Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 395: Chapter 185: Moses

The video conference signal was lagging, making the anxious faces on the screen appear distorted.

Ron Smith sat in his office, a cigarette held between his fingers.

He had just presented Pittsburgh’s "six percent holding incentive" proposal.

The response on the other end was less than enthusiastic.

Scranton’s Mayor, Joe Byers, was frowning, while the mayor of Johnston was looking down at his phone’s calculator.

"Six months," Byers broke the silence. "Ron, do you have any idea what six months means for us? We have interest payments on municipal bonds, health insurance for our civil servants to cover. That note might be worth something in the system, but you need US Dollars to buy bread at the supermarket."

"Yeah," another mayor chimed in. "If Murphy loses the election and Pittsburgh goes bankrupt, the notes we’re holding will be worthless paper. Who’s going to save us then? You?"

Smith tossed his cigarette onto the desk.

"I know what you’re afraid of," Smith said. "I’m afraid too. But if we jump ship now, we all drown. Saint Claude is just waiting to pick up the pieces. Do you really want to sell your city’s waterworks to her?"

On the screen, the mayor of Johnston gave a bitter laugh. "Sell? Ron, you think too highly of us. Who here hasn’t considered selling off assets?"

"Two years ago, I tried to sell the city’s sewage treatment plant to a private investment firm. And what happened? The assessment team they sent took one look at our population decline data and financial reports, then flew back to New York without even staying for lunch."

"They said a city like ours has no future. Buying our assets would be like buying a pile of scrap metal."

"It’s different now," Byers interjected. "We’re part of the Industrial Revival Alliance. Our assets are valuable now, and vultures like Saint Claude can smell it."

Smith nodded. "Exactly. So, do you want to sell her the city’s waterworks and power grid right now, in exchange for a pittance in cash just to scrape by?"

The others fell silent.

"Even if you wanted to sell," Smith continued, "would the citizens agree?"

On the screen, the mayor of Johnston let out a contemptuous sneer. "The citizens? What do citizens know? As long as we dress up the contract and tell them it’s to bring in advanced technology and improve service quality, what can they do besides complain a little? It’s not like they can understand complex financial statements."

"They can’t understand the statements," Smith admitted. "But one person can."

He paused, then said, "Leo Wallace."

Smith looked at the dismissive faces on the screen.

"Gentlemen, don’t forget how that young man came to power."

"He’s a master at stoking public opinion and an expert at manipulating social media."

"When the time comes, he’ll tell your constituents that their mayor is selling the very water they drink to the Vampires of Wall Street!"

"If you don’t want to be chased out of City Hall with pitchforks by angry mobs in the next election, then by all means, go ahead and sell."

His words snuffed out any last shred of wishful thinking.

"So, that’s why I agreed to Leo’s terms," Smith concluded. "Because right now, we need each other."

"In the eyes of the public, in front of the media’s cameras, our cities are thriving. We’re the heroes of the Rust Belt revival."

"At a time like this, we absolutely cannot bow to capital. We cannot show any weakness."

"We have to stand with Pittsburgh and see this performance through."

"Then what do we do?" someone asked.

"Listen, we can’t just sit around and wait," Smith said, leaning closer to the camera. "Leo gave us interest. That’s not enough. We need cash."

"But didn’t he lock the redemption channels?"

"But he didn’t lock procurement," Smith said with a sly smile. "What is Leo most afraid of right now? That we won’t support Murphy. That the Revival Alliance will fall apart. He needs results, he needs to put on a show. He needs the entire state to see the Industrial Revival Alliance firing on all cylinders."

"So, give it to him."

Smith waved a hand.

"Take all the steel piled up in your warehouses, the cement you can’t sell, the idle glass—haul it all to Pittsburgh. Send him the purchase orders and force him to sign for it."

"A portion of the settlement will still be in notes, but according to the agreement, every transaction must have a sixty-percent cash advance to cover taxes and labor costs."

"As long as the volume is large enough, that sixty-percent cash flow will be enough for you to cover payroll for the next six months."

Byers’s eyes lit up. "You’re saying... we just force-feed it to him? Can he even swallow it all?"

"He has to swallow it," Smith said with conviction. "For Murphy’s election, for that damn showcase project, he’ll have to take it, even if he chokes on it."

...

「Pittsburgh City Hall, the Mayor’s Office.」

The phone had been ringing off the hook since morning.

Ethan, clutching a thick sheaf of purchase requisitions, stormed up to Leo and slammed the papers on his desk.

"They’re insane! They’ve all gone insane!"

Ethan pointed at the numbers on the forms.

"Erie sent a supply request for thirty thousand tons of specialty steel, claiming it’s for stockpiling for next year’s Phase Two construction. Scranton wants to ship over their entire cement output for the next two quarters. And Johnston... they even dug up three years’ worth of backlogged glass and are asking if we want to replace the windows at City Hall!"