novelnext Chapter 122 Managing Upwards
Chapter 122 Managing Upwards
Chapter 122 Managing Upwards
Leo checked into a hotel near DuPont Roundabout.
The room was standard, with heavy curtains, dark wood furniture, and air freshener that smelled faintly of lemon.
The logic of "the enemy of my enemy is my friend," which was discussed with Roosevelt on the plane, sounded impeccable at 10,000 meters altitude.
Senator Warren needs chaos, and Leo can provide chaos—it's a perfect deal.
There is no logical problem.
But as the roar of the plane faded from his ears, an indescribable discomfort began to rise in Leo's stomach.
He paced back and forth in the room.
I walked from the doorway to the window, and then from the window back to the doorway.
The carpet swallowed the sound of his footsteps, but it could not swallow the restlessness in his heart.
"What's wrong, child?"
Roosevelt's voice rang out.
"You're hesitating."
"I didn't hesitate." Leo stopped and looked out at the brightly lit city. "I was just thinking about the specifics of the plan. We've reached a consensus; we're going to find Warren, that's the right thing to do."
"You're lying," Roosevelt called him out directly. "Your heart is racing, your breathing is shallow—that's anxiety. You're resisting."
Leo loosened his tie somewhat irritably.
"I'm ready."
"Mindset and experience are two different things," Roosevelt said. "You're like a newly promoted young lieutenant. You have the heart of a general, the desire to conquer the battlefield, and that's good."
"However, having the right mindset doesn't mean you know how to fight a war."
"Do you know how to deploy artillery positions? Do you know how to calculate supply lines? Do you know whether, when the enemy charges, you should order to fire first or call for support?"
"you do not know."
"That's experience."
Roosevelt's voice became earnest and meaningful.
"You want to win, you want to resolve the Pittsburgh crisis, but you don't know what to say to that old Republican fox. That's a lack of experience on your part."
"These two things are not contradictory, Leo."
"You don't need to feel ashamed, because you still have me."
Leo walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of ice water.
"Alright." Leo took a big gulp of ice water, trying to suppress his anger. "Then tell me, based on your experience, how should we contact Russell Warren?"
"It's very simple."
Roosevelt began to list out the options.
"You could try going through official channels and call Senator Warren's office. Tell the intern who answers that the mayor of Pittsburgh needs ten minutes of the senator's time."
"But let's be realistic, Leo. On Washington's list, you're a nobody, and worse, you're seen as a radical Democrat."
"His schedule secretary will politely write down your name and then put you on the waiting list for next year's Christmas party, and that's if you're lucky."
"Or, you could try your luck at the Capitol Visitor Center tomorrow morning," Roosevelt chuckled. "You could line up with the high school students on their school trips and the tourists from Iowa and hope you can stop him on his way from the office building to the Senate chamber to vote."
"Of course, we have a very direct way."
Roosevelt paused for a moment.
"Go find Morganfield."
"He's Warren's sugar daddy, so he definitely has Warren's private number and could probably even arrange for you to meet directly."
"Just one phone call, and Morganfield will make the connection for you. After all, you're now in a relationship of mutual interest."
Roosevelt offered a solution, but Leo did not respond immediately.
Suddenly, he felt a slight but intense itch on the back of his neck.
Leo raised his left hand and scratched the skin on the back of his neck hard. His nails made a soft scratching sound as they cut into the flesh.
The more I scratch, the itchier it gets.
He increased the pressure, his fingertips even digging into the muscle, leaving several hideous red marks on the skin.
The itching sensation made him feel an uncontrollable irritation.
He only stopped when the pain overwhelmed the itching.
"and then?"
Leo's voice turned cold.
"And then I owe Morganfield a favor? And then what do I have to use from Pittsburgh to repay this debt?"
Should I sell him the water supply system too? Or give him the naming rights to the park?
"Another deal, isn't it?"
Roosevelt was taken aback.
He hadn't expected Leo's reaction to be so intense.
"It's just a tactic, Leo. In this circle, connections are the hard currency."
"means?"
Leo slammed his water glass heavily on the bar.
"Mr. President, I have a question that has been on my mind ever since I got off the plane."
"Why should we go to the Republicans?"
"We are Democrats, and Murphy is a Democratic congressman. Our base, our ideals, everything we have should be in the blue camp."
