novelnext Chapter 86 The Road to "5"
Chapter 86 The Road to "5"
Chapter 86 The Road to "5" (Bonus Chapter 1/2 for Monthly Tickets)
The next day, Ethan Hawke pushed a whiteboard to the center of the mayor's office.
Nine photos were pasted on the whiteboard, fixed with black magnets, and arranged in two rows.
Below each photo, the name, district number, and a brief note are written in marker.
Leo sat in his chair, twirling a pen in his hand, his gaze sweeping over the faces.
He had seen most of these people in the news, met some backstage at campaign debates, and was a complete stranger to others.
But over the next four years, these nine people will determine his fate as mayor.
Roosevelt's voice rang out.
"We won on the streets, we won in the ballot box, and we even drove Cartwright back to his hometown."
"However, if you want to pass the budget and implement your second phase of the recovery plan, you must get past this hurdle."
Pittsburgh City Council.
"Here, your mayoral executive order is just a piece of paper unless you can get your hands on that magic number."
Ethan wrote a huge number at the top of the whiteboard: 5.
"Nine members of parliament, one vote each, you need five votes, simple majority."
"Get five votes, and you're the Caesar of this city. Don't get any, and you're just a mascot who can only sign documents and collect your salary in the office."
Leo looked at the number.
5.
It sounds small and easy.
But when he looked at the photos, the number became as heavy as a mountain.
Ethan began to dismantle these nine "local tyrants" who occupied various corners of the city one by one.
"The current score is 3 to 2 to 4."
Ethan drew two vertical lines on the whiteboard, dividing the nine photos into three groups.
"First, there's this group, your opposition. If you want to get those three votes, you'll have to pay a considerable price."
Ethan's pen tip touched the first photo.
The photo shows a white man in his fifties with slicked-back hair, wearing a well-tailored suit, and with the shrewdness of a businessman in his eyes.
"Gavin Stone. Member of Parliament for District 2, representing the downtown business district and that wealthiest Squirrel Hill area."
"He is Morganfield's direct representative in Parliament and a staunch defender of the Chamber's interests. He opposes all forms of tax increases and all regulations that could affect the business environment."
"To him, your 'revival plan' is nothing more than a socialist manifesto for robbing the rich."
Ethan's pen moved toward the second photograph.
She was a middle-aged woman with short hair, wearing glasses, with a mean expression and downturned lips.
"Linda Rossi, Member of Parliament for District 5."
"She is Cartwright's political ally. Although Cartwright is gone, the old bureaucracy he left behind, and the contractors who live off municipal contracts, are now all gathered under her banner."
Finally, Ethan pointed to the third photo.
A burly man with a thick neck and a face full of fat.
"Peter Miller. Ninth District Representative, representing conservative white communities on the city's outskirts, as well as the police union."
Leo looked at the face and felt it looked somewhat familiar.
"Is he connected to Dave Miller, the former police chief who was sent to prison by Cartwright?" Leo asked.
“Distant cousins,” Ethan replied. “And they both hang out in the same Irish police club. Your confrontation with the police system in the town hall square made him treat you quite badly.”
Leo looked at the three faces.
This is solid rock, without any gaps.
Ethan moved his pen to the other side, where there were only two photos.
"These are our core supporters, our staunch allies; these two votes are secure."
The first picture shows a young African American woman with a determined look and dirty braids.
"Elsa Williams. Member of Parliament for Ward 3, representing Hills. She is a young progressive, and like you, she rose through grassroots mobilization. Your speeches in Hills helped her a lot, and she will support your revitalization plan."
The second picture shows a Jewish man with thick-rimmed glasses and curly hair.
"Benji Cohen. Member of Parliament for District 4, representing Oakland’s university district. He is a professor of political science at the University of Pittsburgh, a radical left-wing intellectual, and a natural ally of the Sanders faction."
"Although he's a bit of a bookworm, he'll stand on our side when it comes to matters of principle."
