Chapter 4 - The Man In The Dark Suit
The atmosphere inside the hardware store instantly turned frigid. The tall man in the dark suit stepped completely inside, letting the heavy door click shut behind him with a finality that sounded like a prison cell slamming shut. He wore crisp leather shoes that clicked sharply against the concrete floor as he walked down the central aisle, ignoring the displays of hammers and nails as if they were invisible.
Arthur’s breath hitched. He instinctively reached beneath the counter where he kept a heavy-duty flashlight, his fingers wrapping around the cold metal casing.
Harold didn't turn around immediately. He stood motionless, his posture straight, his faded US Air Force cap casting a shadow over his deeply lined forehead. His breathing remained slow and controlled, a stark contrast to the rapid hammering of Arthur’s heart.
"Evening, gentlemen," the suit said. His voice was smooth, devoid of any genuine warmth, carrying the practiced cadence of a federal bureaucrat or a corporate fixer. He stopped ten feet away from the counter, his hands resting easily at his sides, though his eyes darted instantly to the brass key resting on the wood. "Lovely night for a hardware run, isn't it, Sergeant Miller? Though I must admit, I'm surprised you're shopping so late. Especially with insufficient funds."
Arthur’s eyes darted between the stranger and Harold. "You know him?" Arthur demanded, stepping slightly out from behind the register.
"Mr. Miller has a habit of misplacing government property," the suit replied smoothly, keeping his gaze locked on the elderly veteran. "Property that doesn't belong in civilian hands. And certainly doesn't belong being duplicated by an enterprising local clerk who has no idea what kind of Pandora's box he's meddling with."
Harold finally turned his head, his micro-expressions betraying nothing more than a faint, weary disdain. "You're a long way from Washington, Agent Vance—no relation, I assure you," Harold said dryly, glancing at Arthur’s name tag. "And you're wasting your time. The code died with the general."
"The code isn't necessary anymore if we have the physical bypass," the agent replied, taking another measured step forward. His hand drifted casually toward his jacket lapel. "Step away from the counter, Mr. Miller. And you, clerk, take your hand off that flashlight before you make a mistake you won't live to regret."
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Arthur’s muscles locked up. The threat was explicit, dangling in the air between them like a drawn blade. He looked at Harold, expecting the old man to surrender, to break under the immense pressure of a government operative backed by armed men outside. Instead, Harold’s hand dropped into his pocket with lightning speed, pulling out a small, blinking electronic device that began emitting a high-pitched, rhythmic whine.
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