Chapter 2 - The Hidden Hologram
The silence in the driveway suddenly grew deafening. Officer Miller stared at the rectangular piece of heavy cardstock hidden directly behind the standard state driver’s license. It wasn't a fake ID or a standard municipal permit. It was a federal diplomatic immunity card issued directly by the Department of Justice, bearing a gold foil emblem that municipal cops only saw in mandatory training manuals.
“What is this?” Miller asked, his voice losing its authoritative edge, replaced by a sudden, nervous tremor.
Marcus kept his posture rigid, the steel cuffs digging into his wrists. “I told you that you were making a mistake. That truck isn't registered to me personally. It’s federal property assigned to an ongoing interstate investigation. By putting these cuffs on me, you’ve just interfered with a live federal operation.”
The tow truck driver leaned out of his cab window, sensing the shift in the atmosphere. “Hey officer, are we hooking this up or what? I got a schedule to keep.”
Miller didn't answer the driver. He looked back at Marcus, his mind racing through the potential consequences. Small-town police officers didn't arrest federal agents, let alone agents carrying top-tier credentials signed by officials in Washington.
“If you’re federal, why were you parked here without standard government plates?” Miller demanded, trying to regain a shred of control.
“Because standard plates would blow my cover in this neighborhood,” Marcus replied smoothly. “And right now, your unnecessary escalation just compromised a three-month surveillance window on the very people who had you tow this truck in the first place.”
Miller’s eyes widened further. He quickly unlocked the handcuffs, the metal clinking as it released Marcus’s wrists. Marcus rubbed his sore skin, stepping back to retrieve his wallet.
“If what you’re saying is true,” Miller whispered, leaning in close, “then you need to look at who called dispatch to have this vehicle removed.”
Marcus paused, his fingers tightening around the leather wallet. “Who?”
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Miller didn't answer verbally. Instead, he pulled out his department-issued smartphone, tapped the screen twice, and turned it around to show Marcus the caller ID log. Marcus stared at the screen, and the blood froze in his veins. The call came from inside his own precinct.
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