The thought of this becoming a topic of conversation at their banquets and the center of everyone's attention filled me with a secret joy...
...
...
"Investigate! Investigate thoroughly!"
Chicago Mayor Jerome was slamming his fist on the table and raging in City Hall. The election was just around the corner, and Jerome had done a good job in recent years and was a strong contender. But this unexpected incident at this crucial juncture—wasn't it sabotaging him?
Jerome was furious.
"What the hell are those damned merchants up to?" Jerome roared, veins throbbing in his neck. "Do they think we're taking too much tax? Or that our policies aren't good enough? Who's in charge? Bring their leader here!"
“Mr. Mayor, I don’t think there’s a big problem with the tax issue, because we’ve been collecting taxes this way for the past two years and no one has objected,” said the Chicago Department of Finance Director. “As for policy, needless to say, for the past two years we’ve been tilting policies in their favor to help them withstand the impact of the financial crisis, so it shouldn’t be this reason.”
"Why is that? There has to be a reason!" Jerome irritably ripped off his tie, then took a sip of the coffee his secretary brought him. His voice was exhausted from the shouting he had just given.
"The reason? Only God knows." The director of the Finance Bureau shrugged. "There wasn't even the slightest hint of this. If it weren't for the fact that the impact and scale are so huge, I would almost think this was their special celebration ceremony for Labor Day."
Jerome ignored his nonsense, sipping his coffee and pondering a solution. This matter had to be resolved properly, otherwise his career would be in jeopardy. He was only in his forties; he didn't want to retire so early!
"Did they make any demands?" Jerome asked, putting down his coffee cup. Generally, this kind of thing happens because these people have some strong demands and want to force the government to compromise through this almost "coercive" method. For example, the Chicago workers more than a hundred years ago demanded an "eight-hour workday."
“They made no demands,” the finance bureau chief said, “because they didn’t send anyone to negotiate with the government.”
“That’s strange…” Jerome rubbed his chin.
"Mr. Mayor, I have an idea, but I don't know if it's right." The female secretary, who had just brought the coffee and hadn't even left yet, suddenly spoke up timidly.
"You have an idea? Speak!" The drowning Mayor Jerome was unwilling to let go of any straw that passed before him.
"You mean...could it be because of Morgan?" the secretary asked cautiously. "After all, this happened so soon after they took over The Magniient. They can't be entirely innocent, can they..."
Of course not innocent!
Jerome and his finance director exchanged a glance, realizing that the possibility his secretary described was indeed remarkably high! Sure enough, even the wisest can make a mistake, and even the most foolish can have a stroke of genius. Jerome told his secretary, "Your bonus this month is doubled—no, tripled!"
The female secretary immediately covered her chest, looking blissfully incredulous.
Jerome turned and said, “Call Morgan and tell them that the government can’t handle this situation anymore. They’re on their own. You’ve created this mess, so you have to take responsibility! Fuk! Don’t cause me any trouble… um… forget the last part, just tell them what I said earlier and tell them to resolve this quickly! The election is about to start, and the government can’t take the blame!” (To be continued.)
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