"Back off, Sergeant," the patrol sergeant ordered. His name tape read Campbell. "You called in an unarmed AWOL runner who breached a secure facility. The soldier has her hands up and is surrendering voluntarily. Step back to your vehicle."
"She assaulted me in Bay Four twenty minutes ago!" Cole spat, his face mottling dark red as veins bulged along his neck. "She stole that binder from the dispatch console and took restricted diagnostic hardware. You need to cuff her, put her in the cage, and turn that maintenance binder over to me for company evidence intake!"
"The binder is sealed garrison record evidence," I said to Campbell, keeping my eyes fixed on the dash camera of the patrol car. "Check the access road behind us. Captain Albright just personally cleared an unbranded commercial hauler through the wash rack with a forged civilian environmental bill of lading. That tanker is carrying eight thousand gallons of JP-8 siphoned from Tank Farm Bravo without an authorized requisition. If you don't call the commercial gate barrier down within three minutes, that fuel crosses the state line onto Route 28."
Campbell narrowed his eyes at me. He looked at my soaked physical training shirt, the torn fabric at my collar where Cole had grabbed me in the basement, and the freezing water still dripping steadily from the hem of my trousers. Then he looked at the green canvas binder, clamped so tight against my sternum that my knuckles were bloodless.
"Dispatch, this is Patrol Three," Campbell said into his shoulder radio, his thumb pressing the transmit toggle without breaking eye contact with me. "Put an immediate administrative hold on the outbound commercial barrier. Detain any unbranded commercial bulk hauler attempting to exit under an environmental clearance. Do not release the vehicle until PMO arrives on scene."
"Copy, Patrol Three," the dispatcher's voice crackled through the cool morning air. "Commercial barrier is red-lighted. Outbound gate reports a three-axle white tanker is currently third in line at the commercial scales."
Cole took a half-step backward toward the cruiser, his right hand twitching against the side of his trousers. The bored, arrogant calm that had carried him through the damp basement in Bay Four had evaporated completely. His eyes darted toward the battalion administrative building across the asphalt, where the perimeter floodlights were shutting off against the gray daylight.
"Put her in the cruiser, Campbell," Cole said, his voice dropping into a desperate, hurried pitch. "Take her to the Provost Marshal holding facility. Company command will file the formal sworn statements after First Muster."
"No," Campbell answered cleanly. "A felony diversion report involving bulk garrison fuel triggers an automatic command-level notification. The brigade audit team is already inside Battalion Headquarters with Major Harris and the Chief Warrant Officer. If Specialist Vance is reporting an ongoing breach of the Tank Farm Bravo intake manifold, she goes directly into the command brief before custody is transferred to the cells."
Campbell turned to his partner, a junior specialist holding a pair of flex-cuffs. "Do not cuff her wrists. Escort her into the back seat. Keep that binder in her possession and secure the perimeter seal on this pump house door."
Ten minutes later, the patrol cruiser tires ground across the damp gravel apron outside Battalion Headquarters. The building was a two-story red-brick administrative complex fronted by brass flagpoles and manicured grass, a stark contrast to the grease, damp cinder blocks, and rust of the motor pool annex. Inside, the polished linoleum floors smelled of floor wax, industrial coffee, and wet wool overcoats.
Campbell escorted me through the double glass doors of the administrative suite. Behind us, Cole followed three paces back, his tactical vest creaking as he walked, his eyes burning into the back of my skull.
The battalion conference room sat at the end of the main corridor. Through the frosted glass panels, four figures were already seated around the long mahogany table. At the head sat Major Harris, the battalion executive officer, his silver oak leaf insignia gleaming beneath the ceiling lights. Beside him sat Chief Warrant Officer Miller, a lean, sharp-featured veteran wearing the gold-and-black branch insignia of an ordnance technician, surrounded by open laptops and stacks of pristine white inspection ledgers.
Standing at the side of the room, leaning casually against the credenza with a paper cup of black coffee in his hand, was Captain Albright.
Albright was freshly shaved, his garrison uniform immaculate, wearing the confident, relaxed expression of a company commander preparing to brief his superior on an unfortunate administrative chore. When the conference door swung open and Campbell led me inside, Albright didn't flinch. He set his coffee cup down on a paper napkin and looked at Major Harris with a slow, pained shake of his head.
"Thank you for bringing her in, Sergeant Campbell," Albright said, his voice measured, projecting the deep, practiced disappointment of an officer whose trust had been violated. "Major, this is Specialist Nora Vance. She’s been running the dispatch desk at the fuel farm. As I briefed you at zero five thirty, our internal accountability sweep uncovered massive variances in our JP-8 reserve bladders. When Staff Sergeant Cole attempted to conduct an administrative inventory counseling in the motor pool this morning, Specialist Vance turned violent, damaged battalion property, and fled into the perimeter tree line to avoid custody."
Major Harris leaned forward, resting his forearms on the polished mahogany. His brow was furrowed, his eyes moving over my soaked gray shirt, my mud-caked boots, and the canvas binder in my arms.
"Specialist Vance," Major Harris said, his tone heavy with warning. "You were logged as Absent Without Leave on the garrison portal at zero five forty-five. Your company commander has submitted a sworn pre-apprehension packet alleging unauthorized ledger manipulation and physical assault on an NCO. Do you understand the severity of the charges facing you right now?"