The screen flickered.
Then it went red.
Not a warning box or an error message.
The entire screen turned the color of arterial blood.
And text began scrolling across it in white capital letters.
SECURITY ALERT.
BIOMETRIC MATCH FLAGGED.
DEPARTMENT OF DEFENSE PERSONNEL FILE.
ACCESS RESTRICTED.
DETAINMENT PROTOCOL INITIATED.
CONTACT DOD LIAISON IMMEDIATELY.
Norman's stomach dropped.
"What the hell?"
The computer locked.
The keyboard unresponsive.
A high-pitched tone began emanating from the terminal, and Norman could hear Hendricks shouting something from the front desk.
The screen continued its cascade of warnings.
UNAUTHORIZED DETENTION OF FEDERAL ASSET.
ALERT TRANSMITTED TO JOINT SPECIAL OPERATIONS COMMAND.
RESPONSE TEAM DISPATCHED.
ESTIMATED ARRIVAL: 23 MINUTES.
Norman's hands were shaking as he grabbed the mouse, clicking frantically, trying to close the window.
Trying to make it stop.
Nothing worked.
The screen just kept screaming its warnings in silent text, each line another nail in the coffin of his career.
He looked up at Taylor, his face gone pale.
"What is this? What did you do?"
Taylor met his eyes, and there was no triumph there.
No satisfaction.
Just exhaustion and something that looked like pity.
"I told you," he said quietly. "I tried to tell you."
The phone at the front desk began to ring, shrill and insistent in the sudden silence.
Norman's world had just ended, and he didn't even know it yet.
The phone kept ringing.
Norman stood frozen in the booking room, staring at the blood-red screen, his brain refusing to process what he was seeing.
Behind him, he could hear Hendricks answer the call, his voice going from casual to clipped in the span of a single sentence.
"Yes? This is Officer Hendricks. Yes. Yes, we... Wait, what? Sir, I don't... Yes, sir. Right now. Yes, sir."
The phone slammed down.
And Hendricks's voice cracked across the precinct like a whip.
"Norman, get out here. Now."
Norman's legs felt like water as he stumbled out of the booking room, leaving Taylor cuffed to the desk.
The front area had transformed in the 60 seconds he'd been gone.
Hendricks was on his feet, his face drained of color.
And the night sergeant, a 20-year veteran named Morrison, who Norman had never seen rattled, was sprinting down the hallway toward the chief's office.
"What's going on?"
Norman's voice came out smaller than he intended.
"What's going on?"
Hendricks stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
"What the hell did you bring in here? That was the Department of Defense on the phone. The actual DoD. They said we're holding one of their assets and that we have..."
He checked his watch.
"Twenty-one minutes to secure him before they come get him themselves."
"That's impossible. He's just..."
"He's just what, Norman?"