Gallagher grabbed the drive and handed it to the technician. "Air-gap a laptop, scan it, and play it. Now."
The technician plugged the drive into an isolated terminal. A moment later, the harsh, static-laced audio of the impound lot filled the command center.
“Pay me five hundred more. ” Ryder’s voice was unmistakable, arrogant and grating. “I already paid everything. ” The heavy rustle of fabric.
Gallagher stared at the laptop screen, watching the metadata file properties.
"The audio was recorded and uploaded at one-twelve PM," Gallagher said, her voice turning to ice. She looked up at Marcus. "Director Vance, what time did the servers initiate their first out-of-band handshake from the precinct?"
Marcus checked his terminal. "One-twenty PM."
"And Detective Miller claims Ryder logged the cash and filed the incident report at one-forty-five," Gallagher summarized, the timeline clicking together like the tumblers of a vault. "Ryder extorted the money, stole the servers, drove them to his precinct, plugged them in, and then spent twenty minutes inventing a paper trail to cover his theft. Miller didn't verify a single timestamp before he threatened a municipal contractor with a false arrest."
Gallagher turned to Sergeant Hayes. "Assemble your men. We are going to District 4. Mr. Evans, you are coming with us. I need you to physically stand down those servers before they overheat and we lose the root architecture permanently."
"Am I still under threat of arrest?" I asked.
"Not anymore," Gallagher said grimly. "Now, you're my star witness."
The ride to District 4 was entirely different from the extraction. We traveled in a three-vehicle convoy of Transit Authority SUVs, the sirens clearing the afternoon traffic like a plow through snow. We pulled into the District 4 parking lot and boxed in three black-and-white patrol cruisers.
I stepped out of the SUV, flanked by Hayes and Gallagher. The heat radiating off the asphalt was nothing compared to the tension radiating from the precinct building. The front doors were propped open, and angry officers were standing outside, complaining about the total failure of their dispatch computers.
We marched directly into the lobby. It was bedlam. The desk sergeants were shouting into their radios because the internal computer-aided dispatch system had completely crashed. Civilian IT contractors were running cables across the floor, frantically trying to isolate the network breach.
Standing in the center of the chaos, berating an exhausted IT tech, was Officer Ryder.
He looked exactly as he had at the impound lot: broad, aggressive, and entirely too confident. He was waving a printed sheet of paper at the technician, demanding to know why he couldn't log into the evidence database.
Ryder turned, hearing the heavy boots of the Transit Police entering the lobby. His eyes swept over Sergeant Hayes, landed on ADA Gallagher, and finally locked onto me.
The confusion on his face lasted only a fraction of a second, instantly replaced by a tight, furious sneer. He didn't see a prosecutor or a strike team. He only saw the victim he thought he had successfully buried under a mountain of forged paperwork.
"I warned you, Evans," Ryder shouted, stepping away from the IT desk and reaching toward the heavy polymer grip of his duty weapon. "You're trespassing in a restricted facility. Turn around and put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest for felony bribery and cyber-sabotage."
He actually unsnapped his holster retention strap.
"Touch that weapon, Officer, and I will have you shot," Sergeant Hayes barked, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. Instantly, four Transit Police officers dropped their hands to their holstered sidearms, fanning out to secure the lobby.
Ryder froze, his hand hovering over his gun. The chaotic noise of the precinct lobby evaporated into a stunned, suffocating silence.
ADA Gallagher stepped forward, bypassing the armed standoff completely. She walked until she was two feet away from Ryder's chest, forcing him to look down at her. She reached into her suit jacket and pulled out a laminated DA investigator badge.
"I am Assistant District Attorney Gallagher," she said, her voice carrying effortlessly through the quiet room. "And you are currently holding twelve thousand dollars of municipal transit infrastructure hostage in your evidence room. You are going to take your hand off your weapon, you are going to turn around, and you are going to walk us to that room, right now."