“His transfer is being processed,” Drummond said. “He is being reassigned to a minor logistics post in the Aleutians. His career in command is over.”

I nodded, feeling a strange lack of triumph.

It was justice, but it was only the first part.

“And my orders, sir?” I asked.

“They are signed,” Drummond said, pulling a leather folder from under his arm. “Your new high-level command post at the Pentagon is waiting.”

“You leave in forty-eight hours.”

He handed me the folder.

“Take tomorrow to settle your affairs,” Drummond said. “Then get to Washington. We need you there.”

“I will be ready, General,” I said.

“I know you will,” he said, tapping my shoulder before walking back toward the main crowd.

I looked at the leather folder in my hands, then felt the small envelope still hidden in my jacket pocket.

The Pentagon command post was a fresh start, a position of real power where I could no longer be silenced.

But the note about my father remained a thorn in my side.

I needed to know the truth before I left Norfolk.