The Sergeant laughed once.
“You some kind of lawyer?”
“No.”
“Reporter?”
“No.”
“Then stop wasting my time.”
The Incoming Chief reached toward his inside jacket pocket.
The Sergeant reacted instantly.
His hand slapped against the man’s chest.
“Hands where I can see them.”
The Incoming Chief froze.
Then slowly lowered both hands.
The younger officer near the entrance took one step forward.
Stopped.
The Incoming Chief noticed.
Again.
Interesting.
The Sergeant’s palm remained against his chest.
“ID.”
The Incoming Chief looked down at the hand.
Then back up.
“Take your hand off me.”
The Sergeant pushed.
Not enough to knock him down.
Enough to drive him against the sedan’s rear quarter panel.
The Incoming Chief’s shoulder hit metal.
The driver immediately opened his door.
The Incoming Chief lifted one hand toward him.
Stop.
The driver remained inside.
The Sergeant leaned closer.
“You don’t give instructions here.”
The Incoming Chief’s voice became quieter.
“Take your hand off me.”
One officer at the steps whispered:
“Sergeant.”
The Sergeant looked back.
“What?”
The officer hesitated.
Nothing.
The Sergeant turned toward the suited man again.
The Incoming Chief stored that moment carefully.
The officer had known something was wrong.
He chose silence.
The Sergeant grabbed the burgundy lapel.
“ID.”
The Incoming Chief stared at the fist gripping several thousand dollars of tailoring.
Not because the suit mattered.
Because control did.
Then he looked into the Sergeant’s eyes.
“Do you always put hands on people this quickly?”
The Sergeant’s nostrils flared.
“You want to find out how quickly I can put cuffs on you?”
The Incoming Chief remained calm.
“Badge number.”
The Sergeant blinked.
“What?”
“Your badge number.”
A short laugh.
“You think you’re filing a complaint?”
“I haven’t decided.”
“Here.”
The Sergeant tapped his chest.
“Read it yourself.”
The Incoming Chief did.
He repeated the number aloud.
The Sergeant’s grin disappeared slightly.
“Cute.”
The Incoming Chief looked toward the officers watching.
“Anyone else want to give me theirs?”
Nobody answered.
The Sergeant shoved him against the car again.
“You keep running your mouth and you’re going downtown.”
The Incoming Chief looked past him toward the enormous building.
“We are downtown.”
One of the officers behind them almost smiled.
Wrong moment.
The Sergeant heard it.
His face flushed.
He tightened his grip.
“Think you’re funny?”
The Incoming Chief did not answer.
The Sergeant ripped the sunglasses from the breast pocket.
“Maybe these make you feel important.”