Marchionne looked up at the head of his academy's technical department, then glanced at his watch. "Is this urgent? I'm just about to leave for the airport."
The Christmas holiday was just around the corner. This was the one and only vacation the famously diligent, iron-fisted CEO took all year. He wouldn't just refuse all work; he would fiercely guard this time for his family, often extending the holiday to completely clear his schedule.
Monfardini understood. "I came specifically to complete this report before Christmas."
Marchionne knew immediately that this was a high-priority issue. Still, he didn't stop buttoning his coat. "Come with me. We'll talk on the way."
"If this conversation needs more time, you'll ride to the airport with me, and I'll have the driver bring you back. Ferdinando, no one is stopping me from going home."
He even added a small wink. It was clear the impending holiday had put him in a bright mood that not even the drizzling rain could dampen.
Monfardini stepped aside to let him pass, then fell in step beside him. "Sir, I want to talk about Kai Zhizhou."
A smile touched Marchionne's eyes. "I had a feeling." The catfish. Everything was proceeding as planned, sending shockwaves through the academy. The entire atmosphere of the place was changing, and he was very satisfied with the progress. "So, good news or bad news?"
Monfardini didn't answer directly. He cut straight to the chase. "I'm considering whether we can find a race seat for him next year."
Marchionne froze. This was unexpected. "Oh?"
"F4 would be fine," Monfardini explained. "His talent and ability are astonishing, but he lacks experience. That's his weak point. He needs to get on a real track, in real races. He needs to be forged in the fires of actual competition to truly grow."
Marchionne's eyebrow rose.
No one in the entire academy knew that Kai's contract was only for three months, or that it had been Kai's decision, not Ferrari's. If people found out that Ferrari had practically begged him to sign, where would their prestige be? How could Marchionne show his face?
But now...
He tipped his chin, glancing at Monfardini. "Are you sure? He's only been in the academy for just over a month."
Even though Marchionne had high hopes for Kai—the better he performed, the more effective the "Catfish Effect" would be—he hadn't dared to believe things would escalate this quickly.
Monfardini didn't explain. He simply handed over the file he had prepared.
They both settled into the car. Marchionne signaled for the driver to go, then immediately began flipping through the pages. He wasn't a complete novice, but he wasn't an engineer. He looked at Monfardini. "So?"
Monfardini waited until he saw Marchionne had read the key data. "Currently, the average F3 dry-weather times at Fiorano are between 1:10 and 1:12. The wet-weather times are between 1:17 and 1:20."
"This," he said, tapping the page, "is the time Kai set today. In the rain."
Following his finger, Marchionne saw the number: 1:16.008. His eyes lit up.
He hadn't just broken the wet-weather record; he had smashed it by a full second. And he was closing in on the dry times. That was a level of ability that demanded attention.
Monfardini nodded. "And I don't believe that's his limit."
Marchionne closed his eyes, his heart hammering. This was exactly what he had hoped to see, but it was all happening so fast. 2016 wasn't even over, and the opportunity was already here.
He tried to calm himself, to think rationally. In moments like this, he couldn't afford to be reckless and ruin the opportunity.
Monfardini knew he was taking a risk, but he felt more excitement than nerves. He hadn't felt this way in a long time.
"Of course, I'm not suggesting he's ready today," Monfardini continued. "It's his third day on a track, his first time in the rain, and he delivered a perfect lap. The first time he truly felt the car aquaplane, he didn't panic. He has an innate quality... he can read the track, read the rain, read the car."
Monfardini let out a slow breath.
"He was simply born for this."
Marchionne opened his eyes, a smile in them. "I've never seen you like this, Ferdinando. This kid must be the real deal."
Monfardini knew he was being teased, but he was in no mood for jokes. He just looked at Marchionne, his expression serious.
Marchionne sighed, a hint of regret in his voice. "Jean Todt is more fun." He was joking, but his tone quickly shifted back to that of the CEO. "So, you're basing this all on one lap?"
"Of course not," Monfardini said, shaking his head, his gaze firm.
"A lap time can tell you a lot, but it can't tell you everything. You saw how he built his own model in the simulator, how he explored the limits. He did the same thing today."
"His understanding of speed. That is the truly stunning part."
Monfardini paused, his voice softening but carrying even more weight.
"Here at the academy, we are responsible for training qualified drivers. Drivers with potential, who are disciplined, who know how to seize an opportunity. But in the end, they still need to be tested on the track to be tempered into a final product."
"But Kai... he's not patient enough to wait for opportunities. He creates them."
"For him, the academy is too small a pond. It won't hold him for long."
"The new season is four and a half months away. We can continue his training, but I believe by then, he will be ready for a new challenge."
"For an athlete like Kai, you have to keep him challenged, keep him on the limit. That's what will keep him motivated. Otherwise, he'll get bored and walk away from the sport entirely. He'll go skydiving, or rock climbing, or find some other limit to break."
That last sentence struck a deep chord with Marchionne. He knew Monfardini was right. Kai truly wasn't planning to stay.
He looked at Monfardini, who had no idea how close to the truth he'd just landed, and who was now looking back at him, confused.
Did this mean all three of them—Marchionne, Todt, and now Monfardini—had independently reached the same conclusion? That this was a genius who couldn't be controlled or contained?
It was just as Todt had said: the short-term Catfish Effect was one thing, but a true long-term investment was something else entirely.
Once he was on a team, occupying a race seat, it meant Ferrari would be paying a million euros, or more. And Kai had no experience. Not just lacked experience, but was a total, complete outsider. Just having him in the academy was shocking enough. Putting him into a real race car, under the Ferrari banner? It was a no-brainer that it would cause an absolute storm.
Things were continuing to go off-script, heading into uncharted territory.
Marchionne couldn't help but wonder what he would get to witness next.
He paused, then turned back to Monfardini, his eyes alight with a new eagerness. "Why don't you tell me, in detail, about today's session. That lap... was it perfect?"
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