"Activate Broken Arrow protocols for the missing asset," Thomas ordered, his voice echoing off the glass walls. "I want satellite overheads of that town immediately. Trace local law enforcement communications. And get me the commander of the nearest Quick Reaction Force. If Oak Haven has our General, we are going to tear that town apart to get her back."
Alarms began to chime softly in the command center. Red lights pulsed along the ceiling. Operators scrambled to their stations, initiating traces, booting up dormant satellites, and scrambling military assets.
In a matter of minutes, the full, terrifying weight of the United States military apparatus turned its eye toward a tiny, unsuspecting dot on the map.
Boyd Cleary marched down the corridor of his jail, the stolen leather folder tucked under his arm. He unlocked Cell Three and stepped inside, pulling up the only folding chair in the hall and planting it directly in front of Sarah, who was still sitting calmly on her cot.
He tossed the folder onto her lap. "You want to explain this to me, Sarah?"
Sarah did not look down at the folder. She looked directly into Boyd's eyes. "That is classified federal property, Sheriff. By opening that case and reading those documents without the proper security clearance, you have just committed a federal felony under the Espionage Act."
Boyd laughed loudly, slapping his knee. "The Espionage Act! Lady, you are a piece of work. You almost had my deputy convinced. 'Major General Sarah Hayes.' Who prints these fakes for you? They're good, I'll give you that."
"I assure you, my commission is entirely real," Sarah said, her voice remaining perfectly even. "And your situation is deteriorating by the minute. I suggest you allow me to make a phone call."
"Oh, you'll get your call. Once you confess," Boyd leaned in, his breath hot and sour. "Who are you really working for? You stealing this tech for a competitor? You moving it for a cartel? Tell me the truth, and maybe I talk to the DA about reducing the charges."
Sarah sighed, a quiet sound of genuine pity. "Sheriff Cleary, you are operating under a catastrophic misunderstanding of your own authority. You pulled me over because you felt I wasn't adequately subservient. You arrested me to inflate your ego. And now, you are holding a senior official of the Department of Defense hostage because you are too proud to admit you made a mistake."
Boyd's face darkened. He stood up, kicking the chair away. "I am the law in Oak Haven! I don't care what fake titles you put on your fake papers. You sit here, in the dark, until you're ready to show some respect."
He turned and marched out of the cell, slamming the heavy iron bars shut with a resounding crash. He turned the key violently in the lock.
"No dinner for this one!" Boyd shouted down the hall to Miller. "Let her starve the attitude out!"
As the echo of Boyd's boots faded away, Sarah calmly picked up the classified folder from her lap. She checked the seal; it was broken, but the contents were intact. She closed her eyes and began to count the seconds in her head, calculating exactly how long it would take for General Thomas to scramble the QRF based out of Fort Drum.
She estimated she had about forty-five minutes before Oak Haven experienced an unprecedented awakening.
An hour passed. The jail was quiet, save for the snoring of the drunk in Cell One. The air was thick and sweltering, the building's ancient air conditioning utterly failing against the late afternoon heat.
Footsteps approached softly. Deputy Miller appeared at the bars, looking over his shoulder nervously. He held a set of keys in one hand and a bulky, corded desk phone—pulled on a long extension cord from the booking desk—in the other.
"He... he went to the diner across the street for dinner," Miller whispered, his hands shaking slightly as he slid the phone through the gap in the bars. "He said no calls, but... this doesn't sit right with me, ma'am. If you really are who those papers say you are, I can't be part of this."
Sarah stood up, her expression softening for the first time since the traffic stop. "You are making a wise decision, Deputy Miller. Thank you."
"Just make it quick," Miller pleaded. "If he catches me..."
Sarah picked up the receiver. She didn't dial 911. She didn't dial a lawyer. She dialed an eleven-digit number that bypassed public routing systems entirely, bouncing off a military satellite in low-earth orbit and plunging directly down into the Pentagon's secure switchboard.
The line didn't ring. It was answered instantly by an automated, digitized voice.
"Enter authorization protocol."
Sarah shielded the keypad with her hand, although Miller wasn't looking. She typed in a fifteen-digit alphanumeric code rapidly.
The line clicked. "Identity verified. Relaying to NMCC."
A second later, a breathless voice came on the line. "General Hayes? Is that you?"
"This is Hayes," Sarah said calmly. "Status report: I am unharmed. I have been detained by local law enforcement in Oak Haven. My vehicle and classified cargo have been illegally searched and impounded by the local sheriff. My secure communications were confiscated."
"General, we lost your telemetry. We were preparing to send a recovery team. Do you require immediate extraction?" General Thomas's voice crackled over the line, heavy with relief and barely suppressed rage.
"Extraction is required, Thomas," Sarah replied, keeping her voice low so as not to spook Miller. "The local sheriff is non-compliant and hostile. The cargo has been compromised by an uncleared civilian. Initiate full recovery and containment protocols. Inform the DOJ that we have a severe civil rights and federal interference violation in progress."
"Understood, General. We have assets at Fort Drum on standby. They are wheels up in five minutes. ETA to your location is twenty-two minutes. Sit tight."