novelnext Chapter 126 Hunt
Chapter 126 Hunt
Chapter 126 The Hunt (Bonus Chapter for 18000 Monthly Tickets)
Karen Miller strode into the conference room, carrying a black leather briefcase.
"Gentlemen."
Karen placed her briefcase on the conference table and unzipped it.
She pulled out a thick stack of documents and slammed them heavily on the table.
"Bang."
A muffled thud made Leo, who was talking quietly with Murphy, look up.
"We caught him." Karen's voice was filled with undisguised joy.
Leo reached out and took the stack of documents.
A photograph was printed on the cover of the document.
The photo shows a young white man, probably in his thirties, with a typical Washington politician's parted hairstyle and a standard professional smile.
Name: Chad Evans.
"Who is this?" Frank leaned closer, squinting as he examined the photo. "Looks like an insurance salesman."
“He’s way more capable than an insurance salesman.” Karen pulled out a chair, sat down, and opened her laptop, connecting it to the large screen. “Chad Evans, thirty-two years old. Three years ago, he was a senior legislative assistant in Senator Russell Warren’s office, specializing in energy and environmental matters.”
A screenshot of a payslip appeared on the screen.
"Back then, his annual salary was $62,000. In Washington, that was enough to rent a decent apartment and occasionally go to Georgetown for a drink."
"He's a typical Capitol Hill office worker, handling hundreds of emails every day and helping Warren draft those tedious energy policy proposals."
Karen types on the keyboard, and the screen changes.
This time, it's a profile page for a senior executive of the company.
Against the backdrop of a massive natural gas drilling platform, Chad Evans, dressed in a bespoke suit, stands in the foreground with his arms crossed, his title becoming dazzling and lengthy.
He resigned two years ago.
"He joined Appalachian Energy, Pennsylvania's largest shale gas extraction company."
"His new position is Chief Strategy Officer and Vice President of Government Relations."
Karen pointed to a line of small print at the bottom of the screen.
"This is his tax return from last year, showing a base salary of $600,000, plus stock options worth $400,000."
"From 60,000 to 600,000."
"It only took less than a month."
99
A low gasp of surprise rippled through the conference room.
Frank's eyes widened, and he muttered, "Did this kid go rob a bank?"
"It's much safer than robbing a bank, and you make a lot more money," Ethan added from the side. "It's like a revolving door. Today you're writing laws on Capitol Hill to regulate corporations, and tomorrow you're an executive at one of those corporations, teaching them how to circumvent the laws you wrote."
"But that's not the most exciting part."
Karen stood up and walked to the whiteboard.
She drew a timeline on it.
"Chad Evans officially left Warren's office on May 1, two years ago. On May 15, he joined Appalachian Energy."
"And in August of that year, his third month in office, the Senate Energy Committee voted on a key Groundwater Protection Act."
"This bill aims to restrict the use of chemical fracturing fluids in shale gas extraction."
"If approved, Appalachian Energy will have to pay at least $150 million more in compliance costs each year, and may even be forced to shut down several of their high-yield gas wells in western Pennsylvania."
Karen drew a red cross at the August position on the timeline.
"Russell Warren, a key member of the Energy Commission, cast the decisive dissenting vote."
"Appalachian Energy's stock price surged 12 percent the following day."
Karen turned around and looked at Leo and Murphy.
"That's what a transaction is."
"Warren saved the company over a hundred million dollars, and the company supported Warren by keeping his former assistant. Or rather, that assistant was Warren's front man."
"We couldn't find any evidence that Warren directly accepted bribes; he's too shrewd. But Chad Evans is just a nouveau riche. Although his accounts are beautifully done, the coincidences in this timeline are so illogical that even God couldn't erase them."
Leo stared at the file on the table.
The chain of evidence is complete.
This is a blatant exchange of interests.
This kind of thing happens every day in Washington, and everyone knows it.
But in an election year, when all of this is under the spotlight and the facade of legitimacy is torn away, it is enough to damage a politician's credibility.
"The perfect target."
Leo closed the file and tapped his fingers lightly on the cover.
"This is the gap we've been looking for."
"We've been attacking Warren's policies, accusing him of not supporting workers, but he can justify it by protecting industry. Voters don't understand complex macroeconomics; they'll be confused by Warren's 'for Pennsylvania's future' rhetoric."
"But this one."
Leo held up the document.
"The contrast between $60,000 and $600,000 is too stark and too stark."
"Any steelworker who works hard every day and earns only 40,000 to 50,000 yuan a year would go crazy if they saw this number."
"They'll ask: Why? Why should a thirty-year-old kid, who just carried a senator's bag for a few years, earn more money than we could in a lifetime?"
"This is class hatred."
Murphy sat on the sofa, an excited look on his face.
He has been traveling around giving speeches in rural western Pennsylvania for the past few days, and his throat is hoarse from shouting, but the effect is not obvious.
Those conservative redneck voters have a natural aversion to the Democratic Party.