"Now, because someone in the party wants to frame us, we're going to run directly to the opposing camp for help? What kind of nonsense is that?"
Colluding with the enemy?
"Party affiliation doesn't matter." Roosevelt's voice carried a contemptuous air of someone who had been there all along. "In this country, party affiliation is just a label."
"Whig, Federalist, Democratic, Republican—these names have come and gone throughout history. They are merely tools, weapons used by politicians to divide factions and attack their opponents."
"Just like Cartwright used race to attack you."
"Does he really care about Black or White people? He only cares about tearing people apart and profiting from it. The same goes for political parties; they're just tools to mobilize voters and differentiate between friend and foe. At the highest level of power, only interests are eternal."
That's because you can ignore party affiliation.
Leo retorted.
"Because you are Franklin Roosevelt, you practically controlled the will of the entire nation during that special period. You could appoint Republicans to the cabinet, you could push through legislation across party lines, and nobody dared to say anything."
"Because you are the rule-maker."
"But I am not."
Leo pointed to his chest.
"I'm just the mayor of Pittsburgh. If I went to see Warren, if I sat down with a Republican bigwig, and that got filmed, I'm dead. Sanders would immediately abandon me, and my voters would think I've betrayed my beliefs."
"Moreover, there is an even more practical problem."
Leo continued pacing around the room.
"If we really do go to Warren, and Warren helps us and gets our administrative review approved, then what happens next?"
"What about the bond issuance? Are we supposed to expect Warren to help us market progressive bonds to Wall Street?"
This is a joke.
"We're drinking poison to quench our thirst."
Roosevelt remained silent for a moment.
"I have other ways," Roosevelt said. "Once you get the first step right, I'll show you how to proceed. As for funding, we can—"
"Sell more stuff?"
Leo interrupted him.
He walked to the window and looked at the magnificent night view of Washington.
"I'm a politician, I admit it. Over the past few months, I've learned to compromise, to make deals. For the sake of Pittsburgh's revival, I'm willing to sell the port to Morganfield; I'm willing to cut a piece of my soul."
"But, Mr. President."
"Are we selling too much?"
"Ports, concessions, land, and now our political stance. What are we left? Besides the empty title of mayor, what truly belongs to the people?
"Leo".
Roosevelt's voice turned serious.
"Pittsburgh is just a stepping stone."
"You have to understand this. This city, this mayor's position, even that $500 million bond, are just stepping stones to higher positions."
"Your current struggles and pain are all because you are in a position that is too low."
"Only when you stand at a high enough position, when you hold enough power, can you truly help more people."
"Any sacrifices made along the way are worthwhile for that ultimate goal."
"springboard?"
Leo turned around, leaning against the cold glass window.
"But wasn't it you who taught me in the first place? Don't forget that feeling."
"Don't forget the people queuing in the rain, don't forget those expectant eyes."
"I haven't forgotten."
Leo's voice was deep.
"Every day I remind myself why I'm in this position. I even have to forcibly abandon my own humanity, force myself to become cold and like a machine, so that I can not show fear in front of Morganfield."
"But I do all this to make their lives better, not to use them as stepping stones for my own advancement."
"If I have to sell out their interests time and time again in order to climb up the ladder, what's the point of climbing up?"
"class."
Roosevelt suddenly threw out this word.
"You talk about the people, but you've overlooked the most fundamental logic of politics: classes will not betray their own interests."
"Capitalists will always defend capitalists, and bureaucrats will always defend bureaucrats; this is a rule written into their class."
"Warren represents that class, as does Morganfield; their alliance is natural."
"And you, Leo, if you want to use them, you must abide by their rules. This isn't betrayal; it's the law of survival."
"Your current social class dictates that you must find the motivation to move forward in this way."
"No."
Leo raised his head, a resolute glint in his eyes.
"Classes may not betray their own interests."
"However, there will be individuals who betray their class."
Roosevelt was stunned.
Leo continued, his tone firm.
"Aren't you the traitor?"
"You were born in a manor house in Hyde Park, and your family was one of the biggest beneficiaries of that era. You should have been standing with Morgan and DuPont, drinking champagne and laughing at the poor."
"But you didn't."
"You betrayed your class. You declared war on organized money, you established social security, you gave workers rights."
"Your friends call you a traitor, and your class hates you to the core."
"But it is precisely because of this betrayal that you became the great Roosevelt."
