Natalie continued typing.
Marcus placed his personal belongings on the counter.
His wallet.
His watch.
His car keys.
And a small personal phone.
The corrections officer reached for the document case.
Marcus immediately looked toward it.
MARCUS: "That case contains government property. Please record its serial number and do not open it."
The officer stopped.
"What's inside?"
"Official equipment."
Wallace stepped forward.
"Put it with the rest of his property."
MARCUS: "Sheriff, I am formally requesting that the case remain sealed."
Wallace looked at him.
"You're not in charge here."
Marcus said nothing.
The officer placed the case in a property container.
Natalie entered another note into the system.
At 3:02 p.m., Marcus was escorted down the holding corridor.
The sheriff walked beside him.
The corrections officer followed behind.
They approached a metal cell door.
Wallace reached for the handle.
Marcus looked at the number above the doorway.
Cell 17.
The sheriff opened it.
SHERIFF WALLACE: "Inside."
Marcus stepped forward.
He entered the cell without resistance.
The sheriff closed the door.
The lock clicked.
Marcus turned around.
For a moment, he looked at the sheriff through the metal bars.
MARCUS: "I want my request for legal counsel documented."
Wallace looked at him.
"Sit down and wait."
Then he walked away.
Marcus sat on the narrow bench.
He looked at the camera in the upper corner.
Then he checked the time.
3:04 p.m.
His briefing had started four minutes earlier.
In Washington, the conference room would already be occupied.
His chief of staff would be waiting.
The operations director would be reviewing the latest logistics report.
And somewhere in the Pentagon, a duty officer would be wondering why a three-star general had failed to appear for a scheduled secure meeting.
Marcus rested his hands on his knees.
He did not know how long he would remain in the cell.
He did not know whether the sheriff had understood the identification card.
He did not know what would happen to the inspection documents.
But he knew one thing.
The missing equipment at the transportation depot was still unaccounted for.
And whoever had arranged the unauthorized transfer would probably be relieved to hear that the inspection had been interrupted.
Outside the cell, Natalie Brooks returned to her desk.
She checked the time.
Then she looked at the property record.
The sealed black case had been entered under a temporary evidence number.
She frowned.
Something about the situation did not feel right.
The man had not behaved like someone trying to hide from the police.
He had repeatedly asked for documentation.
He had remained calm when he was handcuffed.
And the identification card had appeared genuine.
Natalie opened the booking system again.
She entered his name into the internal records search.
The system returned a limited result.
A federal personnel verification notice.
She clicked the entry.
The page requested additional authorization.
Natalie leaned back.
"That's strange."
A deputy walking past the desk looked at her.
"What?"
"Nothing. Just checking an identification record."
He continued down the corridor.
Natalie returned to the screen.
Then the front desk telephone rang.
She answered.
NATALIE: "Redhaven County Sheriff's Office. This is dispatch."
A male voice spoke immediately.
CALLER: "This is the Department of Defense duty office. I need to speak with General Marcus Ellison."
Natalie stopped typing.
She looked at the booking screen.
Then toward the holding corridor.
NATALIE: "I'm sorry. Could you repeat the name?"
CALLER: "General Marcus Ellison. He was expected at a secure briefing in Washington several minutes ago. We have been unable to establish contact."
Natalie slowly removed her hand from the keyboard.
She looked at the telephone.
Then at the sheriff's office.
The man in cell seventeen had told them that he was military.
But nobody had mentioned that he was a general.
NATALIE: "One moment, sir."
CALLER: "Is General Ellison there?"
Natalie looked toward the corridor again.
She could see the sheriff's office door.
It was closed.
NATALIE: "I believe we may have someone here by that name."
CALLER: "You believe?"
NATALIE: "He's currently being held in our facility."
A pause followed.
The voice on the other end became noticeably more serious.
CALLER: "Ma'am, are you telling me that General Marcus Ellison is in your custody?"
Natalie swallowed.
She looked down at the booking record one more time.
Then she answered.
NATALIE: "Yes, sir. He's here."
The caller went silent for a moment.
When he spoke again, his voice was firm.
CALLER: "Please put your sheriff on the telephone immediately."
Natalie looked toward the closed office door.
She knew that the next conversation could change everything.
She placed the call on hold.
Then she stood up.
NATALIE: "Sheriff?"
There was no answer.
She walked closer to the office.
"Sheriff Wallace?"
The door opened.
Raymond Wallace appeared, looking irritated.
SHERIFF WALLACE: "What is it now?"
Natalie looked directly at him.
NATALIE: "There's a call for you."
"Who?"
She took a breath.
NATALIE: "The Pentagon."
The sheriff stared at her.
For the first time that afternoon, the confident expression on his face disappeared.
Sheriff Raymond Wallace stared at Natalie Brooks.
For several seconds, he seemed unable to understand what she had just said.
SHERIFF WALLACE: "The Pentagon?"
NATALIE: "Yes, sir."
Wallace looked toward the telephone.
"Who exactly is calling?"
Natalie glanced at the screen.