Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 401: Chapter 187: The Bill Comes Due

Washington D.C., Georgetown.

This was the square mile with the highest concentration of power in the entire United States.

Inside the ballroom of the Four Seasons Hotel, the light from the crystal chandeliers refracted off a champagne tower, casting an intoxicating golden glow.

John Murphy stood in the center of the crowd, dressed in a custom-tailored tuxedo with a silk pocket square folded in his breast pocket.

His face was flushed with the kind of glow only a victor could possess—the result of a cocktail of alcohol and adrenaline.

Just a few minutes earlier, the Vice President himself had walked over, clapped him on the shoulder, and praised him as "the backbone of the Democratic Party in the Midwest."

In that moment, Murphy felt like he was floating.

On Capitol Hill, he had been like an invisible man. No one cared about his opinions, and no one remembered his name.

But tonight, he was the star of the show.

The lobbyists from K Street swarmed around him like sharks that had scented blood, clutching business cards and spouting compliments.

The party’s heavyweights raised their glasses to him, their eyes holding a clear intent to curry favor.

"Senator, your victory speech was simply brilliant," an energy company lobbyist sidled up, his face plastered with a smile. "We’re extremely interested in the vision for Pennsylvania’s energy future that you mentioned in your campaign platform."

Murphy laughed heartily and clinked glasses with him.

"Of course. We need to protect the environment, but we also need jobs."

Murphy felt he had already mastered this art.

He had beaten Monroe and Warren. He was now a Senator of the Federation, a member of the super-exclusive club with only one hundred seats.

He felt invincible.

Just then, the phone in his pocket began to vibrate.

Murphy frowned.

He didn’t want to answer it. He didn’t want anything to interrupt this perfect evening.

But the vibrations were incessant, carrying a frantic, almost alarming rhythm.

He glanced at the caller ID.

Leo Wallace.

The fervor in Murphy’s eyes cooled slightly.

He knew he had to take this call.

"Excuse me for a moment. I have an urgent call from my district."

Murphy offered an apologetic smile to the onlookers around him, then made his way through the crowd toward the restroom adjacent to the ballroom.

He pushed open the door and slid the bolt shut.

Murphy loosened his tie, looked at his own flushed face in the mirror, and answered the video call.

"Leo! My friend!"

Murphy held the phone up high.

"You should see this! The Vice President just shook my hand! He said the White House places great importance on our victory in the Rust Belt! We’ve made it in Washington! We’ve really made it!"

Murphy’s voice was distorted with excitement.

On the other end of the screen, there was only the glare of a stark white light.

Leo Wallace was sitting in his office in Pittsburgh City Hall.

In the background was the map of Pennsylvania, covered in red circles.

In front of Leo sat a cup of lukewarm black coffee and a stack of financial statements held together by a red clip.

His expression was cold, a stark contrast to Murphy’s flushed, triumphant state.

It was as if they were in two different worlds.

"Wake up, John."

Leo’s voice came through the speaker.

Murphy froze, the smile on his face stiffening at the corners of his mouth.

"What?"

"I said, wake up."

Leo picked up a report from the desk and waved it at the camera.

"Don’t let the champagne and compliments go to your head. Your seat wasn’t a gift from the Vice President, nor was it from those K Street vampires."

"We bought it."

"It was bought with five hundred million US Dollars in bonds."

A wave of irritation washed over Murphy.

"Leo, tonight is for celebrating. Let’s not talk about these depressing numbers. We won. That’s the bottom line. We can deal with the rest later..."

"There is no time to deal with it later."

Leo cut him off.

"Do you know what I’m holding?"

Leo flipped open to the first page of the report.

"These are last month’s internal settlement figures for the Industrial Revival Alliance."

"Thirty thousand tons of steel shipped from Erie to Pittsburgh. Twenty thousand tons of cement from Scranton to Johnstown."

"Materials are moving, factories are running, workers are getting paid."

"It looks like prosperity, doesn’t it?"

"But this prosperity we’ve manufactured is built on stockpiled inventory and internal bookkeeping."

"It’s a closed-loop numbers game."

Leo tossed the report onto the desk.

"And this game has a fatal flaw."

"The US Dollar."

Leo stared into the camera, his gaze locking onto Murphy’s.

"Our liquidity will only last for another ninety days."

"In three months, if I don’t see more US Dollars flowing into this system, if this closed loop fails to conduct real currency exchange with the outside economy..."

"...then the factories in Erie will go bankrupt because they can’t afford raw materials."

"The Mayor of Scranton will come after me with that pile of worthless paper, ready to kill me."

"Ron Smith will feel like he’s been cheated, and he’ll turn those voters against you."

"When that happens, your own base will tear you to pieces."

Leo’s voice turned grim.

"The higher they raise you, the harder they’ll let you fall."

In the restroom, Murphy felt a chill shoot up from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his skull.

The euphoric, floating sensation from moments ago vanished without a trace.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror.

The face that had been so ruddy was now turning deathly pale.

He suddenly realized that the expensive tuxedo he was wearing was actually a shroud woven from debt.