The site for the second negotiation was set by Leo: the run-down conference room in the community center.
Wexler arrived as promised.
He came alone, without an assistant.
The walls of the conference room were covered with black-and-white photographs. In those photographs, steelworkers stared at this uninvited guest with eyes weathered by hardship.
From the very first second, the advantage of home ground began exerting invisible psychological pressure on Wexler.
Leo and Sara sat at one end of the long table, with Margaret and Frank beside them.
Wexler sat down opposite them. He still wore a smile, but he was clearly somewhat uncomfortable with the surroundings.
“Very well, Mr. Wallace,” Wexler began. “You said you had a solution that would benefit both sides. I’m very interested to hear it.”
In an uncharacteristic move, Leo first expressed understanding for Wexler’s predicament.
“Mr. Wexler, I know the past week can’t have been easy for you,” Leo said. “This matter has already evolved from a simple business case into a political crisis for the mayor. And you, unfortunately, have been caught in the middle.”
At those words, a subtle change appeared in Wexler’s expression.
“On one side, your client, Summit Development Group, only wants to complete this deal as soon as possible. On the other, Mayor Cartwright hopes you can put out this public-relations fire as quickly as possible, so it won’t affect his upcoming reelection.”
“And we…” Leo spread his hands, a trace of helplessness appearing on his face. “We happen to be a bunch of stubborn old fools who don’t understand compromise.”
Then Leo brought up the situation outside.
“Frank and his union brothers outside are extremely agitated. They’re already planning their next protest. I heard they’re even thinking of holding peaceful gatherings outside the private residences of Mayor Cartwright and Summit Group’s CEO.”
At this, Wexler’s brows drew tightly together.
This was what he feared most.
Once the situation escalated to the point of disturbing private residences, it would no longer be a simple protest. It would be a serious scandal.
“I’m doing everything I can to dissuade them,” Leo said, his expression utterly sincere. “But I don’t know how much longer I can keep them under control.”
Then Leo took out the “Future Development Plan for the Community Center” that he and Sara had prepared.
He pushed the proposal in front of Wexler.
“Mr. Wexler, in order to prove to you that we aren’t just a bunch of troublemakers, we’ve also drawn up a detailed plan for the future of this community.”
Half doubtful, Wexler opened the proposal.
Inside, he saw grand blueprints for renovating the basketball court, purchasing new computers, adding a small library, even building a rooftop garden and a virtual-reality experience room.
And at the end, a budget totaling as much as four million dollars.
He immediately saw through Leo’s intention.
With a cold laugh, he tossed the proposal onto the table.
“Mr. Wallace, are you joking with me? Four million dollars? Do you think my client is a charity?”
Just then, Leo took a stack of documents from his folder.
As he flipped through them, one photocopy “inadvertently” slipped out of the folder and fell onto the table.
The sheet landed face up, right in front of Wexler.
Wexler’s gaze swept over the paper, and he clearly saw the title on it.
“Minutes Regarding the Informal Luncheon Between the Mayor and the CEO of Summit Development Group.”
Leo seemed to notice his own “mistake” as well.
He immediately picked up the page, then slowly tucked it back into the folder.
Throughout the entire process, he did not say a word.
But everything was understood without words.
Leo raised his head, looked into Wexler’s eyes, and smiled as he said,
“Of course, Mr. Wexler, all of the wonderful development plans we’ve proposed are built upon one important foundation.”
“And that is: no one in our community will have to waste any more precious energy explaining, in detail, certain informal luncheon arrangements to the district attorney’s office or agents of the FBI.”
Wexler’s expression finally changed.
He tried to regain his composure.
“Mr. Wallace, your accusations are extremely serious. Moreover, this proposal you’ve put forward far exceeds the scope of what I can personally decide. I need to report this situation upward to my client and to the mayor’s office. We need time to discuss it.”
He wanted to stall, to seize back the initiative.
Leo answered directly, “Mr. Wexler, please don’t do that.”
“My investigation wasn’t only into the municipal regulations. I also spent time looking into you and your client.”
“I know very well that the board of Summit Development Group has authorized you to handle all matters related to the community center with full discretion. The upper limit of that authorization is more than enough to pay for our proposal several times over. So the person sitting here today is not a lawyer for Summit Group, but its sole decision-maker.”
Leo continued, “So our choice is actually very simple. Either we reach an agreement acceptable to both sides in this room today…”
“Or, after I walk out that door, the full contents of those meeting minutes, along with more interesting details about that luncheon, will immediately appear in the inbox of every reporter in Pittsburgh.”
Leo’s threat was direct, and Wexler was weighing the pros and cons.
Those meeting minutes might not be enough to send the mayor to prison, but they were enough to stir up a media storm capable of completely destroying Cartwright’s political career.
He remained silent for a full minute.
Then he raised his head again and looked at Leo.
He knew that he had lost today, but his dignity demanded that he win back something at the card table.
He picked up the four-million-dollar development plan again.
