CHAPTER 354:

Blackstone Code

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The National Security Council's (NSC) investigation into the "Healthy Federal People Foundation" had wrapped up—perhaps the fastest investigation in history. Then again, maybe not. Some investigations were likely squashed before they even began, and those could be considered the quickest of all.

Although the Healthy Federal People Foundation couldn't be scrutinized further, there were no such obstacles for two other foundations. One was dedicated to helping people observe fish, and the other studied how many plant species in the federation bloomed exclusively in autumn.

Perhaps it was due to the setback with the medical conglomerate, or perhaps he'd developed new strategies, but Truman had grown quieter, more introspective, and decidedly more discreet.

At noon, Congressman Wales invited a well-known and influential broker from Bupayne to his home. The congressman had begun to sense trouble brewing, and now he needed someone to help him navigate these choppy waters.

The medical group's successful pushback against Truman's targeted investigation had made one thing clear to Wales: whether it was the President or Truman himself, neither wielded as much power as he'd once assumed.

After all, this was merely an "interim president." His cabinet, including several key ministers, wasn't entirely unified. Internal struggles abounded, and even within the Progressive Party, opinions varied on whether he should continue his reelection campaign—or if he could even win.

And yet, despite all this, the President still nominally held the highest authority in the federation, and that alone was enough to make Congressman Wales feel the weight of the challenge.

Thus, he extended an invitation to a man who operated outside formal politics but carried immense influence within political circles—Mr. Elson.

Elson had served one term as Vice President—a single term. Before a scandal involving his office forced him to resign, he'd been poised for a promising political future. After stepping down, he didn't take on another official role. Instead, he became a political fixer, a broker of sorts, thriving in the undercurrents of Bupayne's political scene.

Whether it was the Conservative Party, the Progressive Party, or the perpetually overlooked Socialist Party, everyone seemed to show him deference. This respect kept the seventy-one-year-old looking closer to fifty—proof that a contented mind could keep a man youthful.

"Fifteen years of Bento…" Mr. Elson sat at the dining table with an old-world gentleman's charm, the kind that radiated warmth and put people at ease.

When he smiled, his slightly gray eyebrows twitched, and his entire face exuded approachability. His smile was infectious. "This is a fine bottle…"

The "Bento" he referred to was the red wine in his hand. At seventy-one, Elson's doctors had repeatedly warned him against consuming high-alcohol beverages. He valued his health, reserving hard liquor only for nights when insomnia struck; otherwise, he stuck to red wine.

Bento was the name of a renowned vineyard celebrated worldwide. A fifteen-year-aged red wine? That was indeed something special.

Congressman Wales uncorked the bottle and poured them both a glass.

There was no pretentious wine-tasting ritual here. At their level, no one would act like a clown, swirling a sip of wine in their mouth and audibly slurping to aerate it. Even professional sommeliers only performed such theatrics at tastings. In private, they drank like anyone else.

They opened the bottle, poured the wine, and clinked glasses.

"To be treated to such an exquisite wine makes me feel unworthy," Elson said, still smiling as he set his glass down. The deep crimson liquid slid slowly down the sides of the glass.

The wine goblets weren't small, but they each took only the tiniest sip—a mere taste. The liquid, still carrying a hint of unsoftened tannins, wasn't meant for heavy drinking just yet. Over time, it would bloom into aromatic perfection without needing a decanter or any unnecessary fuss.

Wales didn't waste time with pleasantries. He nodded and got straight to the point. "I'm in trouble. Someone is investigating two foundations I have stakes in. It used to be three…"

As for why it was now two, Elson knew full well. He'd been one of the people who'd called the President, and that single call had earned him a signed thank-you note.

"Truman," Elson said bluntly, naming the "someone" in question. He picked up his knife and fork. "Apologies, my doctor says I shouldn't go too long without eating…"

Wales immediately gestured for him to dig in while continuing, "Yes, yes, Truman. They seem to have some concerns about recent activities of mine. I believe this can be resolved through communication. I've been waiting for them to reach out, but they…"

"Kurliek…" Elson interrupted suddenly.

