American Medicine God: Starting by Inheriting a Pharmaceutical Company and Selling Medicine

"I believe you will be interested."

"Oh?" Victor put down his coffee cup and leaned forward slightly.

"Please come with me. The car is ready."

......

The black Toyota drove away from the bustling Chiyoda Ward and sped eastward along the Metropolitan Expressway bayfront.

The scenery outside the window gradually became desolate.

An hour later, the convoy stopped in a secluded corner of the Chiba Prefectural Industrial Park.

Sakura Pharmaceutical's Fourth Logistics Center. It's an unremarkable gray building, surrounded by a high-voltage electric fence, with armed security guards patrolling the entrance with Doberman Pinschers.

After passing through layers of security checks, Victor and his group, dressed in prepared cold-weather gear, entered the deep cold storage area on the second basement level.

The moment you step inside, a chill hits you. The temperature here remains at minus thirty degrees Celsius year-round.

Dr. Watanabe, the research and development director of Sakura Pharmaceuticals, looked like a chubby penguin in his thick white winter suit. He stood in front of rows of huge stainless steel cryogenic storage tanks.

"Mr. Corleone," Tanaka volunteered as the explainer, "this is the treasure I've preserved for you. A total of 50,000 liters. It's all raw plasma acquired at low prices from paid blood donors in Southeast Asia and Latin America over the past three years."

Victor approached a storage tank numbered "X-78" and, through the frost-covered observation window, saw a dark red, viscous liquid inside.

"Watanabe," Tanaka turned and snapped, his tone stern, "what are you all standing there for? Report the technical parameters to the Chairman!"

"Yes...yes." Dr. Watanabe hurriedly wiped the fog off his mask. "This inventory...is indeed enormous. But...Mr. Corleone, this batch of goods has serious quality issues."

Watanabe swallowed hard, then mustered his courage and said, "Our latest PCR test results show that some of the samples have abnormal viral markers. Because there wasn't rigorous screening of blood donors during the early collection phase, a significant amount of plasma from intravenous donors and...high-risk individuals has been mixed in. They may contain hepatitis B, hepatitis C, or even...HTLV-III."

"Are you familiar with the 'plasma pool' effect?" Dr. Watanabe explained urgently. "When we produce clotting factors, we mix the plasma of thousands of people together. If even one person's plasma carries a virus, all 50,000 liters of plasma will be contaminated! That's a biological bomb!"

"Furthermore, current heat treatment technology is not mature. While dry heat treatment can inactivate hepatitis B, its effectiveness against this new virus is still controversial. If this batch of drugs were to enter the market, the consequences would be unimaginable..."

Victor remained silent, simply gazing at the dark red liquid. He knew, of course. He also knew that currently, blood screening technology had a limited window of opportunity and was extremely expensive.

"That's a low-probability event!" Tanaka immediately interrupted Watanabe, glaring at him fiercely. "Mr. Chairman, you're the expert. You know these so-called 'abnormal indicators' can be statistically diluted. If we mix these 50,000 liters of plasma with purer American plasma, we can dilute the viral load below the detection limit..."

He leaned closer to Victor: "Or, we could stop selling them as injectables in Japan or the US. We could process them into 'research reagents,' or... export them to regions with less stringent regulations. Like South America, the Middle East, or Eastern Europe, which has just opened up."

Victor turned his head and looked at the Japanese man with a beaming smile.

To secure his position, Tanaka not only betrayed his employees of decades, but now he's even devising ideas for his new master that could cause a humanitarian disaster. This is the ultimate form of capitalism—in the face of profit, fellow citizens are merely numbers.

"How much would it cost to destroy this shipment?" Victor asked coldly.

"We'll have to pay hefty medical waste disposal fees and write off an asset impairment loss of up to $20 million on our books," Tanaka calculated quickly. "But if we process it the way I suggested... the extracted clotting factor VIII, at current international market prices, is more expensive per gram than gold. These 50,000 liters of plasma could yield at least $50 million worth of finished products."

"Fifty million dollars," Victor repeated the number.

In the dim light of the cold storage room, half of his face was in the light and half in the shadows.

In the frenzied world of capitalism, morality has a price tag. Fifty million dollars is enough to buy many things, including the conscience of some people and the immunity of some countries.