Ethan drew a large circle on the remaining four photos.
"That's the crux of the matter, Leo."
"Centrist, swing vote, fence-sitter."
"These four men do not have a firm ideology; they are neither entirely subservient to Morganfield nor entirely trust us."
"They only care about one thing: profit."
"These are the four votes that decide the outcome."
"interesting."
Roosevelt's voice echoed in Leo's mind.
"Nine people, nine different minds. Each person is guarding their own little corner of the world, and each person sees their vote as the most dazzling jewel in the crown."
Roosevelt seemed to be re-examining the unfamiliar faces on the whiteboard through Leo's eyes, just as he had examined those stubborn Supreme Court justices years before.
"This is the most ingenious, yet most brutal design of American politics, Leo."
"Power is fragmented, checked, and locked in a series of interlocking gears. Anyone who tries to turn this machine too fast risks having their fingers snapped by the gears."
"You need to integrate them, to forcibly assemble these scattered gears into your war machine."
"But don't get this in the wrong direction, and don't treat it as a personal grudge."
Roosevelt said in a deep voice.
"Look at those three people who oppose you."
"They are not monsters, nor are they simply bad people. They are just faithfully fulfilling their duties, just as you faithfully fulfill yours."
"At this table, everyone represents their own interests, and everyone is a mouthpiece for their own class."
""
"The reason those three people want to see you fail is because your success would mean that the interests of the class they represent will be harmed."
"This is a political game where the minority submits to the majority. Here, truth is not dogma written in books; truth is held only by the majority."
"You can't convince them with your reasoning because you're sitting on different chairs."
"The only thing you can do is to persuade the centrists, to win over the wavering people, and to turn them into your majority."
"When you have more votes than they do, your will is the truth, and your command is the law."
"At that time, no matter how much they hate you, they will have no choice but to shut up and obey."
"These are the rules."
In his mind, Leo asked, "Mr. President, how did you deal with these people back then? How did you manage to get those who hated you to ultimately vote for your new policies?"
"Coercion, bribery, sowing discord, and winning over."
Roosevelt gave four words.
"I used public works funding to entice legislators in swing states, telling them that if they wanted dams and bridges built in their districts, they would have to vote in favor."
"I used radio speeches to mobilize the masses, getting tens of thousands of voters to write to their representatives, saying that if they didn't vote for me, they would be kicked out in the next election."
"For those who are truly stubborn, I plant spies around them, find their weaknesses, and make it impossible for them to move an inch in politics."
"Leo, you can't be a beggar in front of these nine people."
"You must be a conqueror."
"You can't expect to persuade them with reason, because they don't understand reason."
Looking at the nine photos, Leo felt as if he were looking at nine towering mountains.
Just then, Ethan Hawke spoke up.
"Leo, we need to pay close attention to this person."
Ethan Hawke stood in front of the whiteboard and pointed to the photo in the center.
Even in this still image, the people in the photo exude an unsettling slickness.
Thomas Moretti.
Speaker of the Pittsburgh City Council.
"We need to talk about this man." Ethan's voice carried a rare hint of helplessness. "If Cartwright was the emperor sitting on the throne, then Moretti was the gatekeeper hiding in the shadows."
Leo looked at the photo.
Sixty years old, of Italian descent, with a broad face, always wearing a seemingly kind but actually indifferent smile.
Mayors come and go, but the speaker remains constant.
"Tell me about the other three people in detail first," Leo said.
Ethan drew three lines next to Moretti's photo, connecting them to three other photos.
"These three people are centrists in parliament, that is, swing voters."
Ethan pointed to the first picture, of an elderly man with a full head of white hair who looked somewhat slow-witted.
"Billy Wilder, everyone called him Old Billy, represented a traditional union constituency. But he was different from Frank; Frank was a fighter, Old Billy was a businessman."
"He only cares about getting more parking spaces for his constituency or finding a sinecure for his relative in city hall."
