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WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 9
THE CONNAUGHT HOTEL
LONDON, UK

“The Purpose Fund is pleased to announce the grant recipients for this year’s research program,” Professor Victoria Kinder spoke from the podium. A bank of video cameras were in front of her to her right. She looked down and smiled to the board members seated in the first row of seats to her left. Behind them sat many of those who had applied for the funding.

“The Hospital for Tropical Diseases, London, will receive fifteen million pounds for a three-year study in emerging viruses,” she read out. “The Byrd Polar Research Group of Ohio State is awarded twelve million dollars for its continuing work exploring the polar regions.” Small groups gasped, hugged, or clapped with each reading. “Moscow State University’s Institute of Agricultural Genetics is granted fifty-two million rubles for further work on adapting crops to grow in tundra regions.”

The attractive, young American academic went on, announcing funding for laboratories and research teams in India, Iceland, China, Norway, Canada, Austria, Australia, Switzerland, Korea, Chile, and Japan. Programs in alternative energy, biogenetic engineering, geological exploration, and multispectral satellite sensors were among the diverse recipients of the private largesse. In all, the fourteen awards totaled a quarter of a billion dollars. Each of the five board members had given fifty million dollars for this year’s Purpose Fund research grants.

“And now, I want to call upon the Chairman of the Board, a man who makes me so proud every day, my father, Jonathan Kinder.” The man, with a thick head of silver hair, swept back from a high forehead, stepped forward. He kissed his daughter on the cheek, as she stepped away from the podium. For a man in his seventies, he seemed trim and fit in his double-breasted blue pinstriped suit. He removed the microphone from its holder on the podium and stood in the middle of the stage, looking out at the appreciative audience that continued its applause for him.

“Thank you, thank you very much,” he began. “It is, after all, you who we, the Board of the Purpose Fund, should be applauding, you who do the hard work to advance our knowledge as the human race. You do the work that matters, that will make it possible for us to live better lives in the face of the ever-changing conditions on this planet.

“For me, the Purpose Fund gives reason for the many years that I have struggled in the fields of private equity, real estate, energy, and agribusiness. Those years of effort made me a very rich man, as you know, but what good does it do a man to have money unless there is a purpose for acquiring that wealth?

“That is why I was so pleased to join Zhang Wei, Sheikh Arbaaz, Konstantin, and Sir Clive in coming together to create the Purpose Fund several years ago. We each initially contributed the equivalent of three billion pounds to the foundation’s science and research programs, which include our own laboratories, exploration teams, and even satellites. We are also proud to sponsor some of the most cutting-edge work at many of the world’s most prestigious institutions through these annual research grants.

“We have also over the years created a series of joint corporations, to invest together in ventures, which we believe will over time create a continuing stream of revenue, much of which will go to the Purpose Fund in the out years. We also believe that these investments will help assure that the world’s peoples will have a continuing supply of energy, food, and raw materials to support a global economy well into this century and out into the next.”

Following his remarks, the grant recipients joined the board members for a Champagne reception in the mirrored ballroom next door to the hall in which they had held the press conference. Tuxedoed waiters poured Krug into crystal flutes, Krug Grande Cuvée 2012 for the researchers, Krug Clos d’Ambonnay 1995 for the board members.

As Victoria Kinder guided her father from group to group of scientists, other board members hung back, subtly separated from the crowd by bodyguards in Savile Row suits, tailored to hide the small arms under the Super 150 weight wool. Konstantin Kuznetzov looked impatient, checking his Richard Mille Tourbillon wristwatch. He turned to the tall thin man at his side. “Sir Clive, shall we leave this show now and go upstairs and start our meeting? We have much to discuss. Are you sure this hotel is a safe place to have these discussions?”

“Your man Sergey says it is,” the Brit replied. “He had his people sweep it and install the protective electronics. The hotel manager tried to stop him from ripping things up, but it is, after all, the Sheikh’s hotel.”

Kuznetzov smiled. “Vladimir,” he called to one of the bodyguards. “In a minute, tell Kinder we have gone upstairs to the meeting. Ask him to join us as soon as he can break away. Discreetly, Vlad, discreetly this time.”

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