"Dr. Watanabe is right, this shipment is indeed risky," Victor suddenly said.

Tanaka's smile froze on his face, while Watanabe breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that the American boss still had a shred of conscience.

But then Victor changed his tone: "However, waste is also a sin, especially today when hemophilia patients around the world are suffering from blood shortages."

He looked at Tanaka, a deep, unfathomable smile in his eyes: "Your suggestion is very constructive, Mr. Tanaka. Your idea regarding 'export' is very insightful. But I need a more comprehensive and 'compliant' solution. We are a publicly traded company; we cannot afford to leave any room for error."

Victor turned to Saul, who had been taking notes, and said:

"Sol, write this down. I need you to implement the 'Firewall Plan' immediately."

"The first step is to register an offshore company called 'Pacific Biotechnology' in the British Virgin Islands. The shareholder structure should be complex, preferably through a trust fund of Liechtenstein, using a multi-layered nested structure to ensure that it cannot be traced back to Water Pharmaceuticals."

"The second step," Victor pointed to the huge storage tanks, "is to have Sakura Pharmaceuticals sell this batch of blood plasma to Pacific Biotechnology at $1 per liter under the guise of 'scrap material.' That way, Sakura Pharmaceuticals' books will be clean, and we've disposed of the 'waste.'"

"The third step was for Pacific Biotech to sign a contract manufacturing agreement with Sakura Pharmaceuticals. Sakura Pharmaceuticals was commissioned to process these raw materials into a clotting factor preparation called 'Factor-X'. Note that the contract must specify that: 'The raw materials are provided by the commissioning party, and the manufacturer is not responsible for the biosafety of the raw materials.'"

Saul's eyes lit up, and he quickly jotted down notes: "Understood. Legal liability separation. If problems arise in the future, the victims can only sue the shell company with only a few hundred dollars in registered capital, while Sakura Pharmaceuticals is just an unsuspecting contract manufacturer."

“That’s right.” Victor nodded. “As for sales… don’t put the labels on the products in this factory. Ship the semi-finished products to the free trade zone, where you can finish packaging and labeling. The labels should say in English, Spanish, and Arabic: ‘For Export Only.’”

"Our target markets are the Middle East and Latin America. Doctors and patients there urgently need life-saving drugs and they don't care whether the packaging has an FDA stamp. We can even 'donate' a portion to local charities in exchange for tax breaks."

This entire process was executed flawlessly, clearly not a spur-of-the-moment decision.

Victor took the undrafted "letter of intent for contract manufacturing" from Saul, wrote a few lines on the back, and then handed it to Tanaka along with the pen.

"Mr. Tanaka, as the 'honorary advisor' of Sakura Pharmaceuticals, I think you wouldn't mind signing your name on behalf of Sakura Pharmaceuticals in the OEM contract's client representative section, would you?"

Tanaka's face turned deathly pale in an instant.

He understood what this meant. It was a pledge of allegiance, a contract of servitude. Victor had absolved himself of all responsibility, shifting all legal risks onto the offshore company and Tanaka himself. If the truth came out in the future, Tanaka would be the sole scapegoat.

"What? Is there a problem?"

"If you find it difficult, I can find someone else to sign. However, in that case, I think the position of 'Honorary Advisor' might not be suitable for you. Perhaps you should join the 'Catch-Up Department' and copy the employee handbook with the laid-off employees?"

Tanaka took the document with trembling hands. His hands were shaking, and it wasn't just from the cold.

"Of course...of course I don't mind." Tanaka forced a smile. "It's my duty to share the burden for the Chairman. This batch of products is to save the poor people in the Third World who can't afford expensive medicines. It's a kind of...compassion. Yes, it's humanitarian aid."

He hypnotized himself while signing his name on the paper.

"Well said." Victor patted Tanaka on the shoulder. "That's what I like about you, Tanaka. You always manage to see the brilliance of 'humanity' in business."

Victor took one last look at the dark red storage tanks.

"Dr. Watanabe," he said to the terrified R&D manager, "start the machines. I need you to work in three shifts, 24 hours a day without stopping."

"I want to see that $50 million turn into cash flow within three months."