Into the blue one went the wire sheets, matched line by line to the routing numbers I’d unfolded from the watch box.

“Eleven million dollars,” Nicole said.

“Nine wires.

The first on March 3.

The last on July 19.”

Into the green one went the duty logs from the metal lockbox, the originals, still smelling of gun oil and old paper.

Fort Carson.

Three out of the nine wire dates.