“Look at her unit patch.”

“I don’t care about her patch, Mason,” Evan snapped, refusing to look away from me.

“I care about people wearing rank they didn’t earn in front of active infantry.”

Over Evan’s left shoulder, at the mouth of the carpeted jet bridge corridor, a tall figure walked into the main gate area.

The man wore a dark green Army service dress uniform, tailored so perfectly that not one wrinkle showed across his shoulders.

Four gold stars shone bright and sharp on each side of his dress collar under the fluorescent terminal lights.