“Understood, Admiral. We will patch him through as soon as you are airborne.”

“Thank you,” I said and ended the call.

I looked out the window of the sedan.

Rain began to splat against the glass in heavy, slow drops.

“Miller,” I said.

“Yes, Admiral?”

“Tell the flight crew we need to wheels up the moment we arrive.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Miller tapped on his secure tablet, his fingers moving quickly.

The sedan accelerated down the highway, passing the exit for the commercial airport.

We were heading to Joint Base Andrews.

My phone vibrated again.

The screen showed my sister Caroline’s name.

I let it ring until it went to voicemail.

Two seconds later, it rang again.

This time it was my father.

I put the phone on silent and slid it into my pocket.

The grey concrete of the highway blurred past.

Ten minutes later, we approached the security gate at Andrews.

The guard at the gate saw the blue staff car and the flag officer plate covered by its leather sheath.

He stood at attention and saluted.

Miller showed our credentials.