Washington D.C., 1789 Restaurant, next to Georgetown University.
Ten minutes past noon.
Pushing open the door to the private room, Sterling found George Vance already seated inside.
Sterling had arrived a deliberate ten minutes late. He wore a finely tailored dark blue suit with a silk handkerchief tucked into his breast pocket, a calm smile gracing his face.
In contrast to Sterling's confident air, Vance looked somewhat haggard.
The bags under his eyes were deep, the result of several consecutive sleepless nights spent on public relations.
Though he still wore an expensive, custom-made suit, the anxiety radiating from him was like a damp shirt he couldn't take off.
"Good afternoon, George."
Sterling pulled out a chair and sat down, casually picking up the menu.
"The crab cakes here are good. Would you like to order some?"
Vance didn't answer.
In front of him sat a lone glass of soda water, the ice cubes half-melted.
"Cut the pleasantries, Sterling."
