“Then I'll find out how much they already know.”
Turner considered this.
“Sir, what about the documents?”
“Make certified copies. Secure the originals through the appropriate independent investigative channels. Do not send them through ordinary departmental routing.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And contact the federal investigators assigned to Dorsey's operation.”
Turner nodded.
Hayes added:
“Also, find out whether anyone has been accessing Eleanor Brooks's medical records.”
Turner looked surprised.
“Why?”
“Because someone knows where she is. Someone knows what she has. And someone has already attempted to intimidate her.”
Turner left.
Hayes remained alone.
He opened the small metal box again.
Inside was a final document.
It was a handwritten statement from Colonel Brooks.
The truth is not in the contracts. It is in the people who disappeared.
Hayes read the sentence several times.
He remembered the old military base.
He remembered the sealed rooms.
He remembered the names that had been removed from official rosters.
And he remembered a young officer who had asked why certain soldiers were being transferred without normal orders.
That officer had been told to forget.
He had forgotten.
Now the memories were returning.
Hayes picked up the phone.
“Connect me to the Secretary of Defense.”
The operator responded.
“Sir, his office is unavailable.”
“Then leave a message.”
“What should I say?”
Hayes looked at the document.
“Tell him Jonathan Hayes is coming.”
He paused.
“And tell him I want to discuss Colonel James Brooks.”
Chapter 25: The Secretary's Invitation
The following morning, Hayes arrived at the Pentagon.
He wore his full dress uniform.
His medals were arranged precisely.
His expression was unreadable.
He entered the building with Turner and two security officers.
The Secretary of Defense's office had arranged a private meeting.
No press.
No additional staff.
No recorded briefing.
At least, that was what the invitation stated.
Hayes entered the conference room.
Secretary Richard Whitmore stood near the window.
He was in his early sixties, tall, with dark hair turning gray at the temples.
He smiled warmly.
“Jonathan.”
“Mr. Secretary.”
They shook hands.
Whitmore gestured toward the table.
“Please sit.”
Hayes remained standing.
“I'd rather discuss the matter directly.”
Whitmore smiled.
“Of course.”
He walked toward the table and poured himself a glass of water.
“I heard about the courthouse.”
“Then you know why I'm here.”
“I heard you recovered some old documents.”
“Documents connected to Colonel James Brooks.”
Whitmore nodded.
“A tragic chapter.”
“Do you know who killed him?”
Whitmore looked surprised.
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because his records were altered.”
“Records are often incomplete.”
“His investigation was deliberately shut down.”
“Investigations end for many reasons.”
Hayes stepped closer.
“Someone used my signature to close it.”
Whitmore's smile faded slightly.
“Are you suggesting that I had something to do with that?”
“I'm asking whether you know who did.”
Whitmore returned to his chair.
“Jonathan, I have served this country for decades. I have worked with presidents, generals, and members of Congress. I have no interest in reopening a dispute from thirty years ago.”
“Then you won't mind cooperating.”
Whitmore looked at him.
“Cooperating with what?”
“An independent investigation into the procurement network.”
The secretary laughed softly.
“You're making a serious mistake.”
“Why?”
“Because you are allowing an emotional connection to cloud your judgment.”
Hayes remained calm.
“Colonel Brooks was my commanding officer.”
“And a man who made questionable decisions.”
“That's not what his family remembers.”
Whitmore's expression hardened.
“His family doesn't understand the circumstances.”
Hayes looked directly at him.
“Then explain them.”
The secretary said nothing.
Hayes continued.
“Tell me why a retired civilian contractor had access to military records. Tell me why your uncle's company appears in every financial trail. Tell me why my signature was forged. Tell me why seven police complaints against Richard Malloy disappeared.”
Whitmore slowly stood.
“Enough.”
Hayes did not move.
“Tell me why Eleanor Brooks was threatened.”
Whitmore's face became cold.
“You should be careful.”
“That's what everyone keeps telling me.”
The secretary approached.
“You have a distinguished career, Jonathan. A good reputation. A family name people respect.”
Hayes stared at him.
“Don't threaten me.”
“I'm trying to protect you.”
“From whom?”
Whitmore lowered his voice.
“From yourself.”
He placed a folder on the table.
Hayes opened it.
Inside were copies of the old Fort Adams report.
His signature appeared at the bottom.
There were also several documents concerning his father's estate.
And a photograph.
It showed Hayes's father standing beside Victor Langford.
Hayes looked up.
“What is this?”
Whitmore smiled.
“Your father knew more than you think.”
Hayes closed the folder.
“Then perhaps it's time I found out.”
He turned toward the door.
Whitmore spoke behind him.
“Jonathan.”
Hayes stopped.
“You really should ask Eleanor Brooks what happened the night James died.”
Hayes turned slightly.
“I already did.”
Whitmore smiled.
“Then you know she wasn't alone.”
Hayes's expression changed.
Whitmore continued:
“Someone else was in that house.”
The general said nothing.
“And that person was not Victor Langford.”
Hayes slowly opened the door.
“Who?”
Whitmore answered:
“Your father.”
Chapter 26: The Night Colonel Brooks Died
Hayes returned to the hospital that afternoon.
Eleanor was awake.
David sat beside her.
The general entered quietly.
“Mrs. Brooks.”
She looked up.
“Did you meet him?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“He knows more than he's admitting.”
Eleanor nodded.
Hayes pulled a chair closer.
“I need to ask you about the night my father visited your house.”
Her face changed.
David looked at his grandmother.
“You never told me about that.”
Eleanor looked down.
“I was hoping I would never have to.”
Hayes waited.
She began slowly.
“Your father came to our house two nights before James died. He was upset. He and James argued in the study.”
“What did they argue about?”
“James wanted to turn over the documents. Your father wanted him to wait.”
“Why?”
“He said the people involved were too powerful.”
Hayes leaned forward.
“Did my father threaten him?”
“No.”
“Did he leave before James died?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“He left around midnight.”
Hayes looked at her.
“And what happened two nights later?”