batch of ammunition in the warehouse, worth around 1,000 pounds."
Counting some miscellaneous expenses, taking over this factory would cost more than 9,000 pounds? That's a bit expensive, Lorne quickly calculated in his mind. Although this amount didn't exceed his budget, the actual condition of the factory was worse than he had expected.
Lorne didn't respond immediately. Instead, he picked up a stack of documents on the desk and slowly began to flip through them. The office was left with only the rustling sound of paper and the slightly heavy breathing of the two men.
After a long while, he put down the documents, raised his head, and uttered a number:
"7,000 pounds."
He directly cut the price by almost a quarter.
Ted suddenly braced himself against the desk to steady his figure. He took a deep breath, his voice uncontrollably trembling:
"This—this is too little! Our factory has all the necessary licenses, from production to sales.
And, I, I still have some debts to repay—7,000 pounds, this is really—"
Business is like war. Lorne showed no mercy. Meeting the other party's slightly flustered gaze, he calmly explained, "Mr. Ted, I did some market research before coming here. In the current overall environment, factories like this, eager to sell, typically transact at only about eighty percent of their estimated value. 7,000 pounds is a very reasonable price."
He paused for a moment, giving the other party a chance to catch his breath, then continued to press his advantage:
"Furthermore, the factory's accounts haven't been settled, and many workers have already gone on strike and left. After I take over, I can't start production immediately, which will result in double losses in terms of time and money."
"Most crucially," Lorne's tone sharpened, "This factory lacks a mature, standardized production line, so its production capacity is inherently limited. Compared to large factories with extremely high production capacity, it simply cannot fetch a high price."
Having done his homework thoroughly, Lorne's arguments came one after another, each hitting Ted's sore spots, making him unable to refute, and his face grew paler and paler.
There was nothing he could do; everything Lorne said was true. Most importantly, the current market environment was indeed poor, otherwise he wouldn't have fallen to this point.
As his words fell, Ted's hands, which had been propping himself up on the desk, dropped powerlessly to his lap, his gaze extremely complex.
He had worked so hard to start this business, hoping to revitalize his family, only to end up in such a state.
Selling it, he was unwilling; all his efforts over the past few years would be for naught. Not selling it, he couldn't pay off his debts, and if creditors came knocking on his Door, his fate would only be worse.
Ted sighed deeply in his heart, finally choosing to compromise.
"—Just that price then," He seemed to have all his strength drained away, taking out a contract he had prepared earlier from a drawer.
Lorne took the contract and meticulously examined it word by word, finding no obvious traps.
He lowered one hand and, with his fingertip under the desk, picked up a coin, silently asking a question in his mind, performing a simple divination.
The divination result told him there were no traps in the contract.
"I think we can close the deal," Lorne reached into his in arms and pulled out a thick envelope, placing it on the desk.
"This is a 1,500-pound down payment. Once the contract is signed, it's yours. The rest will be transferred via bank once the factory handover is complete."
"I—can I check it?" Ted looked at the envelope, swallowing, "I'm not doubting you—but it's a lot of money, so I hope to be cautious."
"Of course, a very reasonable request," Lorne nodded.
The factory manager took the envelope, poured out all the banknotes inside, and counted them one by one. They were all crisp 5-pound notes, still carrying the fresh scent of ink, clearly just withdrawn from the bank.
"That's right, the amount is correct, and they are all genuine banknotes," Ted said with a sigh of relief after counting.
"I think we can sign the contract."
"Mm-hm," Lorne picked up the contract and, with his fountain pen, signed his name in the buyer's section. He then handed the contract and the pen to the other party. "Mr. Ted, it's your turn."
Ted's hand trembled as he took the fountain pen, the tip hovering over the paper for a long time. Finally, he gritted his teeth and signed his name.
After signing, Ted seemed to age ten years instantly. "Mr. Scott, this factory is practically yours."
He paused, then suddenly spoke with a hint of embarrassment, "Um, could I go out for a moment?"
"What's wrong?" Lorne asked, puzzled.
"With the cash, I want—I want to go pay the wages of the employees downstairs first. It's already," He paused, his voice even lower, "It's already been two months that I've owed them."
Normal emotional fluctuations, no signs of lying—the first thing he does after getting money is pay the workers' wages? This factory manager's character is actually quite decent.
Lorne looked at him, and an idea suddenly popped into his head.
Perhaps I can be a hands-off boss. "Mr. Ted," Lorne suddenly spoke, "Would you like to—continue to stay and be the manager of this factory?"