Upright once more, he followed the jeep’s route toward the munition bunkers. Three-quarters of a mile later, Harry reached row after row of helicopters, jeeps, joint light tactical vehicles, tanks, and Humvees lining several acres outside the first long, white bunker, which housed the Ministry of Defense’s small arms stockpile.

Using the vehicles for cover, Harry worked his way to the munition’s entrance. The structure’s exterior lights burned bright, as did the one inside the main office. Harry crept up to the door and listened, but no sound emanated from within. Taking a chance, he punched in the code and inched the door open a crack. All three desks stood empty.

Hughes, Matthews, and Thompson were not at their duty stations. Either they had entered the storage facility or had gone somewhere else entirely. Considering the laxity on base, Harry would bet his salary on the latter.

Once inside, he crept along the wall, well out of the camera monitor’s range, until he reached the wires and deactivated the surveillance unit. Helping himself to one of several crowbars stacked on top of a credenza, he punched in the bunker code and let himself inside, the lock reengaging.

Darkness enveloped him. The place was as quiet as a Neolithic burial chamber. With a click, his penlight came to life, and he started down an aisle between rows of wooden crates, his heart thumping in his ears. He had come across identical crates like these in the Lebatuan capital. When he reached the end of the aisle, he snapped a picture of the closest container.

Due to Glenkinnon’s lax reputation, Nigel made an educated guess that an opportunist at Glenkinnon had provided General Nheshal with weapons, and had sent Harry here to identify the arms dealer.

Shining his pen light on the crate exteriors, Harry compared the containers to the official inventory. Periodically, he stopped to perform a spot check and inserted the crowbar between the side and lid to confirm its contents. Once satisfied, he resealed the top using the flat end of the tool to hammer it in place.

Partway through the second aisle, Harry’s smartwatch vibrated with an incoming text, the screen lighting the darkened bunker around him.

Elise: Answer me, Benson.

Harry: I’m good.

At the end of the second row, he made a discovery. Two crates were spaced farther apart to hide a missing one. Harry jotted a notation and moved on.

On the fourth aisle, color variations on several painted labels roused his suspicions. He pried open each one to assure himself everything appeared as stated.

The fifth row proved much the same as the preceding aisle until he reached the end. Two spaces stood empty. Horwith’s inventory with yesterday’s date clearly stated row five contained two more crates. Harry recounted the entire row, just to make sure he had not made an error.