"Isn't that what makes a person great?"
Leo's voice echoed in the room.
"If I want to be great, if I want to truly change something, I can't follow the logic of class interests."
"I cannot become one of them just to survive."
"I must find another way."
Roosevelt remained silent for a long time.
"It seems you've chosen the most difficult path."
Roosevelt finally spoke.
"This road is full of thorns, there are no shortcuts, no rides. You may fall to your death, or be crushed by forces from both sides at the same time."
"Wasn't this what we agreed on from the beginning?" Leo retorted. "You said you would overturn the chessboard."
"No, those are two different things." Roosevelt shook his head. "I overturned the chessboard because I smashed it from above. I have the power, I have the means."
"And you, you're rushing upwards."
"There's a world of difference between going from bottom to top and going from top to bottom."
"You will bleed, you will get hurt, and you will face resistance that is even more terrible than what I faced back then."
Roosevelt paused for a moment.
"But, Leo."
"If you can really make it this way."
"Perhaps you can't be the kind of successful politician who can win over everyone and be adept at navigating social situations."
"but."
Roosevelt's voice became solemn.
"You can be a great president of the United States."
"A president who truly belongs to the people."
Leo smiled.
The smile no longer held the anxiety of before, but only the ease of having unloaded a burden.
"The president is too far away; I just want to be a good mayor first."
Leo walked to the window and looked out at the streets of Washington.
"So, Mr. President."
"Since I'm not planning to go see Warren, nor am I going to see those lobbyists, what's the point of us staying in Washington?"
"Of course there are."
Roosevelt's voice became sharp again.
"To solve the problem in Pennsylvania, to untangle the deadlock of administrative review, the root cause still lies in Washington."
"This is the heart of power; all the blood flows out of here and returns here."
"This time, however, we're not going down that old path full of deals and compromises."
"We need to try a different approach."
Roosevelt's voice carried a warning.
"But Leo, you must understand what this means."
"The previous plan, no matter how despicable, at least allowed you to survive in the cracks between the two parties, dancing on the edge of the rules. Although you might offend some people, you also left yourself room to maneuver."
"But this time is different."
Roosevelt sighed, a hint of regret in his voice.
"I had originally planned a safe path for you to the White House, a long but clearly visible ladder of ascent."
"But if you choose this path, that plan will be completely scrapped."
"I can't even see which way to go from here."
"It will be a wasteland full of fog and traps, and you may be blown to pieces halfway there."
"Are you ready?"
Leo did not hesitate at all.
"I'm ready, Mr. President."
The morning in Washington, D.C. was shrouded in a gray fog.
Daniel Sanders sat behind his desk, holding a steaming cup of black coffee.
His eye bags were very deep, and his eyes were bloodshot.
Last night, he was on the phone until 3 a.m. trying to coordinate the scheduling of that damn administrative review hearing.
Even so, the response was still a bureaucratic evasion: "We will do our best, Senator, but procedure is procedure."
The office door was pushed open.
Leo Wallace walked in.
-
He still carried the damp chill of the outside air, his dark coat dappled with fine water droplets; it was raining outside.
Sanders put down his coffee cup, his brow furrowing deeply.
He glanced at the doorway, then at the schedule in front of him, his eyes filled with displeasure.
"I didn't receive an appointment for you today," Sanders said sternly. "My secretary didn't tell me anything. How did you get in?"
"It's a temporary decision," Leo replied calmly. "Although this is the Capitol Building, finding a way to sneak in here is easier than getting into the White House."
Sanders snorted, but he didn't dwell on the matter for long.
"Alright, now that you're here," Sanders pointed to the table, "Did you receive the list? Marcus should have sent it to you."
"Received it." Leo pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his coat pocket; it was printed out early that morning.
"Very good." Sanders nodded. "I've spoken to those people up there. The Deputy Secretary of Transportation, although he's part of the establishment, owes me a favor; the Assistant Secretary of Energy used to be my policy advisor."
"Go see them this morning, explain your predicament, and let them put pressure on Pennsylvania from the sidelines."
Once federal agencies make a statement, Harrisburg won't dare to drag things out too much.
As Sanders spoke, he picked up a pen to mark things on the schedule.
"No."
Leo's voice was soft, but it sounded particularly jarring in the quiet office.
Sanders' hand froze in mid-air. He looked up, frowning as he stared at Leo.
