novelnext Chapter 63 Washington's Way of Doing Things
Chapter 63 Washington's Way of Doing Things
"Surgery?"
Montoya shook his head.
"You bunch of idiots sitting in the office looking at spreadsheets."
"Do you think this is still twenty years ago? Do you think that a few party bigwigs can decide who the candidate is just by having a meeting in a smoke-filled room?"
Montoya could no longer suppress his anger.
He pointed at Graves's nose and growled in a low voice, "Open your eyes and look at the world now!"
"Do you think Sanders is still that weird old man who shouts slogans all by himself?"
"He now has the donation lists of millions of young voters in his hands! Behind him stand the thirty hard-won votes of the entire House Progressive caucus!"
"He can get tens of thousands of college students to take to the streets and paralyze your campaign rallies!"
"You are gambling with the loss of your entire left-wing voter base on a midterm election that was already uncertain!"
"You bunch of lunatics!"
Montoya paced back and forth in his office, breathing rapidly.
He was not angry because the establishment was suppressing the progressives.
As a party whip, he himself often did this kind of thing; politics itself is a brutal purge and exclusion.
He was angry at the stupidity and arrogance of these people.
Before they took action, they did not assess the strength of their opponent or their determination to retaliate.
They thought that as long as they used the rules a little, the young man from Pittsburgh would obediently comply, and Sanders would swallow his anger.
As a result, they stirred up a hornet's nest.
Now, these wasps are not only stinging people in Pittsburgh, they have flown to Washington, to the Capitol, and are starting to bite the most vulnerable nerves of the Democratic Party.
"Corder, we didn't think that much of it..." Graves was intimidated by Montoya's imposing manner, his voice trembling slightly, "We thought it was just a minor operation..."
"A minor surgery?" Montoya scoffed. "You cut off that young man's data access, do you think that's some kind of clever tactic?"
"In Sanders' eyes, this was not only an attack on his allies, but a declaration of war against his entire faction!"
"You're telling him that the Democratic National Committee is no longer fair and is ready to completely purge them out."
"Once this consensus forms within the progressive wing, we will not be facing the problem of losing a few seats, but rather a split within the party!"
"If Sanders really calls on his supporters to stay on their couches or vote for the Greens in next year's election, we'll not only lose the House, we won't even keep the White House!"
Montoya stopped and looked at Graves, whose face was pale.
"You bunch of bookworms who only know how to look at poll data have no idea what politics is."
"Politics is not about arithmetic; politics is about people's emotions."
"Now, that young man from Pittsburgh has become a martyr in the eyes of the progressives, a victim of bullying by the establishment."
"You gave Sanders the perfect excuse to make a scene in Congress, and we couldn't even find a reason to refute it."
Graves wiped his sweat and asked cautiously, "Then... what do we do now? Restore that young man's privileges?"
"nonsense!"
Montoya cursed in an annoyed tone.
"Not only do we need to restore his privileges, but we also need to do it gracefully, giving Sanders enough face so that he can gracefully back down."
"Otherwise, that damn regional economic recovery bill will really die on the floor of the House of Representatives."
Montoya knew it was impossible to expect a bureaucrat of Graves' caliber to clean up this mess.
He had to take action himself.
This is not just a party matter; it is a strategic issue concerning the very survival of the entire Democratic Party.
He needs to find the mastermind behind all of this, the toughest manipulator in the Democratic establishment.
Montoya walked to his desk and picked up the dedicated telephone line.
He took a deep breath and composed himself.
Then, he dialed a number.
The phone rang twice before being answered.
A calm, dignified male voice with a slight southern accent came over.
"It's so late, Cod, I hope you have good news for me."
That's Raymond Walker, the Democratic leader of the House of Representatives.
"Raymond, we're in trouble," Montoya said bluntly.
"The vote on the regional economic recovery bill?" Walker's voice didn't sound alarmed.
"It's more serious than that." Montoya gripped the microphone tightly. "Losing the vote is just a symptom; the root of the problem lies in Pittsburgh."
"Those idiots on the Democratic National Committee pulled off a lousy purge in Pittsburgh in their so-called 'cleaning up' operation, which angered Sanders."
"Now, Daniel is not only abstaining in the House of Representatives, he has issued an ultimatum to the Rules Committee, as you should have heard."
"If we don't solve the Pittsburgh problem, he's prepared to start a civil war across the party."
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.
Walker was clearly also processing this information.
As a leader of the establishment, he was certainly aware of the Democratic National Committee's "purification plan," and he even tacitly approved the general direction of that plan.
But he didn't expect the implementation to be so poor and the backlash to be so fierce.
"What's the name of that young man from Pittsburgh?" Walker asked.
"Leo Wallace".
"Wallace..." Walker muttered the name, "Some nobody I've never even heard of, how come Daniel cares about him so much?"
