I laid my desert camouflage trousers, tactical Kevlar vest, and helmet out on the narrow steel bench.

The navy blue leather notebook Ethan had handed me sat at the edge of the bench next to my brass military crest badge.

I took my M210 service rifle down from the storage rack and locked the bolt to the rear.

I pushed the bright orange plastic chamber safety flag through the open ejection port until it clicked into place, making the weapon completely inert.

In the left breast pocket of my tactical vest I tucked Arthur Vance’s forty-page certified financial dossier, together with my military active status ID card.