I left the container and crossed the gravel compound toward the admin tent.

The dry air smelled of diesel exhaust and hot dust.

Vance was sitting at his oak desk at the back of the tent.

He was going through a stack of printed duty rosters.

I put my canvas bag on the folding table beside his desk.

“You’re up early,” Vance said without lifting his eyes from his paperwork.

“I’ve been putting the financial records together all night, sir,” I said.

Vance laid his pen down on the oak desk.