Page 116 of The Words Beneath the Noise

I was in the middle of correcting Davies's grip when movement at the edge of the range caught my attention.

Ruth. Moving fast, coat flapping open despite the cold, face tight with something that made my stomach drop before she'd said a single word.

“Sergeant Hale.” Her voice carried across the range, cutting through the sound of gunfire. “I need to speak with you. Now.”

Something in her tone made me hand my rifle to Whitmore without hesitation. “Continue the drill. I want everyone through at least three more rotations before you break.”

“Yes, Sarge.”

I crossed to Ruth, and the closer I got, the worse she looked. Pale beneath her olive skin. Eyes red-rimmed. Hands shaking slightly where they gripped her coat closed.

“What's happened?”

“It's Arthur.” Her voice dropped, barely audible over the distant crack of rifle fire. “Finch called him in this morning. Some kind of interrogation. He's been suspended from all work, confined to his billet.” She swallowed hard. “They took his notebook. The black one he carries everywhere.”

The world tilted. I grabbed Ruth's arm to steady myself, though I wasn't sure which of us needed the support more.

“When?”

“Hours ago. I only just found out because Noor saw him being escorted across the grounds.” Ruth's jaw tightened. “There's a guard outside his door, Tom. They're treating him like a prisoner.”

“Have you seen him? Talked to him?”

“They wouldn't let me near. Said he's not permitted visitors.” Her eyes met mine, fierce and frightened. “But you're security. You have clearance they don't. And he needs someone right now. I've never seen him look like that. Not in three years.”

“Like what?”

“Broken.”

The word hit like a bullet to the chest. I was moving before I'd consciously decided to, boots eating up the frozen ground between the range and the staff quarters where Art's room was located.

Ruth kept pace beside me. “What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I have to.”

“Tom.” She grabbed my arm, pulled me to a stop. “Be careful. Finch is suspicious of both of you. If you go charging in there looking like you're about to commit murder, you'll only make things worse.”

“I don't care.”

“You should. For Arthur's sake if not your own.” Her grip tightened. “He needs you calm. Steady. He needs the Tom whoholds his hand by the lake, not the one who just terrified a dozen soldiers on the range.”

She was right. I knew she was right. But the thought of Art alone and afraid, his notebook gone, his world crumbling around him while I stood here talking about being careful...

“I'll be calm,” I said. “But I'm going to him. Right now.”

Ruth released my arm. “Good. And Tom? Whatever happens in that room, whatever he tells you, remember that he's been carrying this alone for hours. He's going to need you to be strong enough for both of you.”

I nodded and kept walking.

The guard outside Art's door was young, barely out of training, and he straightened nervously when he saw me approaching.

“Sergeant Hale. Mr Pembroke isn't permitted visitors.”

“I'm not a visitor. I'm his security escort.” Kept my voice flat, authoritative. “Captain Finch assigned me to monitor his welfare. I'm here to conduct a welfare check.”

“I wasn't told about any welfare check.”

“You're being told now.” Stepped closer, used every inch of my height advantage. “Open the door, Private. Or I'll open it myself and explain to Finch why his guard couldn't follow a direct order from a superior.”