“He has files, Natalie,” she whispered as she typed. “Files that don’t make sense. Hundreds of pages of logistics reports, shipping manifests, and bank transfers to accounts in Panama.”

“What kind of logistics?” I asked.

“Military hardware,” Madison said. “Decommissioned rifles, night-vision gear, tactical communications systems. Things that were supposed to be destroyed at the depot Hayes manages.”

My stomach tightened.

“A black-market military supply line,” I said.

“It’s bigger than that,” Madison said, her eyes fixed on the progress bar on the screen. “The contracts weren’t just for old gear. There were orders for new shipments. Things that haven’t even been fielded yet.”

She pressed the enter key.

The dialogue box on the screen flickered, the red error message disappearing.

A new window opened, displaying a list of encrypted directories.

The first directory was labeled: *PROJECT VANGUARD.*

Madison looked at me, her breath catching in her throat.

“I found these same files on his computer,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “The ones linking him directly to those black-market military contracts.”