Starting from South America, speeding through the world

Chapter 178 Sword of Damocles

Washington, northwest corner of DuPont Roundabout.

Temporary traffic guidance was set up at the street intersection.

Outside the cordon, a few scattered passersby and several stationary news vans were gathered.

The red brick building originally belonged to a think tank and was built in the 1960s.

It has now been requisitioned by the election team as a temporary contact point.

The reception room is located on the second floor, and all the windows have been temporarily sealed off, and even the explosion-proof layer has been reinforced.

Hollen arrived at 10 a.m.

He did not bring any entourage.

He pushed open the door and entered alone.

Inside the room, more than ten people had gathered, all of whom were familiar faces.

Everyone was dressed in their most formal attire, congratulating each other with joyful gestures, but their expressions betrayed their exhaustion, as if they hadn't slept all night.

Of course, given yesterday's madness, I really didn't get much sleep.

But today, they still came—

Suits, hair wax, leather shoes, ties, brooches.

It's as if by dressing according to the rules of a "victory occasion," one can forget the corpses on Wall Street.

"Horen," someone spoke first, raising their glass.

"Good morning," another added, his voice slightly unsteady. "We did it."

"At least on paper."

"No, it's more solid than on paper. This morning, the validity of the election was publicly acknowledged."

In just a few words, it was as if three different personalities were conversing.

Hollen smiled and gestured, remaining standing still.

He glanced around and saw many people holding champagne, smiling quite naturally.

But no one dared to stand by the window.

They are very far away.

They were afraid that a bullet might fly in from somewhere.

"Rogers hasn't arrived yet?" Hollen asked.

"He was being interviewed by several media outlets downstairs," someone replied. "He said he wanted to appear as normal as possible to give the public confidence."

"pretty good idea."

As Hollen spoke, he took a few steps forward.

Avoid the most crowded areas and stand next to the tea tray.

The coffee in the porcelain pot was still steaming.

His plan quickly fell through.

A gray-haired woman stepped forward.

"Horen." She extended her hand warmly. "Long time no see."

You look great.

Hollen sighed inwardly, but smiled outwardly: "Sleeping late and waking up early, he can still barely stand."

At this moment, several other people also came over.

"The atmosphere here is nice today," the man said. "Much better than I expected."

"The media downstairs are not allowed in."

That's probably the main reason.

The gray-haired woman agreed, saying, "This location was indeed chosen very wisely."

"Small, enclosed, and controllable."

“Perfect for the celebration the day after tomorrow.”

“Michael said he wanted the pace to be more steady,” another person chimed in. “Have you guys looked at the process?”

"I only glanced at it. How many versions were revised?"

"The vice president is still offering his opinions," the man said quietly. "I'm not sure if I should talk for too long."

“It’s fine if she doesn’t talk,” the gray-haired woman shrugged. “Nobody’s here to see the vice president anyway.”

Upon hearing this, everyone chuckled lightly, then quickly moved on without leaving a trace.

"Just now, they were still changing the list of invitees."

"Some people reserved their spots very early on."

"But there are a few who haven't replied yet."

"for example?"

"They said they would send someone from Beford, but we can't get in touch with them now."

"Which Biford?" the gray-haired woman asked.

"The one in Seattle, with an oil and gas background."

“And Snyder.”

“Pioneers donated quite a lot at that event in Arizona last year.”

"He was absent this time?"

"Unfortunately, he was on Wall Street yesterday."

As soon as he finished speaking, everyone fell silent.

The relaxed atmosphere vanished instantly.

In this oppressive silence, Hollen suddenly felt nauseous.

The awkwardness lasted for a while longer.

After a long pause, someone cleared their throat and tentatively asked, "Um...did they remove steak from the menu?"

"It seems so, they've changed it to fish?"

"Yes, I remember." The topic was thus reluctantly diverted.

But Hollen didn't say anything more.

Natalie's face kept appearing in my mind—

And there was the previous bombing.

His intuition told him that this group of people were the perpetrators of the Wall Street massacre.

Cruel, bloody, and shocking.

They don't make a fuss, they don't publicize, and they don't repeat themselves.

Achieving the most unimaginable effect through a simple, rapid massacre that leaves no room for interpretation.

Then it vanished without a trace.

"The Sword of Damocles".

This word suddenly popped into my mind.

No longer a symbol in Greek fables, but a real, imminent threat.

Death hangs like a sword over our heads.

Without a sound or warning, it could fall at any moment.

Realizing this, Hollen's throat suddenly went dry.

No one present was aware of this.

No one knew that the fear of his own daughter was gradually eroding his rationality.

The gray-haired woman was the first to notice Hollen's unusual behavior.

However, mistaking that for dissatisfaction with the current topic, she presumptuously offered a compliment:

"Actually, I've always thought Natalie's performance was remarkable."

"The day she came out of the building, the whole office stopped to watch the live broadcast."

"Professional, determined, and never backing down."

Seeing this, the others chimed in:

"Yes, it's been a long time since I've seen a scene like that."

"The public needs this kind of symbol."

Immediately, praises rose and fell.

They are diverse and incredibly creative.

Hollen listened, not wanting to interrupt and risk arousing suspicion.

As a result, my posture became even more stiff.

Just then, footsteps sounded behind them.

He suddenly turned his head—

It's Rogers.

The future 48th president.

The man was wearing a dark suit, no tie, and holding an opened bottle of water.

"Sorry for eavesdropping," he said with a smile. "But... everyone mentioned Natalie?"

“Yes,” Hollen said, trying to remain calm. “Everyone is concerned about her.”

“Very good.” Rogers nodded. “I was also thinking that if she could show up tonight, it would have a good effect.”

“She hasn’t been in good shape lately,” Hollen instinctively refused, then paused for a moment and added, “She might not be suitable for this kind of occasion.”

Rogers, however, did not budge.

“We don’t need her to speak.”

"Even just showing up is enough."

"She might not be ready yet."

“Then go and have a good talk with her.” Rogers stared at Hollen, his voice still gentle. “She is still your daughter after all.”

Sensing the determination in his tone, Hollen remained silent for a few seconds before finally agreeing.

"Okay, I'll tell Natalie that everyone is looking forward to her joining."

Upon hearing this, Rogers patted him on the shoulder and quietly thanked him.

He then raised his head, looked at everyone present, and said loudly:
"We are in an unprecedented and special period."

Not all states are ready.
Not everyone is willing to believe that the election is truly over.

He paused, his gaze sweeping over each face.

"Therefore, the day after tomorrow is very important."