This time, Castle didn't bother to deny or hide anything. Without a word, he directly led the Northrop Grumman senior vice president, who had come alone to his estate, into his mechanical laboratory. Without hesitation, Castle presented the first prototype of the optical cloaking system—just created under Jarvis's guidance. He wanted to candidly demonstrate that this wasn't mere bluff or speculation but a real invention. It was technology capable of being installed on any subsonic aircraft's underbelly, combined with specific software to achieve visual invisibility.
Even though the system's control software was still unfinished—since it required painstaking manual coding by his team—Castle still confidently displayed the flexible optical panels. Unlike Castle's previous breakthroughs, where he essentially cheated by "remembering" code from his past life, this time Ramsey and the team had to manually write and debug every line, which naturally slowed progress.
Nonetheless, the prototype was functional enough to leave the senior vice president utterly speechless.
The large flexible display screen, which seamlessly changed colors to blend into its surroundings when connected to the simulation program, was undeniably real. It was a concrete representation of technology that could fundamentally alter the future of aviation.
The senior VP stood frozen, staring at the technology before him, overwhelmed by awe and disbelief.
"This… this is incredible…" he murmured, his thoughts a whirlwind of amazement and frustration.
For the first time, he found himself truly resenting the short-sighted greed of Northrop's board of directors.
If it hadn't been for those moronic, money-grubbing executives, Castle's revolutionary technology might have been Northrop's exclusive breakthrough. Castle's laziness and general lack of ambition would have worked in their favor—he would have handed over his inventions on a silver platter. But now? Thanks to the board's betrayal during the Christmas incident, Castle's trust was gone, and Northrop's exclusivity was off the table.
Now, they were left scrambling for scraps and competing with Lockheed Martin for technology they could have monopolized.
Castle, still holding the flexible display screen, finally spoke after allowing the VP to process what he was seeing.
"I'm sure you're well aware of the state of my relationship with your company's board," Castle said calmly. "So let me make one thing very clear: This time, it won't be like before. I won't hand over my work so easily. Prepare yourself for that reality."
The senior VP snapped out of his stunned state, his face pale. "What… what exactly do you mean, Mr. Castle?"
Castle gave a faint smile. There was no hostility in his tone, just cold, calculated intent.
"After everything that's happened, I've realized something: No matter how much I've contributed to Northrop Grumman—whether it's the drone technologies, the semi-automated flight control system, or even the Jericho missiles and explosive formulas I sold for dirt cheap—your board still valued a Japanese military contract over me.
That's fine. Business is business, right? I get it now. So why should I keep giving them my work for next to nothing?"
The senior VP, sensing where this was headed, tried to interject, but Castle silenced him with a wave of his hand.
"Let's not pretend, shall we?" Castle continued. "Your board didn't even bother trying to explain themselves after the Christmas debacle. They probably thought I wouldn't care because I'd profit from the contract anyway. But here's the thing: I've learned from them.
From now on, I'll play by their rules. They care about money more than loyalty? Fine. Let's talk money.
This," Castle gestured to the flexible display screen, "is a fully functional prototype of a first-generation optical cloaking system. While it's still a work-in-progress, it's real, and it's revolutionary.
You can tell your board two things:
First, I'm not bluffing. This technology is as real as it gets.
Second, Northrop Grumman will not have exclusive access to it. If they want it, they'll have to pay. And just so we're clear, Lockheed Martin is already vying for it as well.
I'll consider giving Northrop access because I'm still a shareholder. But exclusivity? Forget it. If your board even thinks they'll get this technology all to themselves, they're dreaming."
The senior VP's heart sank. He had expected Castle to demand higher compensation this time, but to hear it so bluntly, so unequivocally—it was worse than he feared.
Castle wasn't just raising the price; he was breaking the rules of the game entirely. For decades, Northrop had relied on Castle's inventions to maintain a competitive edge. Now, they'd be forced to share their advantage with their biggest rival.
Internally, the senior VP cursed the board of directors once again. Their greed and short-sightedness had cost the company dearly. They had prioritized a one-time contract with Japan over maintaining a relationship with Castle, a man whose ingenuity could have kept Northrop ahead for decades.
Now, they were paying the price.
But what could he do? He wasn't a decision-maker; he was just an intermediary. His job was to take Castle's terms back to the board. Whether they could salvage the situation was out of his hands.
Realizing there was nothing more to say, the senior VP simply nodded. "Understood, Mr. Castle. I'll relay your terms to the board."
Castle nodded, satisfied. "Good. I think we both know this was inevitable. And just so you know—I won't hold back next time, either. If your board wants access to my work in the future, they'd better be prepared to pay up. No more freebies."
With that, Castle escorted the VP out of the lab and to the estate's gate.
The senior VP left Castle's estate with a heavy heart.
He had come to New York expecting to smooth things over with Castle, to patch up the rift caused by the Christmas incident. Instead, he had been handed a harsh dose of reality: Castle wasn't interested in mending fences.
From now on, their relationship would be strictly transactional.
The VP didn't need to guess how the board would react. They had brought this on themselves. They could have had Castle as an ally, as a partner, as a source of endless innovation. Instead, they'd turned him into a mercenary—one who would sell his genius to the highest bidder.
And now, Northrop Grumman would have to pay the price.
Castle watched the VP's car disappear down the long driveway, a small smile on his lips.
This was the outcome he wanted. By forcing Northrop and Lockheed to share his technology, he ensured that neither could dominate the market entirely. And by setting a precedent for strict, high-cost licensing agreements, he guaranteed that future deals would be on his terms.
The days of playing nice were over. From now on, Richard Castle was playing to win.
(End of Chapter)
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