I.B.S. hall. Frank's running a meeting. Some baldo in the front row asks, "So all of that's on the table?" Frank says that there's money for the grain pier, and will be a bond issue to pay for "maintenance dredging on the main shipping channel." "But not the canal?" asks some other dude. Frank says no: "For that, we'll have to fight a little longer and dig a little deeper." Nat, in the audience, is dubious, and doesn't think they'll even get what they need for the grain pier. Frank says, "We spent the money and took our best shot. Hired a couple lobbyists, made some smart contributions, paid for a consultant's report to argue against some of the environmental stuff. It cost, but we're starting to see it." A third unidentified dude asks where Frank got all that money from, and Frank cracks that he's been robbing a couple of liquor stores each week. The guys give him a nice laugh on that one. Frank says that they actually got "help from the national office," and "timely donations from a few friends." He claims that they're likely to see the grain pier back up by the next year, which would mean a couple hundred more ships each year. "IF," barks Nat. "And it's a big fucking 'if,'" Frank concedes. Nat: "If that Polack motherfucker--" The white dudes in the room are all, "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" "No offense," says Nat quickly, clarifying that the Polack in question is Krawczyk, and that he could still fuck the union by getting his condos built before they can make the port improvements they want. Frank concedes that too: "The back-door threat is that Andy Kraw or some other developer gets enough last-minute votes to sink the rehab money for the grain pier -- 'cause those guys are looking at that location, too." Nat stands as he tells the guys that they need everyone making phone calls, and telling their legislators that the I.B.S. is watching them on this: "The money only goes so far. Now we gotta make some noise, right?" The guys are down with that. Frank ends the meeting and dismisses the guys who'll be working the next day to go to sleep, and the rest to get drunk. As everyone files out, Nat approaches Frank and, with a mix of amusement and dubiety (dubusement?") asks, "'Help from the national office,' huh? 'Timely donations from friends'?" Frank smiles dyspeptically. "Watch your ass, Frank," advises Nat. Oh, Frank doesn't have to watch his ass -- he's got a whole team doing that for him.