Chapter 10 - Whispers in the Armory
Mia’s posture shifted entirely. The gentle older sister vanished; in her place was a seasoned military intelligence officer whose mind worked at lightning speed.
"Staff Sergeant Miller?" Mia asked, her voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. "First name?"
"Brian Miller," Dylan said, wiping his palms against his thighs. "He’s an armorer with 1st Battalion, 5th Marines. He’s been skimming gear for six months. At first, it was just tactical vests, medical kits, and scopes. But last week, two crates of advanced infrared target designators went missing from the supply ledger. He forced me to sign the transit manifest under my ID code."
"Why you, Dylan?"
"Because my security clearance was clean, and my dad had a good reputation with the civilian base contractors," Dylan said, burying his face in his hands. "Miller said if the inventory came up short, I was the one going to the brig for fifteen years. I was terrified, Mia. When you showed up today, I panicked. Miller’s friends were watching me from the guard post. I wanted to prove to them that I wasn't some weak kid tied to his family. I was trying to save my own skin."
Mia set her coffee mug down on the wooden step with a soft click. The puzzle pieces suddenly locked together in her mind.
The laser designators stolen from Pendleton weren't just standard issue. They were the latest SOCOM-grade PEQ-15 variants, capable of guiding precision munitions—the exact equipment that had been popping up on international black-market auctions tracked by her unit in Washington.
"Dylan, listen to me very carefully," Mia said, looking directly into his panicked eyes. "Did you touch those crates?"
"No. Just the electronic sign-off tablet. Miller said the crates were already moved to an off-base storage unit in San Clemente."
"Did he mention a buyer?"
"He said someone from 'down south' was paying fifty thousand dollars cash for the optics," Dylan stammered. "The hand-off is scheduled for tomorrow night behind the abandoned rail yard near San Onofre."
Mia pulled out her encrypted smartphone. Her fingers flew across the screen, dialing a secure satellite link.
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"Who are you calling?" Dylan asked, his voice shaking.
"Master Gunny Hollis," Mia said, her eyes cold as slate. "And the resident agent in charge of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Your fight for redemption starts tonight, Dylan. And you’re going to help me shut Miller down."
