novelnext Chapter 118 Trial
Chapter 118 Trial
Chapter 118 Trial (Bonus Chapter for 14000 Monthly Tickets)
Pittsburgh City Hall, Room 1.
Karen Miller's campaign team took over here.
A dozen or so desks were pushed together, with various colored network cables and power cords tangled around them.
The printer, shredder, and high-power servo motor emit a continuous low-frequency noise.
Leo stood at the head of the long table.
John Murphy, the congressman who was about to run for senator, sat to Leo's right.
He held a pen, his notebook filled with notes.
This change in seating arrangement would have been unimaginable just a few months ago.
But now, no one finds it abrupt.
"Ladies and gentlemen."
Leo tapped the table with his knuckles, drawing everyone's attention.
"The situation is clear: the suspension order from the State Department of Community and Economic Development is in effect. Following standard administrative procedures, a review hearing at this level typically takes three months."
Leo held up a finger and pointed to the calendar on the wall, where a date was heavily circled in red.
"But we only have twelve days."
"This is the day Murphy officially announced his candidacy for the U.S. Senate."
"Media across the state have received invitations, twenty giant cranes have been rented and brought into the port, three thousand steelworkers are ready to assemble, and even the observer group from Washington has booked their tickets."
"This date is fixed and absolutely cannot be postponed. If we delay it by even one day, the momentum of the revival of the Ironbelt that we have painstakingly built up will completely dissipate, and we will be seen as clowns who only know how to bluff."
"If at that point the issuance of the $500 million bond had not been approved, the funds would not have been on a clear issuance track."
"So when Murphy stood on that stage, what he was waving wasn't a check that would change Pennsylvania, but a worthless piece of paper."
The only sound in the conference room was the whirring of the server fans, creating a suffocating atmosphere.
"So, we don't have three months."
Leo's gaze swept over everyone.
"We must get our bonds approved by the State Department of Community and Economic Development within twelve days."
"We are now facing two core challenges."
Leo stood at the head of the long table, his gaze sweeping across the conference room, which was packed with Pittsburgh locals and Washington elites.
"First, the reason for the administrative review is the lack of statewide coordination."
"Those people in Philadelphia accused us of stealing business. They said that once the Pittsburgh inland port was built, it would divert goods from the Midwest, directly threatening Philadelphia's status as Pennsylvania's only outlet to the sea. From the state government's perspective, this was a serious drain on the internal economy."
Ethan nodded, tapping his fingers on the indictment document on the table: "They cited the Infrastructure Coordination Act, which is a solid legal barrier."
"Secondly, and more fatally, is time."
Leo pointed to the calendar on the wall again.
"The bureaucracy's inertia is procrastination; they have a million reasons to postpone the hearings until next year."
"But we only have twelve days. If the funds don't arrive by then, all of us here will become a laughing stock."
I don't have ready-made answers to either of these questions right now.
Leo's voice was deep.
"But I don't expect something for nothing."
He looked at Murphy, at Ethan, and at the highly paid legal advisors and policy experts Karen had brought.
"You are professionals; you are experts at studying rules, making laws, and finding your way out of the labyrinth of power."
"Now, I want you to get moving."
Leo slammed his hand heavily on the table.
"I don't care if you go and look through the Pennsylvania General Code or consult the minutes of a state legislature meeting from fifty years ago."
"Find me a way out."
"Find a clause, a precedent, or a procedural loophole that will allow us to bypass this damn cooperability assessment."
"Give me a legally sound argument to prove that Pittsburgh and Philadelphia are not enemies of the zero-sum game."
""
Are there any emergency exemptions for Pittsburgh? Is there a fast track? Or is there a provision in the Port Authority Act?
Are there any gray areas in the definition of logistics?
"We can't just sit here and wait for the hearing."
"I need you to find me a legal crowbar to pry open the doors of Harrisburg."
"Now, let's get to work."
The room became busy again.
This political machine, assembled by Leo, began to run at full speed.
Just then.
Leo's phone vibrated in his pocket.
The vibration wasn't noticeable in the noisy conference room, but Leo noticed it immediately.
