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Chapter 87 Meeting
Chapter 87 Meeting
The reception area of the City Council Speaker's office.
The walls were covered with deep red wallpaper, and hung with photographs framed in heavy gold frames.
That's a photo of Thomas Moretti with several past Pittsburgh mayors.
From the earliest mayor, a World War II veteran still wearing a top hat, to Martin Cartwright, who just stepped down.
They are smiling, holding hands, or signing documents in the photos.
Moretti always stood next to them, or a little behind them.
His hair turned from black to white, and wrinkles appeared from nothing to something, but his smile remained an unchanging mask.
Leo sat on the slightly sagging leather sofa, looking at the photos on the wall.
These photos tell everyone who walks in here that mayors come and go; some are promoted, some go to jail, and some are forgotten.
But Moretti is a storied man.
He is the true owner of this building.
Leo glanced at the watch on his wrist.
12:20.
Ten minutes had passed since the agreed time.
The arrogant female secretary remained seated behind her desk, head down, painting her nails, not even offering Leo a glass of water.
Leo knew very well that this neglect was no accident.
Without Moretti's authorization, she wouldn't have dared to leave the incumbent mayor hanging around like a salesman.
This is a negotiation tactic that wears down the opponent's will by consuming their time.
Reason told him that he had to be patient and not lose his composure before meeting the person in charge.
But the pressure of reality is like a constantly tightening spring.
As the head of administration of this city of 300,000 people, his schedule has been precisely divided down to every minute.
His mind involuntarily began to calculate the time cost: if he was delayed by ten minutes here, the 3 o'clock budget discussion would have to be postponed, the signing of documents with Ethan at 4:30 would have to be shortened, and even the afternoon press conference that Sarah was waiting to confirm would be affected.
Everything is interconnected, and a delay in any link can trigger a chain reaction.
Without Leo even realizing it, an unconscious sense of anxiety seeped out from his pores and filled the air.
His fingers began to tap unconsciously on the sofa armrest, the frequency increasing, making a rapid "tap tap tap" sound.
"Calm down, Leo."
Roosevelt's voice echoed in his mind.
"I know your current anxiety is not intentional; it's just your body's instinctive reaction to stress."
"However, as a leader, you must learn to suppress this instinct, rather than be driven by it."
Roosevelt paused. "Forget about those damn schedules. Ethan's documents, Sarah's press conference, even that so-called budget discussion—at this moment, none of them are as important as this closed door."
"Why?" Leo wondered to himself. "Moretti just wants to humiliate me. I know this conversation won't yield any real results. I'm wasting my time here; I see no point other than getting humiliated."
"The significance lies in checks and balances, child; this is the geometry of power."
"What geometry? This is clearly him showing me arrogance."
"No, this is a necessary check and balance," Roosevelt patiently explained. "Local politics in the United States is like an extremely unstable geometric shape."
"You are the mayor, you represent executive power, you want to spend money, you want to build, you want to fulfill your campaign promises, you want to step on the gas and make the engine of Pittsburgh roar."
"And Moretti is a member of the city council, he represents legislative power and budget approval power, all he can do is apply the brakes."
"Its existence, from the very beginning of its design, was to prevent some passionate but inexperienced young drivers from driving too fast and ending up in a car crash and killing themselves."
Roosevelt's voice turned serious: "If you lose your composure now because of impatience, or if you walk away because you feel it's pointless," then you've not only lost this confrontation, but you've also shown Moretti your weakness—your inability to handle pressure.
"I faced similar situations countless times back then."
"In 1935, those four old fogies of the Supreme Court repealed my National Industrial Recovery Act with a single ruling. It was the cornerstone of my new policies and my last hope for saving the country's economy."
"Justice McReynolds even turned his back to me in public and wouldn't even look at me."
"At the time, I had a radical draft bill to dissolve the court on my desk. All I had to do was sign it, and it would trigger a constitutional crisis and send those old guys home."
"And in 1939, Senator Bora, an isolationist from Idaho."
"While I was trying to aid London, which was being bombed by the Nazis, he was in the Senate, talking at length about having more accurate intelligence than the State Department and asserting that there would be no war in Europe."
"I was sitting right next to the radio, listening to him spout nonsense that stopped every bullet being sent to Britain. I felt like I could rush into the Houses of Parliament and sew his mouth shut with my own hands."
"But I held back both times."
"So you must learn to prioritize," Roosevelt said calmly but firmly. "This is a required course on power."