"What did you say?"
I said, "No need."
Leo stepped forward, gently placed the list on Sanders' desk, then pressed it down with his finger and pushed it back.
"I won't see these people."
"Because they can't save Pittsburgh."
Sanders frowned even more, his tone becoming stern: "Leo, now is not the time to be willful."
I know you're in a hurry, but that's how Washington works.
"You can't expect to reach the top overnight. You have to find allies within the system. These few people are already the biggest resources we can mobilize."
"An ally?" Leo let out a cold laugh.
"Senator, if I may be so blunt."
Leo rested his hands on the edge of the desk, looking down at the old man.
"That's why the progressives always lose in Washington."
"That's why you've been chanting slogans for decades, yet you can't even pass a decent healthcare bill."
"You're always asking for favors."
"You are always begging the establishment who hold real power to have mercy and give you scraps. You are always looking for so-called sympathizers in the cracks of the rules, hoping to drive huge changes with that meager human touch."
Leo's voice gradually rose, finally finding an outlet for the anger he had been suppressing all the way.
"Pittsburgh is our model home! You said it yourself; it represents the hope of progressive ideals in the Rust Belt!"
"Right now, this show flat is being torn to shreds by those bastards in Harrisburg and Philadelphia; they want to raze it to the ground! They want to see me fail, and they want to see you fail even more!"
"And you, as our standard-bearer, as the leader of the progressive movement across America, what is your plan of counterattack for me in the face of this strangulation?"
Leo pointed to the list.
"A list of beggars?"
"You want me to go have coffee with a few deputy ministers? To complain to them about my difficulties? And then wait for them to go back and write a meaningless memorandum, and then wait another three months?"
"Is this your retaliation?"
"If this is all the progressives are capable of, then we're only fit to govern online forever! We're only fit to entertain ourselves in university lecture halls!"
"That's enough!"
Sanders slammed his fist on the table and stood up abruptly.
The coffee spilled out and splattered onto the documents.
"Watch your mouth, young man!" Sanders' face flushed red, his finger trembling as he pointed at Leo. "Who do you think you are? Do you think this is the streets of Pittsburgh? Do you know how thick the walls are here? Do you know how complicated the rules are?"
"I've already offended half of Congress because of you! And now you come here accusing me of weakness?"
"I'm not accusing you of weakness, I'm saying this strategy is ineffective!"
Leo refused to budge an inch; his gaze was even fiercer and more resolute than Sanders'.
Screw the rules.
"I don't care how thick the walls are here."
"All I know is that 300,000 citizens are waiting for me. The workers are waiting to get their wages, and the elderly are waiting for their heating to be fixed."
"They elected me mayor, not so I could come to Washington to fill out forms, nor so I could come here to be a polite, well-behaved kid."
I want results.
"I want those $500 million in bonds to be issued successfully within eleven days."
"Anything that stands in my way, whether it's rules, conventions, or so-called political consensus, I will kick it away."
Sanders looked at the young man in front of him who was almost roaring.
He suddenly saw a certain quality in Leo.
This trait made him feel both unfamiliar and dangerous.
Sanders took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.
He sat back down in his chair and took out a handkerchief to wipe the coffee stains off the table.
"Fine." Sanders' voice turned cold. "Since you don't like my list, what do you want?"
"You think those deputy ministers aren't qualified, so who are you planning to approach? Do you intend to storm into the Ministry of Finance and snatch the minister's seal?"
"No."
Leo straightened up and adjusted his collar.
"I need to see the White House Chief of Staff."
The office fell into a deathly silence.
Sanders looked at Leo as if he had heard the biggest joke in the world. His lips twitched a few times, and finally he laughed in anger.
"White House Chief of Staff?"
Sanders shook his head, his eyes filled with absurdity.
"Leo, did you get a fever and damage your brain?"
"What makes you think you can? Just because you're the mayor of Pittsburgh? Or because of that inland port that's still just a drawing on paper?"
"Do you know how many mayors want to see him every day? Even the mayors of New York and Los Angeles wouldn't dare to barge into the White House and demand to see him."
"What leverage do you have that would make him spare even five minutes for you?"
Leo looked at Sanders.
He knew that a conventional request would be absolutely impossible to succeed.
In Washington's power hierarchy, Leo Wallace is like an ant, while the White House Chief of Staff is an elephant at the top of the food chain.