A familiar name appeared on the screen: Frank.
Leo answered the phone.
"Frank, how's it going? Are the workers still calm? Tell them their wages are due on Friday—"
"Leo".
The voice from the other end of the phone interrupted him.
That's not like Frank.
Gone was his usual loud voice, gone was that energetic rudeness.
The voice was deep and suppressed, like an echo coming from a deep well.
"I'm at the old dock by the river."
Frank said.
I want to see you.
"Now."
"It's just the two of us."
Leo's heart sank.
He turned his head and looked out the window.
In the distance, the LED screen of the Morganfield Building was displaying a news analysis about "port privatization".
Although the mainstream media deliberately downplayed it, the article titled "Wallace's Betrayal," with its accusation about "Judas," ultimately penetrated all firewalls and reached Frank's ears.
The backyard is on fire.
Moreover, the fire reached the very core pillar.
Leo tightened his grip on his phone.
"Okay," Leo replied, "I'll be right there."
He hung up the phone and put it back in his pocket.
He looked at the busy elites in the room, at Murphy who was yelling on the phone, and at Ethan who was typing on the keyboard.
The war here is important; it involves five hundred million dollars, and it's about victory or defeat.
But that rendezvous by the river was a matter of life and death.
If Leo loses Frank, and loses the foundation of that class, he will lose everything.
"Murphy."
Leo picked up the coat from the back of the chair and put it on.
Murphy, who was on the phone, looked up and covered the receiver: "What's wrong?"
"You're in charge of keeping an eye on this place."
Leo straightened his collar, his tone calm.
"I have more important things to do."
He pushed open the conference room door and strode out.
The water of the Mononga Hilla River has a murky, leaden gray color.
This is an abandoned dock on the south shore of Pittsburgh, where rusty ship pillars and rotting planks creak in the wind.
On the distant steel bridge, the traffic flow formed a ribbon of light, but here there was only the sound of cold wind and river water lapping against the bank.
Frank Kowalski sat on a bench at the edge of the dock.
He was wearing only a thin flannel shirt, and the cold wind tousled his gray hair, but he seemed oblivious to it.
He was clutching a crumpled piece of paper tightly in his hand.
Leo stopped the car and closed the door.
He stood there for two seconds, straightened his collar which had been ruffled by the wind, and strode over.
Frank heard footsteps, but he didn't turn around, his eyes fixed on a patch of oil floating on the river.
Leo walked to the bench and sat down next to Frank.
There was a fist's distance between the two.
This distance used to signify the intimacy of fighting side by side, but now, those few centimeters of space are filled with suspicion and silence.
"Frank," Leo said, his voice broken by the wind.
Frank did not respond.
He slowly raised his rough, large hand and handed the crumpled piece of paper to Leo.
It was an article printed from the internet—"Wallace's Betrayal: The Dirty Deal Behind Port Privatization."
The black ink stains stood out starkly against the white paper.
"tell me."
Frank's voice was low.
"Tell me this is a lie made up by those Republican bastards."
"Tell me, this is dirty water that Aston Monroe, that Philadelphia tycoon, spilled to ruin Murphy."
Frank turned his head.
Those bloodshot eyes stared intently at Leo, their pupils cloudy.
"Leo, look me in the eyes."
"Tell me, you didn't sell the port to Morganfield."
"As long as you say no, even if the whole of Pittsburgh points evidence at your nose, I'll believe you."
"I will take the brothers from the union to knock the teeth out of the people who spread these rumors."
"Just say no."
Leo looked into those eyes.
There he saw an old man's last trust in him.
As long as you tell a lie, even a white lie, you can temporarily preserve this precious friendship.
Leo instinctively wanted to lie.
Don't lie.
Roosevelt's voice echoed in Leo's mind, unusually stern.
"You can lie to voters, you can lie to your opponents, but you can't lie to him."
"He is your foundation, the source of your strength. If you lie to him, you will lose him forever. Once the lie is exposed, the backlash will be a thousand times worse than your current anger."
Give him the truth, even if the truth is a bloody knife.
Leo took a deep breath.
