Chapter 659 - 308: Who Are Our Enemies

Washington D.C., Adams Licorice Hotel.

In that familiar cigar room, Leo Wallace sat across from Sterling, a representative of the National Energy Association.

A few months ago, they had struck a deal here.

Leo had traded a guaranteed power purchase agreement in exchange for Sterling pressuring Republican Party congressmen.

Now, Leo was back.

"Mayor Wallace." Sterling held a cigar between his fingers. "I hear you’re having a hard time in Pittsburgh. The pharmacies are empty, the workers are on the verge of revolt, and even your allies are considering cutting ties with you."

Sterling blew out a smoke ring.

"At a time like this, instead of figuring out how to beg Pfizer and Johnson to let you off the hook, you come running to me. Are you hoping I’ll lend you money to buy medicine on the black market? I’m not in that line of business."

"I don’t need money."

Leo pushed a photocopy of the notice about the pharmaceutical supply cut across the table to Sterling.

"Take a look at this, Mr. Sterling."

"This is the notice from Pfizer. They’ve cut off Pittsburgh’s medicine supply, citing logistical adjustments. In reality, they’re imposing sanctions on me."

"What’s that got to do with me?" Sterling shrugged. "This is a grudge between you and the pharmaceutical companies. We sell electricity, coal, and gas. We don’t sell aspirin."

"Does it really have nothing to do with you?"

Leo’s gaze was intense.

"Mr. Sterling, you should remember that Guaranteed Power Purchase Agreement we signed."

"Of course, I remember." Sterling nodded. "It’s a good contract. As long as the factories in Pennsylvania are running and the power grid load stays above 80%, my member companies stand to make billions in profit."

"And what if the factories shut down?"

Leo posed the question.

"What if a lack of medicine leads to a flu outbreak in the factories, the workers get sick, and that leads to social unrest, strikes, and logistical disruptions?"

Leo stared at Sterling.

"Will you still be able to cash in on that power purchase agreement?"

"Will those idle turbines still bring dividends to your shareholders?"

Sterling stared at the glowing tip of his cigar, then slowly and deliberately flicked the ash.

"Mayor Wallace, from the sound of it, is Pennsylvania preparing to dismantle its blast furnaces for good?"

Sterling raised his eyes.

"As long as you can’t abandon heavy industry, you can never abandon energy."

"The panic you mentioned is real, but it’s just a temporary pain. When the dust settles, the surviving factories will still have to buy electricity from me. So, what do you think I have to worry about?"

He put the cigar back in his mouth and looked at Leo.

Leo walked right up to him and lowered his voice.

"Because Washington has lost faith in the industrial sector. Look at their attitude toward this supply cut. The staff in the White House would rather watch Pittsburgh’s pharmacies close than jeopardize Pfizer and Johnson’s pricing power."

"The logic behind it is very simple. In the current capital structure, the efficiency of harvesting profits from pharmaceuticals and finance is far higher than from your ’sweat-of-the-brow’ industries. They’ve already turned medicine and insurance into a kind of financial derivative, and they see you coal miners and power generators as obsolete capacity that can be sacrificed at any time."

"Look at the data."

"The average profit margin in the pharmaceutical industry is double that of the energy sector, and their lobbying budget is three times yours."

"On Capitol Hill, their voice is louder than yours. In the tax code, their loopholes are more numerous than yours."

Leo continued, "My Medicine Benefits Transparency and Fairness Bill is, in essence, helping you industrial businesses cut administrative costs. Every cent squeezed out of the pharmaceutical bubble will ultimately become a surplus in the workers’ health insurance."

"That means factories’ labor costs will decrease, and your profits will increase."

"But those pharmaceutical companies are unwilling to give up that piece of the pie."

"They would rather starve Pittsburgh, rather let Pennsylvania’s industrial revival plan fail, than give up their excess profits."

"They’re sucking you dry, Mr. Sterling."

"They use your electricity, your gas, to produce outrageously priced drugs, and then turn around and use that money to buy off congressmen in Washington and enact policies that are detrimental to you."

"We need to be clear about who is really feeding America."

Leo continued to stir Sterling up. "Is it those pharmaceutical profiteers sitting in their climate-controlled offices, trading patents and getting rich by preying on patients? Or is it us, the industrialists, who brave the wind and snow to mine coal, generate power, and build factories?"

"Since the bureaucrats in Washington and their pharmaceutical patrons have blocked Pennsylvania’s path to survival, then Pennsylvania, as an energy-producing state, has the right to prioritize the security of its local industries."

Leo’s words struck a nerve with Sterling.

It was true. Over the past decade, life for the energy industry in Washington had become increasingly difficult.

Environmental regulations were constantly emerging, the pressure from carbon taxes was mounting, yet the pharmaceutical giants were thriving.

Although Leo’s words were highly inflammatory, Sterling just smiled. "Leo, this isn’t my first day dealing with the pharmaceutical industry."

Sterling leaned back in his chair.

"I’m well aware of your current situation. Your Medicine Benefits Transparency and Fairness Bill is a good thing, but you were too greedy."

"You wanted to weaken the insurance companies’ profits by attacking the pharmacy benefit managers, but those managers have a parasitic relationship with the pharmaceutical giants."

"You went after the middlemen, which is like moving the cheese of the entire industrial chain. You’re facing a siege from the entire healthcare industry."

Sterling pointed to the photocopy of the supply cut notice on the table.

"You may have made many preparations, but you didn’t expect Pfizer and Johnson to be so ruthless as to cut off the supply chain right at the source."

"So, stop beating around the bush. You came to me because you want to use our knife to do your dirty work."

