The heavy glass doors of the lobby exploded open.
"STATE POLICE! NOBODY MOVE! HANDS WHERE WE CAN SEE THEM!"
Reyes, Vance, and six heavily armed state troopers flooded into the lobby. The synchronized sound of tactical boots and shifting gear filled the room. In less than three seconds, the front doors were secured, the hallway leading to the holding cells was blocked, and Miller was completely surrounded by leveled rifles.
"Hands on the counter! Now!" Vance roared, pointing his weapon directly at the other corrupt deputy behind the desk, who immediately threw his hands up in terrified surrender.
Miller stood frozen in the center of the lobby, completely trapped. His chest heaved. His eyes darted wildly toward the exits, looking for a way out, but there was only a wall of state troopers.
"Inspector," Miller said, his voice trembling, trying desperately to regain control. "Inspector, you don't understand. There's been a misunderstanding. I stopped this man for reckless driving—"
"Save it," John interrupted, his voice echoing with absolute authority.
John stepped forward and pulled the heavy black cylinder from his pocket. He clicked the button. A beam of intense, violet-blue ultraviolet light shot across the room.
"Hold your hands out, Miller," John commanded.
Miller hesitated, his eyes wide with panic. "I didn't take anything."
"Hold them out, or my men will break your arms and hold them out for you," John said, his voice dropping all pretense of politeness.
Trembling uncontrollably, Miller slowly raised his hands.
John shined the UV light over them.
In the violet beam, Miller’s palms, fingers, and knuckles glowed with a brilliant, neon-green chemical residue. It looked like he had dipped his hands in radioactive paint. The dye from the marked bills had transferred perfectly to his skin, creating an undeniable, irrefutable map of his guilt.
The civilians on the benches gasped.
John lowered the beam, shining it directly onto Miller’s uniform. The left breast pocket glowed with the same intense neon green.
"You took the bait, Miller," John said softly, stepping into the corrupt cop's personal space. "You couldn't help yourself. You saw a vulnerable old man, and you took everything he had."
Miller’s shoulders collapsed. The fight drained out of him instantly. The illusion of his power, built on intimidation and fear, shattered completely in the face of absolute proof.
"Take his weapon and his badge," John ordered.