The Retired Mercenary's Great Retaliation

"That means whoever moved the item knows this place well." The warehouse slowly turned silent, and Tony frowned.

"That doesn't mean anything."

I looked at the clear footprint on the ground. "Shoes with a sole like that are only worn by the warehouse's forklift driver."

The crowd started whispering amongst themselves as Lynn looked solemn. "Are you sure?"

I did not answer immediately, instead walking toward the metal cupboard. The cupboard lock had been pried apart, but the scratch marks were faint. I touched the scratch with my finger. The side of the metal was almost intact, and I stood up to announce, "The lock was pried open after the theft to make it look like it was an outside job."

The warehouse was instantly silent as everyone stared at me. A freshly-hired stockkeeper had overturned the security team's investigation results, which had taken an entire day, in only a few glances.

Tony looked shocked as he glanced back and forth between the ground and the pried-open cupboard door, while Lynn was stunned. The condescending look in her eye vanished when she looked at me. All that was left was shock.

"This is all just talk," Tony broke the silence as his face fell. "Find the culprit if you claim this to be an inside job. All I care about are results."

"All right." I did not say anything else as I went to the side door. A thin layer of dust could be seen on the ground outside the door. I crouched and slowly traced the mark on the ground with my finger. The drag marks led to a corner of the warehouse, where the forklifts were parked. I stood up and looked at the forklifts.

Dust was stuck on the wheels, and I went over and lowered my head to look at them. The tire marks matched the marks on the ground. Everyone around me eventually quietened, and the people who were laughing at me stopped talking because none of them had noticed those marks before.

I continued toward the forklifts and found a very faint oily handprint on the forklift door. I saw a new scratch on the side of the chair, and I reached out to touch it. The oil on it had not dried yet.

Lynn could not hold back any longer as she asked me a question, but I did not answer her. All I did was look up at everyone in the warehouse and turn my gaze around until I stopped at one person. It was the forklift driver, Jonah. He was standing at the back of the crowd, looking a little pale.

I said calmly, "You were the only one on night shift last night."

"Oh my gosh! What you did…" Lynn's voice was trembling slightly as she spoke in a low voice. "Not many people could learn the truth from the investigative method, especially with the evidence you found."

Such a method required considerable experience and observation, and one could easily reach the wrong conclusion if a single detail were overlooked. I did not look up and continued crouching on the ground as my finger slowly compared the footprint on the ground and the forklift tire threads.

"This isn't theoretical to me," I spoke calmly, "When I was on assignment overseas twenty years ago, this was a basic requirement." I paused to wipe the sweat from my forehead before looking up at Lynn to continue with composure, "I worked security detail in the Middle East twenty years ago, and I was in charge of ensuring the safety of the warehouse and transporting goods and warehouse items."

Memories of that time flooded my mind as I flashed back. I was in my twenties, wearing a bulletproof vest, standing outside a gigantic warehouse filled with essentials like supplies and provisions. The warehouse was surrounded by armed personnel.

My responsibility was simple. The moment I received a mission, I had to find that person as quickly as possible. There was no advanced technology nor complex equipment to help me back then. I could only rely on the tracks on the ground to help me.

They could be footprints, drag marks, or tire tracks. I needed to find out where they were headed.