Chapter 5 - Eleven Forty-Two
The cafeteria manager was a civilian named George Kline who treated the dining facility like a restaurant that happened to serve people in camouflage.
“You want security footage?” he asked. “I can't hand over a recording because somebody asks nicely.”
“I wouldn't expect you to. I'm asking you to preserve it and document the request.”
George studied her scraped palms. “What happened to your hands?”
“A fall.”
He didn't smile. “Funny. That's exactly what someone told me to write in the daily incident log.”
“Who?”
“Man from your chain of command. I didn't recognize him. He knew which cameras covered the center aisle.”
Mara showed George the time in her notes: 11:42 a.m.
He checked a maintenance binder. “Well, that's strange.”
“What?”
“That camera was listed as malfunctioning from eleven thirty to noon. The work order was entered at one fourteen.”
“After the incident.”
“Long after.”
Mara asked whether he could preserve the original maintenance records as part of his normal procedure. He said he could, and that he would contact his own supervisor. She thanked him and did not ask him to break rules for her.
Outside, Nina waited beside a delivery truck, without a phone.
“They took it,” Nina said. “Went through my photos while I watched.”
“What did you do?”
“I gave them the old phone. The screen was cracked, but they didn't notice. The video is on a little memory drive.”
Mara exhaled. “Where?”
Nina tapped the center of her chest, then shook her head. “Not on me. Hidden somewhere boring.”
“Good.”
“Price told me to sign a statement saying you tripped.”
“Did you?”
“I told him I needed to read it. He gave me until tomorrow.”
From the loading dock came the clang of metal carts. Nina lowered her voice.
“Peter Hale tried to warn me about the fundraising accounts before they accused him. I thought he was paranoid.”
“Can you reach him?”
“Not on base. He was ordered to avoid the office during the investigation.”
“Then we go through proper channels to speak with him.”
Nina shook her head sharply. “You don't understand. I saw the inventory report they used against him. The signature isn't his.”
Mara felt a sudden coldness under the warm afternoon air.
“Whose is it?”
May you like
Nina looked toward the road, where a government sedan turned into the loading area.
“It's mine,” she said. “And I never signed it.”
