Chapter 4 - THE ENEMY IN UNIFORMBriggs spent six hours in an interview room.
By evening, he was released.
Not cleared.
Released.
The fingerprints on the knife belonged to him, but that proved little because it was his knife. No usable prints from anyone else had survived.
Security footage from the equipment shed had mysteriously gone dark for eleven minutes around midnight.
Avery disliked coincidences.
Four days at Fort Grafton had produced far too many of them.
She met Colonel Vale after sunset.
“The camera outage wasn't technical,” he said.
“You verified?”
“Someone entered the server locally.”
“Who has access?”
“Six people.”
“Briggs?”
“No.”
That mattered.
“Pierce?”
“Yes.”
Avery looked at Vale.
“You trust him?”
“I trust evidence.”
“So do I.”
The six names included Pierce, two communications technicians, the course executive officer Major Daniel Mercer, logistics supervisor Chief Warrant Officer Keller, and senior instructor Master Sergeant Owen Rourke.
Avery recognized Rourke.
Quiet man.
Forty-seven.
Well respected.
He had been one of the few people who didn't laugh during Briggs's demonstration.
“What do we know about Rourke?”
“Twenty-five years service. Near retirement. Clean record.”
“Those are credentials, not answers.”
Vale nodded.
“We're checking everyone.”
Avery reviewed the list.
Major Mercer had arrived at Grafton nine months ago.
The sabotage pattern began six months ago.
Possible.
Keller controlled equipment.
Obvious access.
Possible.
Pierce supervised the course.
Possible.
And Rourke had enough experience to know exactly how to create failures that looked accidental.
Also possible.
Everybody was possible.
That was the problem.
A knock came at the door.
Briggs entered.
Vale looked annoyed.
“I told you to return to quarters.”
Briggs closed the door.
“With respect, sir, somebody planted evidence on me.”
“Yes.”
“And somebody nearly dropped Specialist Cole off a platform using equipment I'd signed off.”
“Yes.”
“Then I'm not sitting in my room waiting for the next thing they blame on me.”
Vale stared at him.
“This is not a negotiation.”
Briggs turned toward Avery.
“You believe I cut that harness?”
“I believe you enjoyed trying to kick my head off.”
“That isn't what I asked.”
“No.”
Briggs waited.
Avery continued.
“I don't think you cut it.”
His shoulders lowered slightly.
Vale looked between them.
“This partnership is not happening.”
Avery said, “It might need to.”
Briggs appeared surprised.
Vale looked even less pleased.
Avery explained her reasoning.
Whoever was behind the sabotage had successfully turned Briggs into the obvious suspect.
That meant Briggs possessed one advantage.
The saboteur believed he was isolated.
“Use that,” Avery said.
Briggs frowned.
“How?”
“Act guilty.”
He almost laughed.
“I already do that naturally, apparently.”
“Start angry. Accuse people. Tell them you're being railroaded.”
“Not difficult.”
“Then mention you're going to inspect old training logs because you're proving somebody else touched the equipment.”
Vale understood.
“Bait.”
Avery nodded.
“Someone may react.”
Briggs looked toward her.
“You trust me enough for this?”
“No.”
“Good talk.”
“But I trust that you don't want to spend your career explaining why your knife was beside a sabotaged harness.”
“Now you're speaking my language.”
The plan began the following morning.
Briggs performed beautifully.
Possibly too beautifully.
He shouted at two instructors.
Complained loudly at breakfast.
Announced that he intended to “tear apart every equipment record on this base.”
By noon, everyone knew.
At 1340, someone entered the archive room.
Avery watched remotely with Vale.
Master Sergeant Rourke.
He remained inside four minutes.
When he left, Avery was already moving.
She intercepted him outside Building 18.
“Sergeant.”
Rourke stopped.
“Ma'am.”
“You looking for something?”
“Training records.”
“Which ones?”
“Last quarter.”
“Why?”
“Pierce asked.”
Avery's eyes narrowed.
“Did he?”
Rourke smiled faintly.
“You can ask him.”
“I will.”
Rourke started to leave.
Avery blocked his path.
“You know Briggs is pulling the same records.”
“I heard.”
“Does that concern you?”
“Should it?”
“No.”
“Then I guess we're done.”
He stepped around her.
Avery watched him disappear.
Pierce hadn't sent Rourke.
That was confirmed three minutes later.
But when investigators entered the archive room, nothing appeared missing.
No destroyed records.
No altered documents.
Then Briggs noticed something.
One filing drawer had been left slightly open.
Inside were reports from training cycles four years earlier.
Not recent.
Avery pulled the first folder.
Ridge Phase.
Equipment malfunction.
One injured.
Second folder.
Urban extraction exercise.
Safety rope failure.
Two injured.
Third folder.
Vehicle training.
Brake-line defect.
One hospitalized.
All four years ago.
All at another base.
Fort Hamilton Ridge.
Avery read the instructor roster.
Her stomach tightened.
Master Sergeant Owen Rourke.
Sergeant First Class Wade Briggs.
Captain Harlan Pierce.
Briggs stared at the page.
“I forgot Pierce was there.”
“So did I,” Pierce said behind them.
Everyone turned.
Pierce looked pale.
Avery lifted another document.
One name appeared repeatedly in the reports.
Staff Sergeant Michael Danner.
A former instructor who had reported suspected sabotage.
He disappeared six weeks later.
Listed as AWOL.
Avery looked at Vale.
“Where is Danner?”
Vale made a phone call.
Twenty minutes later, he had the answer.
Michael Danner had never returned to military service.
His vehicle had been found abandoned in Arizona.
No body.
No confirmed sighting.
Nothing for four years.
Briggs sat down slowly.
“I remember him.”
“What do you remember?” Avery asked.
“He kept saying somebody was messing with equipment.”
“Did you believe him?”
Briggs looked ashamed.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because Rourke told us Danner had a drinking problem.”
Everyone turned toward the door Rourke had walked through.
Avery felt the investigation shift.
Not toward an answer.
Toward something older.
Something that had survived for years.
That night, Avery returned to her room.
Another note waited beneath her door.
May you like
This time, it contained one sentence.
DANNER WAS RIGHT.
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