The cold steel of handcuffs clamped tightly around Elias's right wrist, then his left. The ratchets clicked loudly. Langford squeezed them shut, ensuring they bit tightly into the older man's skin.
"These cuffs are excessively tight, officer," Elias noted, wincing slightly as the metal dug into his wrists.
"If you would stop squirming, they would not hurt."
Langford seized Elias by the bicep and practically shoved him toward the police cruiser. "Get in the back."
Langford forced the elderly justice into the plastic-molded back seat of the cruiser and slammed the door shut. He walked back to the Mercedes, grabbed his flashlight, and began an illegal, unwarranted search of the vehicle. He swept the beam over the leather seats, popped the glove box again, rummaged through the center console, and even shined the light into the air-conditioning vents.
Inside the cruiser, Elias sat quietly, his shoulders aching from the unnatural angle of the cuffs. He watched Langford tear through his immaculate car. Elias did not shout. He did not beg. He simply observed, cataloging every single constitutional violation, every broken protocol, every arrogant misstep.
His mind, razor-sharp and trained by decades of legal warfare, was already drafting the court orders. After moments of finding absolutely nothing but leather interiors and some jazz cassette tapes, Langford slammed the passenger door of the Mercedes in frustration. He stomped back to his cruiser and climbed into the driver's seat.
He glanced back at Elias through the wire-mesh partition. "Nothing to say now, huh?" Langford sneered.
"I have a great deal to say, Officer Langford," Elias replied, his voice chillingly calm. "But I will save it for the appropriate venue. You are making a profound, life-altering mistake tonight."
"Yeah, yeah. Save it for the judge," Langford laughed, a harsh, ugly sound.
Elias offered a small, terrifyingly cold smile in the darkness of the back seat. "I intend to."
Langford grabbed his radio microphone. It was finally time to call this in and see if this old man had any outstanding warrants he could use to justify the cuffs.
"Dispatch, this is Unit Four Bravo," Langford said, leaning back in his seat.
A burst of static, then the tired voice of the night dispatcher came through. "Go ahead, Four Bravo."
"I've got a traffic stop on Willow Creek Road near the old access gate. One detained. Run a 27-29 on a Whitaker. First name, Elias."