Chapter 2 - Thirty Pieces of Paper
By noon, Varenne’s order had become the only thing anyone on the base talked about.
Soldiers were called into offices one at a time.
No group discussion.
No shared notes.
No phones.
Write what you saw.
Sign it.
Turn it in.
Varenne apparently believed isolation would frighten people into obedience.
Léa saw something else.
Independent statements.
Separate handwriting.
Separate memories.
Separate witnesses.
Thomas found her inside a records room sorting vehicle inspection sheets.
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Enjoying what?”
“Watching him dig.”
She glanced at him.
“He isn’t buried yet.”
Thomas shut the door.
“They’re pressuring people.”
Léa stopped sorting.
“How?”
“Sergeant Mullins wrote that Varenne ordered you to remove your bars. Captain Rhodes gave it back to him.”
“And?”
“Told him to reconsider his wording.”
Léa’s eyes hardened.
“Did Mullins change it?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Three others did.”
Léa turned toward the window.
Outside, soldiers crossed the compound carrying folders.
“Then we need the originals.”
“How?”
The door opened.
Sergeant Inès Laurent entered.
She checked the hallway before closing it.
“I need to tell you something.”
Thomas leaned against a cabinet.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“I meant worried.”
“I know what you meant.”
Inès faced Léa.
“This isn’t the first time.”
Léa waited.
Inès rubbed her palms together.
“Two years ago, during a night training exercise, Private Daniel Mercer got hurt.”
“How badly?”
“Broken hip. Cracked ribs. Shoulder damage.”
Thomas remembered.
“Mercer fell off an armored carrier.”
Inès looked at him.
“That’s the official story.”
Silence.
Léa stepped closer.
“What happened?”
Inès swallowed.
“The vehicle moved while he was climbing onto it.”
“Driver error?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“The brake released.”
Thomas frowned.
“That model has redundant braking.”
“It’s supposed to.”
Léa’s attention sharpened.
Inès continued.
“Mercer had reported a brake problem that afternoon. The vehicle should have been taken out of service.”
“Who put it back in?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you saw the accident.”
“Yes.”
“And you wrote it in your statement.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“My report disappeared.”
Thomas stopped leaning against the cabinet.
“Disappeared?”
“A week later I was shown the official investigation file. My name was on a report saying Mercer slipped because he ignored safety instructions.”
Léa stared at her.
“You signed it?”
“No.”
“The signature?”
“Mine.”
Inès took out her phone.
“But I learned something from my father a long time ago.”
“What?”
“Never hand over the only copy.”
She opened a hidden photo folder.
A document appeared.
The original report.
Photographed on a desk.
Date visible.
Signature visible.
Every line readable.
Léa took the phone.
The report described a mechanical failure.
It described Mercer shouting that the brake pedal had dropped to the floor earlier that day.
It described Varenne arriving after the accident and ordering everyone away from the vehicle.
At the bottom was another handwritten note.
REFUSE THE SANCTION DEMANDED BY VARENNE.
Below it:
CAPTAIN A. DELCOURT.
Thomas swore softly.
“Delcourt?”
Captain Adrian Delcourt was Varenne’s operations officer.
His closest adviser.
The man who seemed to know every order before it was issued.
The man who had spent the last month watching Léa every time she entered headquarters.
Léa zoomed in.
Thomas looked over her shoulder.
“So Delcourt knew?”
“Maybe.”
“He could be part of it.”
“Maybe.”
Inès shook her head.
“The note sounds like he protected Mercer.”
“Or protected himself,” Thomas said.
Léa said nothing.
She enlarged the photograph further.
There was a small line near the bottom of the page.
A reference number.
MX-4417-B.
Her breathing stopped.
Thomas noticed.
“What is it?”
Léa took the muddy report from inside her jacket.
She opened it to page three.
One of the maintenance discrepancies was highlighted.
A brake assembly replacement.
Vehicle 4417.
No work order.
No mechanic signature.
No parts receipt.
She looked back at Inès’s photograph.
MX-4417-B.
Same vehicle.
Same missing maintenance history.
Two years apart.
Thomas whispered, “That can’t be a coincidence.”
“No.”
Léa stared at the photograph again.
Then she noticed something else.
At the bottom corner.
Almost cut off by the picture.
ATTACHMENT 3 — VIDEO TRANSFER CONFIRMATION.
Léa looked at Inès.
“Where’s Attachment Three?”
Inès went pale.
“I never saw it.”
A voice came from behind them.
“I did.”
All three spun around.
Captain Adrian Delcourt was standing inside the records room.
Nobody had heard the door open.
His eyes moved to Inès’s phone.
May you like
Then to Léa.
“Give me the phone.”
