Cole! Target is rabbiting. North exit, gray suit. We see him. Units are too far out.
He's getting into a cab. Damn it, Paul. We lost the money. Cole's voice was furious, echoing painfully in Jonathan's earpiece. The realization that the operation was dead washed over Jonathan like ice water.
The cartel money was gone. The ledger was gone. And it was all because of a racist beat cop who couldn't leave well enough alone. A cold, dark fury settled in Jonathan's chest. On the ground!
Jenkins screamed again, spit flying from his lips as he shoved Sam hard against the back of the bench. Take it easy. We're complying, Sam gritted out, allowing Jenkins to force him chest first against the hot iron slats of the bench. Sam knew better than to fight a uniformed officer, even if the officer was dead wrong. Survival came first.
The truth would come out in about 2 minutes. Jenkins violently wrenched Sam's arms behind his back, the steel handcuffs biting viciously into Sam's wrists as Jenkins ratcheted them far tighter than legally allowed. Jonathan stood still, his hands raised in the air, his eyes burning holes into Jenkins. Your turn, Jenkins sneered, breathing heavily, high on adrenaline. He holstered his taser and drew his secondary pair of cuffs.
Turn around. Hands behind your back. Give me a reason to drop you. Come on. Officer Jenkins, Jonathan said, his voice terrifyingly calm, devoid of any fear.
You just cost the United States government $3 million. You just let a cartel money launderer escape. My name is Special Agent Jonathan Paul. The man you just assaulted is Special Agent Samuel Hayes. We are with the Federal Bureau of Investigation.
Jenkins paused. For a second, a flicker of doubt crossed his face, but then he looked at Jonathan's baggy clothes, his worn-out shoes, and his skin color. The prejudice ran too deep. He couldn't compute the reality in front of him. He laughed, a harsh mocking sound.
FBI. Yeah, right. And I'm the president of the United States, Jenkins scoffed, stepping forward and violently spinning Jonathan around. He kicked Jonathan's legs apart, almost hyperextending his knee and slammed his chest against the bench next to Sam. Jenkins slapped the cuffs on Jonathan, locking them tightly.