He got into the driver’s side and started the engine without turning on the headlights.

We rolled slowly down the dirt path, bouncing over deep ruts in the earth.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Not to the local precinct,” Sterling said, shifting gears.

“And not to the military police at the base.”

“Gregory’s reach in the state capital is too deep.”

I looked down at my phone.

A new message popped up from an unknown number.

*The federal building in Sacramento is your only safe harbor,* the message read.

*I have notified the Assistant U.S. Attorney. She is waiting.*

“Is this from General Avery?” I asked, showing Sterling the screen.

Sterling glanced at the phone and nodded.

“Marcus knows who is clean and who isn’t,” he said.

“He spent thirty years navigating these waters.”

“If he says Sacramento, we go to Sacramento.”

The truck joined the main highway, and Sterling finally switched on the headlights.

The high beams cut through the grey walls of fog.

I opened the red folder again, using the light from the dashboard to read.