“You’ve got the look of a Little Creek operator,” Vance said in a deep, slow growl.

“Master Chief Sarah Merrick,” I said, laying Wyler’s challenge letter on the glass.

“I need three minutes of your time.”

Vance took a pair of reading glasses out of his shirt pocket, opened them slowly, and read Wyler’s typed challenge.

He read the second paragraph twice without moving his head.

When he got to the signature at the bottom, he stopped.

His palm pressed hard against the dark wood of the table.