Chapter 642 - 298: Peter’s Gamble

Ethan’s tone turned cold.

"Of course, this comes with conditions."

"There’s no such thing as a free lunch."

Ethan flipped to an addendum in the document.

"Sign this, and you get the project. But you must also sign this Health and Production Agreement."

"Your company must establish a Health and Production Committee. Every single salary payment, every raw material purchase, must be subject to our real-time supervision."

Peter flipped to the addendum behind the letter of intent, his breathing growing heavy.

He stared at the document titled "Health and Production Agreement," his brow furrowed into a knot.

The terms within were appallingly detailed: every worker’s salary payment had to be reviewed by City Hall’s system, every excavator had to be fitted with GPS and fuel consumption sensors, and even the company’s list of raw material suppliers had to be made available in real-time to this "digital supervision platform."

"Mr. Hawke, what is the meaning of this addendum?" Peter looked up, his tone stiff. "This requires us to open up our financial backend, accept a so-called ’production committee’ on our construction sites, and you even demand an observer seat on my board of directors."

Peter shoved the document across the table, suppressing his fury as he demanded, "If I sign all this, is my company even mine anymore? Am I running a business, or am I a puppet on a string for City Hall?"

Ethan didn’t even look up, his fingers swiping across his tablet.

"This is necessary oversight. It is also City Hall’s decision to mitigate risk." Ethan’s voice was devoid of emotion. "We need to ensure every cent of taxpayer money is well spent. We need to see salaries going into the workers’ pockets and steel being used for the bridge piers."

"Risk?" Peter shot to his feet, his voice rising. "Mr. Hawke, let’s be clear. I’m the one who has to rent the equipment, hire the workers, and sign long-term contracts with those damn suppliers."

"If that ten-billion-dollar bill doesn’t pass, I’m the one who goes bankrupt! I’m the one who loses everything! All the risk is on us contractors. You sit here in your air-conditioned office—what risk do you have?"

Ethan stopped what he was doing and looked up at Peter.

His gaze was unnervingly calm, a kind of cold indifference that made Peter feel an almost offensive sense of dread.

"Because of this piece of paper."

Ethan tapped the general contract letter of intent with his index finger.

"Peter, with this letter of intent, stamped with City Hall’s official seal, you can go straight to PNC Bank or Mellon Bank."

"My office has already spoken with their credit departments. As soon as this agreement is reached, they will lower your commercial loan interest rate from the original eight percent down to five-point-five, or perhaps even lower. They’ll put you on the strategic infrastructure support list."

Ethan stood up and walked over to Peter. His frame, half a head taller, exuded a heavy, oppressive presence.

"This is the risk City Hall is shouldering. We are using this city’s administrative credit to guarantee you."

"If you take the money and run, or if the project goes belly-up, we have to face the bank’s bad debt, inquiries from the State Auditing Bureau, and the wrath of the voters."

"Can your little company afford to repay that kind of political credit risk?"

Ethan glanced at his watch, his tone turning icy.

"I’ll give you three minutes to decide. There are four other company owners waiting outside."

"The company from Scranton has already agreed to all the conditions. The only reason I’m seeing you first is because the Mayor feels that since you’re a Pittsburgh local, we should take care of our own first."

"If you don’t want these shackles, you can leave right now and give the opportunity to those behind you who are willing to put them on."

Ethan sat back down in his chair, looked down at his documents, and ignored Peter completely.

Peter stood frozen before the desk, his mind racing.

The five-point-five percent interest rate was like a massive lure, hooking his greed and refusing to let go.

As a contractor, he knew all too well the importance of cash flow.

If his borrowing costs could be cut so drastically, it meant he could mobilize two or even three times the project scale.

’Yes, these are definitely shackles.’

’City Hall would watch his books like a shadow, and that so-called committee would probably be bossing people around on his work sites.’

’But this was twenty million.’

’It was the ladder that would let him climb from a small-time subcontractor to a true construction magnate.’

’If he refused, tomorrow he’d still be begging those middlemen for scraps of work, still surviving humbly in the cracks between the big corporations.’

The despair of never being able to make it big in his lifetime was more terrifying to him than City Hall’s surveillance.

Peter looked at the Parker fountain pen lying on the desk.

Greed grew like wild weeds in his heart, instantly drowning out everything else.

He thought of the hours he had spent waiting outside the Morganfield Building, of all the contracts snatched away by larger companies.

’I have to win.’

’Even if it means selling a part of my soul, I have to win.’

"I’ll sign."

Peter’s voice was a little hoarse.

He picked up the pen from the table and, on the letter of intent and its densely-worded addendum, he firmly signed his name.

"A wise choice, Peter." Ethan collected the documents, a faint smile finally appearing on his face. "Go back and get ready. The bank will call you this afternoon."

"Next week, I want to see your excavators moving into the South District. Remember, no mistakes. Our system is watching you."

Peter walked out of the office.

He clutched the copy of the document in his hand, his steps feeling somewhat unsteady.

He felt as if he had just signed a pact with the Demon, but at the same time, he felt a power he had never known before.

Behind him now stood City Hall, and behind that, the invisible ten-billion-dollar golden goose.

Ethan watched until Peter’s back had completely disappeared, then let out a long breath.

He walked into the Mayor’s Office and said to Leo, who was looking at a map, "Boss, Peter Hoffman signed. He’s not just our contractor now; he’s also saddled with a loan. He wants that bill to pass more than anyone."

Leo nodded but didn’t reply.

Ethan hesitated, his brow still furrowed.

"But, Leo, is what we’re doing really compliant? Using a letter of intent for a bill that doesn’t even exist yet to provide a credit endorsement for a private company, to induce banks to lower interest rates... If anything changes in Harrisburg, this could blow up into a massive financial scandal."

"The FBI will follow the books right to City Hall."

Leo didn’t turn around. His finger traced a line along the Allegheny River on the map.

"Changes?"

Leo said softly, his tone carrying an unreasonable, almost brutish arrogance.

"Ethan, you still don’t get it. What we need to create is a situation where failure is not an option."

"It’s not just Peter Hoffman now. Those bank credit managers are our accomplices, too. They’ve lent out the money, so they also need the bill to pass to ensure the debt doesn’t go bad."

Leo looked up, his eyes burning with ambitious fire.

"Every Alliance bond we issue, every letter of intent we sign, is just adding more weight to this machine. When the machine gets so heavy that not even the State Assembly can lift it, they’ll have no choice but to let it run along its tracks."

"This is called creating momentum."

Leo straightened up.

"This is ten billion dollars, and we’ve only just spent twenty million."

"Get moving, Ethan. I want the entire Pennsylvania construction supply chain locked into this."

"Keep making the arrangements. Who’s next?"

"The cement supplier from Scranton," Ethan replied.

"Give him the contract. And tell him we’re going to use his cement to build a road to the future."