Sterling paused, his tone becoming meaningful.

"But have you ever considered why we should listen to you? Whether you live or die, Pennsylvania will always need electricity. Our profits are guaranteed."

"What we’re interested in, really, is your bill. If it could be implemented across All of America in the future, it would genuinely reduce labor costs for businesses. That’s the fundamental reason we’re willing to sit down and talk with you."

Hearing Sterling say this, Leo felt half his worries subside.

Capital was never a monolithic bloc; their interests were always in conflict.

When pharmaceutical capital was sucking blood, industrial capital was bleeding.

Sterling’s attitude showed that he was willing to negotiate with Leo.

"So, cut the crap. Tell me, what exactly do you want us to do?"

"It’s simple."

Leo sat back down in his chair.

"Since they’ve cut off our medicine."

"We’ll cut off their gas."

"Pennsylvania doesn’t just have steel. It also has the largest natural gas fields and power plants on the East Coast of the United States."

"This energy supports the air conditioning in Washington, the stock exchanges in New York, and the pharmaceutical factories in New Jersey."

"What if that energy supply suddenly became... unstable?"

Leo laid out his plan.

"I don’t need you to cut off the supply completely. I just need you to send a notice to your member companies."

"Just say... that due to a severe public health crisis in Western Pennsylvania, workers are falling ill from a lack of medicine, leading to a shortage of personnel for equipment maintenance."

"For safety reasons."

"We are forced to reduce and regulate the flow of electricity and natural gas to the East Coast."

"Prioritizing the security of local industries."

Leo looked at Sterling.

"Let the bureaucrats in Washington sweat a little in their powerless offices. Let the Pfizer executives shiver a bit in their unheated mansions."

"Let them know who really keeps this country running."

"Is it those Vampires who play with capital?"

"Or is it us, the industrialists who create real value?"

As Sterling listened, a flicker of uncertainty shone in his eyes.

He had imagined Leo would make some difficult requests—perhaps lower electricity prices or a long-term capital commitment.

But he had never expected the young man to be so audacious.

Leo actually wanted to orchestrate widespread blackouts by manipulating load shedding. This was an action that wildly tested the limits of the Federation’s energy laws, and even crossed the red line into rebellion.

In fact, before Sterling had even walked into this private room, the internal meeting of the National Energy Association had already been going on for a full six hours.

The meeting was not only long but also filled with ugly curses and the sound of fists slamming on tables.

Although the decision to meet with Leo was unanimous, when it came to the scale of the operation, the old-timers were arguing themselves into a frenzy.

"Why should we offend Pfizer for the sake of a kid?"

"Leo’s ten billion in infrastructure orders are real. That’s a tangible growth opportunity we can’t just let rot."

"The regulators in Washington will tear us to shreds. If we step too far out of line, next year’s carbon tax quota could double."

"But look at those pharmaceutical giants! Their annual profit margins are frighteningly high. Isn’t that money being pulled right out of the pockets of us industrial workers?"

Even as Sterling went downstairs and got into his car, the arguments were still raging in the conference room behind him.

Everyone could guess that Leo needed some form of cooperation from the Energy Association, but on the questions of "to what extent should we support Leo" and "how much risk should we bear," no consensus had been reached.

Trading the future profits of industrial revival for present political risk involved a calculus of profit that was difficult to quantify.

Sterling stared at a point in the empty space before him, his gaze unfocused.

He himself was filled with disgust for the financial capital that prowled the corridors of Washington.

In his eyes, the pharmaceutical giants couldn’t be considered industrialists at all.

Although those companies also possessed massive production lines and clean rooms, to Sterling, that was just a shell.

The core assets of the pharmaceutical giants were the patents locked away in their safes.

In the logic of finance, this was equivalent to a legally protected license to collect rent.

This model of profiting from an administrative monopoly was fundamentally different from their own hard work of pulling oil from rock formations, barrel by barrel.

The most prominent feature of financial monopoly capital is its ability to set prices completely divorced from production costs.

They dared to sell a bottle of insulin that cost less than two US Dollars to produce for three hundred. It was blatant robbery.

This money could have remained within the industrial system, becoming cheaper electricity and more efficient logistics.

Now, all this money was being siphoned away by this gang of drug peddlers.

Sterling’s gaze refocused. He looked at Leo.

"Leo, your proposal is... bold."

"Personally, I completely agree with your definition of the rentier class. We in the industrial sector are truly fed up with being bled dry by those guys who play games with patent rights."

"However, I can’t give you any guarantees here. The opinion within the Association is still sharply divided. We need to reassess the risks."

Sterling stood up and adjusted the hem of his suit jacket.

"I can’t make the final call. At least, not right now."

He walked to the door, placed his hand on the handle, and looked back at Leo.

"I will take your proposal back with me. Before those old-timers give the nod, I suggest you prepare for either outcome. If the lights in Washington don’t go out as scheduled, you’ll need a backup plan of your own."

"Then be quick about it, Sterling," Leo replied.

Sterling nodded, pushed the door open, and disappeared into the light of the long corridor.

Leo listened as the footsteps outside faded into the distance. He picked up the glass of ice water from the table and took a sip.

’Mr. President,’ he thought.

’The spark has been offered.’

’Now, we just have to see if this fire will catch.’

Roosevelt’s voice echoed in his mind.

’It will, Leo.’

’Because you haven’t just ignited the energy sector.’

’You’ve ignited the long-simmering hatred that industrial capital holds for financial capital in this country.’

’Once this fire starts burning...’

’...not even the White House will be able to stop it.’