Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt

Chapter 353 - 169: A Change of Clothes

「Washington D.C. The Senate Office Building.」

Russell Warren tossed a polling report into the shredder.

The machine let out a grating screech, devouring the pages that showed his declining support in Western Pennsylvania.

He had underestimated the cost of this blockade.

State police had set up roadblocks on the highways, which not only stopped trucks heading to Pittsburgh but also blocked the commutes of countless ordinary voters.

The small business owners who had once supported him were now calling his office and screaming bloody murder.

Their goods couldn’t be shipped out, and raw materials couldn’t get in.

Representatives from the logistics association were on Capitol Hill every day, threatening to pull their political donations to the Republican Party.

Warren sat in his chair, his brow deeply furrowed.

That young mayor had five hundred million in cash and had actually managed to stabilize the situation just by paying the workers.

In contrast, his own base was starting to waver.

Warren looked out the window.

He was waiting.

He wasn’t just waiting for Leo to make a mistake; he was forcing Leo to make one.

Kingsley, his chief of staff, was the one getting anxious.

"Sir, the pressure is mounting. The logistics association is blowing up our phones, and the small business owners are all complaining they can’t ship their goods. Even some of our base Republican voters are starting to get restless. They’re saying the blockade is disrupting their daily lives."

Kingsley hesitated for a moment before speaking his mind.

"And are we pushing Erie and Scranton too hard? What if riots break out? Or what if those mayors get desperate and take this to the national media..."

"What are you trying to say?"

Warren cut him off, his gaze turning from the window to land on Kingsley’s face.

"Are you trying to teach me how to do my job, David?"

Kingsley tensed and quickly lowered his head.

"No, Sir, I’m just worried..."

"Worried?"

Warren scoffed.

"Do you know why I cut off the money to Erie and Scranton first?"

"Because Ron Smith and Joe Byers were making the most noise. Punishing traitors is the most effective way to intimidate the rest."

"I want the other mayors to watch. I want them to be afraid."

Warren turned around and sat back down in his chair.

"I have this under control, David."

"The reason I haven’t ordered a full blockade, the reason I haven’t moved against all the cities, is because I know where to draw the line."

"I need this fire to burn just hot enough to hurt them, but not so hot that it burns the whole house down."

"As for the voters’ complaints..."

Warren waved his hand dismissively.

"It’s just background noise. Once they see that alliance fall apart, once they realize following Leo Wallace is a dead end, they’ll understand who was right all along."

"Remember your place, David."

Warren’s voice grew low and heavy.

"A timely reminder is fine. That’s your job."

"But don’t question my judgment."

"Everything is under my control."

"As for Pittsburgh."

"I had the state police blockade the highways, cutting off their supply lines."

"Right now, Pittsburgh is an island."

"Supplies can’t get in, products can’t get out."

"Leo Wallace does have five hundred million dollars, and I’ll admit, that sounds like a lot."

Warren sneered.

"But will he dare to spend it?"

"If Leo wants to hold this alliance together, he has to give them a transfusion. He has to use Pittsburgh’s money to feed Erie’s workers and pay Scranton’s bills."

"The moment he opens that floodgate."

Warren clenched his fist.

"That five hundred million dollars will vanish in an instant, like water poured on sand."

"What about Pittsburgh’s own projects? What about the South District’s revitalization plan? What about the benefits he promised the local workers?"

"The moment Pittsburgh’s cash flow dries up, his own base will turn on him."

"And if he doesn’t share it?" Kingsley asked.

"If he doesn’t, it’s even simpler."

Warren leaned back in his chair.

"Ron and Joe can’t hold out for long. The moment they realize following Leo Wallace is a dead end—that they won’t get a cent of bailout money—"

"They’ll flip on him."

"This alliance will collapse from within."

"This is a battle of attrition, and it’s a no-win scenario for him."

"Either way he chooses, he’s finished."

...

「Pittsburgh City Hall.」

Leo sat in his office, twirling a pen in his hand.

On the surface, he was the picture of calm, even finding time to inspect a newly renovated community library.

But inwardly, he knew the tension was stretched to its breaking point.

The only variable was time.

He was also gambling, gambling that those mayors would break before he did.

’Mr. President,’ Leo thought, ’what if they really can’t hold out and decide to surrender to Warren?’

Roosevelt’s voice echoed in his mind.

"They won’t."

"Because Warren can’t give them what they want."

"Warren can lift the blockade, but he can’t provide orders or create jobs."

"Besides, you underestimate the power of fear."

"They’ll come to you long before angry workers burn down their city halls."

"They’ll see you as their last hope."

Roosevelt’s prediction soon came true.

Even faster than Leo had expected.

That afternoon, there was a knock on the door of the Mayor’s Office.

Ethan came in, a peculiar expression on his face.

"Mayor, Ron Smith and Joe Byers are here."