“Daniel said that the young man set up a showroom in Pittsburgh,” Montoya explained. “He proved that progressive ideas could take root in the Rust Belt, and Daniel saw him as the hope for the future.”
"Alright." Walker's voice held a hint of impatience. "Looks like we underestimated this nobody's power. Codd, what's your opinion? How do you plan to handle this?"
"We must cut our losses immediately," Montoya offered his assessment. "Restore Wallace's access to the VAN system, and have the Democratic National Committee send someone to Pittsburgh to apologize privately and appease him."
"This will embarrass the Democratic National Committee," Walker said, his voice turning cold.
"It's better to be embarrassed than to lose the midterm elections," Montoya had to raise his voice. "We need Sanders' votes now, we need his mobilization ability. We can't go to war with him at this time."
"Furthermore, Raymond, you need to bow down to Sanders. This isn't about giving face to that young man; it's about giving face to Sanders."
I heard heavy breathing on the other end of the phone.
Clearly, the word "bowing down" provoked Raymond Walker.
"Bowing down?" Walker's voice was laced with suppressed anger. "Curd, are you suggesting I bow down to some old Vermont guy who's always causing us trouble?"
"Are you suggesting that the party's highest authority apologize to some nobody in Pittsburgh?"
"Do you know what this means for our prestige?"
"I know!" Montoya exclaimed anxiously, "But this concerns the very survival of the bill! It concerns the White House's attitude!"
"That's enough!"
Walker rudely interrupted Montoya.
"I don't want to discuss surrender terms over the phone, even if it's an encrypted line."
"Where are you?"
"I'm in my office," Montoya replied.
"I'm near Capitol Hill too," Walker said. "You know that place, the old cigar, right? I'm meeting you there in ten minutes."
"We need to discuss this face-to-face."
"And, Cod, don't let me hear the word 'bow' from your mouth again."
beep - beep -
The call was disconnected.
Montoya held the microphone and stood there stunned for a few seconds.
He could tell that Walker was genuinely angry this time.
But he had no choice.
As the party whip, his task was to re-string the scattered beads, even if the thread was covered in excrement, he had to hold his nose and thread it through.
Montoya threw the microphone back onto the landline, turned around, and looked at Graves, who looked terrified.
"What are you looking at?" Montoya yelled. "This is the mess you've made!"
"Go back to your office and don't do anything stupid or make any statements until I call you!"
Graves felt like he'd been granted a pardon and scrambled out of the office.
Montoya grabbed the trench coat from the sofa and put it back on.
He glanced out the window at the pitch-black, rainy night.
Tonight is destined to be a long night.
……
A private cigar bar near Capitol Hill in Washington, D.C.
There is no sign here, and the gate is always closed. Only members with special magnetic cards can enter.
The membership list here includes almost all the names at the top of Washington's power pyramid.
Under the dim light, the air was filled with the rich aroma of top-quality Cuban cigars and the mellow taste of aged whisky.
This flavor is known in Washington as "the flavor of consensus."
In a corner, on a leather booth, House Majority Whip Cord Montoya sat opposite House Majority Leader Raymond Walker.
On the table in front of them were two glasses of whiskey without ice and an ashtray filled with cigarette ash.
Raymond Walker was a burly Southerner and one of the most powerful figures in the Democratic establishment.
In common understanding, the Speaker of the House is the highest leader within the party.
But within the vast arena of fame and fortune on Capitol Hill, everyone tacitly understands that the Speaker's position is too high, too glamorous, and also too burdened by cumbersome constitutional obligations and bipartisan formalities.
The Speaker represents the dignity of the House of Representatives and must always maintain a detached dignity.
The majority leader, as the second-in-command, is the true driver of this party machine.
His will is often the will of the Party.
His expression was not good at that moment.
"Corder, you just said on the phone that you wanted me to bow down to that crazy old man?"
Walker, with a large cigar between his fingers, spoke with obvious dissatisfaction.
"If I compromise with Sanders now, who will respect the authority of the National Committee in the future? Every local activist who feels wronged will come to Washington to cause trouble. How are we supposed to manage this party?"
Montoya picked up his glass and took a small sip.
He understood Walker's anger.
For a leader, authority is life itself.
But as a party whip, he values numbers, results, and survival.
"Raymond, this isn't called backing down, this is called cutting your losses."
Montoya's voice was calm, attempting to de-escalate the anger of the leader.
"Look at the current situation."
"Daniel has gone mad. His threats on the rules committee were no joke. Our defeat in the House of Representatives proved his control over the progressive caucus."
"If he turns against us again with those thirty votes in the formal vote on the regional economic recovery bill next week, or even votes against it, then we're completely finished."
Montoya leaned forward and lowered his voice.
