Leo lowered his head, gazing at Vannevar. The proposal was indeed tempting.
He turned back, sat down, and gestured for Vannevar to continue.
As Leo settled into his seat, Vannevar exhaled in relief. He marveled at how young Leo was and yet how powerful—every gesture of his carried weight enough to sway others' emotions.
"Mr. Valentino, the corruption within the Committee for Scientific Progress is something I've personally witnessed. Many scientists devoted to advancing human progress are also deeply dissatisfied with them.
The problem is, those men have the backing of many powerful patrons, leaving us often at their mercy."
Vannevar spoke with frustration.
"Is that so, Mr. Bush? If I recall correctly, you were President Roosevelt's science advisor. Surely you know plenty of power brokers. In fact, to many, you yourself are a power broker."
Leo replied calmly.
"I do know many politicians," Vannevar admitted, "but in terms of wealth and influence, I am far beneath them. Take the chairman of the Committee, for example—he has deep ties with the Morgan and Rockefeller families."
Leo leaned back.
"So you want me to back you in some power struggle within the Committee. Sorry, Vannevar, but that would be a waste of my time. If you don't have a better plan, our meeting ends here."
"No, no, Mr. Valentino—you misunderstand. I am not asking you to help me grab power in the Committee. What I want is to rein in an institution that is spiraling out of control."
Vannevar hurriedly explained.
"Oh? Go on."
Leo's eyes narrowed.
"I want to establish a new department under Congress. I propose we call it the United States National Science Foundation. This body would directly determine the government's support for America's scientific community—its direction and its intensity.
With such an institution in place, we wouldn't even need to mention the Committee for Scientific Progress. They would naturally come to us. Whoever controls the funding, controls the Committee's power."
Where there are people, there are factions. Smart men and fools alike follow the same rules.
"So why bring this idea to me?"
Leo asked.
"Because everyone knows of your influence in Congress and with the President. To make this happen, your support is indispensable."
"You have your own friends. How many are in favor?"
Leo pressed.
"Quite a few," Vannevar said firmly. "We cannot allow Bell Labs to keep its monopoly. Since its founding in 1925, Bell Labs has grown unchecked, buying and selling patents, and its influence on America has only deepened.
Meanwhile, university laboratories across the country lack both equipment and funding compared to Bell. To change this, the state must intervene."
Vannevar's voice was filled with righteous indignation.
Leo smirked.
"So you want me to back you. But tell me, why shouldn't I take your entire plan and cut you out?"
"I've studied you, Mr. Valentino. They all say you're a man who rewards loyalty and punishes betrayal—but also a gentleman who keeps his word.
Besides, I'm not asking for this position without offering something in return. I've been so busy with other affairs that I hardly manage my own company. Luckily, my partner is exceptional. Under his leadership, my defense company has reached new heights."
Seeing Leo's skeptical look, Vannevar quickly clarified:
"Mr. Valentino, my company practically monopolizes radar production for the U.S. Navy, Army, and Air Force. It is a defense company with true core technology."
That caught Leo's interest.
"And the name of your company is…?"
"Raytheon," Vannevar said proudly.
Leo's eyes flickered. Of course he knew Raytheon. Though it hadn't yet become the behemoth of the future, it was already unmatched in radar technology. Clearly, Vannevar planned to use this as leverage for the chairmanship of the new foundation—laying the path for his family's transformation from scholars and small capitalists into a political dynasty.
Leo rose, shook his hand, and said:
"I'll look into it and get back to you."
True to his word, Leo returned to his room and phoned Thomas.
Thomas's response matched Vannevar's story: most congressmen indeed believed letting private research institutions run unchecked was a mistake.
"So we can push this through?"
Leo asked.
"Not so simple," Thomas replied. "The dissatisfaction isn't as severe as Vannevar suggests. And creating this foundation would clearly aim to regulate both private labs and the Committee for Scientific Progress. Resistance will be strong.
You already burned much of your political capital pushing the National Housing Act. I fear that, rather than angering the Committee or Bell Labs, many congressmen would prefer to see you stumble."
Leo frowned, thinking for a while.
"What if the President pushes it?"
"That would help," Thomas admitted. "But Bell Labs is backed by AT&T, and behind AT&T stand the Morgans and Rockefellers. Do you think Harry wants to cross J.P. Morgan or David Rockefeller?
Jack Morgan was already displeased with him after the Pacific Real Estate affair. And now, with the Far East collapsing, President Truman is trapped in a web of diplomatic failures. Would he risk this now?"
Leo's eyes gleamed.
"All the more reason. Truman's foreign policy is crumbling; he needs a domestic win. The people may not understand limiting Bell Labs or the Committee, but they will understand if the government creates a National Science Foundation and establishes a network of public universities—affordable higher education for the many.
