rpbooks Chapter 345 - 166: Dog Leash (2)
Chapter 345 - 166: Dog Leash (2)
Smith paused.
"But the Pittsburgh orders are different."
"That money is for the factories. It’s for the workers."
"Those cement plants, those steel mills—they are the economic lifeblood of this city. They’re the only source of income for countless working-class families."
"If we lose the Pittsburgh orders, the factories will shut down and the workers will lose their jobs. Thousands of families will go hungry. Kids won’t have money for school, and the sick won’t have money for medicine."
"They won’t listen to reason, and they won’t listen to your explanations."
"You gave them hope. You told them the factories were reopening, that better days were ahead. And now you’re going to snuff out that hope with your own hands?"
"The rage that follows that kind of despair will erupt like a volcano."
"They will riot."
"They’ll burn down City Hall. They’ll drag us out of our offices. They might even smash up our homes."
"Joe, you need to understand something."
Smith’s fingers tapped lightly on the desktop.
"Even if the factories have to stop, even if the paychecks have to end, that order absolutely cannot come from our mouths."
"If you, Joe Byers, were to walk out of this office today and say to those drivers covered in cement dust, ’Sorry, but to please Senator Warren and keep the city’s road repair subsidies, I’ve decided to sacrifice your orders,’ what do you think would happen?"
"They would tear you to pieces."
"Because you would be the one who betrayed them. You’d be the one who smashed their rice bowls for the sake of your own career."
"It’s about choosing the lesser of two evils."
Byers sighed deeply on the other end of the line, his voice full of resignation.
"You’re right, Ron."
"But with Warren’s knife at our throats, we can’t hold out for long. If we can’t pay out the pensions, those old-timers will be out for our blood, too."
"So, we can’t carry this burden alone."
Smith’s gaze grew sharp.
"Leo Wallace started this fire. He pulled us onto his war chariot, and now that it’s been intercepted, he has to clear the path."
"We’re going to him."
"We need to make him understand that if we go down, his little alliance falls apart."
"He’s sitting on five hundred million US dollars, and he’s got Sanders backing him."
"Since Warren is making our lives difficult, let’s make it Leo’s headache."
"Call him." Smith made his decision. "Tell him his allies are about to be slaughtered. Ask him if he’s going to watch us die or if he’s going to put up some real money to save us."
"Okay," Byers agreed. "I’ll call him now."
...
「On a highway in Pennsylvania.」
Hundreds of heavy trucks, fully loaded with steel, cement, and glass, were speeding down the interstate. They were like a flowing artery, sustaining the operations of that massive construction site in Pittsburgh.
This was the source of Leo’s confidence.
As long as the materials kept flowing and the factories kept running, he could hold the alliance together.
But just as the convoy was about to cross into Allegheny County, the headlights up ahead suddenly clustered together.
The flow of traffic came to a standstill.
The lead truck driver picked up his radio, his voice filled with confusion.
"What’s going on up there? Is it a traffic jam? Why aren’t we moving at all?"
"It’s not a traffic jam."
A voice came back over the radio from a driver up ahead.
"It’s the police."
"State police."
At a chokepoint on the highway, a sea of flashing red and blue police lights pulsed in the darkness.
It was a fully armed SWAT team, a search party with K-9 units.
A large electronic sign scrolled with a warning in red letters:
"COUNTER-TERRORISM AND CONTRABAND SPECIAL CHECKPOINT—ALL VEHICLES MUST SUBMIT TO INSPECTION."
This was a full-scale, state-level blockade.
A state police commander stood in the middle of the road, baton in hand, and stopped a heavy truck loaded with steel, his face devoid of expression.
"Engine off. Get out of the vehicle. Show me all your documents," the commander said coldly.
"Officer, we’re delivering to Pittsburgh, all our papers are in order..." the driver tried to explain.
"I didn’t ask you where you were going. I told you to get out of the truck."
The commander cut him off, his hand resting on his holster.
"We’ve received intelligence that terrorists are using freight vehicles to transport contraband. For national security, every vehicle, and every crate, must undergo a thorough search."
"Every single one?" The driver looked back at the convoy, which stretched for several kilometers. "How long is that going to take?"
"Until we have confirmed that the area is secure."
The commander waved his hand.
Several officers with K-9s walked up and began circling the truck.
Others, holding devices that looked like mine detectors, began to scan the stacks of steel bit by bit.
At this rate, the convoy wouldn’t move an inch for the next several dozen hours.
This was Warren’s move.
He didn’t need to find excuses or worry about legal risks like Monroe did.
He directly leveraged the influence he had built within the Pennsylvania Republican Party over decades.
The chief of the state police was a Republican, and the director of the state’s Office of Homeland Security was a former subordinate of Warren’s.
All Warren had to do was say the words "national security," and the entire highway could be turned into an impenetrable fortress.
And in Harrisburg, Aston Monroe sat in his office, looking at the report about the establishment of the checkpoint.
He smiled.
He didn’t try to stop it. He even hinted to his subordinates that they should cooperate.
Even though Warren was a Republican, and even though this was an attack on a Democratic Party mayor...
...for Monroe, as long as it could take down Leo and ruin Murphy, it didn’t matter whose knife he was borrowing.
The enemy of my enemy is, for the time being, my friend.