CHAPTER 1 — THE MAN IN THE GREEN JACKET
The rain had been falling for nearly an hour.
It blurred the streetlights into long golden streaks across the windshield of an aging black sedan parked beside an empty roadside diner.
Inside the car, an older man sat quietly behind the wheel.
He looked ordinary.
His gray hair was slightly messy. His face carried the exhaustion of someone who had spent decades working with his hands. He wore a faded green jacket, a plain shirt, and an old wristwatch.
On the passenger seat sat a brown leather wallet.
Inside it was exactly three thousand dollars in cash.
The man glanced at the wallet.
Then at the small camera mounted near the rearview mirror.
A tiny red light blinked.
Recording.
He checked the time.
9:17 p.m.
"Come on," he whispered.
He wasn't waiting for a friend.
He was waiting for a criminal.
More specifically, he was waiting for a police officer.
The older man leaned back and pretended to be asleep.
Less than two minutes later, headlights appeared in his rearview mirror.
A police cruiser rolled slowly behind him.
The older man didn't move.
The cruiser stopped.
A young police officer stepped out.
His name was Officer Ryan Cole.
Twenty-nine years old.
Six years on the force.
Three complaints for misconduct.
Two complaints had mysteriously disappeared.
The third had been dismissed because the complainant suddenly refused to cooperate.
Cole walked toward the driver's window.
His partner remained beside the cruiser.
Cole knocked once.
The older man lowered the window.
"Officer?"
"License and registration."
The older man reached toward the glove compartment.
Cole's eyes dropped immediately to the brown wallet sitting on the passenger seat.
He saw the edge of several bills.
His expression changed.
"What's that?"
"My wallet."
"Give it to me."
The older man frowned.
"Why?"
Cole's voice hardened.
"I said give it to me."
The older man hesitated.
Then Cole suddenly leaned through the window and aggressively snatched the wallet.
"Officer, what are you doing?"
Cole ignored him.
He opened the wallet.
His eyes widened.
A thick stack of cash.
He quickly pulled it out.
One hundred-dollar bills.
Dozens of them.
Cole counted roughly.
"Three thousand."
The older man stared at him.
"That's my money."
Cole smirked.
"Not anymore."
He shoved the empty wallet back through the window.
"What matters is there's money."
The older man's jaw tightened.
He said nothing.
Cole turned around and walked back toward his cruiser.
His partner laughed.
"Easy night?"
Cole held up the cash.
"Very."
The two officers stood underneath the rain and began counting the money.
Inside the car, the older man remained completely silent.
His hands were clenched around the steering wheel.
But his anger wasn't the anger of a victim.
It was the anger of a man who had just gotten exactly what he wanted.
He slowly looked toward the camera.
The red LED continued blinking.
Recording everything.
The theft.
The officer's face.
His voice.
His partner.
The cruiser.
The license plate.
Every detail.
The older man reached into his jacket and pulled out a phone.
He made a call.
"They took three thousand."
A calm voice answered.
"And?"
"The camera got everything."
There was a pause.
"Both officers?"
"Both."
"Good."
The older man's expression became cold.
"Start the second phase."
He ended the call.
Outside, Cole shoved the cash into his jacket.
Then he froze.
Something about the older man bothered him.
He turned around.
The driver's window was still open.
The old man was staring directly at him.
Not scared.
Not angry.
Calm.
Far too calm.