The Peace Proxy: Part 1 Read Free Page B

their differences in reaction times,
they both shared the distinction of appearing scared witless. That
probably makes four of us, Garrett mused. The younger guard
succeeded in freeing his weapon and, along with his partner,
brought it to bear on the Governor.
    In contrast to his demeanor, the older guard
spoke with a calm assurance. “Put the gun down Governor,” he
instructed.
    Weller, still grasping at a means to control
the rapidly changing situation, lifted the gun toward Garrett. Both
guards tensed and pointed their weapons with conviction.
    “Whoa, Governor, put the gun down,” the
older guard repeated with emphasis.
    “Just ease the gun down,” the younger guard encouraged.
    Like a slowly lifting fog, the confusion
left Weller’s face. “It’s his. He tried to kill me. Arrest him!” He
declared as he dropped the gun to his side.
    Both guards visibly relaxed as the elder
took on a less aggressive tone. “That’s fine Governor, but we still
need you to put down the gun.”
    Garrett slowly raised his open hands,
indicating he was willing to cooperate. “I surrender,” he offered to further defuse the situation.
    “Yeah, we have the video,” the younger guard
informed the Governor. “He’ll be
arrested .”
    The fog that had lifted from Weller’s
perception quickly resettled. “The video?” He uttered weakly.
    The younger guard felt obligated to explain.
“It’s Saturday. No one turned off the after-hours surveillance.”
The older guard correctly interpreted the Governor’s confused
response and instantly recognized the situation for what it was. He
gave the young guard a small nod meant to stop the other’s
babbling. The younger man mistook the signal
as encouragement and continued, “It’ll show everything. Lucky,
huh?”
    The Governor did not appear to find the news
as appealing as the young guard intended. In fact, his pasty appearance indicated he was about to get a second
look at his breakfast. His eyes darted around the room as if it was
unfamiliar and he could not remember if it contained a hidden exit. Discarding the possibility of escape , his gaze
fell on Garrett. Weller’s expression shifted from
panic to resolve. He slowly raised the gun. Garrett dropped
his hands and moved into a slight crouch. The arc scribed by the gun did not come to rest on Garrett but under the Governor’s chin.
    “Governor, don’t,” the elder guard
yelled.
    The Governor continued to stare at
Garrett.
    “This is going to be hard on my boys,” he stated flatly.
    “No!” Garrett protested as he sprang toward the Governor, arriving in
time to catch the lifeless body.

 
     
     
3
     
    After the circumstances surrounding Governor
Weller’s death were confirmed, the interview at the police station
was brief. A gangly officer who appeared to be a little older than
Garrett took his statement and a copy of the conversation between
the former Governor Weller and Karl Sigler.
    “Well, Mr. Richards, you sure are lucky,”
the officer concluded.
    “How so?”
    “Those needle guns are designed to
circumvent security,” the officer explained. “They’re illegal of
course; practically undetectable. If the gun hadn’t discharged, those guards wouldn’t have responded.”
    “I guess I am,” Garrett reflected.
    “What?” The officer questioned, not
following Garrett’s introspective reasoning.
    “Lucky,” Garrett replied.
    The officer returned a concerned stare.
Satisfied Garrett’s mental faculties were in order, he decided the
interview was complete.
    “I think we have all we need. I’ll just
check with the lieutenant.”
    The officer walked to a glass-enclosed office, which by design afforded an
unobstructed view of the rows of desks used by the patrol officers.
Garrett watched as the officer spoke with a stern looking woman
whose mannerisms indicated she was more concerned with her computer
interface. After a few moments, she looked at the officer who
pointed in Garrett’s direction. She gave