"Hello, I have an appointment with James Carl from the marketing department."
After checking in through reception, Bruce was shown in to meet James Carl, the marketing manager at AIG's San Francisco branch. Since they had already spoken by phone, they skipped the small talk and went straight to the point.
"Mr. Guo, after reviewing Google as a business and evaluating your personal credit profile, we've decided to reject the proposal you submitted to us. The one involving a two-million-dollar premium in exchange for insuring your Google investment against loss. The risk is simply too high. I'm sorry."
Bruce nodded without surprise.
He had expected AIG to say no.
With the Nasdaq crash in full swing, internet stocks were being treated like garbage unless they were among a tiny handful of exceptions. And without hard revenue data from Google, even AIG, for all its size and aggressive reputation, was never going to get excited about a two-million-dollar premium against a possible eighty-million-dollar payout.
"What if I raise the premium to ten million?" Bruce asked.
"Ten million?"
James Carl's face changed immediately.
That was not a small number.
"You're not joking, are you?"
"I never joke in a business negotiation."
Seeing the seriousness in Bruce's expression, James hesitated, then said, "I'll need to speak with my supervisor."
Bruce made a small gesture with his hand.
"Go ahead."
James stood, grabbed the file, and hurried out of the room.
Five or six minutes later, he came back, this time with a bald middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses.
"Mr. Guo, let me introduce Mr. Klaus Rodriguez, head of marketing for AIG's San Francisco branch."
"Mr. Guo, it's a pleasure to meet you."
"Likewise, Mr. Rodriguez."
After a brief handshake, the three of them sat down.
"Mr. Guo," Rodriguez said, "James gave me the outline of your request. You're offering a ten-million-dollar premium in exchange for a structure that guarantees you won't lose money on your Google investment?"
"That's right."
Rodriguez's eyes sharpened.
Two million might not be worth the risk.
Ten million was a different conversation.
Insurance only made big money when someone was willing to take on outsized risk. And as he ran through the material on Google in his head, he had to admit that this was not some random internet fantasy. It was a company that had already raised twenty-five million from major firms the year before.
That made it worth considering.
"We can agree to your request," he said.
"Before we sign anything, I have a few conditions," Bruce cut in.
Rodriguez frowned slightly.
"Go ahead."
Bruce spoke evenly.
"First, once the contracts are signed, I'll pay two million up front. The remaining eight million will be paid between July 1 and July 15."
He continued before either man could interrupt.
"Second, we sign two separate agreements. The first is the formal commercial insurance policy: ten million in premium consideration, with an eighty-million-dollar payout obligation. The second is a side agreement stating that if I fail to pay the remaining eight million within the agreed time window, then once the policy term ends, AIG receives five hundred thousand dollars as compensation at no cost."
Then he added the last point.
"Third, everyone involved in this negotiation signs a confidentiality agreement. Nothing about this deal gets disclosed to anyone outside."
Rodriguez considered it for a moment, then nodded.
None of Bruce's conditions created any real downside for AIG. If anything, they made the arrangement sweeter. If Bruce failed to pay the remaining premium on time, AIG would walk away with half a million dollars for free.
As for why he insisted on using two separate contracts, Rodriguez had no interest in digging. His job was to protect AIG's interests. Everything beyond that was someone else's problem.
Once the AIG negotiation was done, Bruce quietly let out a breath.
With that policy in place, he went straight to Citibank's San Francisco branch.
Backed by AIG's coverage, the lending risk on his deal was close to zero, which meant he got exactly what he wanted: the full eighty million dollars in financing, at an interest rate of just six percent.
Of course, when negotiating with Citibank, he very carefully left out one important detail:
the insurance policy backing the eighty million only had a two-month life.
Looking back at the imposing Citibank building as he walked away, Bruce shook his head.
"If banks were willing to lend directly against internet equity stakes, I wouldn't have had to build this whole house of mirrors."
It was not the cleanest move he had ever made.
But it worked.
And now he finally had the liquidity he had been fighting for.
Still, the moment the funds hit, he did not wire them to Google.
Instead, he transferred the money straight into Phoenix Capital's account at a Swiss bank.
Two days later, George Davis gave him a positive answer.
Then Wendy came to his office.
"Boss, I found your house."
"Where?"
"Less than a kilometer from the office. Five minutes by bike, maybe two by car."
Bruce took the photos from her and looked them over.
Then he nodded.
"Let's go see it."
"Yes, Boss."
She followed him out.
The place really was close.
It was a very typical American house: a small fenced yard in front, maybe fifty or sixty square meters, and a single-story home behind it. Three bedrooms, two living areas, around one hundred forty square meters in total. Just beyond the back door was a small park, which meant he would have somewhere to run in the mornings. Best of all, it sat roughly between LinkedIn and Google, making both commutes easy.
"What's the rent?"
"Four hundred a month. First month plus three months' deposit."
"Not bad. Take it. Charge the rent through finance."
"Yes."
"And don't bother replacing the furniture. Just clean it and disinfect everything. But buy new sofa covers, sheets, and bedding."
"Understood."
After giving those instructions, Bruce returned to the office.
The moment he stepped inside, Martin came straight toward him.
"Bruce, you're moving out of the dorm?"
"Yeah. Campus is too far from the office. I'm losing over an hour every day going back and forth."
Martin nodded.
"That really is a waste of time."
Then his eyes lit up.
"How about we rent a place together? Just like back at Stanford. We can live together."
Bruce rolled his eyes so hard it almost hurt.
"No chance. I'm not sharing a place with you. I don't need people getting the wrong idea."
"Come on, we're basically brothers..."
Bruce waved him off.
"What's in the file?"
Martin instantly forgot his wounded pride and brightened again. He dropped the folder on Bruce's desk.
"I told you it'd happen. Ever since we launched the contact import and group features, LinkedIn's user growth has exploded. In just one month, registered users passed six hundred thousand."
Bruce took the report and skimmed it.
He was pleased, but nowhere near as thrilled as Martin. To someone from the future, six hundred thousand users was nice, but it was not the sort of number that made the ground shake. Maybe once they hit a hundred million he would allow himself a proper reaction.
"Good," he said. "How long until the personal profile feature is ready?"
"Three months. Four at the outside."
"One month," Bruce said flatly. "You get one month. If you need more people, hire more people. If you need more space, there are still plenty of empty units around us. If you need more money, I'll put more into the company. But I want personal profiles built in one month."
Martin gritted his teeth.
"Then I need ten more engineers."
"Fine. I'll send HR the approval."
Once Martin left, fired up and ready to go, Bruce sat at his desk in thought for a while.
Then he opened the safe beside him and took out a document.
"Have Tim come to my office."
He loosened his grip on the paper and found himself appreciating, once again, the usefulness of having a secretary.
A short while later, Tim George knocked and came in.
"Boss, you wanted to see me?"
"Sit."
Tim nodded and took the chair in front of the desk.
"Martin just told me we passed six hundred thousand registered users."
Tim smiled.
"That's great news."
"It is," Bruce said. "Which means it's time we started thinking seriously about revenue."
He slid the document across the desk.
"Read this first."
Tim took it and began reading carefully.