"In this relationship, who holds the dominant position, who can find the fulcrum in this geometry, is far more important than how many documents you sign today, or how many reporters you have to face."
"If you lose your momentum today, if you make him think you're just a young bureaucrat chasing after a timetable, then every budget proposal you put forward from now on will be stuck in this damn reception room until you become one of those photos on the wall."
"Because the one thing he has in abundance is time."
Roosevelt comforted him, saying, "Don't feel wronged, son."
"This system was never designed for efficiency."
"It is to prevent tyranny."
Just then, the female secretary finally raised her head.
"Mayor, the Speaker is available now. You may go in."
Leo stood up, straightened his suit, and pushed open the heavy mahogany door.
The office was filled with the rich aroma of ketchup and meatballs.
Thomas Moretti was sitting behind his desk, enjoying a huge Italian meatball sandwich.
He didn't even get up.
He merely lifted his eyelids, glanced at Leo who had walked in, then pointed to the chair opposite him, with red ketchup still smeared on his lips.
"Please have a seat, Mr. Mayor."
Moretti mumbled as he chewed his food.
"Sorry, I only have time for lunch."
This is an extremely dismissive attitude, as well as a meticulously crafted and cunning tactic.
He was telling Leo: All you have is less important to me than this sandwich in my hand.
Leo sat down, ignoring the other person's attitude.
"Mr. Speaker, since time is limited, I will get straight to the point."
Leo took the thick draft budget out of his briefcase and placed it on the table.
"Regarding the budget for Pittsburgh Revitalization Plan Phase Two, specifically the $20 million community service upgrade project, I hope the City Council can schedule a review period as soon as possible."
"This is urgent. If the heating system in the hilly area isn't renovated, the elderly and children will suffer from the cold."
Moretti continued eating his sandwich, not even glancing at the document.
"Twenty million dollars?" Moretti picked up a tissue, wiped his mouth, and chuckled. "I've seen your campaign presentation slides. They're pretty well done, very Hollywood style."
"What public daycare centers, what senior citizen canteens, and what workers' cooperatives?"
"They all sound very touching."
Moretti put down the sandwich and leaned back, the chair creaking.
His eyes changed instantly.
The gluttonous old man has disappeared, and now sitting there is an old evil dragon guarding the vault with piercing eyes.
"But, Mr. Mayor."
"This is not just a PowerPoint presentation; it's money, taxpayers' real money."
Leo was not intimidated by his aura and said frankly, "Mr. Speaker, this is not my personal fantasy, but the voice of the citizens."
"I won 72 percent of the vote in the election, and that's the mandate the people gave me. They elected me to do these things."
"If you've seen the poll data, you should know that over 80% of citizens support this plan."
Upon hearing "polls" and "votes," Moretti let out a disdainful snort.
"Don't mention that 72 percent to me, kid."
Upon hearing the word "child," Leo frowned slightly, but he said nothing.
Moretti's fingers tapped on the table, making a thumping sound.
"That's election rhetoric, the kind you use to fool the crowds on the street."
"But now, we are governing this city."
"You incite those poor people, telling them they can move into new houses tomorrow and eat for free the day after."
"That's easy; anyone could make that promise."
"But what if the budget is overspent? What if the city's bond rating is downgraded because of reckless spending? What if there's an economic recession next year and tax revenue decreases? Who will fill that hole?"
"You'll either pack your bags and leave, or run for a higher position."
"And I have to stay here and face those bills I can't pay."
Moretti leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Leo.
"You're a speed demon, Leo."
"Just floor the gas pedal, drive as fast as you can, and listen to the wind rushing past your ears and the cheers from the roadside."
"But I am the one who has to fix the car, fill it with gas, and make sure this broken-down car doesn't fall apart halfway through the journey."
"You want me to sign this budget? You want me to fill up the gas tank of your runaway car?"
Moretti simply extended a finger, pressed it on the cover, and then gave it a gentle push.
The budget proposal that Leo and Ethan had worked on for several sleepless nights had slipped to the edge of the table, teetering on the verge of collapse.
"I can tell you clearly, Mr. Mayor, this document won't even get a minute of discussion time in the Budget and Finance Committee. I will reject it outright."
Leo looked at Moretti's fingers.
"You haven't even seen what's inside."
“I don’t need to see it,” Moretti sneered. “I know what’s written in it. Grand visions, radical reforms, and deficits that will give the treasurer a heart attack.”
"This is simply impossible to pass."
Moretti leaned back in his chair, a pragmatic expression typical of seasoned politicians on his face.
