Chapter 45 : That Time I Had a Summit in South America.

TL: Skye

After a long meeting, I decided to accept both Isabella's and Lucio's proposals.

"Director Isabella, coordinate with Senior Secretary Ricardo to purchase U.S. Treasury bonds. As the oil payments come in, buy them steadily, a little at a time. That's the only way we can send the message that we're looking to share interests with the United States."

"Understood. What scale of purchases are we looking at?"

"One billion dollars in the short term, and over ten billion in the long run."

"So you're saying we should buy as much as the loans we received."

"The bond yields are higher than the interest on the loans from the U.S., so it's not a losing proposition."

"Yes, understood."

"Then let's go with that. And Director Lucio, stay behind for a moment."

I called Lucio aside separately.

"Proceed with the lobbying you mentioned earlier. But it has to look like voluntary donations from patriotic San Marcos Americans, through and through. There must be absolutely no trace of government involvement."

"Don't worry, Your Excellency. I plan to leave it to my cousin."

Lucio smiled with absolute confidence.

"...I really would like to meet this cousin of yours someday."

"Just say the word and he'd consider it the honor of a lifetime. He lives in the States, but his patriotism for San Marcos runs deep."

"Very well. Then I'll leave it in your hands."

***

A few days later, in Florida. Lucio's cousin and godfather of the San Marcos immigrant community, Antonio Carvalho, was playing golf with influential Republican Senator Reed Anthony.

"Nice shot! Senator, your game is as sharp as ever."

"Not as sharp as yours, Antonio. So, how's business these days?"

"Thriving, thanks to you, Senator."

"Makes me think I should've gone into business instead of politics. No matter how hard I work, I've got nothing to show for it."

"Well, that's exactly why people like me exist, isn't it?"

"Ha ha, that's right. Because people like you exist, people like me can keep going."

Reed Anthony wore a satisfied grin.

And for good reason. A single word from Antonio could mobilize the votes of over 600,000 San Marcos immigrants across the United States, more than 50,000 in Florida alone.

On top of that, Antonio himself was a major donor who funneled enough money to the Republican Party to stand out even in Florida, a state overflowing with the wealthy.

Of course, the nature of Antonio's business operations did require political backing, but when a man hands over a quarter of his net profits every year, that kind of money couldn't come without genuine commitment behind it.

Naturally, Reed Anthony trusted Antonio implicitly.

"So, about that... I'd like to increase the scale of our contributions."

"Hm? You're already donating over five million dollars a year through the super PAC."

"That's what Carvalho Holdings donates. This time, the community would like to contribute."

"The community?"

"The San Marcos Community. It's an organization I founded and lead. Think of it as a sort of human rights group that helps San Marcos immigrants with their struggles."

"I... I see."

Reed Anthony's reaction was uneasy.

Like the vast majority of Hispanic communities, San Marcos immigrants were among the poorest of the poor.

And honestly, it made sense. When you couldn't access public education and could barely read your own country's alphabet, let alone English, finding employment was next to impossible.

It was only because someone like Antonio had emerged to hand out scholarships and donate to political parties, polishing up the community's image, that things had gotten this far. Just a decade ago, San Marcos immigrants were practically synonymous with gangsters.

'A bunch of pennies pooled together is still just pennies, right?'

That's certainly what he'd assumed, but...

"We'd like to donate one hundred million dollars through the super PAC."

The staggering figure made Reed's eyes go wide.

"......"

A seasoned politician, Reed's mind started working.

'There's an angle here.'

He tried to read Antonio's intent.

Nobody donates a hundred million dollars with no strings attached.

But Antonio's next proposal stopped Reed's train of thought dead in its tracks.

"Additionally, two hundred thousand community members plan to make individual personal contributions. Maxing out the two-thousand-dollar limit."

One hundred million in soft money and four hundred million in hard money.

Five hundred million dollars total. With the midterm elections only months away, that was far too much money to refuse.

"We San Marcos Americans wholeheartedly support the Republican Party's policies."

Antonio smiled with effortless composure.

"It's just that... with the recent talk of tariffs on San Marcos, our people back home are getting very anxious. All we want is for the United States and San Marcos to get along like brothers."

"Ah, that's..."

The senator swallowed hard.

"D-don't worry about that, Antonio. Seems there was a bit of a misunderstanding on the President's part. I'll have a word with him."

"Thank you, Senator. You're the only one we can count on."

And the following afternoon, Reed Anthony, accompanied by senior Republican officials, secured an audience with America's Kaiser, Drump.

***

The dual-track strategy of bond purchases and lobbying produced immediate results.

No, seriously, it hadn't even been a week since the lobbying started.

[@realDrump: San Marcos immigrants are among the hardest-working, finest patriots in this country. They are one of the pillars holding up America and are American history itself. Their homeland of San Marcos has been selling oil at low prices, making a HUGE contribution to American energy security, AND buying U.S. Treasury bonds to share in our prosperity. I, Drump, hereby declare: America will walk alongside San Marcos! MAGA!]

