Chapter 644 - 300: Magical Realism

Senator Geoffrey Higgins’s black Cadillac stopped at the entrance to Erie City.

Even through the double-paned, soundproof glass and over the soothing classical music playing in the car, he could still hear the commotion outside.

Higgins frowned and lowered the window.

A thick, acrid smell immediately hit him.

It was a choking odor. For this Rust Belt city, which had been stagnant for twenty years, the smell was frighteningly unfamiliar.

He took off his sunglasses and squinted, looking ahead.

The industrial park, once abandoned due to factory closures, had now been transformed into a massive construction site.

Yellow dust nets stretched for miles, and dozens of tower cranes loomed against the gray sky, their massive arms swinging busily.

Countless trucks, laden with steel and concrete, formed a long queue on a makeshift access road, the mud splattered on their sides still wet.

Workers in orange reflective vests swarmed over the scaffolding like an ant colony, and the sparks from their welding torches were blinding even in broad daylight.

’This isn’t right.’

Higgins muttered to himself.

As the senior State Senator for Erie County and its surrounding regions, and also the Vice Chairman of the State Senate Appropriations Committee, he knew this district’s budget down to the last penny.

He distinctly remembered that in last month’s state budget, Erie City had only received a three-million-dollar appropriation for road maintenance.

That amount was barely enough to fill potholes on the main roads or put a new roof on City Hall.

The funds had been specifically allocated so he would have a ribbon-cutting ceremony to attend come election time.

But the scene before him was definitely not something three million dollars could pay for.

This looked more like thirty million, or even three hundred million.

Higgins grabbed his briefcase and pulled out the detailed regional budget report.

He checked it three times.

Nothing.

Not a single Federal appropriation or special state fund had been directed here.

’What the hell?’

Higgins snapped the folder shut and said to his driver, "To City Hall. Don’t take the main road. Take the one next to the construction site. I want to see exactly who’s stirring up trouble on my turf."

The car slowly drove along the edge of the construction site.

Higgins spotted a sign by the side of the road.

It was a massive metal sign emblazoned with an insignia: a gear encircling stalks of wheat and a stethoscope.

Project Name: Erie-Pittsburgh High-End Manufacturing Corridor · Northern Hub

Developer: Industrial Revival Alliance

Funding Source: Pennsylvania Comprehensive Infrastructure Special Fund

Higgins felt his brain short-circuit. He had never heard of this so-called special fund.

The car was stopped at an intersection.

The one who stopped them was a burly man wearing a red armband.

Higgins recognized the armband. It was the insignia of the "Health and Production Committee," something Leo Wallace had started.

"Construction ahead. Detour," the burly man said, knocking on the window. His tone was brusque.

The driver lowered his window. "This is Senator Higgins’s car! We need to get to City Hall!"

The burly man bent down, glancing at Higgins in the back seat.

He didn’t offer the fawning smile that most people did. He didn’t even salute. He just gave a casual wave with the traffic wand in his hand.

"The Senator has to detour, too. A truck loaded with specialty steel just arrived and it’s being hoisted. It’s a priority shipment; no one blocks the way."

Higgins felt a surge of inexplicable anger.

’Here, in my own district, I have to make way for a truckload of steel?’

But he didn’t lash out.

As a seasoned politician, he smelled danger in the air.

The atmosphere here had changed. It seemed the rules had, too.

...

Erie City Hall, Mayor’s Office.

Ron Smith was standing in front of a massive planning map, a phone in his hand, his voice so loud he sounded like he was in a shouting match.

"I don’t care how you have to schedule it! Pittsburgh said the steel has to be here tomorrow! If you guys at the railroad dare to hold this up, I’ll come down there and pry your gates open myself! ... Good. Make sure it ships out tonight."

Ron hung up and turned around.

He saw Senator Higgins standing in the doorway, his face dark and forbidding.

"Jeff!"

An enthusiastic smile instantly broke out on Ron’s face as he walked over with open arms.

"What brings you all the way out here? I thought you’d still be in Harrisburg, schmoozing with lobbyists."

Higgins ignored the offered embrace, fixing Ron with his intensely intimidating gaze.

"Ron, what the hell are you pulling?"

Higgins gestured out the window.

"Those tower cranes, those trucks, and the thousands of workers who’ve come out of the woodwork... what in the world is going on?"

"I checked all the books in Harrisburg. The State Treasury Department hasn’t allocated a single cent to you, and the Federal infrastructure funding is still tied up in Congress. So where did you get the money?"

Higgins lowered his voice, his tone as severe as an interrogator’s.

"Are you insane? Did you touch the pension funds? If this thing blows up, not only will I be unable to save you, you’ll drag me down with you!"

Ron looked at the normally high-and-mighty senator, but he showed none of the panic Higgins had expected.

Instead, he calmly took a cigar from the humidor on his desk, lit it with deliberate slowness, and took a deep drag.

"Jeff, don’t be so tense."

Ron blew out a smoke ring and pointed to the planning map on the wall.

"This is a legitimate municipal project."

"And the money, of course, has a source."

Ron walked over to the map and traced a long line across it with his finger.

"The funding comes from the Pennsylvania Comprehensive Infrastructure and Industrial Modernization Act."