Chapter 4
Two days later, the morning air was biting and gray as Arthur stepped out of a cab two blocks from the intersection of Third and Wabash. He wore a dark wool overcoat over his suit, the high collar turned up slightly to partially conceal the fading bruise on his cheek. His pace was deliberate, neither hurried nor hesitant, as he approached the bustling pedestrian crosswalk where downtown commuters rushed toward their morning routines.
Officer Carl Redding was standing near the curb, directing traffic with sharp, impatient waves of a gloved hand. His heavy duty belt gleamed under the gray autumn light, and badge 316 caught the reflection of a passing delivery truck. As Arthur drew closer, Redding’s gaze swept across the crowd, freezing instantly when his eyes locked onto the man in the dark suit.
Recognition flickered in the officer’s eyes, instantly followed by a hardened defensive glare. Redding stepped away from the flow of pedestrians, deliberately blocking the sidewalk in front of Arthur.
“You’ve got a real habit of wandering into restricted areas, Vance,” Redding said, his voice low and gravelly, meant only for Arthur’s ears. He stepped close enough for Arthur to smell stale coffee and cheap tobacco. “I thought I made myself clear about respecting authority in this district.”
Arthur stopped, maintaining a calm, unblinking posture. The hidden pen camera pinned inside his overcoat pocket whirred silently, capturing every micro-expression, every flex of the officer’s jaw, and every threatening inflection in his tone.
“I am simply walking to my office, Officer Redding,” Arthur replied evenly, his voice steady and controlled. “Public sidewalks tend to be open to taxpayers.”
Redding sneered, leaning in closer. “Taxpayers don’t dictate how I maintain order on my streets. You’re walking a very fine line, corporate boy. One more step in my direction and I’ll charge you with interfering with an active police operation.”
“There is no active operation here, Officer, save for your intimidation tactics,” Arthur said, his tone unwavering. “It’s a pity badge 316 has become synonymous with harassment rather than protection.”
Redding’s face flushed a dark, mottled crimson. The mention of his badge number struck a raw nerve, cutting through his armor of assumed invincibility. His hand twitched toward his duty belt, hovering instinctively near his handcuffs before he caught himself, realizing the eyes of several morning commuters were beginning to linger on them.
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“Watch your mouth,” Redding hissed, stepping back just enough to let Arthur pass. “You’re playing a game you don't understand.”
“On the contrary,” Arthur said softly as he walked past the officer without looking back. “I understand the rules perfectly. It’s you who are about to learn how they apply.”
