CH406 | Heir

I returned to the company and summoned the head of planning.

While I had been at Centurion, he had gathered a great deal of information on MERS.

"At the moment there’s one confirmed case of MERS, but there are five suspected cases. The problem is that the patient’s movements overlapped with countless people—at the airport, on the plane, even at restaurants. It’s impossible to know how many more might end up infected."

"Is the government still holding back on releasing information?"

"They’ve decided not to disclose anything until they have verified details."

It wasn’t the worst decision, but it was far from the best either.

If information was released recklessly, fear could spread out of control. But once information was hidden, rumors of every kind would spring up.

That might not matter if people trusted the government. But with approval ratings stuck at thirty percent, withholding information was bound to draw criticism.

"The government must be in a tough spot."

"I’ve heard the Blue House is under heavy pressure. The ministries are scrambling to contain the fallout, but this isn’t an issue that will settle easily."

"South Korea is facing a crisis. We can’t just sit on our hands. We need to treat every MERS patient at Taewoo Hospital."

The head of planning never argued against me. His job was to quickly assess what conditions were needed to make my decision possible.

"MERS patients are highly contagious, so negative pressure rooms are essential. Taewoo Hospital currently has only five. We’ll need at least twenty more, and each one costs around two hundred million won to build."

"Two hundred million per room… that’s not cheap. Still, it’s an amount worth spending if we’re serious about social responsibility. In fact, let’s not stop at twenty. Build a hundred."

That meant two hundred billion won to add a hundred negative pressure rooms.

A staggering figure—but if it meant securing vital information about the coronavirus, it wasn’t such a high price after all.

"Negative pressure rooms aren’t the only cost. We’ll also need to purchase oxygen respirators, ECMO machines, and maintaining a single negative pressure room costs over ten million won a month."

"That’s going to require quite a bit of funding."

"If we frame it as part of Taewoo Group’s social contribution, it’s still manageable."

Taewoo Group donated nearly thirty billion won every year.
The head of planning seemed to be thinking that diverting this year’s donations toward MERS treatment wasn’t such a large expense after all.

"There’s one more thing. We should give the medical staff an incentive. Pay double salary to those assigned to MERS treatment."

"Paying twice the salary for Taewoo Hospital’s own staff won’t be an issue. But if patient numbers rise, our hospital staff won’t be enough. We’ll need to bring in outside personnel."

"And they’ll need to be paid the same, otherwise we’ll face fairness issues. Start recruiting external staff right away. That way, if the outbreak spreads, we’ll already have people lined up."

Spending money on medical staff never felt like a waste.

Without their help, I wouldn’t be able to gain the information I needed on the coronavirus.

And beyond that, they were invaluable for boosting Taewoo Group’s image. In truth, I wanted to give them more than just double salaries.

"The planning office will take care of all preparations. The question is whether the government will go along with our plans."

"We’re offering them a ready-made solution. They have no reason to refuse. If we present this as Taewoo Group stepping up for the nation’s progress and the administration’s success, they’ll have no choice but to work with us."

"Will you personally negotiate with the government?"

"Vice Chairman Han will handle it. He’s already built rapport with government officials at the banquet, so he should do well."

The head of planning gave a knowing smile and nodded before leaving to carry out his tasks.

I immediately called Vice Chairman Han into my office.

"Go meet with the government officials. Tell them Taewoo Group will take full charge of MERS treatment."

"What exactly do you mean by that?"

I spent over ten minutes explaining things in detail to Vice Chairman Han.

I framed it as Taewoo Group taking charge of MERS treatment as part of our social contribution efforts.

"This could do a lot for Taewoo Group’s public image. And with the government giving us side-glances over the foundation endowment issue, this might be our chance to turn their perception around."

"Exactly. So go meet with the officials. If Taewoo Group offers to step in, they’ll treat you with the utmost courtesy. How often do civil servants get a chance to express gratitude? Take this opportunity and soak it all in."

"I’ll make the calls today."

Vice Chairman Han stayed positive throughout.

That was only because he had no idea this MERS treatment project would cost hundreds of billions of won.

If he knew the amount, I doubted he’d still be smiling like that.

***

The next day.

I got a call from David.

[Boss! I just heard back from Chiron. They’re demanding 100 million dollars in exchange for all their SARS treatment data. What should we do?]

"Looks like they’re trying to cash in while they can."

[If you give me a little more time, I can negotiate. From Chiron’s perspective, this is the perfect chance to unload a useless drug. Nobody else wants it except us.]

"Just buy it. Right now, time is worth more than money."

[Got it! Still, I’ll try to push the price down as much as I can. Honestly, I don’t think they expect to get the full 100 million.]

