Brodie knocked loudly on the door and announced, “CID! Open the door.”
After a moment he heard footsteps, and then the door opened slowly to reveal a tall, fit man of about twenty in a black Nirvana T-shirt and jeans with close-cropped dirty-blond hair. Despite his imposing physique, he had a softness and innocence to his features. His large blue eyes moved between his three visitors.
Brodie and Taylor produced their creds, and Brodie said, “Special Agents Brodie and Taylor, CID. Are you PFC Thomas Greer?”
“Yes, sir,” the man answered. He looked at Sergeant Miller. “Is everything all right, Sergeant?”
Miller said, “The agents just have a few questions for you, Tom.”
Greer nodded and stepped aside. They all entered a small living room with a couch, TV, table and chairs, and kitchenette.
Brodie turned to Sergeant Miller. “Thank you for your cooperation. We have it from here. But we’d like to get a look at your training grounds tomorrow.”
Miller nodded. “Yes, sir. I can meet you at the west gate with a vehicle and take you out.”
“Good. Oh-eight-hundred. And we’d like it if Captain Pickman can join us. We have yet to meet.”
The sergeant looked as though he didn’t love that idea, but said, “I will notify the captain.” Miller took a last look at Private Greer, then left the room.
Brodie gestured for Greer to have a seat on the couch, and the two agents pulled up chairs across from him.
Brodie noticed a PlayStation controller, a graphic novel, and the remnants of a burrito on the coffee table in front of the couch. He asked, “How have you been handling the lockdown?”
Greer shrugged. “Don’t mind it, sir. Don’t mind the break. They’ve been running us ragged.”
“So I’ve heard.” He added, “As I’m sure you’re aware, we are here because of the death of Major Roger Ames. Did you know the major?”
Greer broke eye contact and looked at the coffee table, contemplating his burrito, or perhaps whether he should lie to CID agents. He said, “I knew who he was. There’s only a handful of officers at this camp.”
“Right. But did you ever converse with him?”
Greer looked at Brodie. “No, sir.”
“So he never told you why he was accessing the Vault in the middle of the night?”
Greer cleared his throat. “I do recall letting him in on a night shift or two while on guard duty. Wouldn’t be my place to ask what he was doing, though.”
Taylor asked, “Was he alone?”
Greer thought for a moment—or pretended to. “I believe so.”
She followed up, “Were you alone on guard duty?”
Greer nodded. “There are supposed to be two guys, but on night duty it doesn’t always work out that way. Someone gets sick, or says they’re sick, or just hasn’t had enough rest since a training exercise to manage it. So long as one guy is there, command seems okay with it.”
Brodie asked, “Did you accompany the major down into the Vault?”
Greer shook his head. “I just let him into the building and activated the elevator for him.”
Was that a lie? Ames would have needed Greer’s access code to activate and release the D-17 unit. Unless Greer had given his code to the major, which would have been a major breach of protocol. “Did you give your access code to Major Ames?”
“No, sir. That is forbidden.”
Taylor said in as soft a voice as she could muster, “Private, we are well versed in the security protocols of this camp. And we know that Major Ames could not have done anything in the Vault without the access code that is not given to DEVCOM, and that is only known to officers within the camp command and select enlisted men while performing guard duty. So we will ask you again, with a reminder that you are speaking with officers of the law: Did you accompany Major Ames down to the Vault during any of his nighttime visits?”
Greer shook his head vigorously. “No, ma’am.”
“Did you give your code to Major Ames?”
