Noodles opened the door and said,
"Leo, the Secretary of State, General Marshall, has arrived."
Leo quickly stood up and shook hands with Harris, who sensibly extended his hand as well.
"Glad to have someone on the same path, Harris. We'll talk more back in Richmond. Excuse me for now."
As Leo left the reception room and entered the lobby, he immediately spotted General Marshall, surrounded by a crowd. Leo cleared his throat and boldly walked toward him.
The noblemen surrounding Marshall instinctively stepped aside, a clear recognition of Leo's growing power.
"Ah, Leo."
Marshall greeted him with the warmth of a long-lost comrade, embracing him in front of everyone. This public show of affection shocked those who had underestimated Leo, forcing them to reevaluate him once again.
"Come, Leo, let me introduce you to someone. This is Hoyt Sanford Vandenberg, the newly appointed Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force."
"Hoyt, this is the young man I mentioned—the one both willing and capable of helping you out of your predicament, Leo Valentino."
Hoyt gave Leo a once-over and said,
"Oh? I've heard from several people that you're not exactly fond of the military."
Leo's expression turned serious.
"Sir, I believe General Marshall has already shared my background with you. Let me be clear: that's slander. I may dislike certain soldiers, but never the military itself."
Hoyt raised an eyebrow.
"There's always a few annoying types wherever you go. Let's find somewhere private to talk."
Once inside the reception room, Hoyt gestured, and his aides began scanning the room for bugs.
"Hope you understand—just a small precaution before we become friends," Hoyt said.
Cautious.
Leo was even more cautious; he had already swept this place multiple times.
"So, how exactly do you plan to deal with those old relics who are my age?"
Leo got a second impression of Hoyt: direct, like a true soldier.
"I'll buy them."
Leo replied.
"Those wooden planes aren't a small number. Even at scrap prices, it's not a small sum. Sure, you're in real estate, but the junk wood you tear down shouldn't be of much use, right? Don't try to fool me, Leo. You were once a respectable soldier, but now you're just a profit-driven capitalist. If you're going to make money, at least let me understand how."
Greedy.
That was Leo's third impression of Hoyt.
These days, Leo was making money hand over fist. Frankly, oil money wasn't even appealing to him anymore. He had only arranged this entire setup to gain a favor from Hoyt after helping him solve his issue.
But as with all true power players, Hoyt wanted both: Leo's help and a cut of the profits, without even giving Leo the favor.
If this were a year ago, Leo might've accepted that and tried to curry favor—but not anymore.
Leo didn't answer. Instead, he stood up and addressed Hoyt and Marshall,
"Gentlemen, the ceremony is about to begin. Why don't we attend that first?"
Without waiting, Leo gestured for them to follow and exited the room.
"Hoyt, I introduced Leo to you to help you solve your problem. What are you doing?" Marshall frowned.
"Hey, George," Hoyt replied, using Marshall's first name. "I know businessmen. They're like dogs. If they don't smell profit, they won't come near. Solve my problem? He just hasn't found the profit point yet. If he tells me, I'll give him a piece of it."
"You're not afraid he'll just refuse to help you?" Marshall asked.
"He won't. Besides the Veterans' Committee, he has the American Real Estate Association. Lately, their lobbying firm in D.C. has been aggressively pushing the downsizing bill. The Air Force is the smallest branch and has outdated pilots—perfect for the first wave of cuts. He won't walk away. He wants a deal. He's young and ambitious. Just watch—he'll come begging after the ceremony."
"I'll give you 20% if it works," Hoyt added. "By the way, George, weren't you the former Army Chief of Staff? You're okay with this downsizing?"
"I'm Secretary of State now. Civilian." Marshall said, waving dismissively. "But keep in mind—Leo never plays by the book. And those old planes are bleeding you dry in maintenance. Don't screw this up and come crying to me."
Hoyt sneered at Marshall's retreating back. Civilian oversight of the military was the backbone of American political stability. He didn't like it, but he understood it.
As for Leo? Hoyt looked down on him. Their interests didn't align; in fact, they were worlds apart. But turning Leo into an enemy was too costly. In the end, Leo needed something from him. As long as that was true, Hoyt figured he could extract profit and goodwill all at once.
But when Hoyt exited the room, he saw the ceremony had already started. He frowned. So impatient. Does Leo really think such cheap tricks will make me cave?
He took his seat in the front row.
Hmm?
Hoyt's face darkened even more.
In a country influenced so deeply by Britain, it was fine that Marshall sat in the center—after all, he had been the hero of World War II.
But why was Hoyt placed on the left? The right was empty.
Who else did Leo know that outranked him?
There was only one person Hoyt could think of: Truman, Commander-in-Chief.
But if Truman had arrived, Marshall wouldn't still be in the center.
Another sleight of hand, Hoyt thought with a cold snort, and sat down.
He wanted to walk out, but he had spent too many resources becoming Air Force Chief of Staff. He was desperate for money.
"Today marks a milestone in our association's growth," Leo declared.
