James smiled sadly.
"Some days I stopped."
He pointed toward the cemetery beyond the base.
"Some days I just visited graves."
Then he looked at Boyd.
"But eventually, you wake up."
"And?"
"You decide whether you're going to carry the past or learn from it."
Boyd nodded.
"I think I need to learn."
James smiled.
"That's a good beginning."
Ruiz joined them.
"Boyd has been thinking."
"That's dangerous," James said.
Ruiz laughed.
Boyd smiled.
For the first time, the tension between them disappeared.
Then a military vehicle approached.
A young lieutenant jumped out.
"Colonel Reed!"
Reed turned.
"What is it?"
The lieutenant handed him a message.
Reed read it.
His expression hardened.
"What's wrong?" Michael asked.
Reed looked at James.
"There is another problem."
James frowned.
"What kind?"
"The convoy records aren't the only records that were altered."
He handed James the message.
"Someone has been accessing the archives again."
James read the report.
His heart sank.
The access occurred three days earlier.
The user ID belonged to a current employee.
Someone inside Fort Kendrick had been looking at the same records James had spent decades trying to recover.
And they weren't looking for history.
They were looking for something that still mattered.
The Shadow in the Archive
The archive was located beneath the oldest administrative building on the base.
It smelled of paper, dust, and metal.
James had always liked places like that.
There were no speeches there.
No uniforms.
No applause.
Only facts.
Colonel Reed led James, Michael, Ruiz, and Boyd through a secure corridor.
"We found unauthorized access at 2:14 a.m. three nights ago," Reed explained.
"What was accessed?" Michael asked.
"Transportation records from 1960 through 1964."
James stopped.
"Everything?"
"No."
Reed pointed toward a shelf.
"Only specific files."
James understood immediately.
"Which files?"
Reed showed him the list.
Every file belonged to personnel connected to the missing convoy.
Thomas Cole.
James's old commanding officer.
Two transportation officers.
A civilian contractor.
And one final name.
James stared.
"Who is this?"
Reed looked uncomfortable.
"Colonel William Mercer."
James went silent.
Mercer had been his commanding officer.
The man who had ordered him to stop investigating.
The man who had told him Thomas was dead.
The man who had signed the original report.
"He's been dead for thirty years," James said.
"Yes."
"Then why access his file?"
"We don't know."
Michael examined the documents.
"Maybe someone is trying to destroy evidence."
Boyd looked at the security system.
"Can we find out who accessed it?"
Reed nodded.
"That's why you're here."
They reviewed the logs.
The access code belonged to a civilian contractor named Evan Price.
Price had worked at Fort Kendrick for nine years.
His job involved digitizing historical military records.
On paper, he was ordinary.
His access level was high enough to reach the archive.
His employment record was clean.
But James immediately noticed something.
"What's his age?"
"Forty-three."
James shook his head.
"Too young."
Michael looked at him.
"For what?"
"To have known Mercer."
James studied the access log.
"He isn't looking for Mercer."
"Then what?"
James pointed at the list.
"He's looking for something Mercer knew."
They found Price in the digitization office.
He was packing a box.
When he saw the colonel, his expression changed.
"Sir."
Reed stepped forward.
"Mr. Price, we need to talk."
Price looked at James.
Recognition appeared.
"You."
James stared back.
"Have we met?"
"No."
Price looked nervous.
"But I've seen your photograph."
James nodded.
"Why were you accessing the old convoy records?"
Price didn't answer.
Reed stepped closer.
"Answer him."
Price looked at the floor.
"I was trying to find something."
"What?"
"My grandfather."
James frowned.
"Who was your grandfather?"
Price swallowed.
"William Mercer."
Silence.
James looked at Reed.
Price continued.
"My grandfather died believing he had destroyed someone's life."
James's eyes narrowed.
"Whose?"
"Yours."
James said nothing.
Price opened the box.
Inside were old letters.
"My grandfather kept these hidden."
He handed one to James.
James recognized the handwriting.
Mercer's.
The letter revealed that Mercer had not created the false records alone.
He had been pressured by a higher-ranking official.
Someone had threatened his career.
When Mercer eventually tried to correct the record, the evidence disappeared.
He spent the rest of his life carrying the guilt.
Price looked at James.
"I found his journal after my mother died."
"And you came here?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I wanted to know if he was telling the truth."
James looked at the young man.
"And?"
Price's eyes filled with tears.
"He was."
James closed the journal.
For sixty years, he had believed Mercer was simply a coward.
Now he understood.
Mercer had been afraid.
That didn't excuse him.
But it explained him.
James handed the journal back.
"What are you going to do with it?"
Price looked at him.
"I don't know."
James smiled.
"Then I'll tell you."
Price waited.
"Don't hide it."
James turned toward Colonel Reed.
"Make the records public."