“The local police won’t go near a federal commercial loan this size,” I said.

“They told my civilian lawyer it was outside their jurisdiction.”

“Then you need a federal investigator,” the lawyer said.

“But the burden of proof is entirely on you.”

I rose from the small wooden table.

“You can’t fix a federal felony by having a talk with your brother, Colonel,” he said.

I turned and left the military legal office without a backward glance.

The coastal air was already thick with heavy South Carolina humidity when I turned into the family estate driveway at zero nine hundred hours the following morning.