""
Ethan pointed to the second picture, of a middle-aged Latina woman wearing a brightly colored suit.
"Samira Rodriguez represents the Latino community in Brooklyn. She is pragmatic, even snobbish."
She helps whoever is more powerful, and she helps whoever wins.
The last picture shows a middle-aged white man wearing gold-rimmed glasses who looks refined and cultured.
"Stani Baker represents the middle-class communities in the suburbs. He fears chaos and tax increases the most."
Ethan paused, looked at Leo, and summarized: "The interests of these three people don't actually conflict with ours in any fundamental way. Old Billy wants funding for parking spaces, Rodriguez wants permits for the commercial district's redevelopment, and Baker wants a budget to improve community security."
"They are businessmen, not suicidal men. As long as we offer enough incentives and satisfy their interests, they can easily side with us."
Ethan drew a circle in the air: "If we can get these three votes, plus Elsa and Benji, theoretically we will have five votes to pass the budget, and we can win the vote."
At this point, Ethan paused, his expression turning serious.
"But the real trouble isn't here."
"Even if we win all the votes, as long as Moretti remains in the Speaker's seat, we could still suffer a crushing defeat."
"Because as the city council speaker, Moretti wields a weapon more lethal than votes—the power to set the agenda."
""
Leo paused for a moment: "Agenda-setting power?"
“Yes,” Ethan explained, “this is the Speaker’s true scepter.”
"According to the Pittsburgh City Council bylaws, all proposals, whether they are budget proposals submitted by the mayor or draft ordinances submitted by council members, must first be assigned to the relevant special committees for discussion before they can be scheduled for a vote in the plenary session."
"There is no specific time limit for this process."
Ethan looked at Leo, his tone becoming heavy.
"In other words, Moretti doesn't even need to publicly vote against you to offend you; he just needs to do one thing: do nothing."
"He can throw your budget proposal into that black hole of the Budget and Finance Committee and let Linda Rossi be in charge of reviewing it."
"Linda will arrange endless hearings. Today she'll ask you to provide supplementary financial data, tomorrow she'll ask you to explain the environmental impact, and the day after she'll ask you to submit a legal compliance report."
"If even one document is unqualified, or if even one piece of data is questionable, the review will be suspended indefinitely."
"That's called a pocket veto."
"He can drag out your revival plan for three months, six months, or even a year. Until the citizens' enthusiasm for you runs out, until the workers leave in disappointment because they have no jobs, until your political reputation is completely bankrupt."
"And he only needs to sit in his office drinking coffee and claiming that we need to be accountable to taxpayers and are conducting a rigorous review."
As Leo listened to Ethan's description, he felt a sense of suffocation.
This is the most terrifying aspect of a bureaucratic system.
It can kill you with just a process.
"Why would he do this?" Leo asked Roosevelt, puzzled. "The revitalization plan is good for the city; it creates jobs and improves safety. If Pittsburgh improves, it will also benefit him as Speaker. Doesn't he want to be re-elected?"
In Leo's view, although politics is full of struggle, it is ultimately about solving problems.
It's for a win-win situation.
"Child, you are still too naive."
Roosevelt's voice echoed in my mind.
"Do you think Moretti cares about Pittsburgh? Do you think he cares about whether those workers have food to eat?"
"No."
"There's only one thing he cares about: authority."
"In this city hall, before you came, he was the real underground emperor. Although Cartwright was the mayor, he had to consider Cartwright's feelings on many specific matters; a tacit balance had been reached between them."
"But now, you've come."
"You are a powerful mayor who came to power through a near-revolutionary election, carrying a huge aura of public support."
"You bypassed all the intermediaries and spoke directly with the people. You used executive orders to drive reforms and federal funds to build infrastructure."
"This makes them seem insignificant, turning them into dispensable rubber stamps."
"This is something Moretti absolutely cannot tolerate."
Roosevelt's voice became shrill.
"For a seasoned veteran like him, your success is the biggest challenge to his authority."
