Voss's face turned purple. "You put a man in a cell overnight without running his prints? Are you an idiot?"
"He's a fake, Sheriff. Look at him."
"Run them now!" Voss roared.
Kendrick sulked over to the scanner. He grabbed Darius's hand and pressed his fingers onto the glass. The machine beeped, processing the data. They waited.
Then the computer screen flashed red. A siren noise, one that neither Kendrick nor Voss had ever heard before, began to blare from the PC speakers. A large dialogue box popped up on the screen. It didn't show a criminal record. It showed a single flashing message.
Warning: classified identity, level five clearance. Do not detain. Contact Department of Defense immediately.
Kendrick stared at the screen, his mouth open. "What the hell is this? A glitch?"
Voss shoved Kendrick aside and stared at the monitor. His face went pale. "That ain't a glitch, Kendrick."
Suddenly, the phone on Voss's desk rang. Not the public line, but the red emergency line that connected directly to state police and federal agencies. It had never rung in Voss's years as sheriff.
Voss stared at the phone. He looked at Darius. Darius just tilted his head slightly. "You should answer that, Sheriff."
Voss picked up the phone with a trembling hand. "Sheriff Voss."
"Sheriff Voss." A voice boomed on the other end. It wasn't a question. "This is Admiral Donovan Hale, Chief of Naval Operations. I have a report that you are holding one of my officers, Commander Kane. Is this accurate?"
Voss felt his knees go weak. "Admiral, I... We have a suspect here who claims..."
The admiral's voice could have cut glass. "Sheriff, you are currently holding a decorated Navy SEAL and a recipient of the Medal of Honor. You have exactly five minutes to release him and return his property before I designate your police station a hostile target."
"We... I..." Voss stammered.
"And, Sheriff," the admiral continued, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper, "my sources tell me his uniform was desecrated. If there is a single scratch on that man, may God have mercy on you because the United States Navy will not."
The line went dead. Voss slowly hung up the phone. He looked at Kendrick, who was still staring at the computer screen.
"Unlock him," Voss whispered.
"What?" Kendrick asked.
"Unlock him!" Voss screamed, grabbing his keys and throwing them at Kendrick's head. "You idiot! You arrested a Navy SEAL. The Pentagon just called me personally."
Kendrick fumbled with the keys, his arrogance replaced by confusion and fear. He uncuffed Darius.
Darius rubbed his wrists. He didn't smile. He looked at Voss. "Sheriff, I want my uniform. I want my Trident. And I want the dashcam footage from Deputy Kendrick's car preserved."
"Yes. Yes, sir. Absolutely." Voss was sweating profusely. "Kendrick, get his things now. Brooks, get the commander a coffee, a chair, something."
Kendrick ran to the property room. He came back holding the crumpled jacket and the loose Trident pin. He thrust them at Darius. "Here, take it and go," Kendrick muttered, trying to regain some shred of bravado.
Darius took the jacket. He smoothed it out on the counter with agonizing slowness. He picked up the Trident pin and looked at the bent needle where Kendrick had pried it off.
"I'm not going anywhere, Sheriff," Darius said, looking up.
"What?" Voss asked. "You're free to go, Commander. It was a misunderstanding, a bad mistake. We'll drop all charges."
"The charges against me are dropped," Darius said. "But the crimes committed by this department are just beginning to come to light."
"Now look here." Voss stiffened, his protective instinct kicking in. "We made a mistake. Don't push your luck. You get out of my town and we forget this happened."
Darius walked to the window and looked out at the parking lot. "I can't do that, Sheriff."
"Why not?"
Darius pointed out the window. "Because they are already here."
Voss and Kendrick ran to the window. Turning onto the main street of Ironwood wasn't just a car, it was a convoy. Four black SUVs with government plates flanked by two military police trucks. Above them, the distinct rhythmic thumping of helicopter rotor blades cut through the morning air. A dark gray Black Hawk helicopter was descending toward the high school football field across the street.
"Oh my God," Kendrick whispered.
Darius turned back to them, his face hard as stone. "I told you, Deputy."
The sound of the helicopter landing on the football field wasn't just noise. It was a physical force that rattled the windows of the sheriff's station. Dust from the dry field coated the cruisers in the parking lot. Sheriff Voss stood frozen at the window. He had spent decades bullying locals and intimidating state troopers, but he had never faced anything like this.
"Lock the doors," Kendrick panicked, reaching for his radio. "Tell dispatch to lock the front doors."
"Put the radio down, you idiot," Voss shouted, slapping the device out of Kendrick's hand. "You don't lock the doors on the Feds. You open them and you pray."
The front doors of the station didn't just open, they were breached. Two military police officers in tactical gear with federal agent markings swept into the lobby. They didn't have weapons drawn, but their hands hovered near their holsters and their posture screamed threat assessment. Behind them strode a man in a pristine Navy service khaki uniform.
He was tall, silver-haired, with the golden oak leaves of a lieutenant commander on his collar and the insignia of the Judge Advocate General's Corps. This was Lieutenant Commander Marcus Lang, a man known in legal circles as the shark of Norfolk. Flanking him were two men in suits, FBI.
Lang walked straight to the booking desk, ignoring the stunned sergeant. He scanned the room, his eyes locking onto the sheriff and then finally resting on Commander Kane.
Kane was standing by the window, holding his crumpled jacket. Lang stopped, snapped his heels together, and rendered a sharp, perfect salute. "Commander Kane, sir. Lieutenant Commander Lang, JAG Corps. I am relieving you of this situation."
Darius slowly returned the salute. "At ease, Marcus. Took you long enough."
"Traffic was murder, sir," Lang said, his face deadpan.
He then turned slowly to face Sheriff Voss. The warmth vanished from his eyes. "Who is the commanding officer of this facility?"
Voss stepped forward, trying to inflate his chest, but looking small. "I am Sheriff Harlan Voss. Now, look here. We have a jurisdiction issue."
"We have no issues, Sheriff," Lang interrupted, pulling a folded document from a leather portfolio. "This is a federal warrant issued by the United States District Court for the Southern District of Texas. It authorizes the immediate custody of Commander Darius Kane, the seizure of his vehicle, and the securing of all evidence related to his detainment."
"Evidence," Kendrick squeaked from behind the sheriff. "It was a standard arrest."