"Resisting, disorderly," Harlan bragged. "And this."
Harlan tossed the laminated card onto the high desk. "Suspect was stripping a car on Maple Ridge.
Claims he lives there. Had this fake fed ID on him."
Kowalski wiped his mouth and picked up the card. He squinted at it.
He flipped it over. He looked at the holographic chip.
He looked at the series of numbers. Kowalski's chewing slowed.
He stopped chewing.
He looked up at Dez, who was standing calmly by the bench, flanked by Harlan. Kowalski looked back at the card.
He recognized the insignia. It wasn't standard military.
It was JSOC, Joint Special Operations Command, and the clearance code indicated Yankee White access.
"Royce," Kowalski said, his voice dropping an octave, "where did you get this?"
"Out of his wallet. I'm telling you, it's a good fake.
The guy's a pro."
Kowalski stood up. He didn't look at Harlan.
He looked at Dez. "Sir, could you tell me your full name and rank?"
"Master Sergeant Darius Kane, retired," Dez replied. "And I'd like my handcuffs removed now."
Harlan rolled his eyes. "Sarge, don't listen to him.
He's—"
"Royce, shut the hell up!" Kowalski snapped.
The room went silent.
Other officers stopped what they were doing. Kowalski walked around the desk.
He wasn't reaching for his keys to book Dez. He was reaching for his key to the handcuffs.
"Sarge." Harlan looked confused.
"What are you doing?"
"You didn't run this card, did you?" Kowalski asked, his face pale.
"You didn't even look at the numbers."
"It's fake."
"It's not fake, you idiot!" Kowalski yelled, unlocking the cuffs on Dez's wrists.
"This is a DOD contractor with top-level clearance. This man isn't a drug dealer.
He's a federal asset."
The cuffs clicked open. Dez rubbed his wrists, looking at Harlan with cold, dead eyes.
"I tried to tell him," Dez said to Kowalski. "He preferred to talk about rap music and drug fronts."
Kowalski closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He knew what was coming.
He looked at Harlan. "Royce, go to the captain's office now."
As Harlan sulked away, confused and angry, Dez leaned against the booking desk.
"Don't bother turning off the camera, Sergeant. My lawyer is already pulling the cloud data from my home security system.
And I'm pretty sure the ACLU is going to love the audio from his cruiser."