"They only want a few promises."
A broker whom ordinary people did not know sat across from Mr. Truman. A cigarette was held between his fingers, and he spoke with a very distinctive confidence.
In Bu Peien, not just anyone could be called a "broker." Those who were given such titles usually possessed very special abilities.
Some knew many capitalists. On ordinary days, they were either dining with one billionaire or drinking with another.
In Bu Peien and even throughout the Federation, when it came to business matters, there was no trouble they could not solve—
They could provide you with any channel you needed. If you still could not solve the problem, that was not their fault. The fault lay with you.
Others were more familiar with politicians. Quite a few of them had once been active on the Federation's political stage. Their connections were extremely powerful; from inside the party to outside it, there was hardly anyone they could not influence.
Take the man sitting before Mr. Truman now, for example. He was not very tall and somewhat thin. His clothes and grooming were immaculate, giving him a distinctly unusual air.
He did not look like a pure politician. There was a touch more worldliness about him than most politicians possessed.
Nor did he resemble a capitalist. He gave off a sense of weight that capitalists rarely possessed.
He had called Mr. Truman on the phone, then walked in and sat down across from him.
Mr. Truman already understood what the "promises" this man referred to meant.
As long as he promised not to invoke Presidential Prerogative during the war and arbitrarily alter the Federation's political structure—including, but not limited to, curbing Congress's power—the congressmen would fully support Mr. Truman's appointment as the Federation's new president.
Yes, everyone