Hale slammed his palm against the table again, the sound echoing sharply in the glass room. “You came off Flight 284 with nearly two kilos of suspected narcotics packed right inside your personal luggage.” Malcolm remained entirely calm. Hale continued pressing his advantage. “You can sit there looking like some high-powered executive all day long. It doesn't change what we pulled out of your bag.” Malcolm finally broke his silence. “Who found it?” Hale frowned, momentarily thrown off balance. “What?” “Who physically found the package inside the bag?” Hale jerked his chin toward the younger officer. Collins cleared his throat and muttered, “I did.” Malcolm nodded once. “Where?” “In your secondary inspection room.” “I mean, where was the suitcase itself located when you opened it?” Collins hesitated, shifting his weight between his boots. “In the baggage screening annex.” “Which specific room?” “Baggage screening room four.” “Camera number?” Collins stared blankly, his mouth opening slightly. Step forward, Hale intervened, his face darkening with anger. “You don't get to sit here and interrogate us! You are the suspect!” Malcolm looked him dead in the eye. “I asked a simple, relevant question.” “You should be worrying about yourself and your immediate future.” “I am.” Hale leaned closer across the table until their faces were inches apart. “Do you have any remote idea what possession of this quantity means under federal law?” Malcolm’s expression remained flat and unreadable. “I know very well what possession means.” “Then you better start confessing right now while you still have room to cooperate with the district attorney.” Malcolm looked past him at the suitcase again. “My security seal is completely intact.”
Dead silence descended upon the room. Officer Collins instinctively glanced down at the zipper. Hale looked at it too for one fraction of a second before forcing a harsh, dismissive laugh. “That little plastic tag?” “Yes.” “You honestly think that proves something in a court of law?” “It proves conclusively that nobody opened that primary zipper after I attached it prior to departure.” Hale shrugged aggressively. “Suitcases have more than one opening, smart guy.” “This particular model does not.” Hale’s confident smile began to falter at the edges. Malcolm pressed forward calmly. “It is a hard-shell ballistic case. Continuous zipper track. No exterior access compartments of any kind. And it features a unique numbered tamper-evident seal. I photographed it before checking it in at the ticket counter.” Officer Collins’s face underwent a subtle, revealing change. Pale skin tightened around his jaw. Malcolm caught the micro-expression instantly. Hale missed it entirely. “People take pictures of their luggage all the time,” Hale scoffed. “Yes,” Malcolm replied. “I photograph chain-of-custody vulnerabilities.” The atmosphere in the glass room grew noticeably colder. Hale narrowed his eyes. “What is that supposed to mean?” Malcolm ignored the defensive question. “Was the bag put through the X-ray machine before Officer Collins supposedly opened it?” Hale’s jaw tightened visibly. “Yes, it was.” “Then preserve that digital image immediately.” “Preserve?” “Yes. And preserve every single baggage-routing electronic scan associated with tag number 003918471.” Collins was staring at him now with undisguised apprehension. Malcolm continued unbothered. “Also preserve the closed-circuit camera footage from Carousel Nine, screening corridor C, secondary baggage room two, this interview room, and the secure service hallway behind the inspection area.” Hale’s face flushed a deep, angry red. “You seem awfully interested in security cameras for an innocent traveler.” “I am.” “You actually think a camera is going to save you from a felony narcotics charge?”