Chương 31: Chapter 30: The Tactical Handbag

With the two rookie officers pacing half a step ahead of me, I kept my sidearm drawn at a low ready and trailed them directly through the precinct's heavy rear entrance. I made a conscious call to leave Dog out in the yard; his massive frame would provide a far better early warning system and perimeter shield for Joe and the guys while they were busy loading the heavy ammo crates into the back of the Suburban.

TJ's corner office sat a mere twenty feet down the primary hallway from the back door, which meant the entire interaction was going to unfold at breakneck speed. The two enforcers executed the play flawlessly, maintaining a casual, unhurried stride as they passed right by Vance's open door. Right on cue, I heard TJ's grating, overly authoritative voice bark out from the interior.

"What the hell are you two doing walking the halls? Why aren't you outside holding down your security posts?" I immediately hugged the painted drywall, stacking up tight about five feet back from the office doorframe. I heard the sharp groan of TJ's office chair as his weight shifted, followed by the heavy, deliberate thud of his boots crossing the carpet.

The second he stepped over the threshold into the hallway, his tactical tunnel vision betrayed him—he immediately pivoted toward the two rookies standing in front of him, failing to glance down the corridor to his left. Not knowing how else they were supposed to play it, the two young enforcers just stood there, completely silent, staring back at their commander. I crept forward, instantly activating my [Sneak] skill to mask the scuff of my boots.

In one fluid motion, I closed the gap, bringing the muzzle of my HK up until it was pressed firmly against the base of TJ's skull. Click. I deliberately cocked the weapon right against his ear, letting the crisp, metallic finality of the sound freeze him in place.

"Don't make a single sudden movement, Commander," I said, keeping my voice low and level. With my left hand, I reached around his waist, expertly flicking the safety hood on his retention holster, and smoothly extracted his duty weapon before he could even register the breach.

"Down on your knees. Now transition flat onto your stomach." TJ complied, his face flushing crimson as his chest hit the linoleum floor. He twisted his neck, glaring up at the two rookies with pure fury.

"What the hell is wrong with you two? Why aren't either of you doing anything about this?"

"You honestly think I'd walk into a hostile precinct with two fully armed hostiles at my back?" I asked, a dry grin breaking across my face as I holstered my own firearm. I executed a quick, practiced press check on TJ's sidearm, ensuring a live round was properly seated in the chamber, and kept the sights leveled squarely at his shoulder blades.

"I stripped their ammunition out of their weapons and mag pouches out in the yard." TJ stared up at me, his eyes narrowing as the realization finally clicked.

"I thought that voice sounded familiar. Derrick... you absolute piece of shit."

"See?" I responded, my smile widening.

"And here I was worried you'd forgotten about me. Always the nicest guy on the roster." I looked over at the two young officers, gesturing toward the floor.

"Alright, boys, do the honors. Cuff him." If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it. The two rookies didn't hesitate. They stepped up, pinned TJ's arms, and clicked his own steel cuffs tightly around his wrists. Once the double-locks were set, I had them lift him entirely off the floor by his armpits, bracing his back against the hallway wall.

My eyes drifted down to his duty belt, and I instantly spotted a heavy ring of brass keys dangling from his keeper loop—and right there, resting side by side, were the keys for both the Ford F-250 and the master armory cage.

"Well, well, well," I muttered, unhooking the ring.

"Look at you, holding onto all the best goodies for yourself." I tossed the heavy key ring across the hallway to the level 6 enforcer.

"You two head right back outside and get that diesel truck pulled around to the loading dock. Don't forget to flip the secondary fuel switch down by the base of the driver's seat, and make sure you let the glow plugs warm up before you crank the ignition—she's an older block. Once the truck is staged, get right back to your loading detail." TJ's chest heaved as he watched his men take the keys.

"I knew it... I knew those two useless bastards were actively working with you. How else could a washed-up retired cop catch them off guard?"

"The exact same way I just caught you, you arrogant ass," I countered smoothly. I reached down, unbuckled TJ's heavy duty belt, stripped it off his waist, and shoved him backward into the interior of his office.

"So this is what you've finally reduced yourself to," TJ spat, catching his balance and glaring at me.

"And what exactly is that, TJ?"

"A common, good-for-nothing thief," he accused, his voice dripping with self-righteous venom. I couldn't help but let out a genuine laugh.

"If bending the rules means ensuring my family's survival, then a thief is the absolute least of what I am going to become in this new world. For my family, TJ, I would gladly do great and terrible things. And besides, let's look at the legal definition here—in order to technically commit a theft, you need a quantifiable victim. Who exactly is the victim tonight? The city? The state? The federal government? None of those constructs even exist anymore. This is a full-scale apocalypse, you self-righteous ass-hat."

I stepped into his personal space, looking down at him.

"Where is the chief of police right now? Where is the mayor, or the city councilors, or your senior commander for that matter? Hell, while we're asking questions, where are the rest of your active-duty officers? You are a completely blind man running a joke of an operation. Who exactly do you think is taking care of your family right now while you're sitting in this office bossing around two rookie cops?" TJ opened his mouth to fire back, but the absolute reality of the words hit him like a freight train.

He choked on his response, his jaw working silently as he came up completely empty. I just scoffed in his face, reaching down to firmly shove him backward until his rear hit the cushions of his office chair. I scanned the space, spotted a heavy roll of industrial duct tape sitting on his filing cabinet, and tore off a thick strip.

Within three minutes, I had TJ thoroughly anchored to the frame of his chair, running multiple tight wraps around his chest, arms, and legs before finishing with a solid band right over his mouth and around the back of his head. I reached into my pocket, pulled out one of the folding tactical blades I'd confiscated from the rookies outside, and set it flat on the desk, right next to a spare handcuff key.

"Look, even though I genuinely dislike you," I said, leaning over the desk to look at his wide eyes, "and think you're an arrogant piece of garbage who thinks he's better than the blue-collar guys, I don't have any intention of actually hurting you tonight. But I'm also completely unwilling to let you hop out of this chair and try to organize a counter-attack while I'm finishing up our logistical supply run. So, here's how the rest of this evening is going to play out."

I tapped the steel knife blade with my finger.

"I am leaving this folding knife and the handcuff key right here on the desk. It is entirely up to your own ingenuity to figure out how to lean over and utilize them. I'm going to shut your office door, lock it from the outside, and head back out to the yard. If I hear this door frame open even a splinter, or if I spot your face out in that lot before we are packed, I am going to end you permanently. And I genuinely wouldn't want that outcome for your family.

So just sit right here, relax, and the second you hear that loud-ass Ford diesel truck pull out of the compound, you can start cutting yourself free. Okie-dokie? Good talk." As I turned on my heel to exit the room, my eyes caught a brand-new, high-end tactical plate carrier vest hanging neatly from the coat rack positioned right behind the heavy wooden door. It was a top-tier modular build—WAY nicer than the outdated surplus rig I was currently sporting.

I paused, looking back over my shoulder at the taped-up commander.

"Well... seeing as you're going to be tied up for the foreseeable future, I don't think you're really going to need this. I'm going to put it to much better use." I snatched the tactical vest off the hanger, scooped up his duty belt in my left hand, and stepped out into the corridor, pulling the heavy door shut and throwing the manual lock—cheerfully whistling a tune the entire way down the hall.