Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt-Chapter 69 - 55: The Silent Crocodile

「Two hours after Leo left the Allegany Mountain Summit Club.」

A black Lincoln sedan slowly pulled up to the main entrance of the club.

The Mayor of Pittsburgh, Martin Carter Wright, stepped out of the car.

He adjusted his tie, a confident smile on his face.

’In his view, that arrogant upstart Leo Wallace might have stirred up a bit of trouble, but he was ultimately just a nuisance, not a threat.’

’He needed Morganfield to do what he’d done in the last two elections: unleash his overwhelming financial and media power to swat this pesky fly, Leo, flat against the wall.’

An attendant led him into the familiar cigar lounge.

Morganfield was still sitting in the same spot, a fresh glass of whiskey in his hand.

The scent of the previous guest seemed to linger in the air, but Carter Wright didn’t notice.

"Douglas, my old friend." Carter Wright sat down familiarly and poured himself a drink. "Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us. That kid, Wallace, announced he’s running. What a joke."

Morganfield looked at him, wearing his trademark businessman’s smile.

"Martin, you’re here." Morganfield raised his glass and clinked it gently against Carter Wright’s. "I heard. Young people have a lot of spirit."

Carter Wright took a large gulp of his drink, his body relaxing into the sofa.

"Spirit? That’s just stupidity," he sneered. "Does he think he can turn the world upside down with a few videos and that mob of stinking, sweaty workers? Douglas, I need you to do me a favor."

He stated his demands directly.

"Get the *Pittsburgh Chronicle* moving. Mobilize those radio stations you own, too. I want them running dirt on that kid around the clock, starting tomorrow. If they can’t find any, I want them to make it up."

"Also, get your political action committee in gear."

"Don’t put the money into my campaign account. It’s too much of a hassle, and I’ll have to fill out a pile of damn declaration forms for the Federal Election Commission."

"Get two million US Dollars ready. Funnel it through the ’independent expenditure’ channel. Have your foundation pay the TV stations directly and buy out all the primetime ad slots."

"I want a complete media blitz. I want it so that the moment people in Pittsburgh open their eyes—whether they’re watching the morning news or the evening game—they see my face next to an ugly, black-and-white photo of that kid."

Carter Wright said all this as if it were a matter of course.

’In his mind, this was just routine business.’

’He was Morganfield’s man in City Hall. It was only natural that Morganfield would pay to keep him in his seat.’

However, what answered him this time was an unsettling silence.

Morganfield didn’t agree immediately.

He set down his glass, picked up a cigar cutter, and began methodically trimming a cigar.

"Martin," Morganfield finally said, "regarding this election, I’m afraid I can’t help you the way I used to."

Carter Wright froze for a moment, thinking he must have misheard.

"What did you say? Not like you used to? What does that mean? A million? Douglas, things are a little different this time. There’s something freaky about this kid. We need to bring our full strength to bear..."

"No, Martin," Morganfield interrupted. "You don’t understand what I’m saying."

He raised his gaze and looked Carter Wright directly in the eye.

"What I mean is, I will be remaining neutral in this primary."

"I will not be providing any funding, nor will I use my media resources to attack the young man. This is a battle you’ll have to fight on your own."

The smile on Carter Wright’s face instantly froze, then slowly cracked, finally shattering into an expression of utter shock.

"Neutral?!"

Carter Wright’s voice shot up.

"Douglas, are you kidding me? Neutral? Do you know who that kid is? He’s a Progressive! He’s one of Sanders’ people! They spend all day shouting about taking down big corporations and taxing the rich!"

"If he becomes Mayor, do you think your life will be any easier? All your projects, all your land approvals—who’s going to sign off on them then?!"

He shot to his feet, growing agitated.

"What haven’t I done for you over the past eight years? You wanted that parcel of land, I approved it for you. You needed that environmental waiver for your project, I signed off on it. Now I’m in trouble, and you’re telling me you’re staying neutral?"

Faced with Carter Wright’s accusations, Morganfield appeared exceptionally calm.

He lit his cigar, took a deep drag, and exhaled a plume of pale blue smoke.

"Martin, sit down." His voice was remarkably level. "Watch your composure. You’re a mayor, not some hoodlum brawling in the street."

Carter Wright, breathing heavily, sank back onto the sofa with extreme reluctance.

"Why?" he stared at Morganfield. "What kind of sweet lies did that kid feed you? How am I not as good as him? I have the experience, I have the team, I’ve been in that seat for eight years!"

Morganfield chuckled.

"Martin, this isn’t about personal feelings. It’s purely business."

"That young man... he was just here."

Carter Wright’s pupils contracted sharply at those words.

’Leo was here? Right before I arrived?’

"He brought me a very interesting proposal," Morganfield continued. "It’s about expanding the port. A huge deal that could lower logistics costs for the whole of Pittsburgh by twenty percent."

"Port expansion?" Carter Wright grew frantic. "I brought that plan to you three years ago! You’re the one who said it was too risky and you didn’t want to invest!"