Adrian reached carefully inside his trench coat.
This time he announced every movement.
“Left hand. Inside pocket.”
He removed a black credential case.
He opened it.
Rourke looked at the gold badge first.
Then the identification.
FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION
SPECIAL AGENT ADRIAN MERCER
The platform became almost impossibly quiet.
Rourke’s face changed.
Adrian closed the credential case.
“You were interfering with a federal operation.”
Nobody behind them spoke.
Rourke looked toward the newspaper still in Adrian’s hand.
Understanding arrived slowly.
“You should’ve identified yourself.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“I tried.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I told you I had identification inside my coat.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
Lena cut him off. “Stop talking.”
Rourke stared at her.
She held her credentials forward.
“FBI. Public Corruption Squad.”
The last two words carried more weight than the first.
Rourke looked suddenly uncertain about everything around him.
A dispatch voice came over his shoulder radio.
“Unit Twelve, status?”
He pressed the button automatically.
Before he could answer, another transit officer came through the gate.
Lieutenant Stephen Malloy.
Malloy had received an emergency radio call and expected to find Rourke fighting a suspect.
Instead he saw three people holding federal credentials.
He stopped walking.
“What happened?”
Rourke answered first. “He assaulted me during a detention.”
Adrian looked directly at Malloy.
“Your officer initiated force while I was conducting an authorized federal surveillance operation.”
Malloy’s face drained.
He looked toward Lena.
She nodded once.
“That’s accurate from what I heard and what our team observed.”
Rourke pointed toward Adrian. “He refused lawful orders.”
Adrian remained quiet.
Malloy turned toward him. “Agent, are you injured?”
“My collarbone hurts. Nothing serious.”
Then Malloy looked at Rourke.
“You?”
“My back.”
Malloy took a breath.
“Everyone stop.”
It was the first useful command a transit supervisor gave that afternoon.
The FBI operation had been compromised. Peter Sloan was immediately contacted and moved to a secure location.
The memory card remained intact.