It was a convoy. Four black SUVs with government plates, flanked by two military police trucks. And above them, the distinct, rhythmic thumping of a helicopter rotor cut through the morning air. A Black Hawk helicopter painted dark gray was descending toward the high school football field across the street.
"Oh my God," Kendrick whispered. Darius turned back to them, his face hard as stone. "I told you, Deputy. Hard karma."
The sound of the helicopter landing on the football field wasn't just noise. It was a physical force that rattled the windows of the sheriff's station. Dust from the dry field coated the cruisers in the parking lot, a symbolic layer of grit covering the department's shine. Sheriff Voss stood frozen at the window. He had spent decades bullying locals and intimidating state troopers, but he had never stared down the barrel of the United States military.
"Lock the doors," Kendrick panicked, reaching for his radio. "Tell dispatch to lock the front doors." "Put the radio down, you idiot," Voss shouted, slapping the device out of Kendrick's hand. "You don't lock the doors on the feds. You open them and you pray."
The front doors of the station didn't just open, they were breached. Two military police officers clad in tactical gear with federal agent emblazoned on their vests swept into the lobby. They didn't have weapons drawn, but their hands were hovering near their holsters and their posture screamed threat assessment. Behind them strode a man in a pristine Navy service khaki uniform. He was tall, silver-haired, with the golden oak leaves of a lieutenant commander on his collar and the insignia of the Judge Advocate General's Corps.
This was Lieutenant Commander Marcus Lang, a man known in legal circles as the Shark of Norfolk. Flanking him were two men in suits: FBI.
Lang walked straight to the booking desk, ignoring the stunned sergeant. He scanned the room, his eyes locking onto the sheriff and then finally resting on Commander Kane. Kane was standing by the window, holding his crumpled jacket. Lang stopped, snapped his heels together, and rendered a sharp, perfect salute.
"Commander Kane, sir," Lang barked. "Lieutenant Commander Lang, JAG Corps. I am relieving you of this situation." Darius slowly returned the salute. "At ease, Marcus.
Took you long enough." "Traffic was murder, sir," Lang said, his face deadpan.
He then turned slowly to face Sheriff Voss. The warmth vanished from his eyes. "Who is the commanding officer of this facility?" Voss stepped forward, trying to inflate his chest, but looking small. "I am Sheriff Harlan Voss.
Now, look here. We have a jurisdiction issue."
"We have no issues, Sheriff," Lang interrupted, pulling a folded document from a leather portfolio. "This is a federal warrant issued by the United States District Court for the Southern District of Texas. It authorizes the immediate custody of Commander Darius Kane, the seizure of his vehicle, and the securing of all evidence related to his detainment."
"Ah, evidence," Kendrick squeaked from behind the sheriff. "It was a standard arrest." Lang's eyes snapped to Kendrick. He looked at the deputy like one looks at a cockroach on a dinner plate. "And you must be Deputy Kendrick, the man who assaults superior officers."
Lang signaled to the FBI agents. "Secure the commander's vehicle, and I want the server room isolated now."
"Now, wait a minute," Voss shouted, his face reddening. "You can't just waltz in here and take my servers. That's county property. We have sensitive cases on there." One of the FBI agents, a man with a scar running through his eyebrow named Special Agent Pendergast, stepped forward.
"Sheriff, under the Patriot Act and Title 18, interfering with a federal investigation involving a high-level clearance officer allows us to do whatever we deem necessary," Pendergast said. "Commander Kane was transporting classified material in his personal vehicle. By impounding that car and handling his effects, your deputy may have compromised national security. That gives us jurisdiction over everything, even your coffee maker."