Miller sighed, pulling over an empty plastic inventory bin. "All right, tough guy. Empty your pockets: wallet, keys, phone, watch. Everything in the bin."
"His hands are cuffed, Sarge," Higgins laughed. "I'll get it for him."
Higgins roughly patted Arthur down, pulling the slim leather wallet from Arthur's inner breast pocket and tossing it contemptuously into the plastic bin. He then unclasped the heavy, expensive watch from Arthur's wrist, eyeing it with obvious greed before dropping it in.
"Take the cuffs off, Tommy," Miller muttered, booting up the fingerprint scanner. "He's not going anywhere."
Higgins reluctantly removed the handcuffs. Arthur slowly rubbed his wrists, bringing his hands to the front. He looked up at Sergeant Miller, his eyes cold and piercing.
"I am formally requesting my phone to make a call to my legal counsel," Arthur said, his voice carrying clearly over the din of the busy precinct. "And I strongly suggest you look inside that wallet before you process my fingerprints."
Higgins rolled his eyes. "Sarge, don't listen to this guy. He's been yapping since I picked him up."
Miller, annoyed by the paperwork and just wanting to process the arrest quickly, grabbed Arthur's wallet to pull out the ID for the booking forms. He flipped the leather open.
There, gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights of the precinct, was a solid, heavy gold shield. Beside it, perfectly laminated, was an identification card bearing the seal of the Department of Justice.
Miller's blood ran cold. His heart skipped a beat, and all the color violently drained from his face. He blinked, thinking his tired eyes were playing tricks on him. He read the title printed in bold black ink beneath Arthur's name:
Arthur Pendleton
Executive Assistant Director
Federal Bureau of Investigation
National Security Branch
The precinct around Miller seemed to fade away. The ambient noise vanished into a high-pitched ringing in his ears. The man standing across the counter wasn't just a federal agent—he was the federal agent. He was a man who could dismantle their entire police department with a single phone call. He was a man with clearance levels higher than the governor.
Miller's hands began to tremble violently. He looked up slowly, his terrified eyes meeting Arthur's calm, merciless stare.
"Tommy..." Miller whispered, his voice cracking. "Tommy... what the hell did you do?"
Higgins, who was leaning against the counter and scrolling through his phone, didn't look up. "What? Guy's a fake, Sarge. Probably bought that badge on Amazon. Process him so I can get back on patrol."
"He didn't buy this on Amazon, you absolute idiot!" Miller choked out, a bead of cold sweat rolling down his forehead. "This is real. It has the DOJ micro-holograms." Miller swallowed hard, looking at Arthur. "Sir... Director Pendleton... I... there has been a massive misunderstanding."
Arthur didn't blink. He reached into the plastic bin and picked up his personal cell phone. "My phone call, Sergeant," Arthur said softly.
It wasn't a request. Miller was entirely paralyzed; he couldn't stop him.
Higgins finally looked up, suddenly confused by the sheer terror radiating from his superior officer. "Hey, what are you doing? Put the phone down!" Higgins barked, stepping toward Arthur.
"Stand down, Higgins!" Miller screamed, his voice cracking in absolute panic. "Do not touch him! Back the hell away from him!"
Arthur dialed a secure, encrypted number. It rang twice.
"Wright," a sharp female voice answered.
"Eleanor, it's Arthur," Pendleton said, his voice perfectly steady.