The only way for an ant to communicate with an elephant is to crawl into the elephant's ear and take a big bite.
"Just because I want to tell him one thing to his face."
Leo leaned forward, staring into Sanders' eyes.
"If my bonds can't be issued, if Pittsburgh goes bankrupt because of the state government's obstruction."
"So, next Monday, Pittsburgh Mayor Leo Wallace will hold a press conference in front of City Hall."
"I will formally announce my withdrawal from the Democratic Party."
Sanders' pupils instantly contracted to pinpoints.
"and."
Leo continued.
"I will seek re-election as a Republican."
"I will publicly endorse Senator Russell Warren."
"I will tell all blue-collar workers in Pennsylvania that the Democrats have abandoned us and only the Republicans are willing to give us a way out."
"I will take that $500 million infrastructure project, thousands of jobs, and all the votes in Pittsburgh and turn against them."
"This is my bargaining chip."
Sanders was completely stunned.
With months to go before the midterm elections, in Pennsylvania, a key swing state.
What if a Democratic star mayor with immense prestige, seen as "Rust Belt Hope," suddenly announced his defection to the enemy?
That would be a political nuclear explosion.
That would completely destroy the Democratic Party's chances in Pennsylvania, trigger a chain reaction across the United States, and could even lead to the Democratic Party losing control of the Senate.
This is far more serious than the unemployment of thousands of workers or the bankruptcy of a city.
For the White House, this is an absolutely unacceptable strategic disaster.
"You—you're insane."
Sanders' voice trembled slightly.
"Do you know what you're saying? You're betraying the party that put you in this position!"
"No, Senator."
Leo stood up straight, his face expressionless.
"It was the citizens of Pittsburgh who put me in this position."
"I was elected mayor by the citizens of Pittsburgh, with 72 percent of the vote. That was the trust of hundreds of thousands of living people."
"They didn't elect me to come to Washington to be a loyal servant of the Democratic Party. They elected me because I promised to make their lives better, because I promised to give them jobs and dignity."
Leo stepped forward, his voice deep and powerful.
"Do you really think those steelworkers queuing in the cold wind, those single mothers living in leaky apartments, care whether I'm wearing a blue donkey or a red elephant?"
"They don't care."
"All they care about is who can get the checks into their hands and who can turn that damn rubble into a school."
"If the Democrats can't do it, but the Republicans can, then for my voters, turning away is the best option."
"My duty belongs only to those who sign their names on the ballot, not to this damn Democratic National Committee."
"You—" Sanders took a deep breath, "What makes you so confident? What makes you think you can lead the entire city of Pittsburgh to defect? Aren't you afraid of being torn apart by angry voters?"
Leo looked at Sanders.
"Senator, if you don't believe me..."
"You can give it a try."
Loyalty is a two-way street.
"That's my logic."
Leo glanced at the clock on the wall.
"It's nine o'clock in the morning now."
"Tell the White House that I have this determination."
"Tell them I'm only giving them two hours to schedule the meeting."
"If I don't receive a call before 11 o'clock."
"I'll just go to the Republican National Committee headquarters for coffee."
"I believe they would be very happy to hear my plans."
Sanders looked at the young man in front of him, who was now standing before him, a complete Machiavellian.
A gambler who dares to hijack an entire party for his own ends.
Sanders took a deep breath.
The expressionless young man in front of him gave Sanders an unprecedented sense of loss of control.
Just a year ago, in an effort to help this young man regain access to campaign data, he risked blocking the congressional agenda by voting against it in the House of Representatives.
That was a rare tough move in his political career, made to protect this spark of hope.
Now, this spark has grown into a raging fire, even threatening to burn down the entire forest.
Strangely, amidst this out-of-control panic, Sanders felt a strange sense of relief.
He had struggled in the quagmire of Washington for far too long, always trying to repair a sinking ship with gentle methods.
In fact, he should have been tougher a long time ago. He should have stood up, overturned the table, and cornered those high-ranking figures.
Now, Leo did it for him.
"it is good."
Sanders reached out and picked up the phone.
“I’ll get in touch with them for you,” Sanders said, “but I want you to know, Leo. Once you take this step, there’s no going back.”
"The White House's opinion of you will change."
"I know."
"Leo answered."
"I'll be anything for Pittsburgh."
Even the devil.