The air in the Mayor’s Office seemed to freeze.

The hefty "Pittsburgh Urban Revitalization Special Municipal Bond Issuance Plan" lay on the coffee table.

Murphy stared at the document as if it were a nuclear bomb about to detonate.

"Five hundred million dollars." Murphy’s voice trembled. "Leo, you have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Do you think the Democratic National Committee is your private bank? Or that those Vampires on Wall Street will overlook Pittsburgh’s abysmal credit rating just because of a party endorsement?"

"This is pure fantasy!"

"Those guys on Wall Street will tear this proposal to shreds and throw the pieces in your face. All they care about are returns and risk assessments, not political sentiment."

He stood up, ready to launch into another tirade, to teach this crazy young man a lesson with the financial common sense he had picked up in Washington.

He was going to tell Leo just how rigorous the logic behind issuing municipal bonds was, how strict the risk control needed to be, and how naive and dangerous it was to try and bundle a political party’s credibility with local debt.

"John."

Leo suddenly spoke, cutting off the sermon that was about to erupt from Murphy.

Leo’s voice was soft, yet it had a strange, piercing quality.

"How many years have you been in the House of Representatives?"

Murphy froze. The sudden question instantly deflated the momentum he had been building.

"What?"

"Eight years," Leo answered his own question. He leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed, and calmly regarded his ally. "Counting your time on Capitol Hill, you’ve been playing this Legislator game for nearly twenty years."

"What does this have to do with the bonds?" Murphy frowned, a strange sense of irritation creeping in.

"Of course it does."

Leo stood up straight and took two steps toward Murphy.

"The House of Representatives has four hundred and thirty-five seats. You’re just one out of four hundred and thirty-five."

"Your job every day is to follow the Party Whip’s orders and push ’yea’ or ’nay’ at the appointed time. You have to beg the committee chairman for just five minutes of speaking time. You have to run yourself ragged every two years just to get re-elected."

"You’re invisible there, John. Outside of your district in Pittsburgh, nobody in Washington knows who you are. When you walk into that massive Congress Building, you’re just another replaceable cog in a giant machine."

Murphy’s face darkened.

It was a sore spot for every Representative.

They might be called "Congressmen," but on the political food chain in Washington, they were at the very bottom.

"What are you trying to say?" Murphy asked coldly.

"I’m asking, how much longer are you going to stay there?"

Leo’s gaze bored into Murphy’s.

"How much longer are you going to sit in that crowded waiting room?"

"That Senate seat for Pennsylvania," Leo said suddenly. "The incumbent, Republican Senator Warren—Morganfield’s man in Washington—is up for reelection this year."

"I know, Warren is deeply entrenched in Pennsylvania. He has Morganfield’s money and the Republican Party’s base," Leo said, looking at Murphy with a hint of provocation in his voice. "But John, are you just going to stand by and watch him sit in that seat for another six years? Have you never thought about taking his place?"

"This is an opportunity. A fight absolutely worth having."

Leo lowered his voice, his tone laced with temptation.

"John, have you never thought about changing the title before your name from ’Representative’ to ’Senator’?"

Senator.

The word detonated in the air.

Murphy froze solid.

In the American political landscape, while both roles made them Congressmen, their actual weight was worlds apart.

The Senate. Only one hundred seats.

It was the true "gentlemen’s club," a stepping stone to the White House, the inner circle of power.

A single Senator could block a President’s nominee, decide the fate of a national treaty, and command a national spotlight.

It was the difference between a general and a foot soldier.

Murphy’s Adam’s apple bobbed violently.

His first instinct was to deny it, to laugh at Leo’s wild fantasy, but his body betrayed him. A flicker of greed flashed in his eyes—the glint of an ambition that had been suppressed for far too long.

"You... you’re insane."

Murphy finally found his voice, but it sounded hoarse and lacked any of its earlier conviction.

"That’s a statewide election! Leo, you have no idea what that entails!"

Murphy began to pace frantically around the office, his words tumbling out faster and faster. He seemed to be trying to convince Leo, but it was more like he was trying to convince himself—the part of him that was already tempted.

"To run for Senator in Pennsylvania, you need a war chest of at least fifty million US Dollars! Fifty million! That’s not something you can raise with your little small-dollar donations!"

"Besides, Pennsylvania’s political landscape is fractured. I may have name recognition in Pittsburgh, but in Philadelphia—the Democratic Party’s biggest stronghold—I have no base! The power brokers in Philly don’t even know who I am!"

"And most importantly, the party nomination!" Murphy waved his arms. "The Democratic National Committee already has their preferred candidate. The Vice Governor from Philadelphia. He’s the darling of the Establishment Faction—he’s young, has a clean image, and he’s obedient. The bigwigs in Washington have already handpicked him!"