Chapter 33 - The Man Who Came Before Us
Paul Rainer lived in a retirement community outside Roanoke. He agreed to meet the inspector general’s investigator, but only if we came in person.
His apartment was orderly and sparse, with framed landscape photographs on the walls. A cane rested beside his chair. He looked at Nadia for a long time before speaking.
“I thought you had died,” he said.
“So did everyone who signed the paperwork,” Nadia replied.
Rainer lowered his eyes. “I didn’t sign the report that said you were dead. I signed the order that moved the property.”
“You knew I was alive.”
“I knew you were being treated. I didn’t know where you went after that.”
“Why did you take the case to the museum?”
“Because Harlan told me to keep it safe. He said the contents were evidence, not intelligence. He wanted the notebooks preserved.”
“And you did nothing when the records were changed?”
“I followed the chain of command.”
“That’s what everyone says,” Nadia replied. “Then they point to a different person.”
Rainer accepted her anger without defending himself.
He had been assigned to recover materials after the Kunar extraction. The field case contained maps and the notebook, but the notebook also held a list of names of local people who had helped the team. Some were still in danger. Harlan ordered the names concealed from ordinary reporting channels.
“I thought the concealment was temporary,” Rainer said. “Then the review expanded. They changed Nadia’s status, and I objected. Harlan told me the decision had already been made.”
“By whom?” I asked.
“He never said. He said the order came from above his office.”
“Was it the same person who signed the original transfer?” the investigator asked.
Rainer nodded. “I saw the form once. The first signature was a regional security officer. Not Graves. Not Sloane. Someone who had control over the facility where Nadia was taken.”
“Name?” Nadia asked.
“Dr. Evelyn Shaw.”
The name was unfamiliar. The investigator searched the archived personnel index on her tablet.
“She directed the medical review unit at the time,” she said. “She retired twelve years ago.”
“Is she alive?” I asked.
“According to this, yes.”
Rainer gave the investigator a second document. It was a copy of a courier receipt showing that the field case had been moved twice before it reached the museum. One transfer bore the initials E.S.
“Why didn’t you tell us about the notebook?” I asked him.
“I tried to tell Harlan after I found Vale’s name. He said the man had been moved safely and the record wasn’t mine to reopen.”
“Did you believe him?”
“I wanted to.”
The answer sat heavily in the room. People had relied on Harlan’s authority because it was easier than imagining someone was using it to hide a crime.
Rainer signed a statement, then asked to speak privately with Nadia. She agreed, but only for five minutes.
When she returned, her expression was unreadable.
“What did he say?” I asked.
“He said he knew my name had been taken out of the files, and he didn’t stop it. He didn’t ask me to forgive him.”
“That matters.”
“It matters that he finally said it out loud.”
The investigator contacted Dr. Shaw’s attorney. A message came back that evening: Shaw would not meet with the inquiry without a subpoena.
Before we left the retirement community, the desk clerk told us someone had called asking whether Paul Rainer had visitors. The caller identified himself as a journalist.
The investigator checked the number. It belonged to an unregistered prepaid phone.
Then Ethan received a call from Marcus.
May you like
Marcus had found a name in his old deployment notes: Jonah Vale’s emergency contact.
It was listed as Claire Whitaker.
