We’re en route to the industrial district," the major said into his phone, speaking to someone from his unit. I couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but after a brief pause, he responded, "Detain him. Take him to the station and wait for us." Then he hung up. He glanced at me. "One thing I don’t get—why the hell did you send me for coffee and snacks back there?" I smirked, eyes still on the road. "Because I figured someone was on overwatch outside the bar. Keeping an eye out, making sure no one tailed the quartermaster." The major frowned. "And?" "And I needed us to look like two guys making a late-night stop, not an op in progress." His expression shifted slightly—realization. "Sneaky bastard," he muttered, shaking his head.

  After a while, we reached the industrial district, still tailing our perpetrator. The place was eerie as hell at night—dark, empty, and lifeless, the kind of place where bad things happened in the shadows.

  "Smart choice on their part, I’d say," the major remarked. "No shit, Sherlock," I muttered. "God knows what else goes on here after dark… or what’s going on right now besides this." He chuckled. "Yeah, that— and the fact that with every kind of factory here, they have access to every kind of chemical. If they’ve got someone who knows what they’re doing… well, let’s just say they have at least a thousand and one ways to alter those documents." I frowned. "Huh?" I tried to mask my uneasiness. Ahead, the sedan turned into a warehouse lot. The major didn’t follow directly. Instead, he took a turn one block before the warehouse, circling around to the opposite side. "Better not make it obvious we’re tailing them." He pulled up at the corner, parking just out of sight. The headlights had already been killed long before we stopped.

  He grabbed his laptop from the bag on the back seat, powered it on, and typed in the address. "Let’s see… constructed by some logistics company… something-something happened… company went bankrupt seven years ago… lawsuit followed… bank seized it almost a year ago, and then it was sold…" He paused, frowning. "To a 104-year-old lady… two months ago!?" His expression twisted in surprise and confusion. "Well, that’s not suspicious at all.”

  I scanned the outside of the building for surveillance devices. "So, some fragile hundred-year-old relic sitting in a hospice is the mastermind behind the greatest military sabotage in history?" I muttered, making a poor attempt at comedy. "You’re not entirely wrong about the hospice part," the major said, turning his laptop toward me. "Her last known whereabouts were at a retirement home on some tropical island… five years ago." I frowned, staring at the screen. Something about her name tugged at my memory. Then I saw her last name—and it hit me. "That’s the colonel’s grandma!" I blurted. "She died five years ago." The major’s head snapped up before he quickly turned the laptop back toward himself, fingers flying across the keyboard. A moment later, his expression hardened. "You’re right," he muttered. "Here’s her obituary. She was cremated. But…" His voice trailed off. I leaned closer. "But what?" He exhaled sharply. "Nobody ever filed for her death certificate here. On paper, in this country… she’s still alive.”

  "So, the colonel is keeping his dead grandma alive on paper to run this racket and cash her social security checks?" I said, amusement creeping into my voice. "That’s what it looks like," the major replied. "We can book him for this, right?" He shook his head. "Using a dead person’s name to buy property is a civil matter. We have no jurisdiction." "But if we go in there and bust them with classified documents, then it becomes a military matter, right?" The major exhaled. "Yeah. But what proof do we have that those papers are even in there? There’s a good chance you just made us follow some random guys." Before I could respond, the low rumble of a motorcycle made us both turn. A bike pulled up behind us, and a woman dismounted, walking straight to our car. She knocked on the window. The major unlocked the door, and she slid into the backseat. She was a sergeant major from his investigative unit. "What’s the situation, Major?" she asked. "Two targets inside the warehouse. No probable cause to go in," the major replied. I turned to her. "Did you get the quartermaster?" "Yes, sir." I pulled out my phone, flipping through the pictures I had taken when the suspects got into the car earlier. Handing it to her, I said, "Send this to someone at the station. Have them ask the quartermaster if he recognizes either of these two. Tell them LT is asking." She nodded and made the call. A few moments later, she spoke up. "He said these are the guys who threatened him." A slow grin spread across my face. "Got them."

