The rain was still falling outside the car window.

Leo Wallace hung up the phone.

The light from the phone screen died, plunging the car back into darkness. Only the fleeting shadows of passing streetlights cast mottled patterns across his face.

Sanders had given him his bottom line, and he had given him his list.

It was a "safe" list.

Deputy secretaries, assistant secretaries, policy advisors.

These people might sympathize with Pittsburgh, they might even agree with the Progressives’ ideals, but they all played by the rules.

Relying on this group, getting through that damned administrative review process would take a month at the very least.

Leo didn’t have a month. He only had twelve days.

He had to find a shortcut.

He had to find the one person who could make the final call—someone who could ignore the rules and tear a hole straight through this massive bureaucratic machine.

’Mr. President.’

Leo broke the silence in his mind.

’I’ve seen Sanders’s list. Those people can’t save Pittsburgh. They can’t handle anything urgent.’

Leo’s gaze drifted to the pitch-black night outside.

’Who exactly are we going to see once we get to Washington?’

His thoughts carried a natural sense of expectation.

In his mind, Franklin Roosevelt was omniscient and omnipotent.

The ghost had once ruled that city for twelve years. He knew every brick, the path of every sewer line, and even the secrets hidden between the walls of the White House.

’You must have someone in mind, right?’

Leo pressed.

’Is it the current White House Chief of Staff? Or some shadow advisor with real power in the Transportation Department? Or maybe a super-lobbyist hidden in some K Street office building, someone even Sanders wouldn’t dare to provoke?’

’Just give me a name. No matter who it is, no matter the cost, I’ll go knock on their door.’

Leo waited for the name.

He waited for Roosevelt to do as he always did: to toss out a precise coordinate with that master strategist’s tone and then tell him how to storm the fortress.

However, he was met with silence.

The silence stretched on, the only sound the rumble of the wheels against the road.

’Mr. President?’ Leo frowned.

Finally, the familiar voice responded in his mind.

But this time, it lacked its usual all-controlling confidence.

The voice was calm, so calm it felt hollow.

’I don’t know.’

Leo froze.

He thought he must have misheard, or perhaps the daze he was in had created some kind of static in his consciousness.

’What?’

Leo asked back in his mind, his tone filled with utter disbelief.

’What did you say?’

’I said, I don’t know.’

Roosevelt repeated.

Those three words slammed into Leo’s consciousness, shattering the certainty and expectation he’d felt just moments before.

Leo felt his heart clench violently.

’Are you kidding me?’

Leo’s mental voice grew frantic.

’You told me to go to Washington. You told me to charge into that alligator pit. You had me stake the entire fate of Pittsburgh on this trip. And now, when the car is already on the way to the airport, you’re telling me you don’t know who we’re supposed to find?’

Panic began to spread through Leo’s mind.

’You’re Roosevelt! You’re the man who built the prototype for the modern United States Government! How could you possibly not know?’

’Leo.’

Roosevelt interrupted him, pulling Leo into his mental space.

’Look at me.’

In Leo’s mental space, the giant in the wheelchair looked up.

’I am a ghost from 1945.’

’When I died, this country had no interstate highways, no internet, no damn YouTube. Back then, Washington only had two million people. Everyone lived in Georgetown, and we’d all drink at the same clubs at night.’

’I knew everyone back then. I knew General Marshall liked to ride his horse in the morning. I knew Director Hoover’s dirty little secrets. I knew which Senator was in gambling debt and which judge had a mistress.’

’That was my era.’

Roosevelt’s voice paused.

’But it’s the twenty-first century now, Leo. That city has changed.’

’The rooms we once used for secret dealings are now transparent glass conference rooms. The district party bosses who once controlled the votes have been replaced by data firms that control algorithms. The deals that once took a few phone calls to close now require dozens of lawyers to review thousands of pages of contracts.’

’That old map of power is long expired.’

’I don’t know who sits in the White House Chief of Staff’s seat now. I don’t know who the Transportation Secretary’s grandfather is. I don’t know which lobbying firm calls the shots on K Street these days.’

’I’m not an omniscient god, Leo. I’m just an outdated old politician.’

Leo slumped back into the rear seat of the car.

The rain outside seemed to fall even harder. Dense drops hammered against the glass, blurring the outside world into a chaotic mess.

He felt a level of anxiety he had never known before.

All this time, he’d thought he had an omniscient GPS.

No matter what trouble he faced, all he had to do was ask, ’Mr. President,’ and an answer would appear.

But now, the GPS was malfunctioning.

The screen displayed "Unknown Area."

"Then what are we going there for?"

A thread of despair laced Leo’s voice.

"We’re like two blind men stumbling into a forest full of landmines. We don’t even know where the mines are buried, let alone who’s holding the detonator."