Chapter 5

"Sir, I need you to move behind the concrete pillar immediately. Do not approach your car.""You don't give me orders—"Sterling's protest died as Samuel grabbed his arm with professional firmness, pulling him away from the vehicle. The grip was precise, controlled, unmistakably trained."There's someone in your car," Samuel said quietly, his eyes scanning the garage with methodical precision. "Professional infiltration. They've been waiting."Sterling jerked his arm free, but didn't move toward the Tesla. Something in Samuel's tone—the calm certainty, the tactical assessment—registered as genuine expertise rather than janitor nonsense."That's impossible. Biometric locks, bulletproof glass, military-grade security systems—""Professional bypass," Samuel interrupted, his gaze fixed on the vehicle's rear window. "Specialized tools, extensive surveillance, intimate knowledge of your patterns. This is coordinated."Sterling's confidence wavered. The man he had just humiliated and fired was speaking with the precision of someone who understood security at levels Sterling had never imagined."How could you possibly know?"Samuel reached into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a worn leather wallet. Inside, beneath clear plastic, lay a badge that made Sterling's breath catch: United States Secret Service, with a photo ID showing Samuel Johnson fifteen years younger, clean-shaven, wearing the crisp uniform of the Presidential Protection Detail.Sterling stared at the credentials, reading and rereading the text. "This... this is real.""Special Agent Samuel Johnson," Samuel said quietly. "Presidential Protection Detail, 2008 to 2019. Eleven years protecting presidents, vice presidents, and foreign dignitaries."The transformation was stunning. The hunched, submissive janitor had vanished, replaced by a professional whose bearing radiated competence and authority. Sterling saw him clearly for the first time: the military posture, the watchful eyes, the controlled movements that spoke of extensive tactical training."What happened?" Sterling whispered. "Why are you—"Samuel's expression darkened, his hand unconsciously moving to cover a scar that ran across his knuckles."March 15th, 2019. Assassination attempt on the vice president. I took a bullet meant for someone else." He rolled up his sleeve, revealing a puckered entry wound just below his wrist. "The shooter breached the perimeter using inside information. I spotted the threat, moved to intercept. The bullet went through my hand before hitting my vest."Sterling's mouth went dry. "You saved the vice president's life.""Internal investigation followed. They suspected inside help. Someone had fed the shooter detailed security protocols. I fit their profile for potential collaboration."

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