  "There’s one problem," I said. "They’ve got cameras watching every approach." "Can I see, sir?" she asked. I handed her my binoculars. After a quick scan, she lowered them. "It’s one of those wireless home security systems. Should be easy." "Easy?" the major asked, frowning. She held out her hand. "Can I have your laptop, sir?" The major shot me a confused look but handed it over. She started typing rapidly, explaining as she worked. "Civilians don’t know this, but the government can access their devices at any time. Companies are legally required to provide access. Sure, local police need a warrant. But if it’s a matter of national security, federal counterintelligence agencies can access these feeds without permission. No paperwork, no trail. And as a senior officer in Military Police CID, you—Major—already have the clearance." The major blinked. "I do?" I sighed, shaking my head. "Dude, how many dicks did you have to suck to make major?" The sergeant major squinted hard, trying not to laugh at her CO. "Shut the fuck up, man," the major shot back. "I never handled this kind of shit. And I was barely awake during those briefings—you can’t blame me, they were boring as hell ."The sergeant major held out the laptop. "Sir, your clearance code?" He grumbled but typed it in. She hit a few more keys, her eyes locked on the screen. "Recording… aaaaand… looping. Bingo. They won’t see us coming."

  "Alright then, let’s get to it," I said, pushing open the car door. "Wait," the major cut in. "We should hold off for backup. We don’t know what kind of firepower they have." I smirked. "I came prepared." His expression shifted from concern to suspicion. "What was in that duffle bag?" "What duffle bag?" the sergeant major asked, frowning. I walked around to the trunk, popped it open, and pulled out a heavy, oversized duffle bag. Unzipping it, I revealed the contents just as they stepped out of the car. The major stared. "Please tell me you have clearance to take this off base." I chuckled. "Heh, no. Matter of fact… I haven’t even had it issued to me." The major closed his eyes, tilted his head toward the sky, and let out a long, exhausted sigh.

  Stolen story; please report.

  Within minutes, we were stacked up at the warehouse's back door.

  The major and I were fully kitted out—body armor, helmets with night vision and recording cameras, short-range radios, compact automatic rifles, and non-lethal grenades. The sergeant major, on the other hand, carried only her duty pistol. She pulled out her lockpicking kit and silently worked on the door. A click. It swung open. The entrance was empty—just rows of dusty old shipping containers, probably left behind when the bank seized the property. Against the far wall, an elevated office sat on scaffolding, with a metal staircase leading up to it. Further inside, a single overhead light illuminated a section of the warehouse floor.

  I signaled them. "You two take the ground level. I’ll clear the office. Wait for my signal." They nodded. We moved. I crept up the stairs, rifle raised, and positioned myself at the office door. A whisper into my radio: "In position. On standby." The major’s voice crackled back. "In position. Standing by." "On three. One. Two. Three." I kicked the door in. Inside, a single guy sat in front of security monitors, watching the feeds. "HANDS IN THE AIR! HANDS IN THE AIR!" I barked, my rifle trained on him. In the distance, I heard the major shouting orders—they had found more targets. My guy was sloppy. His handgun sat on the desk—out of reach on the far side of the room. "Turn around. Walk toward my voice. And don’t even think about reaching for that gun." He hesitated, then complied. Two steps forward. "Stop." "Get on the ground. Hands spread wide." He obeyed. Keeping my pistol trained on him, I swung my rifle to my back, secured by its sling, then quickly frisked and zip-tied him. From the office window, I could see the rest of the warehouse—and where the others were. I hauled him up and escorted him down the stairs. The major had three more suspects facedown on the floor, their hands restrained. I shoved my guy down beside them. "Well, would you look at that," I muttered. "They’ve got a full-blown chemistry lab down here." "Where are the guns?" the sergeant major demanded.

  Silence.

