Chapter 2 - The Badge and The Database
The damp evening chill seeped through the knees of my sweatpants as I knelt obediently upon the crushed stone.
I kept my fingers laced behind my head, watching the police cruiser's dashboard camera record every single breath I took.
Claire Sterling took three confident strides forward, standing just behind Officer Miller’s right shoulder like an overseeing general.
Her polished leather boots stopped inches from the puddle of clean water running off the Ferrari's rear diffuser.
""Look at him now, Officer, not looking so tough without his burglary tools, is he?"" Claire remarked smugly.
""People like this make me sick, lurking in wealthy neighborhoods waiting for honest executives to let their guard down,"" she continued.
""He probably planned to take this custom prototype to an underground chop shop across state lines before dawn,"" she added.
""I want him charged with grand theft auto, criminal trespassing, burglary of a private trust, and grand larceny,"" she demanded.
Officer Miller kept his sidearm leveled at my chest while using his left hand to retrieve a pair of steel handcuffs.
""Keep your mouth shut, ma'am, and let me control the scene until backup arrives,"" Miller muttered under his breath.
""Sir, you have the right to remain silent, and anything you say can and will be used against you,"" Miller stated routinely.
""Officer, check the registration paperwork before you latch those bracelets onto my wrists,"" I said without an ounce of tremor.
""The glove box is unlocked, and the official title certificate is filed with the state motor vehicle registry,"" I stated firmly.
Claire scoffed loudly, throwing her head back in theatrical disbelief.
""Do not listen to his pathetic lies, Officer Miller, he is merely trying to stall for time!"" she interjected loudly.
""The registration of every Montgomery executive vehicle is held under the proprietary fleet division of W.M.G. Holdings!"" she declared.
""I oversee operations, which means I sign off on every fleet vehicle renewal form submitted to the state!"" she sneered.
""This specific vehicle was designed for our founder William, who passed away without leaving it on public inventories!"" she shouted.
""This bum probably printed a fraudulent registration slip on a cheap home inkjet printer to fool local patrols!"" she sneered.
Miller hesitated for a brief second, his eyes shifting between my calm countenance and Claire’s manic corporate rage.
He reached down, scooped up the carbon-fiber key fob and the brass compass from the gravel, and stepped toward his cruiser.
""Miller to dispatch, run a high-priority vehicle identification query on state plate Victor-Whiskey-Nine-Zero,"" he spoke into his lapel mic.
""Also run a cross-check on the vehicle identification number visible through the lower windshield corner,"" Miller instructed.
The radio crackled with static as the night-shift dispatcher acknowledged the urgent request.
Claire leaned against the hood of the patrol car, pulling out an expensive gold-plated smartphone to take pictures of me.
""Smile for the internal security bulletin, darling, because your face is going to every precinct in the state,"" she mocked.
""By tomorrow morning, Julian Montgomery and the entire executive committee will know I personally secured this estate,"" she gloated.
The mention of Julian's name caused a cold flicker of recognition to spark deep behind my eyes.
Julian was my estranged cousin, a man whose reckless gambling debts had nearly destroyed our European logistics division three years ago.
Since my father's passing, Julian had been attempting to assert control over the Montgomery private estate trust without success.
It suddenly made complete sense why an ambitious operations executive was loitering around my private property on a Tuesday night.
Claire was not simply an observant neighbor who stumbled upon a crime scene by pure coincidence.
She was running private errands for my treacherous cousin, searching for assets Julian could claim before the probate court closed.
The police radio speaker suddenly erupted with a sharp burst of urgent, digitized static.
""Dispatch to Unit Four, Officer Miller, please confirm your current physical location immediately,"" the dispatcher's voice sounded strained.
""I am on scene at Twelve Whispering Pines Drive, dispatch, suspect is currently detained on the driveway,"" Miller replied into the mic.
""Officer Miller, step away from the suspect and hold your position without taking further tactical action,"" the dispatcher stated urgently.
""The vehicle query for plate Victor-Whiskey-Nine-Zero has triggered an immediate Level-One federal security alert,"" she continued.
""The vehicle is registered under personal ownership to David William Montgomery, sole titleholder of record,"" the dispatcher confirmed.
Claire’s smug expression froze in place, her smartphone remaining suspended mid-air in her manicured hand.
""What did you just say?"" Claire blurted out, breaking police radio etiquette without a second thought.
""That is impossible! The founder was William Montgomery, not David!"" Claire shrieked at the cruiser's dashboard console.
""Check the database again! The man on the ground is a transient who broke into the garage!"" Claire yelled into the open window.
""Unit Four, advise civilian to clear the radio channel immediately,"" the dispatcher returned sharply.
""The ownership database is verified through the Department of Transportation executive protection registry,"" dispatch confirmed.
""The residential address at Twelve Whispering Pines Drive is deeded directly to David Montgomery as private property,"" she added.
""There are no active warrants, no stolen vehicle flags, and no trespass warnings associated with this parcel,"" dispatch concluded.
Officer Miller slowly lowered his radio mic, his eyes widening as he looked back down at me.
The tactical taser hung loosely in his grip, no longer pointed at my heart.
The gathered neighbors near the wrought-iron gate began murmuring louder among themselves, noticing the sudden shift in the officer's posture.
Richard, the hedge-fund neighbor, took two steps back into the shadows of the hedge line, suddenly feeling deeply uncomfortable.
""Sir... are you David Montgomery?"" Officer Miller asked, his voice noticeably dropping three octaves in volume.
""I told you my name three minutes ago, Officer, but your companion was too busy screaming to listen,"" I replied calmly.
""I also told you that this is my house, this is my car, and that compass was given to me by my father,"" I stated clearly.
Claire’s face flashed red with embarrassment, but her stubborn arrogance refused to let reality penetrate her skull.
""Do not let him manipulate you with digital clerical errors, Officer!"" Claire barked, her voice cracking with desperate rage.
""I work at the highest executive tier of W.M.G. Global Enterprises!"" she shouted, waving her corporate identification badge.
""William Montgomery had only one recognized nephew in public life, and that is Julian Montgomery!"" she claimed wildly.
""This man is an impostor who must have committed identity theft to fraudulently transfer the estate deeds into his name!"" she insisted.
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""If you let this criminal stand up, I will have your badge stripped by the city commissioner before sunrise!"" she threatened.
I remained on the cold gravel, watching her dig her own professional grave with every single word that escaped her lips.
