The brass hinges groaned under the sudden pressure.

Major Cross stepped into the office first, her black leather heels clicking sharply on the linoleum floor.

Behind her came General Albright, his uniform immaculate, his gray hair cropped close to his skull.

Captain Merritt remained in the doorway, his hand resting near his sidearm, his eyes scanning the corners.

“Mr. Vance,” General Albright said, his voice level.

“General,” Vance replied, keeping his hands flat on his desk.

“We have reason to believe an unauthorized person is in this suite,” Albright said.

He looked around the small room, his eyes lingering on the blue fabric screen.

“There is only me, sir,” Vance said, his voice remarkably steady.

“Do not lie to the General, Vance,” Cross said.

She stepped toward the desk, her eyes scanning the neat piles of manila folders.

“Where is the visitor log?” she asked.

“It has been filed,” Vance said.

“Retrieve it,” she said.

“I cannot do that without a written order from the Archivist of the United States,” Vance said.

Cross tightened her jaw, the skin around her mouth turning white.