Not cowardice this time.
Evidence.
Ford turned to Arthur.
“You think this kid protects you?”
“No.”
Arthur looked at the ceiling camera.
“I think the building does.”
Ford followed his gaze.
Camera.
His mouth tightened.
He reached toward the desk terminal.
Clicked something.
The red indicator beside the recording monitor went out.
The dispatcher stood.
“Sheriff.”
Ford looked at her.
“Sit down, Marlene.”
“You cannot disable evidence recording during a booking.”
Ford pointed.
“Sit.”
She did not.
Arthur watched.
Another person at the edge of the mistake.
Another choice.
Ford returned to the lighter.
Arthur's voice went colder.
“Every system you turn off creates another log.”
Ford smiled.
“You really believe computers are going to save you?”
“No.”
Arthur looked at the documents.
“People will.”
Ford lit the edge of the discharge certificate.
The paper darkened.
Then curled.
A thin flame climbed.
For the first time, anger reached Arthur's face completely.
Not loud.
Worse.
Still.
Ford saw.
Enjoyed it.
He held the burning page higher.
“There.”
“Special operations.”
“Hero.”
“Gone.”
Riggs said:
“Sheriff, stop.”
Ford dropped the flaming certificate into a metal trash can.
Then grabbed the sealed authorization.
Arthur stepped against the bars.
“Do not burn that.”
Ford looked toward him.
“Or what?”
Arthur's voice became almost a whisper.
“You have no idea what you're holding.”
Ford tore the seal.
Riggs swore.
Arthur closed his eyes briefly.
The envelope contained transit-control documentation for a restricted defense program audit.
Nothing explosive.
No espionage secrets.
But destruction triggered mandatory loss-of-custody procedures.
Ford saw technical markings he did not understand.
That made him angrier.
“Fake government garbage.”
He lowered it toward the flame.
Arthur said:
“Sheriff.”
Ford paused.
Arthur looked directly into his eyes.
“If you burn that envelope, federal security will treat its destruction as an active custody breach.”
Ford smiled.
“You saying the FBI is coming?”
Arthur almost smiled too.
“No.”
That answer bothered Ford.
“Who, then?”
Arthur said nothing.
Ford burned it.
Paper caught.
Flame crawled across the corner.
He dropped it into the trash can.
Smoke rose.
Riggs stepped backward.
Marlene stared.
Arthur watched.
Ford laughed.
“There.”
He pointed toward the fire.
“No papers.”
“No hero.”
“No federal mission.”
He looked toward Arthur.
“You're nobody now.”
Arthur leaned back against the concrete wall.
Then smiled.
Ford's laughter stopped.
Arthur said:
“You didn't burn my identity.”
Ford stared.
“You triggered a federal response.”
The room remained still.
Ford opened his mouth.
Then a low vibration moved through the windows.
Not dramatic.
Engines.