The flight from Pittsburgh to Houston took three hours and twenty minutes.
Leo leaned back in his seat. He flipped through the background information on the Energy Association one last time before closing the folder and slipping it into his briefcase.
"How do you plan to open?" Roosevelt's voice echoed in Leo's mind.
"Just be direct," Leo replied, closing his eyes. "There's no point beating around the bush with Sterling. He's seen too many people try that."
Roosevelt said nothing more. Outside the window, the clouds drifted backward beneath the aircraft's wings.
The National Energy Association owned an estate on the outskirts of Houston. Strictly speaking, it wasn't a grand estate, but rather a low-slung building sitting on a vast expanse of lawn. The exterior was made of dark brick, while the interior boasted the heavy, imposing style favored by oil tycoons—complete with fireplaces, leather sofas, and walls adorned with mounted antlers.