“Very well, Mr. Wallace,” he said. “Since we have reached a consensus on the most important matter, let us now discuss the budget for these specific projects.”
“A rooftop garden? Completely unnecessary. A virtual-reality experience room? Far too extravagant. Renovating the building’s exterior? I think keeping it as it is gives it more historical character.”
He began a fierce round of bargaining with Leo over the four-million-dollar budget.
This was his final dignity, his final performance.
And Leo engaged him in a “hard-fought negotiation” that lasted an entire hour.
“Mr. Wexler, the rooftop garden can be removed, but the virtual-reality experience room must stay. It’s for the children’s education.”
“Fine, the budget for the experience room can be cut in half, but not a single dollar less for renovating the basketball court.”
“One point two million dollars. That is our bottom line. We have already made tremendous concessions.”
In the end, both sides “reluctantly” reached an agreement.
The final agreement was written down in black and white.
First, Summit Development Group would formally withdraw its plan to acquire the land occupied by the Steelworkers Community Center.
Second, Summit Development Group would pay, in a lump sum, all property taxes owed by the community center and, in the name of a charitable donation, provide the community center with a development fund of 1.2 million dollars.
Third, Mayor Cartwright must personally hold a press conference within three days and publicly announce that the city government would permanently preserve the Steelworkers Community Center and list it as a historic protected building of the City of Pittsburgh.
The agreement was reached.
Wexler signed his name on the document.
He stood up and shook hands with Leo.
“Mr. Wallace, you are a natural-born politician.”
Leo smiled. “Then I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Wexler replied, “Without question.”
…
Three days later, the press conference was held as scheduled in the press room at City Hall.
Mayor Martin Cartwright and the CEO of Summit Development Group stood side by side before the podium, warm smiles plastered across their faces.
They looked extremely pleased, as if all of this had been a choice they had made of their own initiative.
Mayor Cartwright spoke first.
He lavishly praised Summit Development Group’s sense of social responsibility, calling them a model corporate citizen of Pittsburgh.
He then highly praised the historic contributions of the Steelworkers Community Center, calling it a precious legacy of Pittsburgh’s working-class spirit.
Finally, he was honored to announce that, through the joint efforts of the city government and Summit Development Group, the community center would not only be permanently preserved, but would also receive a considerable development fund for future upgrades and renovations.
The CEO of Summit Development Group also gave a brief speech.
He stated that his company had always been committed to community development in Pittsburgh, and that it was their honor to contribute to the preservation of the community center.
The entire press conference was filled with a harmonious and pleasant atmosphere.
They were so sincere, so generous, that some out-of-town reporters who had come without knowing the truth thought they were witnessing a touching story of government and business working together to serve the community.
That was what politicians were. That was what businessmen were.
You could never read any true emotion from their faces.
At the same time as the press conference…
The hall of the Steelworkers Community Center was packed with community residents.
Sara used a projector to cast the live broadcast of the press conference onto the wall.
When Mayor Cartwright personally uttered the words “permanently preserve the community center,” the entire hall erupted into deafening cheers.
People embraced one another, cheered, jumped; some of the elderly even shed tears of excitement.
This battle, which had lasted for weeks, had finally ended in their victory.
When Leo returned to the community center, people surrounded him as if he were a triumphant hero.
They tossed him high into the air.
From midair, Leo saw those familiar faces.
Margaret, Sara, Rosa, Mike…
Their faces were all brimming with heartfelt joy.
The celebration and revelry continued until late into the night.
After the clamor had faded, Leo walked home alone.
The evening wind scattered the smell of alcohol on him, and also scattered the victorious joy in his heart.
He had won.
But his victory had been so perilous, so fortunate.
He knew very well that this victory had not relied only on the unity of the community residents and the support of public opinion.
More crucial were the tiny procedural flaw on the opponent’s own side, and those meeting minutes that had come from who knew where, like a revelation from God.
What if the Cartwright administration’s public notice procedures had been flawless?
What if that anonymous helper had not delivered those meeting minutes into his hands?
What would the result have been?
He did not dare think about it.
He realized that he had only temporarily cut out an inconsequential tumor.
But the body that produced this disease—the power structure of this city—was still terminally ill.
As long as Cartwright and his financiers still firmly controlled the power of this city…
Then today’s story would be replayed tomorrow in another corner of the city, in another form.
Roosevelt’s voice sounded in his mind, carrying both approval and guidance.
“You have learned how to win a battle, child.”
“You used the methods I taught you to force them to disarm and surrender with dignity, and even made them willingly offer you war reparations.”
“But do you understand? As long as they remain safe and sound in their headquarters, this war will never truly stop.”
Leo stopped walking.
He raised his head and looked toward the brightly lit building in the distance, standing in the night.
Pittsburgh City Hall.
There lay the enemy’s headquarters.
His gaze gradually grew resolute.
He knew that the battle for the Steelworkers Community Center was over.
But the war that belonged to Pittsburgh had only just begun.