She bolts.
She throws the knife at me—I dodge left, the blade clattering against the concrete wall—and slams into the exterior door. It flies open and she's through, running hard across the overgrown yard. I'm right behind her, boots hitting dirt, calling it in.
"Suspect fleeing north on foot, Rivera move to intercept."
Garrison's fast for someone who sits at a desk most days. Her feet pound across the yard, heading for the chain-link fence. She hits it at full speed, scrambles up with desperate energy. The fence rattles and sways under her weight.
I'm faster.
I grab her ankle as she reaches the top, yank hard. She kicks, connects with my shoulder, but I don't let go. She topples backward and I catch her mid-fall, both of us hitting the ground hard. The impact drives the air from my lungs but I keep my grip, roll with the momentum, come up on top.
She's still fighting. She tries to knee me, goes for my eyes with her nails. Training kicks in—I trap her wrists, use my weight to pin her, shift to avoid her flailing legs.
"Stop fighting," I growl.
She doesn't. She twists like an eel, manages to get one hand free, claws at my face. I feel skin tear, warm blood on my cheek.
Enough.
I flip her onto her stomach, plant my knee in her back, get both wrists secured behind her. She's still thrashing, screaming obscenities, but it's over. I pull out the cuffs, snap them on with practiced efficiency.
"Commander Garrison, you're under arrest for theft of government property and conspiracy."
She sags against the ground, the fight draining out of her all at once. Now she's crying, gasping for air. "You don't know what you've done. They'll come for all of us."
"Who will?"
But she just shakes her head, shuts down completely.
Rivera arrives with NCIS agents, takes custody. I watch them load her into a vehicle, then key my comms.
"Gwen, we're clear. Everyone's safe."
Her exhale of relief is audible even through the static. "Copy that. Good work."
The drive back to base takes a while. Gwen follows in the tactical vehicle with her NCIS escort while my team secures evidence from Garrison's hideout. By the time we arrive at the NCIS facility, Rivera already has Garrison in an interrogation room.
I find Gwen in the conference room with Rivera's team, reviewing the seized materials spread across the table. There are hard drives, documents, and burner phones. She's shed the tactical vest, back in her regular clothes, looking focused andprofessional as she catalogs items against her hospital inventory records.
"Finding anything?" I ask.
She looks up, relief flickering across her face before the professional mask slides back. "Equipment serial numbers match hospital records. This confirms Garrison was the inside contact." She indicates a stack of shipping manifests. "But these show the stolen equipment was being routed through multiple intermediaries before final sale. We're looking at a network, not just two people."
Rivera joins us. "Garrison's lawyer just arrived. She's not talking without a deal." He looks frustrated. "We need Briggs. He's the enforcer, the one who knows the buyers."
"Cell records from Garrison's burner show multiple calls to the same number over the past month," Gwen adds, pulling up data on her tablet. "Nox helped me access the camera system earlier so I could cross-reference hospital footage. The number traces back to a former hospital security contractor named Briggs."
So that's the connection. Phone records tie them together.
"Any word on his location?" I ask.
"Nothing yet. We've got alerts out at all gates, checkpoints, his known associates under surveillance." Rivera's phone buzzes. She checks it, frowns. "Base security flagged his vehicle entering through the south gate a while ago. But they lost track of it after that."
Too long. He's been on base too long and we're just hearing about it now.
"Why wasn't this flagged immediately?" My voice comes out sharper than intended.
"Security didn't know he was a suspect until after he'd already cleared the gate. By the time the alert went out, he'd disappeared into base traffic."
