“And who authorized the transfer of the surplus fuel funds to the auxiliary account?” I asked.

“I did,” he said.

“Where is that money now, Commander?” I asked.

Nathan’s hands began to shake slightly.

“It was redirected to unit morale events,” he said.

“We have the bank statements for your personal account in San Diego, Commander,” Harris said, sliding a sheet of paper across the table. “They show three cash deposits of ten thousand dollars each during that same week.”

Nathan looked down at the paper.

He didn’t touch it.

“I can explain that,” he said, his voice cracking. “That was a personal loan from a relative.”

“We will be auditing that relative’s accounts as well,” I said.

Nathan looked at me, his eyes pleading.

“Admiral, please,” he said. “This will ruin me. Caroline and I… we are planning our wedding. My career is everything to her family.”

“Your career should have been everything to you before you decided to steal from the United States Navy,” I said.

I closed the blue folder.

“We are going to take a fifteen-minute recess while the JAG officer prepares the official statement of charges,” I said.