Blackstone Code

“Sorry, I was starving.”

After swallowing the food in his mouth, Congressman Landon picked up a napkin, wiped his hands and the grease from his lips, then casually placed the napkin beside him.

“What’s the project about?”

Lynch handed him a cigarette, and the two leaned in to light it together. Puffing out smoke, Lynch said, “Military Appropriations Committee. The Department of Defense proposed a new budget—just over thirty million. But the money isn’t coming from their own accounts. It needs to go through Congress.”

Sounds a bit ridiculous?

Actually, it’s totally normal.

Does the Department of Defense or the military lack money?

No. In fact, they have so much that they don’t even know how to spend it all before year-end.

It’s only February, the year’s just begun, and some of last year’s budget has already been allocated. More is on the way.

On top of that, they just discharged a large number of active service members. But the budget was calculated as if that hadn’t happened, still based on pre-drawdown numbers.

Yet even with overflowing funds, they won’t use a cent outside the official budget.

Lynch’s order wasn’t part of last year’s budget, so it needs a new process. Once the Appropriations Committee decides the money’s worth spending, they’ll release the funds to Lynch.

After all, the military has no money.

There’s a joke: A general claims every penny of the defense budget is accounted for, and soldiers are so broke they can’t even afford bread.

Not a lie—except they’re sick of eating beef and lamb. Rumor has it the ranches supplying them are military-owned.

Everyone knows what’s going on, but knowing and acting are two different things.

No one in Congress is willing to offend the military over taxpayer money. The Department of Defense and the military are two separate entities. Sometimes they act as one, but more often than not, they’re divided.

And the committees responsible for budgets and appropriations don’t approve every request. Rejecting a few helps them appear as guardians of public funds, protectors of taxpayer money.

It also boosts their status within Congress and the broader political arena. After all, major committees are almost entirely composed of senators.

Some say Congress is a maze. If you don’t understand how it works, you won’t find the way out—maybe not even a way back.

But once you understand it, Congress feels like home. Every member is like family, and everything is negotiable.

“It’s related to the Department of Defense…” Landon’s expression turned more serious. The full name of the Appropriations Committee was the Federal Committee on Military Planning and Equipment Procurement Funding.

Together with the Federal Military Budget Review Committee, they control how much the military gets from Congress each year.

One handles budgeting, the other allocates according to the budget. They could be one committee, but for the sake of reducing corruption, they’re separate—meaning sometimes you pay twice for the same thing.

What should be controlled isn’t; what shouldn’t be, gets buried in bureaucracy. That’s the sweet taste of freedom and justice.

He thought for a moment. “The Appropriations Committee—those people have big appetites. You know, every year the military-industrial giants are lined up at their door…”

Shipbuilding companies, for instance—a single little boat can be a multi-year, multi-million-Sol deal.

The profits are enormous, and they’re happy to spend.

Then there are standard equipment manufacturers. Even after reductions, the military still has hundreds of thousands of personnel. Two new uniforms each, boots, belts, gloves, gear…

Just this alone means tens or hundreds of millions in contracts annually. And we’re not even talking about the munitions companies—a single military exercise burns through millions.

Those companies never hesitate to throw money at Congress.

Lynch was prepared. He puffed thoughtfully on his cigarette for a couple of seconds. “How much will it take to feed them?”

Landon shook his head—it seemed even he thought it was excessive. “Three to five million is just the entry point. What exactly needs to be done is hard to say.”

He clasped his hands together, elbows on the table. “You don’t have much of an edge here. They might really take a bite out of you. Be ready for that.”

“It won’t get too ugly,” Lynch chuckled. “Anyway, I’m counting on you for this. If anything comes up, just call me. I’ll be staying in town for now.”

He pulled a draft from Golden Exchange Bank out of his bag, placed it inside a folder, and slid it over.

“Five million. I’ll add a bonus if it goes through.”

Looking at the folder Lynch handed over, Landon tugged at his collar. Suddenly, it felt hot.

Five million—not a small number—and it was sitting right there in front of him.

Bank drafts are incredibly convenient. Once verified, any bank will cash them on the spot. No need for names, ID, origin, or explanation.

They don’t care who you are or what the money’s for—just that the draft is real.

Lynch couldn’t have direct financial dealings with members of Congress. That kind of straightforward transaction was illegal.

It had to go through intermediaries—sometimes several. This was another unique federal industry in Eminence: not illegal, not quite legal either. Call it laundering, but not exactly.

It had no formal name, but every year, huge sums flowed through these channels into countless private equity funds in Eminence.

On payout days, the money reappeared in the accounts of high-ranking officials—tax-free, since investment income isn’t taxed.

Death and taxes are inevitable?

Only if you haven’t truly tasted freedom.

The meal ended quickly. After Lynch left, Landon stayed behind to savor the food.

He’d recently been out in the western mountains inspecting environmental issues. The food there had been… dismal. He thought he missed the city for its vibrance—but it turned out, it was the food he really longed for.

Chewing a veal steak that cost more than a worker’s half-month wage, he swallowed it in a few bites.

With a sip of wine, the other half-month’s wage was gone too.

He sat back, thinking about what needed to be done next.Investing in Lynch was undeniably the right move. For a congressman to build a network in Congress, money is essential.

It may sound absurd, but this is the essence of Congress: if you have money and are willing to spend it, people will be willing to befriend you.

Congressman Landon had come to understand this firsthand, and the power of money was proving limitless.

You can ignore a House member’s opinion, but you can’t easily ignore a friendly suggestion from a senator.

If you can reject a senator’s friendly request, could you also turn down a former governor, a former president, or a former vice president? Or senior party figures?

No—you can’t. That’s impossible.

And becoming friends with them is easy: just give them money.

Even Congress members themselves often don’t understand how it got to this point. But any such reflection is quickly drowned out by the scent of freshly printed money and fluttering checks.

The next day, Congressman Landon went into action. After fees, the five million left him with over 4.3 million—ready to flow legally into any foundation at any time.

Now, he just needed to take that money and chat with the senators.

Using Lynch’s money to build his own network was a smart move.

And of course, he would remain Lynch’s loyal ally—as long as Lynch stayed rich.

Days passed with no news from Congress, but Lynch had already made a connection with the mayor of Eminence.

It couldn’t be helped. Whether or not Congress approved the funds, once the tech was developed, it had to be sold.

If the military didn’t want it, he’d sell it to the rich.

If the rich didn’t want it, then he’d spark regional conflict—someone would buy those planes.

Mass production was about to begin. Over ten assembly lines had already been ordered, and recruitment was next.

The engines and airframes were already being made in federal factories—mature products that could go into production with minimal adjustments.

Within a month, full-scale operations would begin.

Thousands of jobs—enough for the mayor to personally meet a stranger, especially one as well-known as Lynch.

Why do the wealthy always seem to know powerful people?

Because a single move from them can shift the local landscape and affect thousands of lives.

Good or bad, politicians must take it seriously.

In a warm, comfortable room, Eminence’s mayor, his secretary, and his staff sat with cheerful smiles, chatting with Lynch.

None of them treated the thousands of jobs as a small matter. Their enthusiastic demeanor made it easy to forget that they weren’t like this in other settings.