Whatever you need, ma’am, to clear the air between us.”

“Quiet, Carter,” General Vance ordered.

Evan shut his mouth so fast his teeth clacked together.

“Give me your official military ID card,” General Vance said, holding out two thick fingers into the narrow space between them.

Evan reached into his back pocket for his leather wallet with fingers so shaky that he dropped a plastic coffee punch card onto the gray carpet.

He stooped hurriedly, picked it up with a mumbled apology, and took out his green defense ID card.