I held up my hands. “I don’t have a good pension coming in. I can save money by using some of my contacts with the military and catching one of their flights.”

Roche said, “They gave us a stipend to travel.”

“Which I’m going to save and send home to my mom for medical expenses.”

Stout slapped me on the back. “You’re a good kid. I hope you can stay out of trouble in Afghanistan.”

I caught a series of Greyhound buses to get to Dover, Delaware. That’s where I was promised a flight to Bagram Air Base. We had to stop in Germany on the way, and I wasn’t guaranteed plush seats or a specific timeline. But it was free.

I showed my paperwork from Non-Metric Solutions at the gate to Dover Air Force Base. The airman standing guard was more impressed by my Navy ID and the fact that I had actually served in the military.

I waited in the tiny terminal and noticed a group of elderly people, as well as a few service members, starting to fill the area. As I sat there watching the crowd grow, an Army master sergeant, about thirty years old, took the seat next to me. She looked at the crowd, then back at me, and said, “I can tell the difference between a contractor and a tourist.”

I smiled. She was attractive with blond hair tied up tight to her head like the military preferred. She said, “Every time I travel to Europe on a C-17 there are at least a dozen retired service members and their spouses grabbing free airfare to Germany. If you’re not on a schedule, and you don’t mind the web seats, it’s a great deal.”

“What makes you think I’m not a tourist, too?”

“You’re twenty years too young to be a retiree, look to be in good shape, and you’ve got everything packed in a military duffel. Let me guess, you were in the service, got out, and life’s not as exciting or you don’t make enough money. Usually one of the two. You’re now a contractor.”

“What are you? An Army psychologist?”

She held out her hand. “Vicki Jensen, logistics.”

I shook her hand. “You got me. Mitchum, Non-Metric Solutions.”

“Is Mitchum your first name or your last?”

I smiled again. “Both.”

That seemed to satisfy the master sergeant. She said, “Headed to Bagram?”

I nodded.

“There are a ton of contractors there. From all over the world. There’s not a lot to do.”

“I’m from upstate New York. There’s not that much to do there, either.”

She had a dazzling smile. “Sounds like you’re going to work out just fine.”

“What’s the worst that could happen? They don’t like me and send me home? I can deal with that.”