Thorne studied them.
“I assume you have appropriate authority.”
“We do,” I said.
Sterling stepped forward.
“Sir, she’s making accusations based on disgruntled soldiers.”
I looked at him.
“We haven’t discussed the payroll deductions yet.”
His expression changed.
Thorne’s did not.
That interested me more.
I continued.
“Twenty-three junior enlisted soldiers reported unexplained deductions labeled emergency assistance repayment.”
Sterling shrugged.
“Administrative issue.”
“Sixteen never received emergency assistance.”
No answer.
“Eleven were threatened with disciplinary action when they questioned it.”
Sterling looked toward Thorne.
I saw it.
A glance.
Short.
Instinctive.
Thorne said, “Colonel, financial systems produce errors all the time.”
“Errors usually spread randomly.”
I removed a folded document from my pocket.
“These deductions all went through the same processing code.”
Thorne’s face remained still.
“Which code?”
“V-17.”
That finally produced a reaction.
Small.
But real.
His left thumb stopped moving against his index finger.
I had noticed the habit during the first week of my undercover assignment.
Thorne rubbed his fingertips together whenever irritated.
I had assumed it was ordinary impatience.
Now I wondered.
Sterling said, “I don’t know anything about codes.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
I watched Thorne.
He smiled again.
“You came here for Major Sterling, Colonel. I suggest you finish what you started.”
There it was.
Almost the same phrasing Hale had used.
My assignment is Sterling.
Something colder than suspicion settled in my stomach.
I looked toward Shaw.
“Secure Major Sterling.”
Sterling stepped backward.
“What?”
Shaw moved toward him.
“You’re temporarily relieved pending investigation.”
“You can’t—”
Thorne interrupted.
“Thomas.”
Sterling froze.
Thorne’s voice was calm.
“Cooperate.”
Sterling stared at him.
For the first time, I saw real fear in the Major’s eyes.
Not fear of me.
Fear of Thorne.
Shaw removed Sterling’s sidearm.
Another agent placed temporary restraints around his wrists.
Sterling looked toward the commanding general.
“Sir.”
Thorne said nothing.
“General.”
Nothing.
Then Sterling began to laugh.
Low at first.
Then louder.
Everyone watched him.
Thorne’s face hardened.
Sterling looked at me.
“You think you got him?”
I frowned.
“Thomas,” Thorne warned.
Sterling laughed harder.
“You think I’m the problem?”
Shaw tightened his grip on his arm.
Sterling leaned toward me.
“You walked into the wrong investigation, Colonel.”
Thorne’s voice sharpened.
“Remove him.”
Sterling twisted around.
“Ask him about Building Twelve!”
The room changed.
Thorne stopped breathing for one visible second.
That was enough.
I looked toward the windows.
Camp Vora had eleven numbered logistics buildings.
At least on official maps.
“Building Twelve?” I asked.
Sterling grinned.
Thorne spoke before he could answer.
“There is no Building Twelve.”
I looked at him.
He had answered too quickly.
Sterling whispered, “Exactly.”
Official installation maps showed no Building Twelve.
Old maps did.
Brenda knew where.
When I asked her privately, she looked toward the administrative hallway before answering.
“There used to be an ammunition inspection warehouse north of the motor pool.”
“What happened to it?”
“Closed before I started working here.”
“You’ve been here nineteen years.”
“Yes.”
“And soldiers still call it Building Twelve?”
“Older civilian workers do.”
“Why?”
She hesitated.
“Because trucks still go there.”
I stared at her.
“What trucks?”
“Usually at night.”
“Military?”
“Sometimes.”
“Other times?”
“Contractors.”
“Which contractor?”
Her eyes filled with worry.
“Vanguard Meridian Logistics.”
V-17.
I felt the pieces shift.
The payroll code.
The trucks.
The supposedly abandoned building.
I asked, “Did you report this?”
Brenda lowered her eyes.