  I handed her my rifle. "If any of them move, shoot." Then I turned to the major. "How far out is backup?" "Any minute now." "Let’s check the containers." We pried them open. Empty. Every single one. Then—the deep rumble of rotor blades. A helicopter team arrived, securing the site. Minutes later, army trucks rolled in, carrying more investigators and forensic teams. The detainees were loaded up and hauled off. The major stayed behind to coordinate the forensics. I stuck around, watching as the team scoured the warehouse for evidence. Half an hour later, the major walked up. "Let’s go." We climbed into his car and pulled away—headed for his station.

  On the drive back, the major and I discussed the quartermaster's situation—whether we could cut him a deal and flip him as a witness. We went over every angle until we pulled up to the station. Just as we were about to enter, I asked, "Did you get the colonel?" The major smirked. "Way ahead of you. The sergeant major had him arrested before we even hit the warehouse." We walked straight to the interrogation room where they were holding the quartermaster. His eyes snapped to me the moment we stepped inside. "You said you’d get me out of this mess." I pulled out a chair, sat down beside him, and met his gaze. "And I intend to keep my word." I gestured toward the major. "We’ve been discussing your situation all the way here. We’re willing to cut you a deal. Become a witness in this case. Tell us everything. You and your family will be placed in witness protection—no one will touch them." The quartermaster listened intently, but I could see the tension in his hands. "But," I continued, "you’re still losing your job. That’s not negotiable. Or…" I let the word hang in the air for a second. "You can refuse to cooperate. If that happens, you’ll be charged as an accomplice and court-martialed alongside the colonel. And if, God forbid, they’re found innocent…" I leaned in slightly. "You know what happens next." He looked down, deep in thought. A long silence stretched between us. Then he raised his head, locking eyes with me. "I’ll do whatever you need. Just protect my family." A slow nod. "Good. Someone will be in shortly to record your statement." I stood up and left the room.

  As we stepped into the hallway, a 1st lieutenant walked up and handed the major a report on the raid. The major flipped through it, nodded, and dismissed him. I folded my arms. "Do we have IDs on our arrests?" He skimmed the pages and whistled. "Ex-military. Dishonorable discharges. Assaulted a CO. Forged documents. Attempted rape of a female enlisted. Theft of government property. Et cetera, et cetera." I exhaled sharply. "Holy shit. That’s serious." The major nodded. "And this is just the beginning. We still need to track down those missing weapons. God knows what else is waiting for us." He motioned for a first sergeant to approach. "Sergeant, take the lieutenant’s statement and get it signed." Then he turned to me. "Once that’s done, you’re free to go." With that, he walked off. I followed the sergeant, gave my official statement, then headed to the armory to return all the gear I had "borrowed" earlier. Finally, I made my way back to my barracks—exhausted but far from done.

  I woke up in the morning, went through formation, then headed to my desk job, expecting MPs to come knocking any minute. But… nothing happened. No reprimand. No questioning. No fallout. My company commander didn’t say a word about the gear I had "borrowed." Something was off. A nagging unease crept in as I made my way to HQ. The first thing I noticed was the colonel’s car parked outside. I took a few steps back and looked up at his second-floor office window. There he was. Sitting at his desk.

  Alive. Untouched. Unbothered.

  Fury surged through me. I turned on my heel, stormed to my car, and drove straight to the MP station. I barreled into the major’s office, slamming the door behind me. "What the hell is going on?! Why is the colonel still free?" I shouted. The major raised his hands in a calming gesture. "Lieutenant, listen—" Before he could finish, the door swung open. Two people walked in. I turned to look at them. One was a brigadier. The other—an older woman in plain clothes. The major and I immediately snapped to attention. The brigadier waved us off. "At ease." The major cleared his throat. "Lieutenant, meet the Chief of Military Intelligence." He gestured toward the officer. Then he motioned to the woman. "And this is the NSC’s Operations In-Charge." The brigadier stepped forward, extending his hand. "We’ve been waiting to talk to you, Lieutenant."