When they entered the office, Private Matthews glanced up from his desk.

“Matthews, did you just come on duty?” Benson addressed the newcomer.

“Yes, sir, Captain Benson.” Matthews’s eyes bugged when Harry whipped out a set of handcuffs and attached Hughes to the drainpipe along the wall.

“That will keep you until I get to the bottom of this,” Harry said, then turned back to Matthews with narrowed eyes. “Get Colonel Horwith on the line, Matthews. Tell him his name was forged on a work order of overseas munitions shipments. Use his sat phone number. He’s at the construction site with General Ellsworth. Private Hughes is not to leave this office until I give the go-ahead.”

“Yes, sir.” Matthews flipped open the base directory and went down the list.

Harry paced the room. “Matthews, where is Lance Corporal Thompson?”

“Um.” Matthews moistened his lips. “He’s preparing an LSV transport for the colonel’s work order.”

Harry didn’t wait for further explanations. He bolted out the door, sprinting toward the parked rows of LSV transports. Thompson must have slipped out of the office when Harry had entered the bunker. If so, the chance was strong he had already exited the base and had notified someone higher up the traitor chain, because no one could convince Harry that Thompson was the mastermind behind the munition thefts.

As Harry headed down the first row of parked transport vehicles, the noise of a powerful engine started. With his heart thumping fast, Harry cut through a queue of helicopters and followed the sound.

A bullet exploded beside his hand as he rounded a chopper. Crouching, Harry removed the Glock from his waist holster, then rolled under the helicopter onto his stomach, his arms braced to shoot. He scanned the next row of military vehicles across the narrow lane. Apparently, Thompson had circled back after he had started the LSV transport to camouflage his location.

Another shot. Dirt spattered on the hard-packed soil a meter in front of the helicopter where Harry lay. Assessing the angle of the bullet strike, Harry rolled out from under the chopper on the opposite side and took off running.

Gunshots whizzed around him as he zigzagged across the open terrain, dirt chewing up in every direction around him. Harry reached a tank and flattened himself beside the treads. His chest heaved, and sweat trickled down the sides of his face.

Harry wiped the perspiration with his forearm. Thompson had more spine than Harry had given him credit for. Hunched low, he peered through the gaps between the treads and the track drive wheels to locate his adversary. Thompson couldn’t be far.