"What he wants is not to obstruct the revitalization plan itself; he may even think the plan is good."
"But what he wants is to tame you."
"He wants you to understand that in this city, no matter how big a hero you are, no matter how many votes you get."
"Without Thomas Moretti's stamp, you can't even replace a manhole cover on the street."
"He'll make you bang your head against the wall until you're bloodied and bruised, and then you'll have to kneel down, knock on his door, beg him, make a deal with him, and acknowledge his status."
"That's the logic of power."
"When it comes to power, the public interest is always secondary; seating arrangements are primary."
Leo fell silent.
He looked at Moretti's smiling photo on the whiteboard and seemed to see the grotesque expression hidden behind that smile.
This is a more formidable opponent than Cartwright.
Cartwright has at least some obvious weaknesses: his desire for re-election and the constraints imposed by his financial backers.
Moretti, on the other hand, had no obvious weaknesses.
He had been in that position for too long; he was deeply entrenched and impervious to reason.
"What should we do?" Leo asked Roosevelt in his mind. "Deal with him like we did with Cartwright? Can I mobilize people at the Heart of Pittsburgh to surround Congress and force him to step down?"
"No, that's suicide," Roosevelt immediately dismissed the idea.
"Leo, you need to understand the fundamental difference in the source of power between the city council and the mayor."
"You are the mayor, your power comes from the universal suffrage of all voters in the city, and your legitimacy is based on the total votes of 300,000 people. So you can wage a propaganda war, and you can use your influence to suppress people."
"But Moretti is different."
"First of all, the position of speaker is not elected by the citizens, but by the nine members of parliament who elect each other behind closed doors."
As long as he can secure those key votes and satisfy his old buddies, public opinion will be nothing to him.
"Secondly, and most importantly, is the electoral district system."
"Every city councilor is the king of an independent little kingdom, and their power comes only from their own constituency."
"You can't interfere in their district elections like you would in a mayoral election; it's futile."
"Moretti has been running his constituency for twenty-five years. He knows every pastor in every church, every parent council chairman, and even every grocery store owner there."
"He fixed their streetlights, helped them get rid of their parking tickets, and he built an impenetrable network of favors there."
"If you mobilize the entire city's media to attack him and his constituency now..."
"He only needs to do one thing: stand up and tell his constituents that the arrogant new mayor who lives in City Hall is trying to bully our community and is trying to take away what is rightfully ours."
"That way, you won't hurt him at all; instead, you'll make him the guardian of that community and make his voter base harder than steel."
"You're fighting an air battle, while he's fighting a tunnel war. No matter how loud your bombs are, they won't hit him hiding in the cellar."
Leo felt a headache coming on after listening to this analysis.
This is the real political barrier.
This defensive system, comprised of electoral district divisions and mutual elections, is harder to breach than Morganfield's money.
"Therefore, a direct attack won't work," Roosevelt concluded. "Attacking Congress will be seen as attacking democracy itself, which will bankrupt you politically and morally instantly."
"We need to find a starting point."
"A reason he couldn't refuse."
"Or pressure from the outside, so strong that it forces him to bring up the agenda."
Roosevelt paused for a moment.
"However, we need to try diplomacy before resorting to heavy weapons."
"This is called 'courtesy first, then force'."
"Go see him," Roosevelt said. "Go and formally visit the Speaker as mayor."
"Go and see his attitude, go and hear his price."
"Even if we can't reach an agreement, we need to let him know that we gave him a chance."
Leo opened his eyes.
"Ethan," Leo said to Ethan, who was organizing documents, "get me in touch with Moretti."
Tell him I want to see him.
"This week, the sooner the better."
"He can decide the location and the time."
"I want to talk to him about the budget."
Ethan was somewhat surprised: "You're sure? Going to see him now would be tantamount to showing weakness to him."
"I know." Leo stood up and straightened his suit. "But it's a necessary gesture."
