“Copy that, Captain,” I said.

Holt turned and walked back toward the command office, leaving me by myself in the armory.

The harsh fluorescent lights bounced off the polished linoleum floor and the dark nylon straps of my body armor.

Tomorrow morning there would be no clean civilian suits, no polished boardroom presentations, and no quiet deals made behind closed doors.

I stood perfectly still in the hushed armory, looking at my official desert camouflage uniform laid out next to my tactical field gear.

I pulled the canvas sleeve over my left arm and stepped out into the damp morning air.