Chapter 5 - The Missing Case
James did not panic.
Panic wasted seconds.
“Which direction?”
The honor-detail soldier pointed toward a service road beneath the terminal.
“Black utility vehicle, no visible unit markings. They took Sergeant Rodriguez’s personal-effects case from the escort pallet.”
“Her remains?”
“Secure, sir. Untouched.”
Relief lasted less than a heartbeat.
Maria’s personal effects mattered too.
James turned to Patricia.
“Lock the service roads.”
Already transmitting orders, Patricia nodded.
Gregory Hale said, “Captain, you’re overreacting. Equipment gets moved constantly.”
James faced him.
“Then tell us where it was moved.”
Gregory did not answer.
Sara’s hands shook.
“My father.”
James looked at her.
“I thought he lost his job because he made mistakes. That’s what they told us.”
Rachel touched her arm.
“I’m sorry.”
Sara pulled away.
“Did you know him?”
“Only through his report.”
“And you said nothing for four years?”
Rachel absorbed that.
“I was afraid.”
“So was he.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
James recognized the fury.
He had seen soldiers use anger to avoid grief.
He lowered his voice.
“Sara.”
She looked at him.
“You can be angry later. Right now, help us find Maria’s case.”
Sara breathed once.
Then turned to the gate computer.
“My access is dead.”
Daniel Price handed her his tablet.
“So is mine.”
Rachel said, “Thomas taught cargo staff an old manual routing system. Does that still exist?”
Sara’s head snapped toward her.
“My dad showed me when I started summer work.”
“Can you reach it?”
“Only from a ramp terminal.”
James looked at Patricia.
“Get her there.”
Patricia assigned two officers.
Sara stopped before leaving.
She handed James the two halves of his boarding pass.
“Keep these.”
James looked at them.
“You found them.”
“You’ll need them when somebody claims none of this happened.”
James placed the pieces carefully inside his authorization folder.
Sara and Patricia disappeared down the secure corridor.
Rachel remained.
Bradley sat under supervision several yards away.
Gregory stood with his lawyers, making urgent calls.
James approached Bradley.
Bradley refused to look at him.
“You didn’t know about Maria,” James said.
Bradley’s eyes flickered.
James continued.
“You knew about me. You knew someone wanted me delayed. But you didn’t know why.”
No answer.
“You thought you were proving yourself to powerful people.”
Bradley looked up.
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“You called me boy in front of a terminal full of people.”
Bradley’s expression hardened.
“You think that makes this simple?”
“No.”
James stepped closer.
“It makes one part simple.”
Bradley looked away.
James said, “The rest is why you were willing to sabotage a military escort for someone else.”
Bradley’s lips tightened.
“They told me you stole company documents.”
“Who?”
Silence.
“Gregory?”
Bradley glanced involuntarily toward the executive.
That was answer enough.
James continued.
“What were you promised?”
Bradley laughed bitterly.
“You think everything is about money?”
“No. Some men want titles more.”
Bradley looked at him again.
For the first time, James saw not arrogance but resentment.
“I’ve been at Atlantic sixteen years.”
“There it is.”
“I watched people with half my experience get promoted.”
“So you abused passengers?”
“I enforced policy.”
“You invented fraud.”
Bradley’s face reddened.
“They told me nobody would question it.”
“Because I’m Black?”
Bradley hesitated.
James did not blink.
Bradley’s silence answered.
“They said,” Bradley muttered, “people would assume you were angry. That if you made a scene, security would handle it.”
James felt something colder than rage.
They had selected Bradley not despite his racism.
Because of it.
Gregory had understood exactly what kind of man he was using.
Before James could respond, Patricia’s voice came over a nearby officer’s radio.
“We located the utility vehicle.”
James turned.
“Case?”
“Negative.”
Two minutes later, Sara returned at a run.
Her face was pale.
“The vehicle was abandoned near Cargo Tunnel Four.”
“Driver?”
“Gone.”
“And Maria’s effects?”
Sara shook her head.
Then held up a printed routing sheet.
“But whoever took it generated a destination code.”
Rachel read it.
Her expression changed.
“What?”
Rachel pointed.
“AM-L7.”
James waited.
“Aegis Meridian,” she said. “Private warehouse seven.”
Patricia returned moments later.
“That facility is outside airport property. We need local or federal authority to enter without consent.”
James stared at Gregory.
The executive’s phone had stopped ringing.
He was watching them.
James walked toward him.
“A fallen soldier’s personal belongings were taken to your contractor’s warehouse.”
Gregory shook his head.
“You don’t know that.”
“We have the routing code.”
“Codes can be manipulated.”
“Like mine was?”
Gregory said nothing.
James came closer.
“If Maria’s belongings are touched—”
Gregory interrupted.
“Colonel, be very careful.”
James lowered his voice.
“No, Mr. Hale.”
He pointed through the glass toward the flag-draped transfer case.
“You be careful.”
At that moment, Rachel’s phone vibrated.
She looked down.
An email had arrived from an address she had never seen.
No subject.
One sentence.
THOMAS CARTER KEPT A COPY. ASK HIS DAUGHTER ABOUT THE RED TOOLBOX.
Sara stared at the screen.
Her face went white.
James looked at her.
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“What red toolbox?”
Sara whispered, “It’s still in my mother’s garage.”
