Chapter 4 - The Crowbar Under the Lock
Higgins slammed the crowbar under the lock of the black case.
Metal screamed against metal.
Dust kicked up from the roadside.
My Honda’s open trunk rocked slightly from the force.
I stood inches away, completely still.
The rifle was not present. No weapons drawn. No shouting crowd. No cinematic rescue yet.
Just one man with a badge, one woman he had underestimated, and one locked case he was seconds away from turning into a federal incident.
Higgins bent over it, jaw tight.
“Open it,” he snarled, “or you’re done.”
I looked at the crowbar.
Then at his face.
“Deputy Higgins, forcing that case open could compromise national security.”
He laughed.
“There are no feds out here to save you.”
I slowly raised my phone.
It had already been recording.
The dash camera inside my Honda had been recording too.
So had the backup unit hidden in the cracked dashboard.
“Put that down,” Higgins said.
“I’m making one call.”
“You’re calling nobody.”
“Then you can explain why you prevented contact with federal command during a secured transport breach.”
He hesitated.
Not because he believed me.
Because paperwork frightened him more than people did.
Finally, he stepped back and gestured with the crowbar.
“Speaker. And don’t try anything cute.”
I pressed the secure extension.
The line clicked once.
Then connected.
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“This is Eagle One,” I said clearly. “Secured case is being breached at County Road 114 outside Vanden Ridge. Local officer present. Badge number recorded.”
For the first time, Higgins stopped smiling.
