Chapter 717 - 336: General Election Pressure

Morning in Washington D.C. was completely dominated by ubiquitous campaign billboards.

A black SUV drove steadily down Pennsylvania Avenue.

Leo Wallace sat in the back seat, his gaze sweeping over the familiar yet alien streetscape outside the window.

The lampposts on both sides of the street were covered in red and blue political banners. When the wind blew, the flags, printed with the faces of various politicians, rustled loudly.

The high-end restaurants and cafes near Capitol Hill were packed with lobbyists, campaign managers, and fundraisers of every stripe.

Everyone was talking about the general election, just a few months away.

It was a do-or-die battle that would determine the country’s direction for the next four years, and possibly longer.

The two-party machines were running at full tilt, with all resources, funds, and personnel being unsparingly dispatched to the front lines.

Attack ads ran on a 24-hour loop on television, and every minor social issue was magnified and weaponized to strike at opponents.

Leo pulled his gaze away.

His focus wasn’t on the campaign slogans flying everywhere.

The SUV stopped in front of a glass office building on K Street.

Leo got out of the car, walked into the lobby, and went straight to the top floor.

The elevator doors opened to reveal a simple yet powerful metal nameplate: Miller Political Consulting Company.

Karen Miller was darting back and forth through the open-plan office, holding two phones, with a Bluetooth headset hooked over her ear.

She wore a sharp white pantsuit, her high heels tapping out a hurried rhythm on the floor.

"Tell Montana that if they can’t wire the super PAC money by tonight, I’m pulling all the TV ads!"

Karen roared into the phone in her left hand, then immediately switched to a gentle tone for the one in her right.

"Mr. Senator, your speech is revised. I’ve emphasized family and faith. Trust me, it’ll get you another three percentage points in the suburbs."

Seeing Leo walk in, Karen hung up her phones, a rare smile gracing her face.

"Look what the cat dragged in, Mr. Mayor." Karen walked over and gave Leo a hug. "I was starting to think you’d forgotten all about your old comrades-in-arms."

"Never," Leo said with a small smile. "Looks like business is good."

"Thanks to the election, I’m so busy I could drop dead," Karen said, gesturing to the bustling team around them. "My phone hasn’t stopped ringing since Murphy won. Everyone wants to know how I got an old councilman from the Rust Belt elected to the Senate."

"Right now, I’m handling three senatorial candidates and two gubernatorial races, plus a whole bunch of super PACs just itching to burn through their cash."

Ambition gleamed in Karen’s eyes.

After his election, Murphy had invited her to take a position in his Senate office, but she had refused.

She was a born fighter. Compared to handling tedious legislation on Capitol Hill, she preferred commanding armies from her stronghold on K Street.

"Let’s go to the conference room. It’s quieter in there," Karen said, pointing to a door at the far end.

Leo nodded and walked into the secluded private meeting room.

Ten minutes later, the door to the room was pushed open.

John Murphy strode in, placed his briefcase on the sofa, and deftly shrugged off his coat.

"The pressure in Washington is suffocating right now."

Murphy loosened his tie and began briefing Leo on the situation on Capitol Hill, his tone laced with the exhaustion of someone at the center of a storm.

"Every member of Congress is fundraising like mad for the election. Party leaders are issuing ultimatums daily, demanding everyone shore up their base. Any potentially controversial bill has been locked away in a safe."

"Last week, there was a modified bill for renovating basic transportation infrastructure. Normally, it would’ve sailed through, but the Republican Party has dragged it into an endless cycle of amendments. Everyone’s terrified of making a mistake at such a sensitive time, of giving their opponents an opening to attack."

Murphy took a large gulp of coffee, trying to suppress his agitation.

"The only logic driving Capitol Hill right now is votes. No one is willing to touch anything that doesn’t directly translate into votes, or that carries even a one percent risk of losing them."

"Everyone’s playing it safe. The Senate is just a daily spectacle of opposition for opposition’s sake."

"So, Leo, why did you call me here? I’m seriously swamped right now."

Leo looked at the Senator before him and tapped his fingers twice on the tabletop, making a sharp, crisp sound.

"We need to push forward with the project to restart the Three Mile Island Nuclear Power Plant. And we need to do it fast."

The coffee cup in Murphy’s hand jolted. His eyes went wide, and his speech quickened noticeably.

"Restart a nuclear plant? And Three Mile Island, of all places?"

Murphy shot to his feet and began pacing around the meeting room.

"Leo, this is too difficult. If you’d proposed this two years ago, we might have been able to pull some strings, trade some favors in a few key committees, and get the budget approved quietly. But this is an election year!"

Murphy stopped pacing and turned to face Leo, his expression grave.

"Progressive voters are extremely sensitive to the issues of nuclear waste and radiation leaks. Three Mile Island itself is synonymous with nuclear disaster in the United States."

"A major meltdown happened there decades ago, and the terrifying shadow of it is still seared into many people’s minds. Touching that scar now is like willingly giving up a huge chunk of the environmentalist vote."