He reached into his breast pocket and produced a small, velvet-covered box, holding it out to me with both hands.
“There must be some mistake,” Gladys blurted out. She was pushing her way through the crowd, her heels clicking frantically against the hardwood floor. Her face was flushed, a panicked, forced laugh escaping her throat. “Sir, I think you have the wrong person. Andrea left the military. She works in an office in Virginia now. She couldn’t handle the deployments.”
The Commander didn’t even look at her. He didn’t flinch. He kept his eyes locked respectfully on me, his expression turning to stone.
“I work at the Pentagon, Gladys,” I said smoothly, taking the velvet box from the Commander. “In the Office of Naval Intelligence.”
“But… the roster,” Gladys stammered, looking around at the townspeople as if begging them to back her up. “Your name wasn’t on the public promotion lists!”
“When you are transferred to a classified command advisory role for the Joint Chiefs,” the Commander finally said, his voice laced with heavy, unmistakable authority, “you disappear from the public roster, ma’am. Captain Montgomery is one of the highest-ranking intelligence directors in the United States Armed Forces. The Navy does not advertise her movements to the general public.”
Gladys’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. The tray of drinks she was holding trembled so violently that a glass tipped over, spilling dark soda onto her expensive shoes. She didn’t even notice.
I reached into my coat pocket and pulled out the plain, smooth card I had been fingering all day. I flipped it open. Inside were my new military ID and the heavy, gleaming silver eagles of an O-6.
My father was off the stage now. He moved through the parted crowd, his face pale, his eyes wide as he stared at the silver eagles, and then up at me.
