"Shut up," Rourke snarled, yanking open the rear door. "You don't give the orders here."
With firm hands, he pushed her into the backseat, not bothering to ensure she could sit comfortably with her hands cuffed behind her. The door slammed shut with unnecessary force, sealing her in the cage-divided space.
"Unit 47, respond immediately regarding status of Evelyn Brooks," the radio insisted.
Rourke ignored it, jumping into the driver's seat. "Halverson, we're moving out. Now."
The patrol car's tires crunched over gravel as they pulled away from the gas station. Through the reinforced glass partition, Evelyn watched Rourke's shoulders tense, rigid with anger. The handcuffs bit into her wrists, but she kept her breathing steady, her face composed. The radio continued to crackle with unusual traffic that Rourke pointedly ignored.
"Think you're pretty smart, don't you?" Rourke's eyes found hers in the rearview mirror. "All those fancy credentials, those important connections you keep hinting at."
Evelyn said nothing, instead noting the street signs as they passed: Third Street, Marshall Avenue. Each turn, each timestamp locked into her memory—habits from decades of intelligence work that had never faded.
"Silent treatment now?" Rourke's voice grew harder. "That attitude's what got you into this mess. But go ahead, keep acting superior. See where that gets you."
The second patrol car's lights flashed behind them, Halverson following at a precise distance. Through the rear window, Evelyn could see him talking into his radio, his expression troubled. She knew he had seen something on his computer terminal that disturbed him, probably the first waves of federal inquiries hitting their system.
Miles away at the Pentagon, Raymond Brooks stood in his dress uniform, phone pressed to his ear. The banquet hall buzzed with pre-event activity behind him, but his focus was laser-sharp.
"Yes, immediately," he said to the military legal counsel. "I want the Inspector General's Office notified, and I need civilian oversight contacted. This isn't just about my wife. This is about abuse of power caught on camera."
The lawyer's response was quick: "Already reaching out to federal liaisons, sir. We're getting pushback from local jurisdiction, but—"
"Then push harder." Raymond's voice was calm, but carried the weight of decades of command. "They arrested a former intelligence officer with active federal clearance based on nothing but prejudice. Make them understand the gravity of their mistake."
Back in the patrol car, Rourke took a sharp turn that sent Evelyn sliding across the seat. "Oops," he said, not bothering to hide his satisfaction. "These roads can be tricky."
Evelyn steadied herself, noting the street sign: Parkway Drive. Time: 6:47 p.m. She could feel Rourke's growing agitation in every aggressive acceleration, every jerky stop at traffic lights.