Forging America: My Campaign Manager is Roosevelt-Chapter 80 - 60: The Giant in the Shadows

Ethan was silent for a long time.

Just a few minutes ago, while Karen was still drafting the legal letter and Sarah was tapping away at her keyboard writing a press release, Ethan had his back to the others. Under the cover of sipping his coffee, he used his phone to send a message to Washington.

The content was brief: "He’s preparing to sue the local committee. Standard reaction, angry."

The reply came almost instantly.

"If he signs, let him. If he stops, tell him."

Seeing that message, Ethan had privately thought his boss was overthinking things.

Leo was indeed a talented orator, a leader who could stir up public sentiment, but in the end, he was just a political amateur who had never stepped outside of Pittsburgh.

How could he possibly possess the kind of political instinct that could only be honed by wallowing in the Washington muck for over a decade?

A compliance notice citing the 14th Amendment would, to an ordinary person, look like nothing more than bureaucratic obstruction.

How could anyone expect a rookie to sniff out the bloody scent of a high-level purge through those dry clauses?

Ethan had expected to see Leo sign the document in a fit of rage, bringing this short stress test to an end.

But Leo had stopped.

And now, Ethan had to tell him.

"You’re right." Ethan’s voice grew low. "This isn’t just about you, Leo. This is an extension of the civil war in Washington."

He pulled over a chair and sat down.

"Next year is a midterm election year. The current data shows that the Democratic Party’s seats in Congress are in jeopardy. Those bigwigs in the Establishment Faction of the Democratic National Committee are terrified right now. They’re even more afraid of us Progressives than they are of the Republican Party."

"They have a deep-seated fear: they believe that if a Progressive like you wins the primary in a Swing State—like Pennsylvania—it will give the Republican Party an opening to attack the entire Democratic Party as ’radical socialists.’"

"They’re worried this will lead to a loss of moderate voters, resulting in a total rout in the Swing States."

Ethan looked up at Leo.

"Next week, the Democratic National Committee will hold a closed-door meeting of the ’Rules and Bylaws Committee.’ The agenda is to decide the resource allocation strategy for the state primaries."

"The Establishment Faction desperately needs a few object lessons. They need to prove that in Rust Belt Cities like Pittsburgh, the Progressives have no chance of survival and only create chaos."

"Once they prove that, they’ll have a legitimate reason at the meeting to strip the Progressives of their resources and divert all the funding to moderate, centrist candidates."

"The Pittsburgh mayoral election, unfortunately, was the one they chose."

Ethan gave a bitter smile.

"Leo, to test Abraham’s faith, God commanded him to offer up his son, Isaac, as a burnt offering."

"And you, Leo Wallace, are the sacrificial lamb they’ve chosen."

"Your failure will be used to prove the correctness of their own path, to solidify their power within the party."

All the pieces fell into place.

Leo finally understood why Senator Sanders had been so forceful on the phone, why he had insisted on a pledge of loyalty.

Roosevelt’s voice sounded.

"Sanders knew all along. The opponent you’re facing isn’t some foolish Mayor of Pittsburgh, but a party machine that wants to crush you."

"If he wasn’t certain you were absolutely one of his own, he would have no reason to fall out with the entire Democratic National Committee over a stranger."

Leo’s brow furrowed tightly as a nameless rage flared in his heart.

He asked Roosevelt in his mind, ’Since Ethan knew from the start that this was the work of the Democratic National Committee, that this was Washington’s civil war, why didn’t he tell me sooner? Why did he stand there saying nothing while Karen was drafting the legal letter?’

’If I had actually lost my temper just now, signed that document, and sent out the statement, and things had blown up, wouldn’t I have become a liability to the Sanders faction? How would we clean up that mess?’

The more Leo thought about it, the more a chill ran down his spine.

’And Sanders! He forced me to take a stance on the phone, made me pick a side. I gave him my loyalty, and for what? They just stand by and watch while this purge is aimed at me, waiting until the last second to see how I’d react?’

’This is what you call an ally?’

"An ally?" Roosevelt let out a short, sharp, cynical laugh.

"Kid, put away your grievances. Do you think this is about making friends?"

"Ethan didn’t say anything because that’s his job. He’s Sanders’s eyes, not your babysitter. His mission is to observe your every move under the most extreme pressure."

"This was a meticulously designed stress test."

Roosevelt’s voice turned grave.

"Sanders needed to know if this young man he’d chosen in Pittsburgh was a strategist with keen political instincts who knew how to size up a situation, or a short-fused idiot who would just bite wildly like a mad dog."

"If you had signed just now, if you had chosen to declare war on the local party committee, it would have proven that you don’t understand the rules of the game. It would have proven you’re an uncontrollable risk, a huge political liability."

"In that case, Sanders would have re-evaluated his relationship with you. He would have watched you get destroyed in the pincer attack from Carter Wright and the Democratic National Committee."

"He demanded your loyalty on the phone, but he still needed to confirm your capability."

"Only when you realized on your own that you couldn’t sign, only when you saw through this trap yourself, did you truly pass this test. Only then did you become worthy of him using his weapons in Congress for you."

Leo listened to these words and looked at Ethan.

The young man was still holding his coffee, his expression calm, but there was a flicker of hard-to-detect anticipation in his eyes.

Leo understood.

This wasn’t a betrayal. It was a selection process, colder than any betrayal.

He had just walked along the edge of a cliff, while his allies stood by watching, waiting to see if he would fall to his death or pull himself back from the brink.

Leo looked at the legal letter on the table.

It was the one Karen had prepared to sue the local committee with.

If he had signed it and blown the situation up, he would have given the Democratic National Committee the perfect excuse.

They would say, "Look, this radical is undermining party unity, attacking the local committee."

If it had really come to that, Sanders might still have stepped in to save him, but Leo’s standing in his eyes would have plummeted.

"Politics takes talent, kid," Roosevelt said.

"A sharp instinct, a gut reaction to traps—these are things you can’t learn in school, and they’re what an old fox like Sanders values most."

Leo picked up the legal letter.

RIP—

With both hands, he tore the document in half, then folded the pieces together and tore it again.

The scraps of paper fell into the trash can.

Watching Leo shred the document, a flash of surprise crossed Ethan’s eyes, but his expression quickly returned to calm.

Leo opened the door, letting Karen and Sarah back into the office.

"Karen, Sarah, change of plans," Leo said calmly. "Cancel all legal action and press conferences. We’re not suing."

The decision left Karen and Sarah bewildered.

"What? We’re not suing?" Karen was the first to object. "Leo, are you crazy? This is our best chance to fight back! If you back down now, they’ll just think we’re weak and can be pushed around!"

"Yeah, Leo," Sarah chimed in. "Public opinion is completely on our side right now. We have to strike while the iron is hot!"

Leo offered no explanation.

He just glanced at Ethan Hawke, who was standing by the window.

Karen and Sarah followed his gaze and saw Ethan’s unnaturally composed face.

They both understood immediately. This decision had to be related to the man from Sanders’s office.

Although they had no idea what was happening behind the scenes, they still chose to follow the order.

"Alright, Leo." Karen put away her documents. "You’re the boss. You call the shots."

"So what do we do now?" Sarah asked. "The VAN System is still locked. That problem still needs to be solved."

Leo looked at the core members of his team.

"This is a war started by the gods in Washington. We mortals shouldn’t interfere so easily."

"What we need to do now is shut our mouths and quietly watch the show."

"Let our god go have a good fight with their gods."