The terminal chimed louder.
Mason leaned inside.
His face changed.
He touched the screen.
Another alert appeared.
Then another.
“Rourke.”
The older officer ignored him.
He pulled out handcuffs.
Adrian said, “You might want to check what your partner is seeing.”
Rourke snapped one cuff open.
“I think I’m done taking advice.”
Mason shouted:
“Rourke!”
Something in his voice finally landed.
The older officer turned.
Mason was staring at the mobile terminal.
His face had drained of color.
“What?”
Mason looked from the screen to Adrian.
Then to the torn black pouch.
“His name triggered an integrity flag.”
Rourke’s expression froze.
“What did you say?”
Mason swallowed.
“Integrity flag.”
Rourke stepped toward the cruiser.
“Move.”
Mason backed away.
Rourke leaned into the vehicle.
The screen showed Adrian’s name.
Then another line.
Then another.
The exact contents were partly blocked from Adrian’s position, but he knew the sequence.
Restricted credential.
Protected operation.
Contact supervisory command.
Do not alter body-camera state.
Preserve all digital evidence.
Rourke stared.
“No.”
Mason whispered, “It says Internal Affairs.”
The older officer turned slowly.
Adrian stood exactly where he had left him.
Hands still visible.
Jacket wrinkled from being shoved.
Wallet on the concrete.
Phone beneath the pickup.
A thin red mark forming along one side of his neck where Rourke’s forearm had pressed against him.
Rourke looked at the transmitter.
Then the torn evidence pouch.
Then the money.
His expression changed again.
He turned the transmitter over.
The small label was now visible.
IAD EVIDENCE — DO NOT OPEN OUTSIDE CONTROLLED TEST
Below it:
PROPERTY OF PROFESSIONAL STANDARDS / SERIALIZED CURRENCY
Rourke stopped breathing.
Mason whispered, “Oh my God.”
Adrian straightened his overshirt.
“Good.”
Rourke looked at him.
Adrian’s voice remained quiet.
“Now they heard you do it yourself.”
The officer stared.
A low engine note sounded from the street.
Then another.
Two black SUVs entered the gas station from opposite driveways.
Fast.
Controlled.
One blocked the rear of the marked cruiser.
The other stopped across the front.
Doors opened.
Plainclothes investigators stepped out.
Badges appeared.
No weapons drawn.
Not necessary.
The entire scene shifted instantly.
Rourke stood with one hand holding his cuffs.
The other held marked currency belonging to Internal Affairs.
The younger officer moved two steps away from him.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
Adrian noticed.
So did Rourke.
A tall white woman in a dark pantsuit approached first.
She was in her late forties, auburn hair pulled back, expression almost completely unreadable.
Behind her came a Black man around fifty with a shaved head, gray tie, and the posture of someone who did not waste movement.
The woman looked at Adrian.
“You all right?”
“Fine.”
She looked at the red mark on his neck.
“That isn’t fine.”
Adrian shrugged.
“Still standing.”
The Black investigator picked up Adrian’s wallet.