Chapter 2 - The Authority in the Room
"What did you just say to me?"
Major General Clayton Rook was still holding my folder.
I looked at his fingers before I looked at his face.
"Inspector General, sir."
"I heard you the first time."
"Then I assume we're clear about why I'm here."
His jaw tightened.
Behind him, thirty officers stood in various stages of discomfort.
Some were at attention.
Others were looking at the carpet, the ceiling, or anything that would keep them from making eye contact with me.
The captain who had whispered "Oh my God" was staring at the back of the general's head as though he expected it to explode.
Rook placed my folder on the conference table.
He didn't drop it.
He set it down carefully, which told me more about his state of mind than all the shouting in the world could have.
"Colonel Merrick, I am well aware of what the Inspector General does."
"Then we can skip the introduction."
A muscle moved beside his right eye.
"Are you threatening me?"
"No, sir."
"Because it sounds very much like you're threatening me in front of my command staff."
"I'm notifying you that this is a formal investigation and that your cooperation is required."
His eyes narrowed.
"On whose authority?"
I opened the folder.
The first page was a memorandum addressed to Major General Clayton Rook, commanding general of the fictional command I will call the Western Fires Training Command.
I had read that memorandum so many times during the flight that I could practically see it with my eyes closed.
The signature at the bottom belonged to the Secretary of the Army.
The general took one look at it and stopped breathing through his mouth.
For the first time since I had entered his conference room, he looked genuinely uncertain.
"This was supposed to be handled through my legal office," he said.
"It was."
"Then why are you standing here?"
"Because your legal office received the preservation directive in March."
"I know that."
"And the production order in April."
"I'm familiar with the correspondence."
"And a final written notice in June."
He didn't answer.
"Five months have passed, General."
"These things take time."
"Private Noelle Arredondo didn't have time."
The room went absolutely still.
Rook looked at me as though I had violated an unwritten rule.
Until that moment, we had been talking about procedures, credentials, and who had authority over whom.
Now there was a dead soldier in the conversation.
He hadn't wanted her there.
"That matter was reviewed," he said.
"Partially."
"It was reviewed."
"The original heat-condition log disappeared before the review team arrived."
His face remained composed.
"Administrative errors happen."
"The electronic backup disappeared two days later."
"Computers fail."
"The weather station maintenance records were altered."
"Colonel, you're making some serious accusations."
"No, sir."
I took another document from the folder.
"I'm identifying serious discrepancies."
He looked at the paper without touching it.
A colonel near the window shifted his weight.
I noticed.
So did Rook.
"Everyone out," the general said.
Nobody moved immediately.
He raised his voice.
"I said everyone out."
"Not yet, sir."
His head turned slowly.
"Excuse me?"
"I need everyone who was present for the briefing to remain available for identification and follow-up interviews."
"This is my command conference room."
"Yes, sir."
"And those are my officers."
"They are also potential witnesses."
I saw the precise moment he understood that his performance had created a problem he couldn't order out of existence.
Thirty witnesses had heard him mock a federal Army investigator.
Thirty witnesses had heard him threaten her career.
More importantly, thirty witnesses had watched him react when I mentioned the missing records.
His hand flattened against the table.
"You need to understand something about this installation, Colonel."
"I'm listening."
"Command authority isn't a classroom exercise."
"No, sir."
"Men and women die when decisions get delayed by people who have never had to make them."
I thought about a nineteen-year-old soldier lying on the ground while the temperature inside her body climbed past the point where human organs could tolerate it.
"I agree," I said.
That surprised him.
"Then perhaps we understand each other."
"Decisions matter."
I paused.
"And that's why we're going to establish who made the decision to keep marching on July eleventh."
The general's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
The confidence had not disappeared.
Something harder had replaced it.
He stepped closer.
"You're out of your depth."
"That possibility has been raised."
"You have no idea what you're walking into."
"That's why investigators ask questions."
He leaned toward me.
"I can make one phone call."
I closed my folder.
"So can I."
He straightened.
"Who do you think you are?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Instead, I turned toward the youngest officer in the room.
He wore captain's bars.
His nameplate read ELLIS.
"Captain Ellis."
He swallowed.
"Ma'am."
"Please identify the officer responsible for maintaining the training operations archive."
Rook turned toward him so sharply that the captain flinched.
"Don't answer that."
I kept my eyes on Ellis.
"Captain, you may request legal counsel if you believe an answer could expose you to criminal liability, but you are not prohibited from answering an ordinary administrative question simply because your commander dislikes it."
The captain's eyes moved between us.
His hands were trembling.
"Captain," Rook said.
There was a warning in that one word.
Ellis looked down at the table.
Then he looked at me.
"That would be Lieutenant Colonel Daniel Voss, ma'am."
"Where is Lieutenant Colonel Voss?"
"Currently on temporary duty."
"Where?"
A long silence followed.
Rook's voice cut through it.
"Captain Ellis, you're dismissed."
Ellis did not move.
I waited.
The captain took one shallow breath.
"Ma'am, Lieutenant Colonel Voss left the installation at zero six hundred this morning."
"Destination?"
Another silence.
Then Ellis said something that changed the direction of my investigation.
"Nobody knows."
Rook turned completely toward him.
"Captain."
Ellis stared straight ahead.
"His office was cleared out last night, sir."
The general's face hardened.
"That's enough."
But Captain Ellis wasn't finished.
"His wife called the duty desk at four this morning."
I felt a cold sensation move through my chest.
"What did she report?"
The captain looked at me.
"She said he left a message telling her that if anything happened to him, she should ask the Inspector General about July eleventh."
For the first time, Major General Clayton Rook had nothing to say.
Then the major by the coffee urn spoke.
"Ma'am?"
I turned.
He was still pale.
His nameplate read HOLLOWAY.
"There's something else."
Rook slammed his palm onto the table.
"Major, not another word."
Major Holloway looked at his commander.
Then he looked at me.
"Lieutenant Colonel Voss didn't clear out his office."
His voice shook.
"Someone cleared it for him."
I watched Rook's eyes.
He wasn't looking at Holloway anymore.
He was looking at the conference room door.
May you like
And that was when I realized the general wasn't worried about what I had already discovered.
He was worried about what I might discover before someone else could stop me.
