He walked around to the back of the car, practically vibrating with frustration. He threw open the trunk lid. Inside sat a single item, a heavy, black Pelican briefcase, secured with two steel combination locks. What's in the box, David? Miller asked, his eyes lighting up.
In his mind, he had just found the mother lode. Drugs, cash, unregistered weapons, it had to be. That briefcase belongs to the United States Department of Justice. David said softly. It is a class three classified transport case.
You do not have the clearance to open it. Nor do you have a warrant. Miller laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. You expect me to believe that? A guy like you driving this car with a locked safe in the trunk.
Collins, bring him over here. Collins awkwardly nudged toward the trunk. Give me the combination. Miller demanded, tapping his flashlight against the reinforced plastic of the briefcase. No.
I am giving you a lawful order. Miller shouted, his face turning red. And I am telling you, officer, that opening that case is a federal offense. I am giving you one last chance to step away, remove these cuffs, and call your captain. Miller lost whatever little patience he had left.
He grabbed a heavy pry bar from his tactical belt. A tool designed for breaking windows, not steel locks, and wedged it under the latch of the Pelican case. Miller, don't. Collins suddenly stepped forward, his voice cracking. If he's really feds Shut up, Brian.
He's lying. Miller strained against the pry bar. The reinforced plastic groaned, but the steel locks held. Frustrated, Miller stepped back, drew his service weapon, and pointed it at the locks. David's voice cracked like a whip in the silent night.
If you discharge your weapon into a federal evidence case, you will be in a federal penitentiary by breakfast. Look in my jacket pocket, the inner left pocket. Before you ruin your life look in the damn pocket. The sheer, undeniable authority in David's voice finally penetrated Miller's rage. The officer froze, his finger resting just outside the trigger guard.
He looked at David, breathing heavily, then looked at Collins. Check his jacket. Miller ordered, his voice suddenly less confident. Collins, his hands shaking slightly, stepped up to David. He reached into the inner left pocket of the tailored suit jacket.