Same instinct.
Authority resisting verification because verification now felt like surrender.
Marcus said:
“I’m telling you there's evidence ten feet away that resolves this.”
The bald officer stepped closer.
“Turn around.”
Marcus stared.
“What?”
“Turn around.”
“For what?”
“You're being detained while we sort this out.”
Marcus looked toward Adrian.
Then the first officer.
“I am standing still.”
“Turn around.”
Marcus did.
Slowly.
The first officer took his left wrist.
Marcus’s body stiffened.
“Don't twist my arm.”
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
The second officer reached for the other wrist.
Marcus said:
“Check the appointment.”
Adrian stood several feet away.
Arms crossed.
For the first time, a faint satisfaction appeared on his face.
Marcus saw it reflected in the glass case.
That was the moment his anger changed.
No longer about the necklace.
No longer about wasting time.
Something colder.
The first officer pulled his wrist higher.
Marcus instinctively shifted his shoulder to reduce pressure.
The officer said:
“Stop resisting.”
“I’m not resisting.”
“You just pulled away.”
“I moved because you're twisting my shoulder.”
The bald officer grabbed Marcus’s upper arm.
“Get down.”
Marcus turned slightly.
“What?”
Everything happened too quickly.
The first officer pulled his wrist.
The second pushed down on his shoulder.
Marcus lost balance.
His right knee struck the marble.
Pain flashed.
Then both officers pushed.
His chest hit the floor.
The side of his face came down against cold polished stone.
Gasps around the store.
Someone screamed.
Marcus’s phone slid from his hand.
It skated several feet.
The bald officer kicked it farther away instinctively.
Marcus felt one knee near his hip.
Another hand on his shoulder.
His left arm pulled behind him.
For one second, panic surged so violently he nearly rolled.
He stopped himself.
Do not move.
His father’s voice seemed to come from somewhere years away.
Think first.
Marcus opened his right hand.
Placed it flat on the marble.
“I am not fighting you.”
“Stop moving.”
“I am not moving.”
“Give me your hand.”
“You have my hand.”
“Other hand.”
“It is flat on the floor.”
Customers backed away.
Phones appeared.
Marcus could see reflections in the glass case.
Jewelry above him.
People beyond.
Adrian’s shoes.
Perfectly polished.
The black velvet necklace display only a few feet from his face.
Eighteen million dollars of objects.
And a man being restrained beside them because nobody bothered checking one line of text.
The absurdity almost made him laugh.
Instead:
“Check.”
His voice sounded different against the floor.
The officer leaned closer.
“What?”
“The appointment.”
“Shut up and stop moving.”
Marcus turned his face slightly.
Adrian stood near the case.
His expression had changed.
Not satisfied anymore.
Concerned.
Too many cameras.
Marcus looked directly at him.
“Adrian.”
The manager froze.
Marcus continued.