A suite in the Willard InterContinental Hotel, Washington D.C.
Outside the window, Pennsylvania Avenue glistened with a cold, oily sheen in the night rain.
Leo Wallace sat in the living room of the suite.
Documents were spread everywhere—on the coffee table, the sofa, the carpet.
They were the preparatory Q&A notes for the hearing on the "National Strategic Supply Chain Resilience and Regional Industrial Upgrade Act."
At ten o'clock tomorrow morning, he was scheduled to appear as a key witness before a special hearing of the Senate Appropriations Committee.
Pen in hand, Leo was marking up the two-hundred-page "List of Potential Questions."
BZZZT—
His phone, buried in a pile of documents, began to vibrate.
Leo glanced at the screen.
Frank Kovalsky.
It was two in the morning.
At this hour, Frank should have been asleep with his wife or, at the very least, dreaming about directing dockworkers to unload cargo.
Leo put down his pen and answered the call.
"Leo."
