pjbooks Chapter 186 Moses
Chapter 186 Moses
The video conference signal was slightly delayed, making the anxious faces on the screen appear somewhat distorted.
Ron Smith sat in his office, a cigarette between his fingers.
He just announced the "6% ownership reward" proposal from Pittsburgh.
The reaction on the other end of the screen was not enthusiastic.
Scranton Mayor Joe Byers frowned, while the mayor of Johnstown looked down at his phone calculator.
"Six months," Byers broke the silence. "Ron, do you know what six months means to us? We have to pay interest on municipal bonds, pay health insurance for civil servants, and that receipt might be worth something in the system, but we have to use dollars to buy bread at the supermarket."
“Yes,” another mayor chimed in. “If Murphy loses the election and Pittsburgh goes bankrupt, all the bills we have will become worthless. Who will bail us out then? You?”
Smith threw the cigarette on the table.
“I know what you’re afraid of,” Smith said. “I’m afraid too, but if we jump ship now, we’ll all drown. St. Cloud is waiting to take over down there. Do you want to sell the city’s waterworks to her?”
On the screen, the mayor of Johnstown gave a wry laugh: "Sell? Ron, you're overestimating us. Who among us hasn't considered selling assets?"
"Two years ago, I wanted to sell the city's sewage treatment plant to a private investment company. But what happened? The evaluation team they sent glanced at our population loss data and financial reports, and then flew back to New York without even having lunch."
"They said that a city like ours has no future, and buying our assets is like buying a pile of scrap metal."
“Things are different now,” Byers interjected. “Now we’re part of the Industrial Resurgence Alliance, our assets have become valuable, and people like St. Cloud are coming for the smell.”
Smith nodded. "That's right. So, you want to sell the city's waterworks and power grid to her now, in exchange for a pittance of cash to barely survive?"
Everyone fell silent.
"Even if you wanted to sell," Smith continued, "would the citizens agree?"
On the screen, the mayor of Johnstown let out a disdainful sneer: "Citizens? What do citizens know? As long as we package the contracts nicely and tell them it's for introducing advanced technology and improving service quality, what can they do besides complain a bit? They can't understand those complicated financial statements anyway."
"They can't understand the reports," Smith admitted. "But there's one person who can."
He paused for a moment, then said, "Leo Wallace."
Smith looked at the indifferent faces on the screen.
"Everyone, don't forget how that young man got there."
"He is a master at manipulating public opinion and an expert at playing with social media."
"Then he'll tell your voters that your mayor is selling your drinking water to Wall Street vampires!"
"If you don't want to be driven out of the city hall by angry citizens with pitchforks in the next election, then go ahead and sell."
These words extinguished any remaining hope in everyone's hearts.
"So, that's why I agreed to Leo's conditions," Smith concluded. "Because we need each other now."
"In the eyes of the citizens and in front of the media, our city is thriving, and we are the heroes of the Rust Belt's revival." "At this time, we must not bow to capital, and we must not show any weakness."
"We must stand with Pittsburgh and keep this charade going."
"Then what do we do?" someone asked.
“Listen, we can’t just sit here.” Smith leaned closer to the camera. “Leo gave us interest, but that’s not enough; we need cash.” “But didn’t he lock the exchange channels?”
"But he didn't lock in the procurement." Smith gave a sly smile. "What's Leo most afraid of right now? He's afraid we won't support Murphy, afraid the Industrial Revitalization Alliance will fall apart. He needs achievements, he needs a show, he needs the whole state to see that the Industrial Revitalization Alliance is thriving." "So, give it to him."
Smith waved.
"Take all the steel, unsold cement, and idle glass piling up in your warehouses and send them to Pittsburgh. Place orders with him and force him to sign for them."
"Although some settlements are still made using bills, according to the agreement, 60 percent of each transaction must be prepaid in cash to cover tax and labor costs."
"As long as the volume is large enough, this 60% cash flow will be enough to pay your salaries for the next six months."
Byers' eyes lit up: "You mean, we're just going to force it on him? Can he even stomach it?"
"He has to eat it," Smith said firmly. "For Murphy's election, for that damn show flat blueprint, he has to open his mouth and take it, even if he'll burst."
Pittsburgh City Hall, Mayor's Office.
The phone has been ringing non-stop since morning.
Ethan, clutching a thick stack of purchase requisition forms, rushed up to Leo and slammed the forms on the table.
"They've gone mad! They've all gone mad!"
Ethan pointed to the numbers on the list.
"Eli has requested a supply of 30,000 tons of specialty steel, saying it's for the second phase of the project next year. Scranton is going to ship all of their cement production for the next two quarters. And Johnstown, they even dug out three years' worth of stockpiled glass, asking if we want to replace the windows at City Hall."
"The first payment totals over eighty million US dollars." Ethan's voice trembled. "If we sign, we will immediately pay an advance payment of forty-eight million in cash."
"Leo, this is a coup d'état; they're using excess capacity to hold our cash flow hostage."
Leo sat in the chair, looking at the receipts, his face expressionless.
He knew what Smith was doing.
After realizing they couldn't jump ship, these old foxes decided to pile all the ship's supplies into the captain's cabin.
Either the captain digests all of this, or we all sink together.
Leo uttered a single word.
"What?" Ethan thought he had misheard. "Do you think you can use all this steel? Our warehouses are full. Are you going to pile it up in the city hall corridor?"
"We can use it all."
Leo stood up.
"I want to build a second-level elevated road, and I want to demolish and rebuild all the old warehouses in the southern area."
"Leo!" Ethan cried out, "This is a waste! This is pointless duplication of construction!"
"This is fuel."
Leo turned around, his eyes cold.
"Ethan, can't you see? As soon as these orders are signed, Erie's factory will start operating, the cement kiln in Scranton will be ignited, and the workers in Johnstown will get overtime pay."
"As long as they are still producing, as long as trucks are still running on the roads, and chimneys are still smoking, those workers will feel that there is hope for the future, and they will feel that Murphy's promise is being fulfilled."
"Get moving."
Leo walked back to the table, picked up a pen, and signed his name on the first form.
"Don't let the stove go out. Even if we're burning money for warmth, the fire can't be turned off."
He handed the signed form to Ethan, then picked up the next one.
"I understand, boss," Ethan said in a low voice, taking the document. "I'll use the expedited process."
"No, there's no need to rush," Leo said.
Ethan was stunned for a moment: "What?"