Identity Zero novel · Chapter 8 of 32

Chapter 8: Grease

Two guards came through the door behind Gorham and took Jesse's arms.

"Theft of a weapon," Sallow said, loud, for the room. "That's not a washout, Colonel. That's a sheriff's matter."

"It's not mine," Jesse said.

"It's in your box."

"Lots of things are in my box. Ask Ollie about the sock situation."

Somebody laughed, nervous, and stopped.

Gorham strolled down the row with his hands behind his back.

He took the pistol from Sallow and turned it over in the light.

"Seventeen," he said. "Make me believe you."

"Sir, this is..." Sallow started.

"Curt. Hush." Gorham kept smiling at Jesse. "Go on. Entertain me."

The guards still had Jesse's arms.

He looked at his footlocker.

His clean white undershirt lay folded on top where Sallow had pushed it aside.

There was a print on it.

A black thumbprint, sharp as ink, right on the collar.

"Look at my shirt," Jesse said.

Gorham looked.

"Now look at my hands."

The guards let go so he could hold them up.

Mud from the range. Grey, gritty, already drying.

No black anywhere.

"Now look at his," Jesse said.

Every head in the barracks turned to Sallow.

Sallow put his hands behind his back.

It was too late.

Forty cadets had seen him wipe them on a rag at formation.

"That's axle grease," Jesse said. "He's under his truck every morning. Smells like it from across the parade ground."

Sallow's neck went red. "Half this compound touches that truck."

"Then let's ask the gun."

Gorham lifted his eyebrows and tipped the Glock to the light.

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