“You’ve been sitting in this parking stall for twenty minutes.
The property management company has a strict policy regarding terminated personnel loitering on commercial premises.”
Nick pointed his manicured index finger toward the public street:
“I need your parking transponder.
And I need you to surrender your corporate laptop before twelve o’clock, or I will have the Jefferson County Sheriff’s Department file an emergency grand larceny report against your name.”
I didn’t answer him.
I reached out, unclipped the plastic RFID parking transponder from my rearview mirror, and held it out through the two-inch gap in the glass.
Nick snatched it with a triumphant flick of his wrist:
“Thank you,” Nick sneered.
“Now get off the property.
Carter and I have an emergency briefing with the board of directors at ten.”
