A small clock on the wall over the gray metal filing cabinet ticked past sixteen eighteen.

An airport liaison staffer handed General Vance the room key, dipped her head politely, and stepped back out into the concourse, shutting the door firmly behind her.

General Vance walked straight to the dark desk against the back wall.

He set his dress cap on the corner of the desk, clasped his hands behind his back, and turned to face us at his full height.

“Line up along the wall,” General Vance said.