Part 3
NCIS took control of the building at 12:37.
The agents photographed the room, collected Mara’s envelope, seized Price’s government phone, and escorted him to a secure interview suite. They did not allow Rook near him. They did not treat the dog’s reaction as evidence.
What mattered now was human conduct, documented records, and facts that could survive in court.
Special Agent Tessa Cole read Price his Article 31 rights. He acknowledged each one, asked twice whether he was under arrest, and finally signed a written waiver.
For the first hour, he denied everything.
He said the destroyed report had been common gossip. He claimed his amendment to the watch log corrected an innocent clerical mistake. He insisted the camera outage had been caused by unstable power at the compound.
Cole listened without arguing.
Then she placed three pages on the table.
The first showed that Price’s credentials had accessed the surveillance-control system at 0209.
The second showed that the corridor camera had been disabled manually, not by a power failure.
The third was an armory record carrying Price’s digital signature.
His issued M18 pistol had been removed for “maintenance” six hours after Daniel died. The barrel had been replaced before the weapon was returned.
Price stared at the documents.
“Someone used my login.”
Cole nodded. “Then help us identify that person.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t, or won’t?”
He asked for water.
By late afternoon, NCIS had obtained the original server image from the allied compound. Someone had deleted the visible files, but the audit layer remained. Price’s credential had opened Daniel’s personnel file, his room assignment, and the camera-control panel.
Investigators had also recovered the fired cartridge case from beneath Daniel’s bed. The impressions left by the firing pin and breech face strongly associated it with Price’s issued pistol. Replacing the barrel had not erased those marks.
The comparison would be challenged by experts. It was not enough by itself to convict him.
Together with his statements and the altered records, it was enough to keep him in the room.
Cole returned after sunset carrying a bank summary.
“Northline Risk Consulting,” she said. “Is that your company?”
Price looked down.
“It’s registered to your sister’s former address. It received two hundred and forty thousand dollars four days after Chief Quinn’s death.”
“My family has investments.”
“The transfer originated with Briarwood Strategic.”
This time, Price could not conceal his reaction.
Briarwood was a major defense contractor with logistics, surveillance, and weapons-support agreements across three combatant commands. Daniel had spent the last year reviewing field discrepancies involving equipment Briarwood claimed to have delivered.
Cole leaned forward.
“What did Daniel find?”
Price said nothing.
“A man is dead. The people who paid you are already removing records and preparing to call you a rogue actor. When that happens, you will carry this alone.”
“They said he was compromised.”
“Who said that?”
“They said he was giving material to a foreign service.”
“Did you see evidence of that?”
Price rubbed both hands over his face. “No.”
“Then why did you believe them?”
“Because of who gave the order.”
Cole let the silence work.
Price’s shoulders slowly folded.
“He had copied procurement ledgers,” he said. “Shipment numbers. Serial blocks. Equipment was being listed as destroyed in transit, then sold through intermediaries. Daniel found weapons appearing in places they were never supposed to be.”
“Did you kill him?”
Price’s lips trembled.
“I went to his room to take the drive.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“He woke up.”
Cole waited.
Price stared at the blank wall behind her.
“He reached toward the nightstand. I thought he was going for his weapon.”
“Was he armed?”
“No.”
“Did you shoot Chief Quinn?”
A long time passed before Price answered.
“Yes.”
The word came out almost soundlessly.
“He was sitting up. He said my name. I fired once.”
Price began to cry then—not dramatically, and not in a way that asked for sympathy. His body simply failed to hold the pressure any longer.
Cole kept her voice level.
“What happened to the drive?”
“It wasn’t there.”
“Who ordered you to recover it?”
“My contact at Briarwood.”
“Name.”
“I never met him. He used the name Vale.”
“Who stood behind Vale?”
Price shook his head.
Cole slid the bank summary closer. “You already know they intend to sacrifice you.”
Price stared at the Briarwood transfer.
“There was one name,” he said. “Not in messages. Vale said it once when Daniel refused to stop digging.”
Cole waited.
“Rourke.”
“Full name.”
Price swallowed.
“Lieutenant General Victor Rourke.”
Just after midnight, Cole briefed Shaw, Ellis, and Mara in a conference room across the installation.
She explained what Price had admitted and what still required independent corroboration. His confession was recorded and lawfully obtained, but it did not prove the full conspiracy. Briarwood’s records would require warrants. Investigating an active-duty three-star Army general would bring in Army CID, the Defense Criminal Investigative Service, and the Department of Defense Inspector General.
Mara remained silent until Cole placed Victor Rourke’s service photograph on the screen.
He was sixty-three, silver-haired, broad-shouldered, and immaculate in his dress uniform. Three stars rested on each shoulder.
Donovan looked from the photograph to Mara.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“From where?”
Mara’s face had gone still.
She looked at the man Price claimed had ordered Daniel’s death.
“Victor Rourke was Daniel’s father…”
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