But what if it's corruption?
Nobody likes corruption.
Nobody likes to see politicians turn public power into their own personal ATM.
"This will cause public outrage," Murphy said. "We can tell this story very simply: Warren sold Pennsylvania's groundwater and the health of children so that his cronies could make a fortune."
"We want to make this irrefutable proof that Warren betrayed the public interest."
Leo stood up and walked to the whiteboard.
He circled the name "Chad Evans" and then drew an arrow pointing to "Russell Warren".
"We're about to launch our propaganda machine."
Leo gave the order.
"Sarah, I want you to make this data into the simplest chart possible."
On the left is a photo of Warren casting a dissenting vote; on the right are Chad Evans' mansion and sports cars.
"The title should be direct and eye-catching."
"Who Pays Your Water Bill?" or "The Senator's Million Disciples"
"Frank, have your men print these flyers and distribute them to every gas station, sticking them on every Appalachian Energy pump."
"We want every Pennsylvanian who goes to the gas station to see this face when they pay."
The entire campaign headquarters sprang into action quickly.
Everyone was like a shark smelling blood; this solid evidence of wrongdoing was the most valuable ammunition in the election campaign.
They've been holding back for too long; Warren's "non-stick" image left them feeling helpless. Now they've finally found a breakthrough.
The air in the conference room was so intense it felt like it was about to burst into flames.
Everyone believed that they held the spear that would kill the dragon.
Leo stared at the document that was enough to ruin Chad Evans's reputation, then slowly closed his eyes and sank into the depths of his consciousness.
It was quiet there, and the expected praise did not come.
"Mr. President?" Leo asked in his mind, "Wasn't this blow fatal enough? Sixty thousand against six hundred thousand, such a stark contrast between the rich and the poor, coupled with solid evidence of bribery, is enough to instantly destroy Warren's moral foundation."
Roosevelt remained silent for a long time.
Something's not right.
Roosevelt's voice was low, tinged with an indescribable hesitation.
Leo was somewhat surprised.
Roosevelt was always a master strategist with keen insight, and he rarely showed such an uncertain attitude.
"Something's not right? The chain of evidence is complete, the flow of funds is clear, and we even have a copy of the consulting contract signed by Evans."
"It's not a matter of evidence," Roosevelt shook his head. "It's a feeling, this feeling just comes too easily."
"Too smooth sailing?"
"Yes. Too perfect, too logical, too much of what we want." Roosevelt paused, as if trying to catch the fleeting thought in his mind.
"This is Pennsylvania," Roosevelt emphasized. "Leo, don't you think that Warren is too quiet? If you can easily get your hands on the dagger that killed him, either he's incredibly stupid, or—"
"Or maybe it was his oversight," Leo interrupted Roosevelt's thoughts. "Arrogance is a common problem for politicians. He's been in this position for too long and thinks no one dares to audit his accounts."
Roosevelt did not immediately refute this.
I still feel uneasy.
"What are you worried about?"
"I have no idea."
"I can't figure out the crux of the problem for a while. Maybe it's the local customs, or maybe it's some kind of symbiotic relationship of interests that I haven't figured out yet. It feels like walking on a frozen river in early winter. The ice looks very thick, but I seem to hear a cracking sound coming from under the ice."
Leo understood Roosevelt's caution, a survival instinct formed after experiencing countless political storms.
But reality did not allow him to hesitate.
An election is like a sprint. The starting gun has been fired and your opponent has shown a weakness. If you stop because of unfounded intuition, that would be the biggest mistake.
"This is a huge scandal, Mr. President," Leo thought to himself, his tone firm. "The gap between rich and poor is a universal sore spot. Whether in Washington or Pennsylvania, nobody likes a vampire who uses public power to line his own pocket. We must strike."
"Since you insist on fighting," Roosevelt sighed, "then be careful. Don't throw that punch too hard; leave yourself some room to maneuver."
"I will."
Leo exited the consciousness space.
He opened his eyes, looked at the irrefutable evidence before him, and at the high morale of his team members.
The opportunity to win a battle is fleeting.
As long as it can cause casualties, we must charge in even if there is fog ahead.
"Send it out."
Leo tapped his finger on the table, signaling the attack.
"Tell this story well."
"We want all of Pennsylvania to know that Russell Warren is not just a senator, he is a gatekeeper who opens back doors and lets these kinds of speculators make their fortunes."
"We want to show everyone who their trusted guardians are actually protecting whose wallets."
Sarah nodded, grabbed her laptop, and rushed out of the conference room.
Frank grabbed a stack of documents and started making phone calls to the printing company.
Murphy then took out a bottle of whiskey and poured a glass for everyone.
"To Chad Evans," Murphy raised his glass, a mocking look on his face, "to thank him for giving us such a great gift."
Leo picked up his glass and took a sip.
The spicy liquid slid down my throat.
He looked out the window.
The calm before the storm has been broken.
Next, we'll see how big a crater this bomb will create on Pennsylvania soil.
>