It was a fatal miscalculation. Listen to me very carefully. Haynes hissed, ripping his gun from its holster, and pointing it squarely at Sloan's face through the open window. You are going to open this door, and you are going to get out on the ground, or I am going to rip you through this window. Do you understand me?
Behind the Taurus, rookie officer Liam Davies gasped, taking a sudden step forward. Travis, Jesus, man, what are you doing? Shut up, Davies. Watch the perimeter. Haynes screamed over his shoulder, his eyes wide and manic as he shoved the barrel of his Glock closer to Sloane's temple.
The situation had officially crossed the point of no return. Time seemed to dilate, stretching out like the endless Arizona highway. The heavy metallic click of the Glock's safety being disengaged echoed in the quiet desert air. It was a sound Sloane had heard a hundred times on the firing range, but feeling the hollow black eye of a loaded barrel hovering inches from her skull was entirely different. She didn't panic.
Her heart rate spiked, yes, but her training overrode her fear. The man holding the gun was erratic, sweating profusely despite the dry heat, his finger hovering dangerously close to the trigger. He was a powder keg, and any sudden movement would give him the excuse he was desperately searching for to pull the trigger. Okay. Sloane said, her voice eerily calm, projecting a deadly stillness.
My hands are on the wheel. I am complying. Open the damn door. Haynes roared, spittle flying from his lips and landing on the Taurus's window sill. Officer Haynes, Sloane said, reading his silver name tag.
Listen to me very carefully. I am a sworn federal officer. I am a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. My credentials are in the same jacket on the passenger seat. I am going to reach for them very, very slowly.
If you shoot me, you will be murdering a federal agent, and you will spend the rest of your natural life in Florence Supermax. Haynes blinked, his brain struggling to process the information. For a split second, the gun wavered. Then, a twisted, incredulous grin spread across his face. You're an FBI agent.
He mocked, his tone dripping with absolute contempt. Yeah. And I'm the damn king of England. Get out of the car, you lying He trailed off, shaking his head. You people will say anything.
Travis, hold on. Davies called out from the rear of the car, his voice trembling. Let her show the ID. Just let her show it, man. I told you to secure the perimeter, Davies.