That would become his second great 'fairness policy,' after taking credit for my housing plan. He loves that sort of thing.
The glory can be his, but the real power must remain with us. For example, we recommend Vannevar Bush as chairman."
Thomas frowned.
"Bush is an old fox. How do you know you can control him?"
"Every man has a weakness," Leo smiled coldly. "And I know better than anyone how to find it."
"And the deputy chairman?"
Thomas asked.
At that moment, Leo was flipping through his little black notebook. His finger tapped repeatedly on a name: Alan Waterman—a physicist who once served in the Navy.
Years ago, stranded on a Pacific island conducting experiments, the locals mistook him for an evil sorcerer and nearly roasted him alive. Leo's squad had rescued him, only to discover he'd been secretly studying Manhattan Project data smuggled from a friend—serious misconduct.
To save his friend, Waterman had begged Leo to let it slide, and Leo had obliged. They hadn't spoken for years until recently, when Waterman reappeared at a Veterans' Committee banquet alongside Admiral Nimitz.
Grateful for the past, Waterman had pledged loyalty to Leo. Leo, however, knew the man was ambitious above all. Still, ambition was no flaw—lack of ambition was. With his Navy background and influence, he was the perfect choice for deputy chairman.
After hanging up, Leo closed his notebook and turned his attention back to Winona, who was working diligently under him. With a firm hand on her head, he quickened his pace.
The next day, as scientists departed Lynchburg, word of Leo's talk about a "third force" spread like wildfire.
"He's delusional," scoffed David Rockefeller inside the family's Manhattan brownstone.
"Indeed, overestimating himself," John Stillman sneered.
But neither of them spoke for the entire military–industrial complex.
"John," David asked, "the reason I summoned you—how do we safeguard Citi's interests in the Far East?"
For the Rockefellers, the upheaval in Asia was alarming. Their fortunes there were too significant to lose.
John's face darkened. "Roosevelt chose a fool. Harry dislikes him but must still support him. With the finest equipment, he still managed to lose. An idiot!"
"I didn't call you here to whine. I asked what we should do."
David snapped.
"Hong Kong," John said curtly.
"That tiny place? It can't hold all our wealth in the East."
David scoffed.
"No, but some losses are inevitable. David, have you heard? Douglas MacArthur has a plan."
"A plan?" David raised a brow.
"To stir up the Far East. It could help us reclaim our fortunes, block the Red threat from Siberia, and cripple a certain nuisance at home—all at once."
David's eyes lit up.
"MacArthur? Is he capable? Will the military–industrial families fully support him?"
"That depends. But Leo's growing involvement with defense contractors has alarmed many. He's too dangerous, too greedy. That makes him a common enemy.
More importantly, with the war over, the arms industry needs a new conflict. They need to create an enemy, so America will keep pouring money into defense. Churchill's speech alone won't suffice."
David's curiosity faded. He already understood John's angle.
"MacArthur alone can't start a war. I need to know who else is in on this before I commit."
"That's against the rules, David. Only participants are told the roster."
David leaned in coldly.
"I am a Rockefeller. Rules don't apply to me. I will know."
John hesitated, then finally spat it out:
"The Mellons."
David chuckled.
"Paul Mellon? That art-loving dilettante? Don't waste my time."
"Paul was forced into it. The real driver is the DuPont family."
"DuPont is huge. Which DuPont?"
"William DuPont—one of the three heads. He runs their munitions."
David sneered.
"That hot-tempered mule. And the Morgans?"
"They're not in," John admitted, "but I hear Roland is scheming something. David, are you in? This isn't just about Leo—it's about safeguarding our Far East fortune. Even if it fails, the arms profits alone will be immense."
David shook his head slowly.
"This is no small matter. For the Rockefellers, it must be discussed by the whole family."
"Your family doesn't share power, David. You are the heir. The decision is yours."
John tried to prod him.
"That's exactly why I must show restraint. I'll discuss it, then call you."
John left, reflecting that David had grown since his last setback. Looking up at a portrait of John D. Rockefeller, he sighed—how lucky the Rockefellers were, with capable brothers all around. By contrast, his own heirs were either dead or hopeless.
After John's departure, David did not summon his family. He wasn't particularly concerned. The Far East was valuable, but bringing a nation to heel was no easy feat.
Leo's "third force" was laughable, but David agreed with one point: America's gaze must turn to the world.
Just days earlier, news had arrived from California-Arabian Standard Oil in the Middle East. The 1930 estimate of reserves there had been far too conservative. The true oil wealth was astronomical.
The real gold mine was in the Middle East. As for the Far East? David no longer cared.
His secretary entered.
"Sir, the plane is ready whenever you are."
Onboard, as New York shrank beneath him, David sipped his wine and thought:
I won't join this petty struggle. Greater riches await me—in the Middle East.