Chapter 6 - The Empty Record Room — The Old Motor Pool
The search for Private Cho took twelve minutes.
They found his cap beside the loading dock and his phone smashed near a stairwell. No blood. No sign of a struggle beyond a scuff mark on the painted wall.
Mercer ordered the gates locked and called the military police commander.
Hayes was still in the legal office. His access had been suspended, but his people remained in place. That was the problem with power: removing the person at the top didn't instantly remove everyone who had learned to obey him.
I went with the investigators to the records room.
The door stood open.
Inside, rows of filing cabinets had been left half pulled out. A workstation was on, its screen showing a blank login page. The cabinet marked REDSTONE VEHICLE SAFETY had been emptied.
“Someone cleared it,” I said.
The investigator, Major Elena Ruiz, photographed the room. “Not everything. They were in a hurry.”
She pointed to a shred bin. It was nearly full.
I crouched beside it and noticed a strip of paper caught under one wheel. A date. A vehicle number. A signature.
“Can you recover these?” I asked.
“Possibly.”
My phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.
STOP LOOKING. THE PRIVATE IS SAFE IF YOU STOP.
I showed Ruiz.
She took a breath. “That's a threat.”
“It's also proof someone has him.”
Mercer entered with two military police officers.
“Any sign?”
“Not yet,” Ruiz said. “But the records were removed after the lockdown order.”
Mercer looked at me. “We need to get you somewhere secure.”
“No. Cho knows I was the one who told him he could speak. If he's being held because of what he gave us, I need to find him.”
“You're not a rescue team.”
“I know. But I can tell you where they'd take someone without creating a formal detention record.”
Ruiz looked up. “Where?”
“The old motor pool annex. It's been closed for years, but the rear access still connects to the maintenance road. Hayes used it for overflow storage.”
Mercer stared at me for a moment.
“Why didn't you put that in your report?”
“Because I didn't know it was being used.”
A radio crackled.
“General, we have movement at the old annex. One vehicle leaving. No lights.”
Mercer reached for the door.
“Then we move now.”
As we ran, another message appeared on my phone.
YOU'RE TOO LATE.
The motor pool annex sat beyond the main training grounds, surrounded by weeds and chain-link fencing.
Our vehicles approached without sirens. Mercer had ordered the team to avoid turning the place into a spectacle. Two military police units blocked the road while Ruiz and I followed a small response team through the side entrance.
The building smelled of oil, dust, and wet concrete.
“Cho!” I called.
A muffled knock answered from somewhere behind the storage bays.
We found him in a small office, wrists tied with plastic restraints, his face bruised but his eyes alert.
“Lieutenant Colonel,” he whispered.
“Are you hurt?”
“My ribs. I think one is cracked.”
The medic moved in. Ruiz cut the restraints.
“Who did this?” Mercer asked.
Cho swallowed. “A civilian contractor. He said he was taking me somewhere safe. Then he asked for the copies.”
“Did you give them to him?”
“No.”
“Where are they?”
Cho looked at me. “Not on base.”
A crash sounded outside.
The response team moved toward the loading bay. Through the open door, I saw a dark SUV reversing toward the fence. A military police officer shouted for the driver to stop.
The SUV accelerated.
A second vehicle blocked the exit. The driver swerved, struck a stack of empty pallets, and stopped hard enough to deploy the airbags.
The officers pulled him out.
He was wearing a contractor badge. Same company as the man at the airport.
Ruiz checked his ID. “Graham Pike. Maintenance subcontractor.”
Mercer looked at him. “Who hired you?”
Pike said nothing.
Cho gripped my sleeve. “There's something else. The man said Hayes told him the report had to disappear before the panel saw it.”
Mercer's expression didn't change, but his eyes did.
“Did you hear Hayes say that?”
“No. Pike said it. He said he was following orders.”
“That's hearsay,” Ruiz said.
“It's a lead,” Mercer replied. “And we'll verify it.”
The medic helped Cho toward the ambulance.
Before he climbed in, he pressed a small key into my palm.
“Locker 214,” he said. “At the bus depot off post. The copies are there.”
I closed my fingers around it.
“Why didn't you tell them?”
“I didn't know who I could trust.”
Then he looked past me.
A figure stood at the far end of the annex, half hidden by the shadows.
May you like
The figure raised a phone and took a picture.
When the response team turned, the person was gone.
