"He assaulted you?" Lawson repeated, arching
an eyebrow.
"He grabbed my hand when I tried to open the
saddlebag!"
Ruiz closed his eyes in defeat. "That is a lie,
General. The subject denied consent for a search.
Deputy Boyd attempted to force entry, and the
subject simply placed his hand over the buckle.
Deputy Boyd then aggressively twisted the subject's
arm."
Boyd whipped his head around to stare at Ruiz
in betrayal. "Sergeant!"
Lawson looked back at James, noting the way
he was gently rubbing his left wrist. Her expression
darkened into absolute fury.
She took three steps forward, invading Boyd's
personal space entirely. The young officer
instinctively shrank back.
"You attempted an illegal search, and you
assaulted an eighty-two-year-old man," Lawson
stated, her voice like cracking ice. "Let me explain
something to you, Deputy. You are looking at a
machine that was purchased legally from the United
States Government before you were a thought in
your parents' minds. And you are looking at a man
who has bled into the soil of three different
continents to ensure you have the right to wear that
badge."
Boyd stammered, "I... I didn't know."
"Ignorance of the law is not an excuse for
breaking it," Lawson snapped. "Your dispatcher
informed you of his protected status. That should
have been your first clue that you were out of your
depth. Instead, you let your ego dictate your
actions."
Lawson turned back to Ruiz. "Sergeant, I am
taking Mr. Harris into my custody. You will return to
your precinct. You will inform your Chief of Police
that the Judge Advocate General's office at Fort
Kendrick will be contacting him by noon regarding
the unlawful detention and assault of a protected
federal affiliate. Do you understand?"
"Yes, General," Ruiz said firmly, offering a
respectful nod. "Perfectly clear."
"Get in your car," Lawson ordered Boyd.
"Before I allow my MPs to arrest you for assaulting
a federal asset on a state highway."
Boyd didn't say another word. He scrambled
into the driver's seat of the cruiser, slamming the
door shut.
Chapter 7
The Guest of Honor
The Military Police cleared the path, backing
the massive SUVs away from the county cruiser.
Boyd threw the car into drive and sped off down the
highway, desperate to escape the overwhelming
show of force. Sergeant Ruiz remained behind for a
moment, looking at James.
The Sergeant walked over to the old man and
extended his hand. "Mr. Harris. I am deeply sorry for
how you were treated today. It was unacceptable,
and I will ensure it is dealt with."
James looked at the extended hand, then at
Ruiz’s tired eyes. He saw a good man trapped in a
bad system. James reached out and shook the
Sergeant’s hand firmly.
"You did your job, Sergeant," James said
quietly. "Keep an eye on that boy. He's going to get
someone hurt."
"I will," Ruiz promised. He nodded
respectfully to General Lawson and walked to a
waiting MP vehicle that would give him a ride back
to town.
With the local police gone, the tension on the
highway evaporated. The MPs relaxed their posture,
their weapons returning to slung positions.
General Lawson walked back to James. "Are
you alright to ride, James? We can load the bike into
the transport and you can ride with me."
James smiled, patting the olive-drab tank of the
Harley. "I'm fine, Rebecca. She's warmed up now
anyway. Wouldn't feel right arriving in the back of a
truck."
"I figured you'd say that," Lawson grinned.
She gestured to the MPs. "Mount up! We have a
schedule to keep!"
James climbed back onto the saddle of the
motorcycle. He kicked the starter, and the old engine
roared to life, a deep, mechanical thumping that
seemed to harmonize perfectly with the heavy diesel
engines of the military vehicles surrounding him.
The convoy reorganized itself. Two MP SUVs
took the lead, lights flashing. James pulled out
behind them, riding in the center of the lane. General
Lawson’s vehicle followed closely behind, with the
massive transport trucks bringing up the rear.
They rode the remaining twenty miles to Fort
Kendrick not as a solitary old man on a forgotten
highway, but as a triumphant procession.
When they reached the main gates, they didn't
stop. The guards snapped crisp salutes as the convoy
roared through. They drove past the administrative
buildings and the barracks, heading straight for the
massive parade field.
The ceremony was waiting.
As the convoy approached the field, the
military brass ensemble began to play. Hundreds of
soldiers stood at perfect attention.
James slowed the motorcycle, pulling it right
up to the edge of the parade field, parking it beside
the restored transport truck. He shut off the engine,
the sudden silence filled instantly by the applause of
the gathered officers and dignitaries.
He dismounted slowly, favoring his stiff knee,
and removed his leather riding gloves. He reached
into his right saddlebag, bypassing the tools and the
rain gear, and pulled out his Army dress uniform
jacket. He slipped it on over his shirt. The chest was
heavy with medals—the Silver Star, the Bronze Star,