He avoided Frank's burning gaze and turned to look at the ever-flowing gray river.
"The details in the article are exaggerated."
Leo's voice was soft, but clearly audible in the wind.
"But the core content————"
"It's true."
Leo felt as if he had swallowed a piece of burning coal in his throat.
"I signed it."
Morganfield got the port.
"Bang!"
Frank suddenly stood up.
"Why?!"
Frank let out a roar.
He grabbed Leo by the collar and pulled him up from the bench.
Leo did not resist, letting the much stronger old man shake him.
"What did we say back then?!"
Frank's spittle landed on Leo's face.
"We stayed up all night in that run-down prefab house, eating cold pizza. We vowed to fight the oligarchs! We vowed to give this city back to the people! We vowed to get those vampires out of Pittsburgh!"
"The workers trust you! The elderly in the community trust you! They lined up in the pouring rain to vote for you! They lifted you high above their heads!"
"And the result?"
"The first thing you did after taking power was to package up the city's assets and hand them over to our enemies?"
Frank's hands were trembling, and the force was so great that Leo felt suffocated.
"Then what am I?"
"What about those brothers who work day and night on the construction site?"
"Are we your chips at this poker table? Are we the stakes you're using to gamble with Morganfield?"
Frank released his grip and shoved Leo hard.
Leo stumbled back two steps and bumped into the dock railing.
Frank pointed at Leo's nose, his eyes filled with disappointment and disdain.
"I thought you were different, Leo."
"I thought you were one of us."
"As a result, you put on a suit, sat in that office, and you became one of them."
"Tell me, Leo Wallace."
Frank asked the accusation.
"What's the difference between you and that bastard Cartwright?!"
These words struck Leo like a heavy hammer blow to the heart.
the difference?
To outsiders, there may really be no difference.
They all betrayed the public interest, colluded with oligarchs, and conducted dirty deals in secret.
Leo looked at Frank.
He saw anger, but he saw sadness even more.
The old man had placed his hopes on him, and now he felt betrayed.
Leo straightened up.
He straightened his crumpled collar.
He did not back down, nor did he lower his head in shame.
He looked up and stared directly into Frank's eyes.
His eyes were cold and hard.
"The difference lies in..."
Leo spoke.
"Cartwright sold the port, and the money went into his own pocket, or it became a political donation from Morganfield to him personally."
"And I sold the port, getting five hundred million dollars in bonds in return!"
Leo took a step forward, closing in on Frank.
"Frank! Wake up!"
Leo roared back.
"Do you think we're playing some kind of childish game? Do you think that just by shouting a few slogans of justice, bread will fall from the sky?"
"Look at the city hall's accounts! Look at that empty vault!"
"Without Morganfield's endorsement, without that damn franchise in exchange, the state government would never have approved that $500 million bond issuance plan!"
"Without that 500 million, how will we build the road?"
Leo stretched out his finger and poked Frank in the chest.
"Where will the money for the second phase of the revitalization plan come from? The heating systems in the hilly areas' schools have been broken for a long time, and winter is just around the corner. Do you want those children to freeze to death in their classrooms?"
"And that worker training plan you're holding!"
"That sign says 'training fund'! That's life-saving money for unemployed workers! Where did this money come from?"
"Are we hoping for handouts from Washington? Or are we hoping to conjure up money by protesting in the streets?"
"This world is real, Frank!"
"If you want to pull someone out of this filthy quagmire, you have to stick your hand in the mud!"
"Yes, I'm making a deal with the devil."
Leo admitted it.
"Because the gates of Heaven are locked! God doesn't have time for us poor people of Pittsburgh!"
"I must borrow fire from hell to keep our big guys a little warm this winter!"
That's the difference!
"Cartwright did it for himself, I did it for the city!"
Frank was stunned.
He looked at the young man in front of him.
Leo's chest heaved violently, his eyes were bloodshot, and he exuded an almost insane sense of oppression.
Frank suddenly realized something.
Leo, the college student who helped them write flyers at the community center, spoke gently, and had clear eyes, is dead.
He died during that long election campaign, and in that calculating mayor's office.
Standing before him was a real mayor.
