"I will step out of the vehicle if you are ordering me to do so," Marcus said, keeping his hands entirely visible. "However, I am doing so under duress and out of fear for my physical safety, not because I consent to this detention."
Marcus undid his seatbelt with slow, telegraphed movements. He used his left hand to pull the door handle. As the door swung open, Bennett stepped back, his hand now fully gripping the handle of his service weapon.
"Turn around!" Bennett barked. "Face the car."
"Officer, if you keep—"
"Face the car!"
Marcus complied slowly. He stood six feet two inches tall, towering over the younger officer. Dressed in his pressed slacks and white shirt, he looked every bit the government official he was. But Bennett was too blinded by adrenaline, ego, and bias to see it.
"Officer," Marcus said, facing the hot metal roof of his rental car. "I am going to inform you that I am a federal officer. My credentials are in my left breast pocket. I strongly suggest you allow me to show them to you before you continue down this path."
Bennett laughed—a harsh, nervous sound that betrayed his internal panic. "Yeah, right. And I’m the President. You're a suspect in a homeland security investigation, pal. You don’t look like a Fed to me."
"And what does a Fed look like, officer?" Marcus asked quietly. The question hung there unanswered, heavy with implication. Bennett didn't like the implication. He didn't like this man's tone, his vocabulary, or his unshakeable calm.
"Spread your feet," Bennett commanded, kicking Marcus's ankles apart roughly. Marcus winced slightly but maintained his composure.
"Officer, you are now conducting a nonconsensual frisk. Under Terry, you need reasonable suspicion that I am armed and dangerous. You stopped me for photography. Do you have reason to believe a Nikon camera is a deadly weapon?"
"Shut up," Bennett hissed. He patted Marcus down aggressively, his hands moving roughly over the older man's pockets. He felt the hard, rectangular object in the front breast pocket—the credentials Marcus had explicitly mentioned. But Bennett didn't pull them out. He ignored them. He was blindly searching for a weapon, or drugs, or absolutely anything to justify the knot of fear and anger tightening in his stomach.
"I'm finding out who you are one way or another," Bennett growled. He moved to Marcus's back pocket and ripped out his wallet.