The Rise Of A Billionaire 1943-Chapter 60 - 66 / 67 – The First Step Toward Bombing Tokyo

The B-29 had only recently rolled off the assembly line a few months earlier, and production was already ramping up rapidly.

It was the only bomber capable of reaching mainland Japan. But even having the aircraft didn’t make bombing Japan easy.

To make it possible, the U.S. military had launched Operation Matterhorn. The strategy: use Chengdu in China as the forward base—2,340 km from Kyushu. B-29s would refuel and arm up in Chengdu, fly to bomb Japan, then return to base.

But every drop of fuel and every ton of bombs loaded in Chengdu had to be airlifted from India by the China-U.S. Allied Transport Corps—over the Hump Route. According to later estimates, eighteen tons of supplies had to be flown in just to drop one ton of bombs on Japan. That logistics burden drastically cut into U.S. aid to China.

"Eighty percent of the Hump Route’s capacity was used for bombing Japan. Aid to China was reduced to the bare minimum..."

Why were the Americans willing to pay such a steep price just to bomb Japan?

Officially, it was for retaliation.

In reality, it was about politics. Roosevelt needed results for his reelection campaign—and bombing Japan was proof to voters that he was fighting hard.

But who paid the price?

Certainly not Japan.

It was China—building airfields in Chengdu drained China’s already meager military budget, manpower, and resources. Prioritizing supplies for bombing missions meant even fewer weapons and aid shipments for China’s own armies.

In short, Operation Matterhorn was more about political theater, and China was footing the bill.

"This time... I won’t let them get away with it."

Muttering under his breath, Pierre turned his gaze to the vast Pacific. Compared to Chengdu, the Pacific was a far better launchpad for bombing Japan.

"But that won’t happen until ’45..."

He stared at the Mariana Islands on the map. Not until the U.S. seized them in 1945 would the B-29s have a truly viable base from which to reach mainland Japan.

Until then, Chengdu remained the only option—and a flawed one at that.

He drew a circle around Tokyo with a piece of string, using it as a radius guide. Then—

He was back to the same problem.

Outside of China, no viable airfields existed within 2,500 kilometers of Tokyo.

"Damn it..."

Frustrated, Pierre dropped his pencil and stared at the map in silence.

Outside, the cold wind carried flurries of snow, turning the streets white. A car stopped by the curb, and Hedy Lamarr stepped out. She glanced at the still-lit window of the study.

"What’s he doing up so late?"

Since arriving in New York, Hedy had been living under the same roof as Pierre—but the two rarely crossed paths. Most of her time was spent in the radio laboratory.

Yet the more time passed, the more curious she became. This man was unlike any other. If it were someone else living with her, he’d surely try everything to get into her bedroom, to win her over.

But him?

To him, it was like she didn’t even exist.

Though they shared a house, they hadn’t seen each other in over two weeks.

As she passed the study, she saw him through the half-open door, deep in thought before the map.

After a moment’s hesitation, Hedy knocked gently and asked:

"Still awake?"

The voice surprised Pierre. Turning, he finally remembered—he had a housemate.

"You too, just back from the lab?" freeωebnovēl.c૦m

"Yeah. What are you working on?"

She stepped into the study and looked at the map, noticing the red lines and circles. It didn’t take her long to figure it out.

"Tokyo... you’re thinking about how to bomb Tokyo, aren’t you?"

"Just daydreaming. It’s not easy—Tokyo’s too far. The Pacific is... too vast."

He sighed and motioned toward the liquor cabinet.

"Drink?"

"Sure."

As he walked over to pour, she moved closer to the map. Studying the lines and targets, she said softly:

"Your study’s starting to feel more like a general’s war room."

"It’s just business," Pierre replied, handing her a glass.

"KTJ’s products need bombers to reach Japan. If they do, the military will increase their orders. On that point, our interests align perfectly."

Taking the glass, Hedy smiled and asked:

"So, no viable forward airfields?"

"Too far—2,500 kilometers. That’s the max operational range for next-gen bombers. And within that range, there’s no base suitable for launching or landing."

She took a sip and said thoughtfully:

"If there’s no airfield within range, what about extending the aircraft’s reach?"

Her suggestion made Pierre laugh.

"Easier said than done. You can lighten the load, add more fuel, maybe stretch it by 200 or 300 kilometers. But bombing Japan would require increasing the combat radius by over a thousand—just to maybe make it."

Another thousand kilometers. Where could they take off from?

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Hedy suddenly said:

"What if you used aerial refueling? I saw a demonstration once before the war."

Her words jolted Pierre to life.

"That’s it! Aerial refueling! Yes—yes, exactly! But wait... what kind of demonstration did you see?"

---

Chapter 67 – Identity Exposed

Just before Christmas, Pierre returned once again to London. Along with delivering supplies to the Razor Party—coffee, sugar, beef, and other goods, all of which earned him a tidy profit—he had another matter to attend to.

But the moment he arrived at Stana’s place, the mischievous little vixen clung to him tightly.

