He had to change his approach.
He had to attack the man's spirit.
"Mr. Wallace."
Cole folded his hands on the table, his tone softening.
"We've been sitting here for seventeen hours."
"I'm looking at you, and I can see your exhaustion."
"And I can't help but wonder—and I think I speak for everyone here, as well as the viewers at home when I ask this..."
Cole's gaze locked onto Leo.
"What is it you're really after, fighting so desperately like this?"
"You're only in your thirties. You could be on Wall Street making a fortune, or you could be a respected professor at a university."
"But instead, you're sitting here, enduring our questions, enduring this inhuman torment."
"Is it for your own political ambition?"
"Are you using Pittsburgh as a stepping stone to land some cushy job in Washington, or maybe even to take my seat one day?"
"Or is it just to satisfy some vain desire to play the hero?"
It was a question aimed straight at the heart.