"They’re downstairs. They didn’t use the main entrance; they came up from the underground garage."

"Show them in."

Leo put down his pen.

「Five minutes later.」

Ron Smith and Joe Byers walked into the office.

As soon as they entered, they collapsed onto the sofa.

"Water."

Smith croaked out a single word, his voice hoarse.

Ethan poured them two glasses of water.

"Things are complicated in Erie," Smith said, taking a sip of water, his brow furrowed. "The retired police association has been camped out in front of City Hall every day. They haven’t stormed the building yet, but my secretary is already so scared she’s taken time off."

"It’s about the same in Scranton," Byers added. "Contractors are calling me every day, their tone getting more aggressive. The truckers have been protesting in the square for a few nights now, too."

The two men exchanged a look. There was a note of helplessness in their voices, but their eyes weren’t panicked.

"Leo, that’s the situation."

Smith put his glass on the coffee table and looked at Leo.

"That credit note system of yours... we went back and studied it. In principle, we can join. We can agree to use the notes for settlements."

"But the situation has changed," Smith’s tone hardened. "Warren has blockaded the highways and cut our funding. Even if we agree to join your system, those notes can’t be turned into the supplies and wages we desperately need right now."

"No matter how good the notes are, they’re still just a piece of paper. The workers want cash, and the seniors want checks."

"Without cash, there’s no way to salvage this."

"So, Leo."

Byers spoke up.

"If you want us to stay in this alliance, if you want us to help you stand up to Warren’s pressure."

"You have to give us cash."

"Give us an advance in cash, in dollars, so we can go back and shut those troublemakers up."

"Only then can we even begin to discuss this credit note system."

Smith continued, "We’ve been to the state party, we’ve talked to Warren’s people."

"They said the blockade won’t be lifted unless we publicly withdraw from your alliance and denounce you as a fraud."

"But we can’t back out."

"If we do, the Pittsburgh orders disappear, and the workers will riot anyway."

"We’re damned if we do, and damned if we don’t."

Smith raised his head and looked at Leo.

"Leo, you’ve really screwed us over."

"We’re Republicans. Warren is our Senator. He’s supposed to be protecting us."

"But now, he’s attacking us."

"We can’t take it anymore. We really can’t."

The room fell into silence.

This was reality.

Even with the financial instrument figured out, the bureaucratic hurdles remained.

Warren had used his absolute authority within the Republican Party to back these two mayors into a corner.

Roosevelt’s voice echoed in his mind.

"Here’s your opening, Leo."

"The timing couldn’t be better."

"Since there’s no future for them in their own camp."

"It’s time to show them a new path."

"Ron, Joe."

Leo’s voice was gentle, yet it carried a sense of power.

"You just said that Warren is attacking you."

"That’s right," Smith said through gritted teeth. "That old bastard doesn’t give a damn if we live or die, as long as he gets re-elected."

"Then why are you still following him?"

Leo asked abruptly.

Smith was taken aback.

"What do you mean? I’m a Republican, who else would I follow?"

"Your party?"

Leo scoffed.

"Open your eyes, Ron."

"When your citizens couldn’t eat, did your party offer you a loaf of bread?"

"When your city hall was under siege, did the party send anyone to save you?"

"Warren cut off your funding, blockaded your roads, he’s treating you like enemies."

"In his eyes, you are no longer Republican mayors. You are traitors who must be purged."

"So since he’s attacking you..."

"...why are you still clinging to a banner that has already abandoned you?"

Smith and Byers looked at each other, their eyes full of confusion.

’What on earth is this Wallace talking about?’

"Then... then what can we do?" Byers asked.

Leo walked back to his desk, leaned against its edge, and crossed his arms.

"You said Warren is punishing you for cooperating with me."

"So what if you were no longer under his authority?"

Leo stared into their eyes.

"What if you flew a different banner?"

"Change our banner?" Smith’s eyes widened. "You’re saying..."

"That’s right."

Leo nodded, his tone calm.

"Since there’s no path forward for you in the Republican Party..."

"...why not join the Democratic Party?"

Leo leaned forward, his eyes burning with intensity.

"Think about it. What time is it? We’re at a critical point in the midterm elections."

"At this critical juncture, what do you think happens if two prominent Republican mayors suddenly announce they’re switching parties and joining the Democrats?"

"The Democratic National Committee would go wild. They’d treat you like gold, hold you up as heroes who’ve seen the light, as symbols of the Republican Party’s decline."

"All the resources, all the media attention, all the funding—it would all come flooding in."

"You’d no longer be abandoned orphans. You would be guests of honor in the Democratic Party."

Leo smiled, and his expression radiated the confidence of someone in complete control.

"It’s a can’t-lose proposition."

"All you have to do is change your jerseys, and you’ll go straight from hell to heaven."