They were in Texas, and utilizing lethal force on a domestic police officer, no matter how corrupt, meant a nationwide manhunt and the end of their careers, if not their lives. They had to play the game. "Understood." Jackson said. He slowly unbuckled his seatbelt and stepped out into the gravel, hands raised.
Ty did the same on the passenger side. "Turn around. Hands on the truck. Legs spread." Boyd commanded.
He patted them down roughly, kicking Jackson's ankles apart with unnecessary force. Finding no weapons on their persons, Boyd keyed his shoulder mic. "Dispatch, this is unit four. I got two suspects out of the vehicle on Highway 9. Conducting a probable cause search."
Boyd walked to the bed of the truck and pulled down the tailgate. His eyes lit up. Sitting in the bed were four heavy-duty reinforced Pelican cases, each secured with heavy steel padlocks and biometric scanners. To Boyd, this looked exactly like cartel drug shipments or stacks of illicit cash. To the Department of Defense, it was highly classified encrypted communication gear, specialized optics, and dismantled customized SIG MCX assault rifles belonging to Naval Special Warfare.
"Well, well, well." Boyd chuckled, tapping the hard plastic of the cases. "What do we have here? Open them up." Jackson turned his head slightly.
"Deputy, I am officially advising you that the contents of those cases are the property of the United States federal government. You do not have the jurisdiction or the clearance to open them." Boyd laughed aloud. "Federal government? You think I'm stupid?
You boys are drug mules. Open the boxes or I'm adding obstruction to your charges and seizing the whole truck under civil asset forfeiture." "I cannot do that, Deputy." Jackson said firmly. "I strongly suggest you call your watch commander or a federal magistrate before you proceed."
Boyd's temper snapped. His authority was being questioned by someone he deemed lesser, and his greed was being blocked by a padlock. He stormed over to Jackson, grabbing him roughly by the shoulder and slamming him against the side of the truck. "Listen to me, you piece of trash." Boyd hissed, pulling his handcuffs from his belt.
"You are under arrest for obstruction of justice, resisting arrest, and suspicion of narcotics trafficking. Put your hands behind your back." Ty tensed, his muscles coiling like a spring, ready to launch himself over the hood of the truck. Jackson locked eyes with his teammate and gave a sharp, almost imperceptible shake of his head. "Stand down.
We are complying." Jackson said calmly, offering his wrists to Boyd. Boyd ratcheted the steel cuffs down onto Jackson's wrists, tightening them past the point of pain, cutting off the circulation. He marched over and did the same to Ty. "You boys messed up."