Free VIABLE by R. A. Hakok Page A

anyone who might have got into the van before forensics showed up.’
    She nodded.
    ‘Sure Sheriff. Oh, and I checked with the base commander over at the Depot. All of his guys are accounted for. The air force base at Nellis are still checking but they don’t think they’re missing anyone either. However the Navy guys at Fallon have an instructor been missing since yesterday. Highway patrol up in Churchill found his bike in a ravine out by 50, just past Salt Wells. Pretty busted up. No sign of a body yet. We don’t have a picture of the guy who did a runner from Mount Grant but I’ve asked Fallon to run a check on their guy’s blood type to see if it’s a match and to send us a photo if they got one. They’ve promised to get back to me within the hour.’
    Lars sat up in his chair. Could this be the break he’d been waiting for? Why hadn’t he thought to check the other bases in Nevada? He’d been too focused on the implications for Hawthorne if the depot were shut down to think about anywhere else. Dammit, Fallon was less than seventy miles away - of course this guy could have been from there. Well, thankfully Connie had done some thinking of her own.
    ‘Connie you are a wonder. Let me know soon as you hear back from Fallon.’
    ‘Sure Sheriff. Want me to enter Gant as a missing person in NCIC? I checked with highway patrol up in Churchill and they haven’t done anything about it yet. Figured if this guy’s linked to your case might as well do it here.’
    Lars thought about that for a moment. The National Crime Information Center database had been pioneered by the FBI in the late ’sixties, recognizing that law enforcement officers all over the country needed fast access to the growing pool of criminal data. When the database had first gone online its records had been limited to stolen cars, vehicle license plates, stolen or missing firearms and wanted persons, but a missing persons database had subsequently been added. The NCIC computer was housed in the Bureau’s headquarters in Washington but connecting terminals were located in FBI field offices, police departments, sheriff’s offices and other criminal justice agencies throughout the country. Lars was certified to use the terminal here in Hawthorne – he’d been on the required refresher course only that fall - but Connie knew he hated computers. 
    ‘Let’s wait ’till I’ve spoken with the base commander at Fallon. No sense running point on a missing person that doesn’t belong to us if it’s not connected to what happened at Mount Grant.’
     
    But twenty minutes later he was on the phone to Captain John James Fitzpatrick at Fallon, a scanned picture of Master Chief Carl Gant on the desk in front of him. The quality was poor but he was certain it was their man. Fallon had also confirmed Gant’s blood group as hh . They even maintained stocks at the base in case he was injured.
    Fitzpatrick had no idea however what his Master Chief had been doing strapped to a gurney in the back of a van that had crashed into Mount Grant the day before. He explained to the sheriff that he wasn’t at liberty to disclose much about Gant’s military background, other than to confirm that he was a highly experienced member of one of the Navy’s most prestigious special forces units. When Lars raised the possibility that Gant might have been involved in a terrorist plot the commander laughed out loud.
    ‘Listen Sheriff, I may not be able to tell you much about what Gant’s done during his time with the Navy, but I have known him personally for almost ten years. He’s no Oklahoma bomber. Only thing that’s got me puzzled though is why he allowed himself to be bundled into the back of that van if he didn’t want to be there. As I expect you’ve read from his jacket, Cody’s job here at Fallon is to train Navy SEALs. I can’t see him going anywhere against his will.’
    ‘Cody?’
    ‘Sorry Sheriff, that’s what everyone here at the base calls Gant.