There was no way to escape. Business would have to wait.

And as for Pierre? Let’s just say... two months without "meat" had taken its toll.

What followed was earthshaking.

By the time it was over, Pierre looked quite pleased with himself.

As a grand sorcerer, how could he not be?

Still, his "victory" didn’t last long.

No soul escapes the Demon-Slaying Staff.

It was an all-out war—from afternoon to dusk, dusk to midnight, and midnight to dawn.

Who came out on top?

Hard to say. But by the next morning, both Stana and Gilly were glowing, their faces radiant and flushed. Fully satisfied, they looked stunning.

But Pierre wasn’t thinking about that anymore. He headed straight to the company.

Of course, both women came too—one a manager, the other a secretary. Now that the real boss had arrived, they were both fulfilling the true meaning of secretary: working hard at work, and harder at... everything else.

When the three of them arrived at the office, company lawyer Ian Thorpe was already waiting inside.

"Good to see you again, Pierre," Ian said.

"You too, Ian."

As Pierre stepped into the office, Ian followed behind.

"What do you have for me?"

While shrugging off his camel-hair coat and hanging it in the wall-mounted wardrobe, he asked the question. Ian took a report from his briefcase and handed it over, then pulled a notebook from his pocket and began explaining his findings.

"Just as we planned, our debt claims have been upheld by the court. The minor shareholders, trying to avoid liability, have started offloading their shares. But of course, no one wants to buy them—so we picked up roughly 47% at rock-bottom prices."

As he flipped through the barrister’s report, Pierre asked:

"So, we now hold 95% of North Borneo Company stock?"

"That’s right. The remaining 5% belongs to an elderly widow. She’s about 85, still breathing as far as we know, living in a gloomy old mansion in Kensington with her lifelong maidservant."

Pierre thought for a moment.

"So why is she still clinging to those shares?"

"Some old folks get sentimental. Maybe it’s just because her husband left them to her—it’s a keepsake."

"So it’s just nostalgia..."

Pierre nodded.

"Ian, I want you to dig into her background—who she is, what she loves, what she hates, what she eats... most importantly, find her weaknesses. Everyone has something they can’t resist. Find it. And get those shares."

To Pierre, who had resolved to become the de facto warlord of North Borneo, 95% wasn’t enough.

He needed 100%.

He wanted total control—to do whatever he pleased.

"Of course. I’ve already sent investigators. We’ll have answers soon."

Then Ian added:

"Pierre, there’s another matter I need to raise. Under British corporate law, any individual who acquires 10% or more of a publicly traded company’s stock is required—within two weeks—to formally disclose their identity to the company’s board. The law exists to ensure transparency for shareholders: who’s buying, how much, and from whom. So... your identity will soon be public."

"So what?" Pierre replied casually.

"Originally, I kept my identity secret to avoid spooking competitors. Now? Let them find out. At most, they’ll see me as a young Chinese millionaire."

He shrugged indifferently. In New York, he was already somewhat well known—not because he had bought a factory for zero dollars, but because Hedy Lamarr lived in his house.

Even if they weren’t actually cohabiting, that’s what everyone assumed.

In truth, they hadn’t even held hands.

Pierre couldn’t do anything about the rumor—it was just one of those things.

"So my identity gets exposed. Big deal. Just keep pushing ahead with the North Borneo Company. Anyway, I need you to take care of something else."

"It’s more than just identity exposure, Pierre," Ian said seriously.

"The North Borneo Company isn’t an ordinary company—it owns a colony. A lot of its operations fall under the authority of the Colonial Office. Now that control has changed hands, the government is bound to intervene. You’ll need to be ready."

In other words, official interference was now on the table.

And that could be a real problem. The British government wouldn’t be thrilled to see one of their colonial assets fall into foreign hands—especially at a time like this, and especially at such a low price.

If the Colonial Office stepped in, what would they do?

It was hard to predict.

But for now, there wasn’t much anyone could do—not even the British.

After all, North Borneo was still under Japanese occupation.

After a pause, Pierre said:

"We’ll play it by ear. For now, let’s deal with the other matter first."

"Just give the word."

"Have you heard of a company called Flight Refueling Ltd.?"

"Doesn’t ring a bell," Ian replied.

"But I can have someone look into it."

"Good. It was founded by a pilot named Alan John Cobham. They specialize in air-to-air refueling equipment. I want to acquire their technology—or better yet, buy the whole company."

"Air-to-air refueling?"

"Yes. The technology lets bombers refuel mid-flight, extending their range. You don’t really need it to bomb Germany, but for Japan, it’s essential. We’re already late to the game, but if we move fast, we can still make it in time for this war."

As he said the word "in time," Pierre emphasized it with a sweep of his hand.

"With this tech, we could double a bomber’s range. Distance would no longer be Japan’s shield. We could bomb them any time, anywhere."

"So... can we buy the company?"

Ian chuckled.

"Pierre, my friend... there’s nothing in this world that money can’t buy. Just wait for my good news."

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