"I know better than anyone that the differences between me and Moretti are fundamental and cannot be resolved with just one coffee. He will not easily relinquish his power, and I will not accept a emasculated reform."
"But I have to go."
Leo walked to the mirror and checked that his tie was not crooked.
"I want all the citizens of Pittsburgh to see that their new mayor is someone who is willing to humble himself and seek cooperation even at the cost of humiliation for the city's future."
"I want to show the public my sincerity and the efforts I have made to promote the revitalization plan."
"That way, when negotiations break down and I am forced to withdraw from the war, no one can accuse me of starting a war for personal gain."
"Just say you're seeking the Speaker's guidance," Leo said, turning to Ethan. "I want him to feel that I'm ready to kiss his ring."
Ethan nodded and picked up the phone.
He dialed the extension number for the city council speaker's office.
The person who answered the phone was Moretti's administrative secretary, a woman with a high-pitched voice and an arrogant tone.
Ethan declined the mayor's request to meet with the speaker as soon as possible.
The sound of turning pages of a schedule could still be heard on the other end of the phone.
The sound lasted for a long time, as if the speaker was deliberately showing off how busy he was.
Two full minutes passed before the female secretary's voice rang out again.
"Mr. Hawke, as you know, the Speaker's schedule has been extremely full lately."
"He simply couldn't find the time due to various committee meetings and community hearings."
Ethan said slowly, "This is a very urgent matter. The mayor wants to hear the speaker's opinion before submitting the budget for the next fiscal year."
"The budget proposal?" The female secretary chuckled. "That's not urgent; it'll take a long time to process anyway."
"However, since the mayor insists so much—"
The female secretary's voice was full of condescension.
"Next Tuesday at noon."
"From 12:10 to 12:20."
"The Speaker has lunch in his office. If the Mayor would like, he can come over and chat for ten minutes."
"This is the earliest and only time we can spare."
1
Ethan tightened his grip on the phone.
Next Tuesday, and he has ten minutes.
It was still lunchtime.
This is more than just a rejection.
This is more of a humiliation, a display of power.
Moretti was telling Leo in this way: Here, you're not the mayor; you're just a subordinate who has to wait in line to be summoned.
Your time is worthless, but my time is valuable.
If I tell you to wait, you have to wait.
Ethan covered the microphone, looked at Leo, and his eyes were filled with rage.
"Leo, that old bastard—"
Leo, however, showed no sign of anger.
He calmly nodded, indicating that Ethan had agreed.
"Okay." Ethan took a deep breath and said into the phone, "We accept, next Tuesday at 12:10 PM."
The phone hangs up.
Ethan slammed the receiver down onto the landline.
"This is like rubbing our faces in the dirt!" Ethan protested. "Ten minutes? What can we do there? Watch him eat a sandwich?"
Leo walked to the window and looked at the annex building belonging to the city council across the street.
That building was old and dilapidated, but at that moment, its shadow seemed to stretch longer than the buildings in Morganfield.
"Don't be angry, Ethan."
Leo said calmly.
"Getting angry won't solve anything."
"He wants to humiliate me, that's fine."
"If you can get him to open the door, even if it's just a crack, even if it's just for ten minutes."
"I can also put my foot in."
Leo's eyes turned cold.
"Moreover, this also made me realize something."
"These people don't deserve any gentle treatment."
"Since he doesn't want to talk amicably."
"Then let's prepare to end this conversation in an undignified way."
Leo looked at Ethan.
"Go and get ready."
"Check the situation in Moretti's constituency."
Ethan quickly understood Leo's meaning, nodded, and left the office.
Since they have already decided to turn against Moretti and start a war with the city council speaker, it is only natural to sharpen their bayonets before the war begins.
Leo sat back down at his desk and picked up the thick budget document.
His fingers roughly traced the rough cover of the document.
The doorman, Moretti.
Do you really think you can keep that door locked forever with a rusty old lock?
If you don't open the door.
Then I'll tear down the wall.
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