"Had the suit, the car, the fake Pentagon badge. He probably runs a high-end fraud ring out of D.C. The magistrate is going to have a field day with this clown tomorrow morning." Miller ignored the young officer's arrogant grandstanding. He sat down heavily in his chair, took the physical fingerprint cards they had just rolled from Warren's hands, and scanned them directly into the automated fingerprint identification system.
The AFIS database connected local precincts directly to the FBI's National Crime Information Center, commonly known as NCIC. Miller hit the submit button and waited. Usually, a standard background check took roughly 3 to 5 minutes, returning minor warrants, past convictions, or a simple green screen indicating a clean record. This time, it took less than 15 seconds. The ancient computer monitor didn't turn green.
It flashed a brilliant, blinding crimson red. A high-pitched warning alarm began to beep rapidly from the computer's internal speakers, a sound Miller had only heard twice in his 20-year career. The text on the screen was locked in bold black letters against the red background. Critical alert. Restricted file.
Top secret. SSCI clearance. Recognized. Subject Hayes Warren. Status active.
Duty United States Army. Rank Major General O-8. Department of Defense security clearance level five. Yankee white. Warning, this individual is a high-level federal official.
Any unauthorized detention is a violation of US Code Title 18. Miller's face drained of all color, his heart began to hammer violently against his ribs. He felt dizzy, the fluorescent lights of the booking area suddenly seeming entirely too bright. The system was demanding an authorization code just to view the rest of the file, a level of security clearance that completely bypassed local law enforcement protocols. Carter.
Miller croaked, his voice cracking horribly. He pointed a trembling thick finger at the glowing red monitor. Carter, get over here right now. Officer Carter ambled over, a smug, self-satisfied grin still plastered across his face. What's up, s- Did his rap sheet come back?
How many fraud charges does our fake general have? Read the screen, you absolute idiot, Miller whispered, absolute terror leaking into his tone. Read the damn screen. Carter leaned over the desk. His eyes scanned the bold text.
His smug grin slowly began to slip, replaced first by confusion, and then by a stubborn, desperate denial. "It's a glitch," Carter insisted, waving his hand dismissively. "Or he's a master hacker. These fraud rings, they have guys who can hack into the FBI databases and plant fake profiles. It's a defense mechanism.
There is absolutely no way that guy in cell three is a two-star general. It is a direct NCIC hit. Carter, Miller hissed, standing up and grabbing the younger officer by the front of his uniform shirt. This system does not glitch. You just falsely arrested, assaulted, and imprisoned a decorated military commander who holds a Yankee white security clearance.