"The White House has called me three times. The president is very anxious. This bill is a key achievement for him in the midterm elections. If the bill dies in the House of Representatives, or in our own infighting, the president will kill us."
"It's not worth sacrificing the party's prospects in the midterm elections for the sake of a Pittsburgh mayoral primary."
Walker fell silent.
He took a deep drag on his cigar, the thick smoke obscuring his expression.
He knew, of course, that this was not a worthwhile investment.
But he couldn't swallow his anger.
"So we're just going to let him win like that?" Walker countered. "If we let that kid Wallace win the primary, it'll be sending a signal to all the radicals in the country."
"This is encouraging more 'Leo Wallaces' to stand up, challenge our people, and take over our territory."
"At that point, our chances in swing states will be even more out of control."
Montoya nodded.
"I agree, we cannot allow progressives to do whatever they want."
"Therefore, we need to reach an agreement. An agreement that can both resolve the current crisis and limit the expansion of the progressives."
Walker raised an eyebrow: "Tell me about it."
Montoya held up one finger.
"First, the data blockade in Pittsburgh must be lifted immediately. I know it was done by those people on the National Committee; they need to stop. Also, have the local committee issue a statement saying it was a technical misunderstanding and apologize to Wallace."
"This is Daniel's bottom line, and it's a necessary condition for him to maintain his dignity in front of his supporters. We must meet his requirements."
Walker snorted coldly and didn't say anything, but that meant he acquiesced.
Montoya extended his second finger.
"Second, in exchange, Daniel must make substantial concessions. He must guarantee that all thirty votes from the Progressive Party will be in favor of the amendments to the Regional Economic Recovery Bill next week."
"Not a single one can be missing, and not a single accident can happen again."
"This is the White House's bottom line, and it's also our bottom line. We need to achieve the result of the bill's passage to solidify our position in the midterm elections."
Walker nodded.
"That's fair. He got the face, and we got the substance. But that's not enough. What about that Pittsburgh kid? If he really wins, how will this be settled?"
Montoya extended his third finger, his expression becoming meaningful.
"Third, and most importantly, is the final solution regarding Pittsburgh."
"We have completely withdrawn from Pittsburgh on both sides."
Walker paused, then asked, "Withdraw?"
“That’s right,” Montoya explained. “There’s no more interference from Washington, neither we nor Sanders have stopped sending additional resources and influence to that district.”
"We turned Pittsburgh into a closed arena."
"Let the current mayor, Cartwright, and that challenger, Wallace, have a fair fight in that cage."
"Whoever survives will represent our party in the final election."
"We only acknowledge the results."
Walker began to seriously consider the proposal.
"That's interesting."
"But there's a risk," Walker pointed out the problem. "What if Wallace wins? Are we just supposed to swallow our pride and admit defeat?"
Montoya smiled.
"Raymond, you overestimate that kid."
"The reason he is acting so pragmatically and with such restraint is because he knows that his power is not yet sufficient to directly challenge the entire system. He did not expose the matter to the media or make a scene in public; instead, he exerted pressure within the party through Sanders, which shows that he is a smart man."
"But if we continue to interfere in this matter, if we go too far, then it will be a different story."
"At that time, he would portray himself as a victim persecuted by Washington bureaucrats, and this kind of tragic image is most likely to stir up voters' emotions."
"Once we backed down and restored his data access, his victimhood aura disappeared."
"He is going to get back to the real election, and everything will go back to the framework of the party primary."
"In this election, Cartwright is, after all, the incumbent mayor. He has been running Pittsburgh for eight years. He has a base of supporters, name recognition, and the wealthy Morganfield is watching him from behind."
"On a level playing field, the chances of a rookie with no connections defeating a well-resourced incumbent mayor are extremely slim."
"By withdrawing our involvement, we are actually helping Cartwright."
"If Cartwright still lost despite having such an advantage..." Montoya shrugged. "That only proves he's a hopeless piece of trash, someone who doesn't deserve to represent our party."
"Moreover, if Wallace really wins by his own skill, it means he does have something special about the Rust Belt. Then it won't be too late for us to recruit him."
Walker stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray, crushing it hard.
He is a pragmatic person.
Montoya's plan, while costing him an opportunity to directly suppress the progressives, perfectly resolved the immediate crisis, preserved the bill that the White House valued most, and also gave the establishment a chance to turn the tide in Pittsburgh.
This is a typical stop-loss trade.
In Washington, nothing is off-limits, as long as the price is right.
"Okay," Walker finally spoke, "we'll do it your way."
"You handle Daniel, I'll handle those idiots in the National Committee."
"But, Codd, tell Daniel this is the last time."
"If he dares to play any tricks in next week's vote, I will purge him and his followers from the committee, even if it means losing the midterm elections."
"Understood." Montoya stood up. "I'll make him understand."