"Listen, Leo. I'm not an unreasonable person. I know you've just taken office and need some achievements to embellish your image."
"You can go back and have your chief of staff rewrite it."
"A more moderate budget that is more acceptable to all of us."
"For example, repairing a few parks, or replacing some fire trucks with new ones. As long as it's within that scope, I can give you the green light."
"But as for your revitalization plan that's going to turn the whole city upside down—" Moretti shook his head, "Forget about it, at least not this year."
Leo didn't speak; he just stared at Moretti.
Because he realized something was wrong.
The power theory that Roosevelt mentioned earlier sounds quite reasonable.
But at Pittsburgh City Hall, this confrontation for the sake of confrontation seemed a bit too deliberate.
Although the mayor and the city council are two separate bodies, they are essentially symbiotic.
Mayors need council approval for budgets to get things done, and councilors need mayors to implement projects in their districts to win over voters.
A complete split benefits no one.
Unless, there is a larger conflict of interest that has not yet been brought to the forefront.
Moretti's strong sense of confrontation was not just to humiliate him, but more like to establish a tone for negotiations.
He is using the rejection of this $20 million special budget as leverage to build up his resources for another, bigger battle.
Looking at Moretti's half-closed eyes, Leo suddenly realized what he wanted.
The debate over the "Revitalization Plan Phase II" was ostensibly about where the $20 million would go, but in reality, Moretti wasn't concerned with whether to build roads or parks.
What he cared about was the feast that hadn't yet been served—the draft of the Pittsburgh City's annual operating and capital budget.
That's the lifeblood that keeps this city running, a massive flow of hundreds of millions of dollars.
It includes police salaries, sanitation worker contracts, funding for large-scale infrastructure projects, and even the cost of purchasing every sheet of printing paper for the city hall.
Moretti is holding the revival plan in check now in order to use it as leverage to force Rio to make concessions in the upcoming annual budget negotiations.
He wanted to tell Leo: If you want to accomplish even one thing, you have to hand over the knife to me on this bigger plate.
This is the truth about power.
All ideological disputes and all procedural justice ultimately come down to the distribution of interests.
The so-called checks and balances, in essence, are about controlling the flow of funds.
Whoever gives in first loses.
Leo knew that this negotiation would be fruitless, so he grabbed the documents on the table, turned around, and left.
"Bang."
The heavy door slammed shut behind him, shutting out the smell of the meatball sandwich and Moretti's arrogance.
The corridor was empty except for the sound of Leo's footsteps.
Leo slowed his pace and finally stopped in the shadows of the corridor, looking out at the gray sky.
"Mr. President, why?" Leo asked inwardly, "Why did you make me come in person?"
Logically, this contact, which hadn't even reached the formal negotiation stage and was destined to be a humiliating setback, should have been handled by his chief of staff, Ethan Hawke.
As a subordinate, Ethan could leave room for maneuver even if he was rejected, because that's the job of an aide—to act as a buffer and protect the mayor's dignity.
But Roosevelt insisted that he do it himself.
This is a huge political setback.
Roosevelt, a master of political rules, could not possibly have been unaware of this consequence.
Unless, this is the result he wants.
"You did this on purpose," Leo thought to himself. "You sent me here just to make me angry."
"If Ethan comes, he will bring back Moretti's refusal, and then we will sit in the office and rationally analyze the pros and cons, and calculate the gains and losses."
"We'll start to consider whether we should really accept Moretti's suggestion and just do a few small projects. Or, we'll renegotiate our plan to get money from Washington."
"We will begin to compromise."
"We'll start to feel that this is the best we can do within this system."
"This is the path Cartwright has walked."
"You're also worried that I'll become the next Cartwright."
Leo clenched his fist.
"You're afraid I'll become one of those vulgar politicians who sit in their offices and constantly make deals to keep their positions. So you threw me to the front lines, to let me personally smell that stale stench, to let me personally experience the humiliation of being ridden over by the old forces."
"You must leave me with no way out."
Faced with Leo's analysis, Roosevelt remained silent.
In Leo's view, this silence was an admission.
"You don't need to test my resolve this way." Leo took a deep breath.
"Cartwright is in this position to make it more secure, while I have never intended to retire here."
"Mayor?" Leo sneered. "This is far from my end."
At this point, Roosevelt spoke.
"Leo, you're finally starting to impress me."
"Then let's do it, son," Roosevelt's voice deepened.
"Since the brake pads on this car are rusted, we need to find a way to apply some lubricant to it."
"or----"
"Give this car a push-back feeling from the outside."
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