"The guy's a pro." Kowalski stood up. He didn't look at Harlan. He looked at Dez.
"Sir, could you tell me your full name and rank?" "Master Sergeant Darius Kane, retired," Dez replied. "And I'd like my handcuffs removed now." Harlan rolled his eyes.
"Sarge, don't listen to him." "Royce, shut the hell up!" Kowalski snapped. The room went silent.
Other officers stopped what they were doing. Kowalski walked around the desk. He wasn't reaching for his keys to book Dez. He was reaching for his key to the handcuffs.
"Sarge." Harlan looked confused. "What are you doing? You didn't run this card, did you?"
Kowalski asked, his face pale. "You didn't even look at the numbers." "It's fake." "It's not fake, you idiot!"
Kowalski yelled, unlocking the cuffs on Dez's wrists. "This is a retired master sergeant carrying a Department of Defense clearance credential. This man isn't a drug dealer. He's a federal asset."
The cuffs clicked open. Dez rubbed his wrists, looking at Harlan with cold, dead eyes. "I tried to tell him," Dez said to Kowalski. "He preferred to talk about rap music and drug fronts."
Kowalski closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He knew what was coming. He looked at Harlan. "Royce, turn off your body-camera."
"Go to the captain's office now." But now, as Harlan sulked away, confused and angry, Dez leaned against the booking desk. "Don't bother turning off the camera, sergeant. My lawyer is already pulling the cloud data from my home security system."
"And I'm pretty sure the ACLU is going to love the audio from his cruiser." Kowalski looked at Dez. "Mr. Kane, I'm sure we can clear this up."
"Just a misunderstanding. New guy, you know how it is." "I do know how it is," Dez said, picking up his ID and sliding it into his pocket. "That's the problem."
"I fought for freedom overseas, sergeant. I didn't think I'd have to fight for it in my own neighborhood." Dez leaned in closer. "I'm not leaving until I file a formal complaint."
"And I want the badge number of the officer who arrested me and his supervisor's name and yours." The drama was just beginning. Harlan had lit a match, but he didn't realize he was standing in a room full of gasoline. And Darius Kane was about to bring the fire.
Captain Elias Thorn was a man who believed that any problem could be solved if you buried it under enough paperwork or shouted at it until it went away. He had been running the Oak Haven precinct for 12 years, and in that time, he had swept more than a few indiscretions under the rug. But as he looked at Darius Kane standing in his office, uncuffed, spine straight, radiating a silent, terrifying intensity, Thorn had a sinking feeling that his rug wasn't big enough for this. Sergeant Kowalski had already briefed Thorn.
Top-level clearance, Yankee White, Special Operations. Thorn rubbed his temples. "Mr. Kane," Thorn began, leaning back in his creaking leather chair.
He tried a conciliatory smile. It looked like a grimace. "Please take a seat. I think we've gotten off on the wrong foot here."
"Officer Harlan is overzealous. He's young. He sees a threat where there isn't one. We're willing to drop the disorderly conduct charge immediately."
Dez didn't sit. He stared at the framed photos on the wall behind Thorn. Pictures of the captain shaking hands with the mayor, the governor, the local Rotary Club president. "You're willing to drop the charges?"
Dez repeated, his voice flat. "That's generous of you, captain, considering there were no charges to begin with." "Well, technically," Thorn hedged, picking up a pen and tapping it on his desk, "Harlan filed a report stating you were combative and refused to identify yourself. But in the spirit of community relations, I'm willing to void the arrest."
"You walk out of here, go back to your nice house, and we all pretend this afternoon didn't happen." "And what happens to Officer Harlan?" Dez asked. Thorn sighed.
"He'll get a reprimand, a note in his file, maybe a day of retraining on de-escalation." "A day of retraining?" Dez said, finally stepping forward. He placed his hands on the back of the guest chair, gripping the wood until his knuckles turned white.
"Captain, your officer pulled a weapon on a calm, unarmed man. He profiled me, trespassed on my property, assaulted me, and illegally seized federal identification. If I had flinched just once, he would have shot me. You know it."
"I know it." "Let's not deal in hypotheticals," Thorn snapped, his patience fraying. "You're a military man, Kane. You know how it is in the field."
"Split-second decisions, fog of war." "This wasn't Fallujah, captain. This was a driveway in suburbia, and there was no fog until your boy brought it." Dez reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
"I'm not accepting your deal. I'm making a phone call." Thorn narrowed his eyes. "Who are you calling?"
"A local ambulance chaser? I wouldn't advise that. This is a small town. Lawyers here have to work with us."
Dez didn't answer. He dialed a number from memory. It wasn't a local number. It was a direct line to the Pentagon's Office of the Judge Advocate General, specifically a contact he had acquired during his time working with JSOC, Joint Special Operations Command.
Thorn watched, unnerved, as Dez waited for the connection. "Colonel Vance," Dez said into the phone. The room went silent. Thorn stiffened.
"It's Master Sergeant Kane. Yes, sir. I'm good. Listen, I have a situation."
"I've been detained by local law enforcement in Oak Haven. False arrest, assault, Fourth Amendment violations. No, sir. They took the clearance ID."
"Yes, the Yankee White card." Dez paused, listening. A faint smirk touched his lips. "He thought it was fake."
"Yes, sir. I'm currently in the captain's office. Captain Elias Thorn." He listened for a moment.
"Roger that, sir. I'll wait." Dez took the phone off speaker. Captain, Colonel Vance from the JAG Corps would like a word.
Thorn stared at the phone as if it were a live grenade. He cleared his throat. "Captain Thorn speaking." The voice on the other end was like grinding steel.