Chapter 4 - Locker Twelve
At 4:43 the next morning, Léa opened the old chapel.
Thomas stood outside watching the road.
Inès had been ordered to remain in the barracks.
The chapel had not hosted a service in nearly three years.
Dust covered the wooden benches.
A faded flag hung beside the altar.
Léa moved through a side door into the storage room.
Twelve metal lockers lined the wall.
She inserted Delcourt’s key.
Locker twelve opened.
Inside sat a brown envelope.
Nothing else.
Thomas entered.
“That’s his insurance?”
Léa removed the envelope.
Inside were six photocopied maintenance logs.
Three shipping manifests.
A flash drive.
And a handwritten list of serial numbers.
Thomas scanned the documents.
“These are vehicle parts.”
“Brake assemblies. Steering components. Transmission controllers.”
“Expensive.”
“Very.”
Léa picked up a manifest.
Twenty replacement brake assemblies had supposedly arrived at the base fourteen months earlier.
She knew the inventory.
Only eight had ever appeared in the warehouse.
Thomas read over her shoulder.
“Twelve missing.”
“Not missing.”
She turned to another page.
“Look.”
The same twelve serial numbers appeared on a shipping document from a civilian company called Kestrel Tactical Logistics.
Thomas frowned.
“They were sold?”
“It looks that way.”
“By who?”
The approval signature was unreadable.
But the authorization code was not.
Command-level access.
Léa plugged the flash drive into a small offline laptop Thomas had brought.
A video file appeared.
MERCER_4417.
Thomas whispered, “Jesus.”
They played it.
A mechanic crouched beside the armored vehicle.
He looked into the camera.
“Vehicle 4417. Brake pressure failure. Master assembly requires replacement. Vehicle is not safe for operation.”
Time stamp: 14:08.
Mercer’s accident had happened at 20:17.
The next file opened automatically.
A scanned maintenance sheet.
At 15:31, the unsafe status had been removed.
New entry:
SYSTEM CHECKED. NO DEFECT FOUND.
Technician signature:
J. MORAN.
Thomas shook his head.
“Moran was on leave that week.”
Léa knew.
Moran had been at his mother’s funeral in Arizona.
The signature was fake.
Another file contained server access records.
Someone had changed the maintenance status using an administrative account.
Léa leaned closer.
Username:
PSLOAN-RC.
Thomas stopped breathing.
“Major Sloan?”
The visiting Regional Command officer.
One of the two witnesses to her humiliation.
Léa stared at the screen.
“This account accessed the system two years ago.”
“So Sloan’s been involved the whole time.”
“Or someone used his credentials.”
“Come on, Léa.”
“Evidence first.”
Thomas exhaled angrily.
“Sometimes you make evidence sound like a religion.”
“Right now it’s the only thing keeping us alive.”
Her phone vibrated.
05:17.
A message from Inès.
They are already searching your room.
Léa looked at Thomas.
“Delcourt was wrong.”
“About what?”
“They didn’t wait until six.”
They packed everything.
As they stepped out of the chapel, a vehicle turned onto the road.
Headlights swept across them.
Thomas grabbed Léa’s arm.
“Back.”
Too late.
A military police truck stopped ten yards away.
Two MPs got out.
Behind them stepped Major Sloan.
His eyes went straight to the envelope in Léa’s hand.
“Lieutenant Beaumont.”
Nobody spoke.
Sloan smiled.
“You’re awake early.”
Léa held the envelope against her side.
“So are you.”
Sloan looked past her toward the chapel.
“What were you doing inside?”
“Praying.”
Thomas almost smiled.
Sloan did not.
His gaze settled on the key in her hand.
Then his radio crackled.
A voice came through.
“Major, we found the classified drive in Beaumont’s quarters.”
Sloan stared at Léa.
“Did you?”
Léa watched his face.
No surprise.
Not even a flicker.
That told her everything.
The drive had been planted.
Sloan raised one hand toward the MPs.
“Lieutenant Léa Beaumont, you are being detained pending investigation into unauthorized possession of classified material.”
Thomas stepped forward.
“This is garbage.”
“Sergeant Keller.”
Sloan’s voice sharpened.
“Move away.”
Thomas didn’t.
Léa handed him the brown envelope.
“Take this.”
Sloan’s eyes flashed.
“Do not.”
That was the confirmation she needed.
Léa shoved the envelope into Thomas’s chest.
“Go.”
An MP reached for him.
Thomas ran.
May you like
And Major Sloan shouted one word that turned the quiet morning into chaos.
“STOP HIM!”
