Jennie glanced at me, and then informed him, "Our lead suspect is a Secret Service agent named Barnes. If there's a connection to foreign terrorists, it's only financial."

"Okay." He considered that a moment, then asked, "Accomplices?"

"Three we know of, possibly more. Barnes appears to be the mastermind. At least one woman is involved."

Eric raised an eyebrow but did not comment on that news.

I asked, "Why are you so sure these thefts didn't involve foreign terrorists?"

"Start with the first case at Fort Hood, the bunker theft. Here's what happened. The munitions bunker has a double lock system. It's electronically monitored whenever it's opened." He looked at me and said, "You get it, right?"

"The thefts occurred during an authorized entry."

From the corner of my eye I saw Tingle nod and Tanner continued, "The bunker was opened only once between the two monthly inventories, by a quartermaster team-a sergeant and three privates-delivering fifty containers of 5.56 ammo. It might interest you to know that this is our most common form of munitions thefts."

"I thought the case remained open."

"It is." Tingle again nodded, and Tanner explained, "We interrogated the four soldiers. Nobody confessed, though obviously at least one of them's lying. Nearly always in cases like this, it was a crime of opportunity. So now the thief has to locate a buyer, and we're watching all four of them."

I thought about that a moment. "Isn't that… a little passive?"

He gave me a sneaky smile. "Each of the four will soon be approached by a fat-cat arms merchant from the Middle East-one of our guys. He's already in Killeen, the town outside the base, casing his targets."

"I see."

"We know how to cover our asses, Mr. Drummond."

General Tingle coughed into his hand.

Eric Tanner shrugged, and continued, "The case at Galveston, on the other hand… well, you read the case file. These were professionals. They knew exactly when to arrive, where the containers were located, and had expert forgeries. The combination of the large quantity of the munitions and the level of criminal sophistication made us more concerned than usual."

"As it should."

"So after we reported it to the Bureau, we also notified your people at the Agency, Mr. Drummond."

Colonel Johnson got into the act, informing me, "About three weeks later, your people got word to us that a government military platoon in Colombia walked into a minefield and two soldiers were killed. The descriptions of the incident indicated the killing devices were Bouncing Bettys. They also reported a sharp step-up in vehicular ambushes by FARC rebel units using short-range rockets."

Eric surmised, "So we know where the weapons ended up."

"But not," General Tingle concluded, looking sharply at Tanner, "who orchestrated the theft." He turned back to me and asked, "Do you believe this Barnes is in some way connected to the Colombian FARC rebels?"

"No. Rule it out." So now we were down to the third and final case, the second theft at Fort Hood. These were all crafty men, and I doubted this was serendipity.

Colonel Johnson, who appeared to be Tingle's executive assistant, asked, "Anybody need a refill?"

While we refreshed our cups, Chief Tanner said, "Let's talk for a moment about what happened at Fort Hood on February 9"

Jennie glanced at her watch. "Let's do."

"But I'd like to precede that discussion with a little background. Around Fort Hood-around all our bases-are crime rings that feed off our troops, our families, and our equipment. Insurance fraud rings, phony mortgage and car loan setups, prostitution, and even burglary rings. Some of these parasites are strictly amateur hour. Others are incredibly shrewd. In those cases where the crimes cross boundaries between our bases and the surrounding communities, we work closely with local police forces, and often, with the FBI."

He paused to see if we had any questions. We didn't, and he continued, "At Fort Hood, we have a ring specializing in munitions and weapons thefts. Once or twice a year they pull off something. This has been going on for… about five years. A file cabinet in my office is crammed with various investigations we believe are all interrelated."

Jennie asked, "And you believe the February 9 incident and those cases are also related?"

"I'm sure of it." Becoming more animated, he bent forward and explained, "Here's what's interesting. This group never repeats the same thing twice. For a long time, nobody even realized we were dealing with a ring. The thefts were so different, and occurred so infrequently, you couldn't detect a common MO."

Colonel Johnson grabbed my left arm and confided, "Ignore his modesty. It was Eric who uncovered the common thread."

This compliment brought a happy beam to Tanner's face. Jennie leaned toward him and asked, "What is that common thread?"

"The very fact that no two thefts are alike. I'm sure that's by design. These are smart people with a certain flair for stagecraft, and a characteristic boldness I've come to regard as their calling card."

Jennie thought about that a moment. She said, "Interesting theory. Give us an example."

"Okay, take this February 9 incident. They probably came on post wearing uniforms, using forged military ID cards. Range control personnel are authority figures. They wear special armbands that allow them access to all ranges and license to poke around for safety violations, and to inspect and inventory munitions. So they hijack a range control vehicle, they show up at these three ranges, and they pilfer ammo while everybody thinks they're just doing their job."

I tried to picture this in my mind. In truth, it was a diabolically clever way to steal from the Army. Range control people tend to be mostly senior sergeants who, despite their lower rank, are feared by the young officers who run firing ranges, because, as Tanner mentioned, their mission involves hunting for safety and procedural problems, and if they find them, they have the clout to shut down the range and cite the young officers. This tends not to go down well with the officers' superiors. But neither does having weapons and ammunition stolen right under your nose, and I was sure that three young officers at Fort Hood were busily sending their resumes to career placement firms.

Tanner continued, "In fact, the thefts weren't even noticed till the end of the day, as units were closing up the ranges and doing their final inventories. By then, these crooks are swigging beers at the Lone Star Bar and Grill, laughing at how stupid we are." After a moment, he reflected, "These people really have balls."

I sized up Eric Tanner for a moment. Clearly, this case was personal for him. That wasn't necessarily bad; neither was it necessarily good. It's healthy to feel some outrage over the crime. In the tough cases, that's what keeps you putting one foot in front of another to the end. But to get to the end, logic is the fuel, and emotion a poisonous indulgence.

As I said, Mr. Tanner was young, mid- to late twenties, I'd guess, and sort of baby-faced, so it was hard to pin down. Also, he was cocky, or at the least very sure of himself, if there's a difference. He spoke well, and presented his findings and his views in a linear, forceful fashion, which is sometimes the sign of a clear mind, and other times the trademark of a blowhard. But General Tingle, and Eric's peers, and Eric's superiors all thought highly of him, or he wouldn't have his responsibilities. For sure, he wouldn't have a seat at this table.

Still, as a prosecutor, I had a strong preference for older CID agents on the stand. Age implies wisdom and seasoning, whereas youth suggests greenness and impulsiveness, which make juries jittery. Physical impressions might be shallow or even misleading, but they are a factor, and they count. Eric Tanner should grow a mustache.