“He’ll get fifteen minutes on that stage before you walk in.”

“Then he’ll say whatever he came there to say,” I said.

“And Matty will have to sit there and hear it,” Kenneth said.

I glanced in the rearview mirror.

On the back seat my wooden service chest sat strapped down under a heavy nylon web strap, its brass hinges shining in the pale daylight.

Inside it were my official Master Chief credentials, my service record folder and the little velvet box with my Bronze Star medal.

“Matty knows exactly who I am,” I said.