David closed his eyes and took a deep, measured breath. He wasn't scared. He was calculating. He felt the cold steel of the cuffs biting into his skin, and a cold, focused anger settled over him. Officer Brody thought he had just ruined a civilian's day.
He had no idea he had just stepped on a landmine. The Oak Haven 42nd precinct was a relic of the 1980s. The walls were painted a sickly institutional green. The air conditioning rattled without producing much cold air, and the smell of stale coffee and industrial floor wax hung thick in the air. Brody paraded David through the double doors, holding him unnecessarily by the bicep.
Several other officers looked up from their desks. Rookie officer Jimmy Collins, barely 22 and still holding on to his ideals, frowned as he saw the distinguished older man in the tailored suit being frog marched toward the booking desk. "Got a live one, Brody," called out Sergeant Pete Higgins from behind the raised booking counter. Higgins was a heavyset man who had been riding out his pension for the last 5 years. He didn't like Brody's aggressive tactics, but he never stopped them either.
Suspicion of grand theft auto, resisting arrest and erratic driving. Brody lied effortlessly, dropping David's wallet and keys onto the metal counter. Driving a 200 grand G-Wagon, claims he bought it with his military pension. Brody laughed, expecting Higgins to join in. Higgins looked down at David's belongings.
He saw the Department of Defense retiree ID. He looked at David, noting the man's impeccable posture, the absolute absence of fear in his eyes, and the quiet dignity with which he stood. Higgins felt a sudden, uncomfortable twist in his gut. "Take his tie, his belt, and his shoelaces," Higgins muttered, avoiding David's gaze. "Empty his pockets. " Brody dug into David's pockets, pulling out a slim leather notebook, a fountain pen, and a heavy matte black smartphone.
It didn't look like a standard iPhone or Android. It had no visible brand markings, just a thick, ruggedized casing. "Nice toy," Brody sneered, tossing it into the plastic property bin. Captain Robert Callahan stepped out of his corner office, a mug of coffee in his hand. He took in the scene.
"Everything good out here, Brody? Just cleaning up the streets, Cap? " Brody said proudly. Callahan looked at David. For a moment, the two men locked eyes. Callahan saw the intelligence and the cold, unyielding calculation in David's stare.
A smarter man would have asked questions. A better cop would have intervened, but Callahan was tired, and dealing with Brody's union rep was a headache he didn't want. On a Tuesday afternoon, Callahan took a sip of his coffee and walked back into his office, shutting the door. David was escorted to holding cell 3. The iron bars slammed shut behind him with a heavy final clang.
Brody reached through the bars and unlocked the cuffs, letting them fall away. David rubbed his wrists, his face expressionless, noting the deep red indentations in his skin. He sat on the metal bench, crossed his legs, and waited. Outside, Brody sat at a nearby desk, loudly typing up his fabricated incident report, making sure the other officers could hear his exaggerated version of events. Guy was shaking, practically lunged at me when I asked for his registration.