It was Chiron, an American company.

David’s main field of play was the U.S., and with his skills, he should be able to secure the SARS development data at a reasonable price.

"I’ll give you a five percent bonus on whatever discount you get. Do your best."

[Ha! That’s why you’re the boss—you know how to motivate people!]

"But it has to be wrapped up within two days."

[Two days is plenty. I’ll hang up now—every minute counts.]

Beep!

David ended the call first.

Just as I set my phone down, Vice Chairman Han burst into the room in a rush.

"Chairman! You need to see the TV right now."

"Breaking news, I assume."

He grabbed the remote and turned it on.

Every channel was broadcasting the same urgent report.

[The government has designated Taewoo Hospital as the official treatment center for MERS. All confirmed and suspected patients will be treated and cared for at Taewoo Hospital, with all medical expenses fully covered by the state.]

The deal with the government wasn’t even finalized yet.

So how had the media already gotten hold of it and pushed out breaking news across every channel?

"Did someone on our side leak the information?"

"No, sir. It looks like the government distributed a press release."

"They must be desperate—announcing it before even finishing negotiations with us."

"It seems they wanted to box us in so we couldn’t back out."

The breaking news had nailed things down completely.

Taewoo Group couldn’t pull out now, and I had no intention of doing so anyway.

"Then it’s time to get moving in earnest. Call in the planning director."

He was already waiting outside.

As soon as the news broke, he had rushed straight to my office, so we were able to begin the meeting without delay.

"By the end of today, we’ll clear out the Taewoo Hospital R&D Center and convert it into emergency wards. Construction on 20 negative-pressure rooms has already begun, and we’ve placed an external order for mobile negative-pressure units."

"So there are mobile ones as well."

"Yes. Once the MERS crisis passes, the permanent rooms would have to be dismantled. But mobile units can be stored externally and redeployed quickly in the event of another outbreak. They’re also cheaper to produce."

As expected of Taewoo Group’s planning director—he not only handled the work flawlessly but also came up with better options than I had considered.

"How much does a mobile negative-pressure unit cost?"

"Between 30 and 40 million won. Factoring in equipment and facilities, it comes to over 100 million, but still about half the cost of a permanent negative-pressure ward."

"A permanent ward costs 200 million won?!"

Vice Chairman Han suddenly cut in.

Only now was he realizing just how much this MERS operation was going to cost.

"About 200 million, yes. But that’s not the point, so don’t interrupt. How many mobile units have we ordered so far?"

"Twenty, for now. Production takes about a week to ten days, and that’s the maximum they can make at once."

"Then put in an order for eighty more. With infections continuing to rise, we’ll need around a hundred units to handle every patient."

"I’ll place the order today."

I glanced sideways at Vice Chairman Han.

He was busy running mental calculations, and it looked like he had finally realized that the MERS crisis would cost Taewoo Group hundreds of billions of won.

"Chairman, this is far too much money. Let me step in and secure government funding. At the very least, we can get support for the negative-pressure rooms."

"If we go that route, ownership gets complicated. These aren’t single-use facilities. It’s better to build them with our own money."

"When would we ever use them again? Once the MERS outbreak ends, they’ll have no value."

Han didn’t know that COVID-19 would eventually sweep the globe.

But I did. And I knew exactly how critical negative-pressure rooms would become.

"We’ll use them again, trust me. Besides, government money always comes with strings attached."

"Understood. Then I’ll head back to the Financial Tower. If we’re going to cover what you’ve spent, I’ll need to short-sell more aggressively today."

In some ways, Han could be rather petty.

He was making profits in the trillions from shorting the Chinese markets, yet he flinched at spending a few hundred billion.

And it wasn’t as if I were wasting money.

This was for the country, and for the future of Taewoo Group.

I ignored the vice chairman as he left for the Financial Tower and continued my discussion with the planning director about MERS countermeasures.

"How’s the recruitment of medical staff coming along?"

"Honestly, I thought it would be difficult. But unexpectedly, the government is helping us."

"What sort of help?"

"An official directive went out to university hospitals, ordering them to send personnel to Taewoo Hospital. If they refuse, their state subsidies will be cut. It’s practically a threat."

No university hospital would dare refuse.

After all, saying university hospitals ran on government funding wasn’t wrong.

“Make sure there are no setbacks in treating MERS patients.”

“I’ll keep everything under strict watch, 24 hours a day.”

Now all the preparations were in place.

What remained was gathering data from the treatment process.

To make sure nothing slipped through the cracks, a proper system was needed.

And the best programmer to build such a system was already with us.

“Where’s Director Cheon Minjeong? Call her to my office immediately.”