Chapter 23: Destroy the Documents First
The man with the transfer order kept his hand on the first crate like he owned it.
"You have your paperwork," he said. "Now step back from the vehicles."
Shaw stood beside me with his hands loose at his sides. "You want us to step back before you have even verified the seal numbers?"
"I verified them when I signed for custody," the man said. "Open it."
"You did not sign anything," I said. "Deputy Inspector General Hale signed. You are just carrying her name."
He looked at me for the first time. "And you are just carrying crates, Colonel. Open them, or we open them."
The driver of our lead truck glanced at me in the mirror. I nodded once.
"Do it," I said. "Slowly. Let them see everything."
The tailgate dropped with a clang. Two of my people set the first crate in the headlights. The four men closed in. None of them looked at the treeline or the ditch.
Their leader knelt and worked the latches. "If you damaged any of the Northbridge material, that is on you."
"Northbridge material," Shaw repeated. "Interesting. The manifest just says evidence from Camp Vora."
"The manifest says what it needs to say," the man said. "Lift the lid."
His partner lifted it. They both stared.
"What is this?" the partner said.
"It is a crate," I said.
"It is empty," he said. He stood up fast. "This is empty."
"Check the second one," their leader said. "Check it now."
They dragged the second crate down. Empty. The third crate was already open, and it was empty too, just bare wood.
"You set us up," their leader said to me. "Where is it? Where is the real evidence?"
"You came to take custody of three crates," I said. "You have three crates. Is there a problem with your paperwork?"
"Do not play with me. Hale said you would be carrying the Building Twelve files, the bank records, all of it. She said you were driving it yourself."
"She said that on a recorded line at 1:40 this afternoon," I said. "I told her I would drive it to Washington in the morning. And you believed her."
"I believed the order," he said. "It is genuine."
"It is," Shaw said. "That is the problem for you."
Floodlights hit the road from three directions. Voices came out of the dark.
"Federal agents. Hands where we can see them. Down on the ground, now."
The partner on the left reached toward his waistband. An agent was on him before his hand got there. Another man ran for the pickup and found two agents already at the door. Their leader did not move. He just looked at the empty crates and then at me.
"Get off me," one of them shouted. "We have a signed transfer order. We have authorization."
"You do," Shaw said, and took the order from the ground. "Signed by Rebecca Hale. We will be keeping that."
"Call her," their leader said as an agent pulled his arms behind his back. "Call her and clear this up."
"We intend to," I said.
They cuffed all four and walked them to separate vehicles, reading rights in flat voices. One agent bagged their phones, keys, and rental paperwork. Shaw checked the truck cabs himself.
"Fairmont Strategic on both rentals," he told me. "Same as we expected."
"And the same as Evelyn said," I said. "Hale did not even bother to use a new cutout."
"She thought you were still hers," Shaw said.
An agent jogged over with a phone in a gloved hand, lit up and vibrating.
"This one just started ringing," he said. "It was in the leader's jacket. No name. Just a number."
Shaw looked at me. "You recognize it?"
I did. I had dialed it for seven years of reports and commendations and quiet advice.
"Yes," I said. "Give it to me."
I answered and said nothing. I held the phone to my ear and waited.
For two seconds there was only breathing. Then Hale spoke, brisk and annoyed, the voice she used when a meeting had started without her.
"Tell me you have the crates," she said. "Tell me you are clear of Vance and Shaw."
I said nothing.
"Answer me. If you have the Northbridge documents, destroy them first. Do you understand me? The Northbridge documents go first, before anything else. Burn them, shred them, I do not care how. Sterling and Thorne are on their own. Let them burn alone if it comes to that, but nothing with Northbridge on it reaches Washington. Nothing."
She paused, listening to my silence.
"Who is this?" she said, quieter. "Say something."
"It is me, Rebecca," I said. "You taught me to follow the evidence. So I did."