He turned and pulled down a red curtain, revealing a massive map of the United States.
The Veterans Mutual Aid Association's emblem now covered nearly all the eastern states—one-fourth of the map.
"Two years ago today, in Lynchburg, we founded this committee. In such a short time, we've expanded into 17 states. We are now one of the top associations in the entire East Coast. None of this would've been possible without your support and trust.
"And now, I would like to invite a truly heavyweight guest to deliver our opening address—General Nimitz!"
The moment Leo said the name, Hoyt's face changed dramatically.
He instinctively looked at Marshall, who gave him a mocking glance.
See? That's Leo's confidence—he doesn't need your Air Force. He's got the Navy!
Thunderous applause filled the room.
To please his old mentor, Leo had quietly ensured that most of today's guests were Navy veterans.
Nimitz's speech was passionate and roused the crowd. Leo knew: today would make the New York State Veterans Mutual Aid Association a household name.
After the speech, they returned to the private meeting room. Hoyt's face was as dark as a thundercloud.
Military culture deeply respected seniority, and Hoyt clearly came from a later generation than Nimitz. That five-star admiral rank alone meant Hoyt had to eat humble pie.
Leo noticed Hoyt's mood and sat beside him, pouring a drink.
"General, I don't know if I still have the honor of helping you, but I'll pay the publicly announced decommission rates. As far as I know, even 50% lower than that, no one's buying. They all say unsellable planes are worthless. The scrap wood doesn't even cover the transport costs."
Looking at the seemingly humble but subtly warning Leo, and at the still-simmering Marshall and Nimitz chatting away, Hoyt sighed.
"Fine. Talk to my adjutant tomorrow."
"If it feels forced, or if you have another client, I don't have to help," Leo said.
Hoyt's anger surged. Since becoming Air Force Chief, no one had dared speak to him like that. But thinking of the skyrocketing maintenance costs, his air force's future, and Truman's budget blocks, he let it go.
"Listen, Leo… thank you for solving this problem for me."
"To wisdom. So I have one small request—would you support the upcoming Air Force downsizing?"
"Absolutely not!" Hoyt snapped. "The troops will crucify me!"
"Anything is possible. For example, if the Air Force cuts far fewer people than the Army, the troops will praise you for standing firm. Even the unlucky ones won't blame you if they see you tried your best.
"My Veterans Committee will prioritize helping Air Force veterans. I can promise they'll have better careers than in the military. We just signed a deal with United Airlines. Outstanding Air Force vets will be placed directly into jobs."
Hoyt's eyes lit up. Yes, the real problem was the Army.
"If the Army downsizes, so will we."
Hoyt felt vindicated. Though Eisenhower nominally ran the Army, nearly half the troops were still under MacArthur, the "emperor" of the Pacific.
And MacArthur? He wouldn't let anyone touch a single soldier under his command.
"He's in," Leo said to Marshall and Nimitz.
Then he opened the door.
A figure entered—and everyone stood up immediately in respect.
It was Truman, just back from Europe, having used the time difference to sneak in and finalize what mattered most to him: the downsizing bill.
"Let's cut to the chase," Truman said. "Are we all in favor of military downsizing?"
All three generals shook their heads like rattles.
Truman looked at Leo: what's going on?
Leo jumped in to clarify.
"What about large-scale Army reductions in the Pacific region? The Air Force and Navy would only see minimal cuts, due to ongoing operational demands."
All three nodded.
The detailed discussions began. Truman promised everyone their interests would be protected. And thus, a new world was born—one where only the Pacific's "emperor" got screwed, and everyone else was smiling.
10% from the Air Force, 20% from the Navy, and a full 60% from the Army—most of which was under MacArthur's command.
In return, MacArthur would get command over some elite European Army units.
After the meeting, Truman quietly left. Leo stopped the grumpy Hoyt and handed him a gift box.
"What's this? Trying to bribe me? I don't accept bribes," Hoyt said smugly.
Leo gestured to the veterans leaving the venue, all with the same box in hand.
"It's the James River Association's welcome gift. Everyone gets one."
Hoyt's face dropped.
But Leo added,
"Everyone gets one—but each is different. Trust me, General, you'll like yours."
As the cars rolled away, Leo furrowed his brow. Hoyt seemed emotional, unpredictable.
Leo tried to read him via microexpressions—but got nothing.
Still, something told him Hoyt was even more formidable than Austin—someone who not only hid emotions, but misled others about them.
Later, in his private car, Hoyt opened the box and found instructions and redemption details.
Today's money-laundering haven was Cuba.
The closest point: Miami, Florida—already visited by several James River Association members.
And in the envelope—a slip that read: $1,000,000.
Hoyt marveled at Leo's boldness. No wonder Marshall admired him.
"Sir, doesn't it exhaust you to act all the time?" his trusted driver asked.
"If I didn't act, would I have made Chief of Staff?"
Hoyt chuckled.
"This Leo… he's not just talented. His intel network is no joke. Word is, he's got a partner in Seattle and even knows about Boeing's issues. He's even planning to invest!"