Police Chief McCarthy was frozen in his seat with the piece of document Albert had flung at him earlier, shaking in his hand. His skin seemed to stretch tightly across his features.
"You seem pale," Albert observed cynically. "Can I get you anything? A cup of coffee perhaps?"
McCarthy gazed at him, expression blank. In the SA's mind, this was a formality, a protocol he had to go through before elbowing out the dumb local cop.
The federal sons of bitches claimed not to feel that way about local law enforcement outfits. The company line was that they had the utmost respect for anyone wearing a badge. Bullshit. You might find an exception to the rule if you looked hard enough among the rank and file, but generally speaking, they thought they were the know-all, be-all. Period. End of story.
If only he knew the forces he was up against were something far above and beyond his normal human comprehension, McCarthy thought.