A politician who will stop at nothing to achieve his goals, who will sacrifice his reputation, and even his conscience.
But that's exactly what they need.
One kind-hearted person cannot save Pittsburgh.
Only a ruthless person like this, a madman who dares to stick his hand into the fire to snatch chestnuts, can carve out a bloody path out of this hopeless dead end.
Frank's anger dissipated like a punctured balloon.
His shoulders slumped, and he looked ten years older.
He slowly sat back down on the bench and covered his face with his hands.
The river breeze blew by, stirring up the dust on the ground.
for a long time.
Frank's voice came through his fingers, muffled.
"—So, this is the price, isn't it?"
"Yes, this is the price."
Leo also sat down, at the other end of the bench.
Neither of them looked at the other.
"There's no such thing as a free lunch, Frank. If you want that five hundred million dollars, you have to give Morganfield what he wants."
"I'll take the blame."
Leo looked at the river in the distance.
"You are a union leader; you need to maintain your integrity. You cannot compromise with the capitalists."
"You can go back and tell the workers that the article is true."
"You could say that Leo Wallace is a bastard, that he betrayed us."
"If the workers want to curse, then you should curse me along with them. If they want to protest at the city hall, then you should bring them too."
"but."
Leo turned his head and looked at Frank's profile.
"I will pay out every penny of the money."
"I will build every single project without missing a single detail."
"As long as the five hundred million dollars arrive, as long as everyone has a job and food to eat."
"What's a few words of criticism?"
Frank lowered his hand.
He looked at Leo.
He saw the weariness deep in the young man's eyes, the weariness of walking alone carrying a huge secret and a sense of guilt.
Frank suddenly felt a tightness in his chest.
He wanted to say something comforting, like "You're right," or "I don't blame you."
But he found himself unable to say it.
Because the wound has already been created.
That pure, idealistic trust has been shattered.
They will remain allies and fight side by side from now on.
But that was based on calculations of interests and realistic considerations, no longer on the kind of impulsive, passionate drive.
Frank picked up the piece of paper from the ground.
That was an article exposing Leo's "crimes".
He slowly tore the paper in half.
Then stack them together and tear them.
Until it turned into a handful of shredded paper.
He stood up, walked to the edge of the dock, and stretched his hand out into the river.
Open your palms.
White scraps of paper fluttered down, falling into the murky river water, where they were instantly swallowed up and disappeared.
"Go back to work, Mr. Mayor."
Frank had his back to Leo, his voice regaining its usual gruffness, but it had lost some of its warmth.
"I will tell the workers that it's a rumor."
"I'll tell them that it was a lie that Monroe, that son of a bitch, made up to ruin us."
"I'll shut them up."
Frank paused for a moment.
He turned around and gave Leo one last look.
His eyes were complicated.
There was admiration, heartache, and a deep sense of apprehension.
"But at this moment, Leo."
"Only in this moment."
"I think you're a really scary guy."
After saying that, Frank tightened his collar, strode into the cold wind.
His back was somewhat hunched, and he looked rather lonely.
Leo sat on the bench, watching Frank walk away.
Until that figure completely disappeared around the corner of the street.
He knew that Frank would help him deal with the union and suppress all the noise.
He also knew that although the trust between them still existed, that intimate and pure intimacy had been forever lost in the murky river.
This is the price of growing up.
This is the price of power.
It will strip away all your soft parts and turn you into a hard stone.
Is it worth it?
Leo asked himself the question.
"Look at this city, Leo."
Roosevelt's voice rang out.
"Look at those extinguished chimneys, look at those dilapidated houses."
"To make them shine again, to make them strong again."
"Don't say it's a misunderstanding by a friend."
"Even if we had to dig out our own hearts and burn them, it would be worth it."
Leo closed his eyes, feeling the stinging cold wind on his cheeks.
After a moment, he opened his eyes.
There was no longer any confusion in his eyes.
He stood up and dusted off his coat.
He turned and walked toward the black Lincoln sedan parked on the side of the road.
He was also waiting for a meeting at the city hall regarding how to handle administrative appeals.
He has to go to war.