Wales looked confused. "Sorry, what did you say?"

After swallowing a bite of steak, Elson dabbed his lips with a napkin. "I said Kurliek's prime beef. Due to economic pressures and broader conditions, a pound of prime-grade beef now costs around 170 bucks."

He fixed Wales with a steady gaze. "Congressman Wales, you're part of the federation's highest governing body, shaping its future. You should focus your energy on ensuring everyone can afford this beef—not on… infighting." Ꞧ𝔞ℕộʙΕS

The remark stung. Wales' face flushed a deep, liverish purple. He had no choice but to nod in agreement.

Elson paused briefly before shifting tone. "Earlier, you mentioned communication. I think that's a wonderful word. Communication bridges gaps between people and allows us to resolve issues peacefully."

His demeanor was polished, though inwardly, he didn't hold Wales in particularly high regard. At seventy-one, Elson felt free to do as he pleased.

With another slice of beef in his mouth and a sip of wine, he leaned back, satisfied. "Now, if you're willing to step back, I might be able to help you with this matter."

Wales didn't respond immediately. He was a man of principle, having accepted money to work for Pretton. But stepping back wasn't so simple—it would mean betraying Pretton in some capacity. Returning the money wouldn't suffice; mending this mistake would require sacrificing even more.

He knew resistance was futile—and dangerous. The fact that his opponents had gone so far as to initiate a formal investigation, an unusual move in political battles, spoke volumes about their resolve. Still, letting go wasn't easy.

Elson remained silent, allowing Wales space to think. There was no perfect solution here; a decision had to be made.

Should he stand firm, prepared to fight the President and his trusted aide Truman to the bitter end? Or should he sacrifice some personal interests to end this pointless conflict that never should have started?

By the time Elson finished his lavish lunch, Wales still hadn't reached a conclusion he could fully embrace.

Finally, Elson broke the silence. Time was precious, and he wasn't about to waste it waiting for someone else's deliberation.

"I'll offer you some advice, Congressman Wales…" he began. Wales snapped out of his thoughts, nodding eagerly like an obedient schoolboy—respectful, eager to learn.

"Our President lost the last election, wasting valuable resources from the Progressive Party. There's some resentment within the party, but that doesn't mean he's out of options."

"Many of us, myself included, are intrigued by some of his ideas—like taking on greater international responsibilities. Of course, this also invites opposition from foreign powers."

"No one wants to see a strong federation rise. Spies cloaked in various legal guises will always try to disrupt us. It's par for the course."

"They might steal our scientific breakthroughs, pilfer crucial formulas, kidnap our scientists—or even divide our politicians."

"Do you understand?"

Wales nodded vigorously. "Yes, Mr. Elson. I understand. I know what I need to do…"

"Good. Thank you for your hospitality. I'll contact you when I have more updates." Elson rose to leave, but when Wales moved to pull out his chair, he politely declined.

At seventy-one, he could still sit and stand on his own.

Later that evening, Truman, freshly summoned back by the President, was about to knock on the office door when it swung open from the inside.

The President and Elson emerged, both wearing broad smiles, their rapport evident. The President glanced at Truman as he passed, too preoccupied escorting Elson out to linger.

When he returned, Truman was already waiting in his office.

The President didn't speak right away. He sat down, lost in thought for a moment, then shook his head. "Call off the investigation into Congressman Wales. He's surrendered."

"Next, we'll shift our focus to Gevra—and perhaps redirect attention elsewhere…" The President sighed. "Truman, this is all thanks to you. You forced him to back down, and for that, I'm grateful."

Truman's expression was odd. He should have been pleased—they'd achieved their goal: silencing Wales and halting his fruitless scheming. Yet, inexplicably, he felt no joy. Still, he managed to say, "It's my honor, Mr. President."

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