Thinking of the red mercury nuclear device, William immediately remembered "Church," the bald intelligence agent.
Glancing at Abigail and Jesse, who were sound asleep on the bed, he walked out of the bedroom and asked Sunday,
"Several months ago, I told you to keep an eye on Church. Why haven't you reported anything to me?"
"Sir, your directive was to inform you only if Church's life was in imminent danger. Five months ago, while he encountered danger, it did not pose a threat to his life."
"Did I really give that order?"
William tilted his head and thought for a moment, recalling that he had indeed issued such an instruction.
"From now on, I want to know Church's every move. Also, establish a new project: the Red Mercury Nuclear Device task.
I'll need a secure location to research red mercury. Do you have any suggestions?"
Sunday paused for a few seconds before replying, "The task is now established. For a suitable research site, given the nuclear nature of the project, I strongly recommend establishing a hidden research facility either in the Arctic ice or deep in a desert."
That was a good idea. After thinking for a few moments, William said, "Deploy robots to explore both locations and identify potential sites for a base. At the same time, I need a fully equipped research lab—preferably something ready to use today."
"Understood, sir. The exploration task has been initiated. Modified surveillance drones and the backup carrier have been deployed. Survey results are expected within seven days.
As for the research lab, if confidentiality isn't a top priority, you could temporarily rent a physics lab. Based on equipment availability and project readiness, I recommend the National Physics Laboratory in the UK."
"That place can be rented?"
"Yes, sir. With your security clearance, renting a standard lab poses no difficulty. However, access to top-tier equipment might require additional approval."
"If it's just for testing and analyzing red mercury materials, can the equipment you manage handle it independently?"
"Apologies, sir. My database contains only cold fusion technology from the Arc Reactor. It does not include nuclear-related data. I cannot predict whether the red mercury you mentioned is radioactive or whether it might cause unintended consequences.
Allow me to remind you: any mishap involving nuclear materials could result in catastrophic consequences beyond our ability to control."
Sunday's warning gave William pause. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to play it safe.
"Fine, establish the research lab and future production facility in the uninhabited areas of the Sahara Desert. The Arctic ice will only serve as a backup.
If a nuclear detonation happens there, who knows how drastically it might affect the climate."
"Understood, sir. The task has been updated," Sunday confirmed. After a brief pause, she asked, "Do you still wish to rent a laboratory?"
"Of course," William replied. "Some things don't need to be fully secret. In fact, revealing a bit here and there can provoke just the right amount of curiosity to serve my purposes.
Make the arrangements now—I'll head there in an hour to inspect the facility."
After a moment of thought, he added, "Use the pretense of researching new battery technology and personal transport devices. Have Aston Martin's technical director send a few people to meet me at the lab."
"Understood, sir."
Returning to the bedroom, William planted a kiss on Abigail's cheek and asked, "Care to join me for breakfast?"
Abigail, half-asleep, groaned and turned her head away, mumbling, "Let Jesse go with you. I want to sleep."
Seeing Jesse's eyelashes flutter as she pretended to sleep, William chuckled and headed to the bathroom.
"I'll likely spend the next few days at the National Physics Laboratory. If you need me, come find me there," he called out.
"The Physics Lab?" Abigail and Jesse both opened their eyes at this. Abigail, holding the blanket to her chest, sat up and asked curiously, "Don't you already have a lab in the manor's basement? Why go elsewhere?"
"Hehe," William laughed. "I've got a new idea about battery technology and want to develop something fun."
Hearing this, Abigail's eyes sparkled. She quickly got out of bed, put on her robe, and followed William.
As he brushed his teeth, she asked eagerly, "When you finish the prototype, will you hold a press conference?"
Looking at her through the mirror, William asked, "Why? Do you want to host it?"
"Of course," Abigail replied without hesitation, wrapping her arms around William's waist and leaning against his back. "You hate press conferences, don't you? As your chief steward, it's my job to handle that for you."
William initially wanted to refuse, but after some thought, he realized that since he had already delegated company responsibilities to Abigail, it was inevitable that she would represent him publicly at some point.
Whether sooner or later didn't really matter. "Alright. Once the prototype is ready, Sunday will notify you."
Thrilled at the chance to step into the spotlight, Abigail pulled Jesse along for a morning workout with William.
After breakfast, William, feeling refreshed, drove his Aston Martin DB9 to the National Physics Laboratory in London.
As soon as he stepped out of the car, he saw Sean Waynes, Aston Martin's general manager, waiting with seven or eight middle-aged men. They had been there for over an hour.
"Apologies, Sean," William said as he approached, shaking hands with the engineers and technical staff. "Something came up unexpectedly and delayed me. Thank you for waiting."
Seeing their boss take the initiative to apologize, any annoyance the group might have felt quickly dissipated.
After all, the new bulletproof DB9 that William had developed had orders lined up for the next two years. With the company flush with cash, many projects the engineers had long wanted to pursue were finally being discussed.
Even more exciting was William's decision three months ago to acquire an F1 team from Charles Cavendish and rename it Aston Martin Racing. This made it the fourth purely British F1 team, boosting the company's reputation and significantly increasing DB9 sales.
After introducing the seven engineers, Sean Waynes, encouraged by a signal from technical director Louis Raffa, seized the opportunity to speak.
"Boss, with DB9 orders stretching two years ahead and sales booming, we've encountered a few pressing issues. When might you have time to visit headquarters so we can discuss them with you?"
"Let's go," William said, leading the group into the physics lab. "Regarding your proposal to produce non-bulletproof and convertible versions of the DB9, Abigail has already brought it to my attention. As long as you have the production capacity, I have no objections.
"As for participating in racing series beyond F1," he continued, pausing momentarily, "let's hold off on that for now.
"Once you've got the F1 team running smoothly and producing results, I'll consider it.
"For other matters, discuss them with Abigail. As for funding, you shouldn't be short on money now, right?"
Sean Waynes hurriedly nodded. "In the past six months, the DB9 has sold 4,800 units, generating a surplus of £240 million and a net profit of £160 million after taxes.
"With the new factory renovations nearly complete, we expect production to triple, reaching 21,000 units annually.
"If DB9 sales hold steady, with mass production driving costs down, annual net profits could exceed £350 million.
"However..." Sean hesitated before continuing, "Sales of the bulletproof version may decline significantly in the future, reducing the profits shared with your bulletproof materials company."
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I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
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