Chapter 8 - The Corrupt Precinct
Agent Carter slammed her fist on the metal table, cursing loudly under her breath.
"That detective is dirty, and he knows exactly what is on that flash drive," Carter said, pulling her weapon from her holster.
"If he delivers that drive to the syndicate, they will have all the blackmail material they need to completely disappear."
She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me out of the interrogation room.
"You are coming with me because you are the only one who can identify the exact jar," she ordered.
We rushed out of the FBI field office and jumped into a heavily armored black tactical vehicle.
Carter drove like a maniac, weaving through the early morning city traffic with her sirens blaring at full volume.
We arrived at the local police precinct just as the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon.
The building was surrounded by federal agents, completely locking down the perimeter with assault rifles raised.
We ran inside, pushing past the confused and terrified local officers standing in the lobby.
Carter marched directly into the evidence locker room, demanding the senior officer open the secure cages.
The evidence room was a chaotic mess of cardboard boxes and plastic bins.
"Find the jar," Carter instructed me, standing guard at the door.
I frantically dug through the freshly logged evidence bins, throwing aside bloody clothes and broken weapons.
I searched the entire section designated for my father's house, but the wide glass chili jar was completely gone.
"It is not here," I said, my heart sinking in my chest.
"He already took it."
Carter grabbed the evidence logbook from the desk and scanned the recent entries.
"Detective Miller signed it out exactly twenty minutes ago, claiming it was being transferred to the state crime lab," Carter read aloud.
"The state lab is on the other side of town, near the old industrial shipping docks."
We ran back out to the tactical vehicle, tires screeching as Carter threw the heavy SUV into reverse.
We sped toward the industrial district, the massive steel shipping containers looming like a metal maze in the morning fog.
Carter killed the sirens as we approached the abandoned docks, trying to maintain the element of surprise.
We parked behind a rusty warehouse and quietly stepped out into the freezing, damp air.
I could hear the faint sound of a boat engine idling in the water just beyond the loading bays.
We crept silently along the side of the building, peering around the brick corner toward the wooden docks.
Detective Miller was standing there, holding the familiar wide glass jar in his hands.
He was talking to a tall, imposing man wearing a completely tailored, expensive black suit.
"The flash drive is taped directly under the lid, just like Elaine promised," Miller told the man, holding the jar forward.
"I want the remaining two million dollars wired to my offshore account immediately."
The man in the suit smiled, a cold, empty expression that lacked any human empathy.
He reached into his jacket, but he did not pull out a cell phone to authorize a wire transfer.
Instead, he pulled out a suppressed handgun and shot Detective Miller directly in the chest.
Miller gasped, dropping the glass jar onto the wooden dock before collapsing backward into the dark, freezing water.
The jar hit the wooden planks, completely shattering into a dozen pieces.
A tiny, black flash drive bounced out of the broken glass and skidded across the wood, stopping right at the edge of the dock.
The man in the suit calmly stepped forward, reaching down to pick up the vital piece of evidence.
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"Federal agents, drop the weapon right now!" Carter screamed, stepping out from behind the brick wall with her gun raised.
The man looked at Carter, completely unfazed, and swiftly kicked the flash drive over the edge of the dock into the deep, murky water below.
