dkrc Chapter 344 - 166: Dog Leash
Chapter 344 - 166: Dog Leash
Washington D.C., the Senate Office Building.
Russell Warren was sitting behind his desk, a pen in his hand, hovering over a document.
"Boss, Ron Smith has been trying to get in touch with you."
His chief of staff, David Kingsley, reported in a low voice, standing before the desk.
"He says the whole thing was a misunderstanding. That he was forced to work with that kid from Pittsburgh for the sake of jobs in Erie. He wants to come to Washington to explain in person."
The pen in Warren’s hand came down, and he signed his name on the document.
"That won’t be necessary."
Warren closed the document and casually tossed it aside.
"Tell Ron I’m busy."
He looked up, his gaze icy through the thick lenses of his glasses.
"That’s my money," Warren said, pointing to the document he’d just signed. "And that’s my district."
"Ron, and that Joe Byers from Scranton, they seem to have forgotten that. They think that as long as I stay quiet, they can have it both ways."
"They think they can take my federal funding to go stump for that Democratic Party mayor and get away with it."
Warren snorted.
"They’re testing my limits. They want to see if the leash is really fastened around their necks."
"Since they find this partnership with Pittsburgh so tempting, since they think the Industrial Revival Alliance can save their skins."
"Then let them go earn Pittsburgh’s money."
"Turn off the tap."
"I’m going to make them understand who really controls the water supply in this state."
...
Erie City, Pennsylvania.
Mayor Ron Smith was in his office, still calculating how much he could bill Pittsburgh for this week’s engineering projects, when his secretary burst in, pale-faced.
"Mayor! Something’s happened!"
The secretary placed two documents on his desk.
The first was from the Federal Transportation Department.
A notice regarding the suspension of special appropriations for dredging the Erie Port channel.
The justification was full of pompous officialese: ’In light of recent changes in Lake Erie’s water levels and updated environmental assessment reports, the planned twelve-million-US-Dollar dredging project requires a new compliance review. The funding is frozen effective immediately, pending the completion of said review.’
The second was from the Federal Environmental Protection Agency.
A letter deferring the disbursement of the soil remediation fund for Erie City’s heavy industrial zone.
The reason was even more direct: ’Budget reappraisal.’
Ron Smith stared at the two documents on his desk.
Twelve million US Dollars in special funds for port dredging, plus eight million for the soil remediation fund.
Twenty million US Dollars in total.
Ron Smith knew exactly where these documents came from.
This was a gambit, a test.
He had known from the very beginning that this was a tightrope walk—using orders from Pittsburgh to keep local factories afloat while still trying to use funding from Washington to keep the city government running. Playing both sides like this was dangerous.
He had anticipated a reaction from Warren.
According to conventional political logic, Warren should have sent a message through an intermediary, or maybe blocked some small, insignificant project as a warning.
That would have been a rap on the knuckles.
It would have meant the big man still cared, that he still considered you one of his own and was just telling you to watch your step.
But now, Warren had cut off a twenty-million-US-Dollar funding stream just like that.
It was too heavy-handed.
Such a merciless move could only mean one thing: Russell Warren was getting extremely anxious.
Murphy’s speaking tour across the state, and that Industrial Revival Alliance Leo had cooked up in Pittsburgh, had really hit a nerve with Warren.
Only someone who’s been pushed into a corner would disregard party decorum and come down this hard on a mayor from his own party.
The phone on his desk rang.
Smith picked it up.
"Ron, it’s Joe."
The voice of Scranton’s mayor, Joe Byers, came through the receiver.
"My highway maintenance subsidy got cut—eight million US Dollars. The contractor just stormed into my office and said if I don’t pay up, they’re going to park their bulldozers on my front lawn."
"Same here," Smith said calmly. "The EPA and the Transportation Department both sent me letters. The reason was ’budget reappraisal.’"
"The old bastard’s lost his mind," Byers cursed. "He’s trying to kill us. Ron, what do we do? If we pull out of the alliance now and apologize to Warren, do you think we can get the money back?"
"Don’t even think about it."
Smith cut him off coldly.
"Joe, use your head. Warren has already made his move. He’s making an example out of us."
"If we kneel now, not only will he not restore the funding, he’ll just see us as weak and easily bullied. He’ll use us as a cautionary tale—hang us out to dry to warn anyone else who’s thinking of wavering."
"Besides, the moment we pull out of the Revival Alliance, the orders from Pittsburgh will stop immediately."
"That would be the real disaster."
Byers was silent on the other end of the line for a moment, apparently still weighing his options.
Smith continued.
"Think it through, Joe. The funding from Washington, or the orders from Pittsburgh—which one is more important?"
"The money from Washington is for the government. It’s for fixing roads, paying pensions, and keeping City Hall running day-to-day."
"If that money disappears, our track records will certainly look bad. The roads will have potholes, pensions might be delayed, and civil servants will complain about not having coffee. But that’s just a matter of our political performance."
"The seniors who don’t get their pensions, the citizens complaining about the road conditions... they’ll curse us out, sure. But most of them are vested beneficiaries of the system or middle-class folks who are used to complaining. They have savings, a way out."