He posted this on his personal SNS account.

"...Is he out of his mind?"

Just days ago, the man had been foaming at the mouth, calling us looters and thieves, and now this? I couldn't tell if it was the same person.

"If it's not dementia, then this guy... might actually be a genius."

With a few words, he'd gotten someone to fork over 500 million dollars in political donations and sold off a billion dollars' worth of Treasury bonds. And in the long run, it would reach ten billion. At this point, the man was practically printing money with his mouth.

Now that's a real gangster. Who else could even compete?

"Ugh. Can't even punch the guy."

A sigh escaped on its own. It had cost us a fortune, but at least we'd put out the immediate fire.

'We greased the wheels this much, so he'll at least match USMCA terms, right?'

Now that we'd leveled the playing field, oil exports would continue, and in the long run, it was a profitable deal.

"Anyway, it worked out. Tell Director Lucio to invite this Antonio fellow. After all his hard work, the least I can do is treat him to a meal."

"Yes. I'll relay the message through Director Lucio."

With that weight off my shoulders, it was time to tackle the backlog of national agenda items one by one.

Being harassed by Drump for the past several days had left a mountain of work piled up.

'Need to build a national ID system, construct highways, set up a healthcare system... health insurance too... establish banks... more hotels... Why does the work never end no matter how much I do?'

That was when it happened. Sophia, the Senior Secretary for Foreign Affairs, came running in, white as a sheet.

"Y-Your Excellency!"

Oh... please, no.

"What. What is it? What now?"

Sophia, still gasping for breath, dropped a bombshell.

"The U.S. State Department... is requesting a summit. And they say they'll come to San Marcos in person."

"...Excuse me?"

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Drump... is coming here?"

"Yes."

"Wh-when?"

"He plans to stop in Florida in five days and then fly here on Air Force One."

Good lord.

"Th-this is no time to stand around. Let's prepare to receive the American President. Isabella, assemble the senior secretaries right now."

"Yes."

But it wasn't long after we began preparing protocol arrangements for the U.S. President that we realized something.

"Ah... right."

San Marcos had never hosted a summit in its entire history. Naturally, there was zero experience to draw from.

"Can't we just do what other countries do...?"

"No. We're dealing with Drump. There's no telling what he'll latch onto to make an issue."

Then, out of nowhere, a name flashed through my mind.

"Ah!"

I spun around to Isabella.

"Director Isabella, where is Anna right now?"

Anna, the sister of Javier, who was both victim and perpetrator of the terrorist attack.

"Anna? She's staying nearby, resting and recovering since her discharge from the hospital."

"Bring her here immediately."

"Pardon?"

"I'll explain later. Hurry."

Moments later, Anna walked into the conference room with a bewildered look on her face.

"Anna. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks to your kindness. But what's this about...?"

I got straight to the point without wasting time.

"If I recall correctly, you once mentioned working in the White House Chief of Staff's office during Drump's first term... is that right?"

"Ah... yes. That's true, but..."

Anna trailed off, hesitating.

"It was just an internship. Copying documents, making coffee, helping organize files. That was all."

"But I also heard you went along on foreign trips?"

"I tagged along, but I didn't really do anything there either."

Good enough. In our current situation, even that made her an irreplaceable ace.

You could search all of San Marcos and not find a single person who'd even taken a tour of the White House, let alone someone who'd actually worked there, and under the Drump administration no less. You couldn't ask for more.

"I'm appointing you as Protocol Secretary. We need your help."

"B-but I only worked there for four months!"

"The President of the United States arrives in five days. If we want to receive him without a single mistake, we need what you remember."

"D-Drump?"

"So please, help us. We need you, Anna."

"But..."

"No isn't an option here. Remember what you said before? That you wanted to help in any way you could to atone. Now's your chance."

Left with no room to argue, Anna set her jaw and nodded.

"In that case... yes. I'll do my very best."

And so, after press-ganging Anna into her new title, the Presidential Palace shifted into emergency mode.

"This carpet color is way too tacky. It needs to be a deeper red. Something closer to burgundy. Replace it immediately."

"Why are the honor guard intervals so uneven? Pay more attention, please."

"What should we prepare for the meal? Traditional San Marcos cuisine...?"

"President Drump is notoriously picky. Prepare well-done steak with fries and Heinz ketchup. And stock up on Diet Coke by the case."

Anna, who everyone had assumed was the quiet type, tore through the Presidential Palace like a fish returned to water.

She mapped out Drump's anticipated movements down to the minute and fussed over the lighting angles in the banquet hall.

"Your Excellency, you should go with a red necktie. President Drump favors the color red, so it can create a sense of psychological rapport."

"And when you shake hands, do not let him overpower you. He has a habit of yanking the other person's hand toward him, and if you lose your balance, the photo comes out looking absolutely ridiculous."

Thanks to her, San Marcos' previously makeshift protocol system took on a respectable shape in just three days.

And five days later, Air Force One, with Drump aboard, touched down at Libertad Airport.

*****

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