Chương 3
I had seen that number before.
Not in the disciplinary summary.
In the underlying transaction logs I had reviewed three nights earlier.
It belonged to a shipment Tom had never been assigned to approve.
Yet his credentials had touched it twice.
And suddenly the question in front of us was no longer whether my brother had cut corners because his unit was overwhelmed.
It was why Thomas Mitchell had altered a record he had no legitimate reason to access at all.
Bell spent most of the recess bent over the exhibit with one hand pressed against his forehead.
Tom tried twice to whisper to him.
Both times Bell raised a finger without looking up.
My parents remained in the gallery.
My mother sat with her purse in her lap and both hands folded over it, the way she used to sit in church whenever the sermon made her uncomfortable.
My father kept watching Tom.
Not me.
That should have made things easier.
It did not.
When Commander Haskins called us back to order, Bell stood before anyone asked him to.
“We have no objection to admission for the limited purpose of establishing the system activity reflected in the record.”
The presenting officer said, “The government intends to establish more than system activity.”
“I assumed you might.”
Bell sat.
The audit extract appeared on the monitors.
The transaction concerned a shipment of hydraulic control assemblies that had arrived with a discrepancy in the packaging seals.
Because of that discrepancy, the shipment had been placed on administrative hold pending inspection.
Tom had no assigned role in receiving it.
He had no inspection authority over it.
He had no supervisory responsibility for the sailors who did.
Yet at 1817 on March 14, his credentials had been used to reopen the record.
At 1821, the hold notation was changed.
At 1824, the shipment moved into releasable status.
At 1839, Tom’s credentials accessed the record again.
The presenting officer called the system administrator who had recovered the logs.
She appeared by video from another installation and spoke with the flat confidence of someone who spent her days explaining computer records to people hoping computers were more mysterious than they actually were.
Bell asked whether credentials could be compromised.
“Yes.”
“Shared?”
“They shouldn’t be.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Yes, they can be shared.”
“Could another sailor have used Petty Officer Mitchell’s credentials?”
“In theory.”
“In practice?”
She tilted her head.
“In practice, people do things they’re not supposed to do.”
A faint sound came from somewhere in the gallery.
It might have been a laugh someone swallowed.
Bell did not smile.
“So the existence of his credentials in the log does not establish that he personally made these changes.”
“Not by itself.”
Tom’s shoulders loosened slightly.
Then the presenting officer asked, “What else did you recover?”
The administrator clicked to another screen.
“Access terminal identification.”
A workstation number appeared.
The terminal was located in the secured office adjacent to the receiving floor.
The presenting officer asked who had badged into that office between six and seven that evening.
The administrator said physical access records were maintained separately.
The next witness handled those.
A security specialist authenticated the badge logs.
Five people had entered during that hour.
Three had left before 1810.
One entered after 1845.
Tom badged in at 1809 and out at 1842.
Bell stood slowly.
“Was anyone else physically present in that office?”
“The badge log can tell me who entered through controlled doors.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“No, sir.”
“So someone already inside could have remained there.”
“Yes.”
“Someone could have followed another person through the door.”
“That would violate procedure, but yes.”
“Someone could have entered through an unsecured internal access point.”
“There isn’t one.”
“Someone could have been admitted by a person already inside.”
“Yes.”
Bell nodded as if the answer helped more than it did.
The presenting officer waited until he sat.
Then she asked whether the office had surveillance cameras.
My stomach tightened.
The specialist said the corridor did.
Not the office.
Bell leaned back.
For the first time that morning, his face showed genuine relief.
There would be no perfect recording.
No convenient angle proving whose fingers touched the keyboard.
The presenting officer did not look disappointed.
“Did you review the corridor footage?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“Petty Officer Mitchell entered alone.”
Bell rose again.
“You just told us the camera does not show inside the office.”
“Correct.”
“So you cannot say he was alone inside.”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
He sat before she could add anything.
The presenting officer looked toward Commander Haskins.
“No further questions.”
That bothered me.
She had not built the exhibit for the access logs alone.
I looked again at Tom.
His relief was gone.
He knew it too.
Commander Haskins called a lunch recess.
I took my tray to a corner table in the cafeteria and discovered I had bought a turkey sandwich I did not want, chips I had not meant to pick up, and a bottle of water I had already opened without remembering doing it.
I had taken one bite when someone pulled out the chair across from me.
Michael sat down.
For a second, I simply stared.
He wore civilian clothes and a visitor badge clipped crookedly to his belt.
“You’re supposed to be at work.”
“So are you.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Emily says I answer questions like a politician.”
“She’s eleven.”
“She’s observant.”
I looked past him.
“You can’t be here.”
“I can be in a public cafeteria.”
“You know what I mean.”
His expression softened.
“I do.”
Michael had flown long enough to develop an annoying calm during situations in which other people became louder.
He was not actually calmer.
He just had fewer visible leaks.
“You called?” I asked.
“Haskins did not call me, your commander did not call me, and nobody violated any rule.”
“Then how did you know?”
May you like
“You texted me at six fourteen this morning and said, ‘They’re here.’”
I stared at him.
