Not distant.
Close.
The Federal Supervisor turned his head.
A marked patrol cruiser appeared at the far end of the block.
Lights flashing.
Speed too high.
The Supervisor’s expression changed immediately.
“Who called local?”
No answer.
The cruiser accelerated.
The Federal Supervisor straightened.
“Control, identify that unit.”
A pause.
“Negative. Not ours.”
The cruiser crossed two lanes.
Drivers scattered.
A taxi swerved.
Someone on the sidewalk shouted.
The Federal Supervisor stepped away from the muscle car.
The patrol cruiser did not slow.
It came directly toward him.
“What the hell?”
The cruiser jerked toward the curb.
Metal struck metal.
The front corner of the police vehicle slammed into the rear quarter panel of the black muscle car.
The impact shoved the parked car sideways.
Its front tire jumped against the curb.
Glass trembled in nearby storefronts.
Pedestrians scattered.
The Federal Supervisor stepped backward, more shocked than frightened.
His earpiece erupted.
“Supervisor, status?”
“Hold positions.”
The driver’s door of the police cruiser flew open.
A city Police Officer emerged.
White male.
Late thirties.
Heavy build.
Angry before he had even taken three steps.
The second Officer came out from the passenger side.
“You!”
The Lead Officer pointed.
“Hands where I can see them.”
The Federal Supervisor stared at the damaged rear side of his car.
Then at the Officer.
“You just rammed my vehicle.”
“Hands up.”
The Supervisor raised both hands slightly.
Not surrender.
Compliance enough to slow the moment.
“Officer, listen carefully.”
“Turn around.”
“I need you to stop escalating.”
The Lead Officer moved closer.
“Turn around now.”
The Supervisor glanced across the street.
Target One had stopped near the garage entrance.
He was watching.
This was bad.
Very bad.
The federal operation was becoming visible.
The Supervisor kept his voice calm.
“You are interfering with an active operation.”
The Officer laughed.
“Sure I am.”
“I need your supervisor here immediately.”
“You don't make requests.”
The Federal Supervisor looked at the second Officer.
“You.”
The second Officer hesitated.
“Call your Sergeant.”
The Lead Officer stepped forward.
“I said turn around.”
The Supervisor lowered his voice.
“This is your last easy chance to slow this down.”
The Officer grabbed his arm.
The Supervisor twisted instinctively.
Not an attack.
A trained release.