The Peace Proxy: Part 1 (3 page)

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.

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 a curt nod, and the
officer returned to Garrett. He informed Garrett the interview was
complete and offered a ride to the train station, which Garrett
gladly accepted.

Garrett followed the officer to the motor
garage and moved to get
in
the passenger’s
side of the police aircar, but the officer shook his head in
disapproval. “Sorry but you’ll have to ride in the back,” he
instructed Garrett, seemingly embarrassed. “Department policy.”
With a shrug, he pointed to a camera tucked into the ceiling.

Garrett nodded with a shrug of his own. “No
problem. I’m just thankful for the ride.” Garrett’s understanding
produced a smile from the officer as he entered the vehicle.

A beleaguered Garrett slid into the back
seat. Checking the time, he numbly deduced he could still make it
back to New York in time for this evening’s Christmas ball.
Recalling tonight’s celebration, Garrett realized there were only
four days until
Christmas,
and he had not
decided on a gift for Katherine. A radio broadcast of the
Governor’s death brought his thoughts back to recent events. The
report stated, for reasons unknown, the Governor had committed
suicide after an interview with a reporter from the
New York
Herald
. It ended with a promise from the Attorney General that
his office would look into the facts surrounding the incident.
Garrett asked the officer to turn off the
broadcast,
and he obliged.

Garrett had diligently forwarded the story
to Charlie from his communications band a few minutes before the
police arrived. Commonly referred to as a “
comband,
” the device was essentially a touch screen
bracelet about an inch wide. It enabled the user to access the
information superhighway with all of
life’s
essentials. Like most consumers, Garrett wore a nearly invisible
paired earpiece for private voice communication. By now, his news
agency was running a written exclusive on the
net
edition.

The day’s events had drained Garrett both
mentally and physically. The last thing he remembered was how
fatigued he felt as he slipped into comforting darkness.

Garrett was enjoying a respite from the
day’s events at Arthur’s cabin by the lake. He had always favored
this
special
place where, as a boy, he had
discovered the mysteries of the great outdoors.
He
wrapped the wool blanket around his shoulders as he
watched the fire dance along the stone hearth. He felt a hand on
his shoulder, which was vaguely disconcerting since he was alone.
Arthur must have driven up to surprise him, but the repeated use of
“Mr. Richards” seemed out of character. It was getting colder
despite the adequate blaze contained in the fireplace. Was the door
open? Garrett opened his
eyes,
and the warm
cabin
was instantly replaced
by the
cool
night air entering
through
the
open
police car
door.

“Mr. Richards?” the officer questioned. “Mr.
Richards, sorry to wake you but we’ve arrived.”

Garrett struggled to comprehend the
officer’s meaning. “What?”

“We’re here, sir,” the officer replied.

Garrett sat up. The surroundings were not
what he had expected. The aircar sat on a landing pad atop a tall
building, not the train station as Garrett had expected. Garrett
exited the vehicle, the cobwebs clearing from his head, as he did.
He recognized the skyline.

“Are we…,” he began.

“At your apartment building,” the officer
finished. “You fell asleep before we got out of the parking garage.
I was going off shift, so I called in and asked if I could just
take you all the way. It seemed like you’d already had a rough
day.”

Garrett rubbed his eyes with one hand. “How
long was I out?” he asked as he stretched
to
ward
off the last remnants of sleep.

“About fifteen minutes.”

“Well, thank
you,
officer…” Garrett started, extending his hand.

Anxious to be on his way, the officer
quickly shook the offered hand.

“Crandal. Troy Crandal,” Troy informed
Garrett.

“Thank you, Troy.”

“No problem,” he replied as he climbed back
into the vehicle.

The aircar drive energized with a distinct
hum as Garrett began the cold walk to the alcove that housed the
elevators.

“Garrett!” Katherine exclaimed as he came
through the door of their apartment. “Are you all right?”

“I could use a drink,” Garrett replied as
she put her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“I’ll get it. Relax; I’m sure you’re still
shaken up.” She moved to the next room and retrieved a bottle of
scotch from the bar.

Garrett walked into the living area and
collapsed on the sofa. He watched Katherine
pour
the
scotch
into a glass. Oddly,
she was only wearing a black bra and panties. Seeing her move
around the room brought a small smile to Garrett’s lips. She handed
him the scotch and went into the bedroom. He took a long drink and
closed his eyes. Governor Weller’s suicide was
unexpected,
and Garrett knew he was going to face an
avalanche of criticism. Memories of the last time his career was in
jeopardy pushed their way out of the
recesses
where he tried to keep them buried. His
thoughts drifted back to when he met Katherine.

After the debacle in which Garrett’s
investigation of Senator Rimes’ involvement in questionable real
estate transactions was front-page news, the Secretary of State
wanted to meet with Garrett. As chance would have it, the Senator
and the Secretary were old
friends,
and the
Secretary felt obligated to relay his opinion of Garrett’s reckless
journalism to Garrett personally. Garrett had not noticed Katherine
before the meeting. Afterward, he was too caught up in
self-examination
to fully appreciate
his
surroundings
and had therefore overlooked the
attractive
special assistant
to the Secretary
of State. A myriad of unanswered questions competed for his
attention and even now, two years later, he was still no closer to
finding
resolution
. Who forged the bank
records? Where had the witnesses come from and how could they have
disappeared without a trace? He was certain it had been a setup to
besmirch someone’s character, but Garrett was not sure if he or
Senator Rimes was the target. Either way, by the time it was over,
both of their reputations suffered considerable damage.

The Secretary’s
special
assistant
was not as caught up in introspection and noticed
the endearing reporter who could barely
find
his way out of the office after meeting with her supervisor.
Garrett heard a woman’s voice asking someone if they would like to
join her for lunch. After a pause that was too long to be
considered good manners, Garrett realized he was the intended
recipient of the question.
He
looked up to see
a beautiful young woman addressing him. She stood half a head
shorter than he and had a smile that captivated him in a way he
still found difficult to describe.

“Pardon me?” Garrett responded, still
emerging from his contemplations.

“You look like you’ve had a rough day. Why
don’t you join me for lunch?” she replied. Garrett stared back at
her, seemingly incapable of responding as he mulled probable career
paths based on the day’s events.

“Come on, I’ll buy,” she offered
energetically,
as she grabbed his arm and began walking
toward the door.

“Yeah, sure,” Garrett mumbled, as he
consented to
being led
out of the
building.

Over lunch, he found her to have a wry wit
that he thoroughly enjoyed, and after he had
recovered
enough to start using sentences that were
longer than two syllables, she found his company equally agreeable.
She
was particularly attracted
to the quiet
strength his personality carried so nonchalantly, almost as if he
were not aware of it.

She had grown up on a farm in rural Ohio.
The youngest of four, she developed adept negotiating skills at an
early age,
to
steer daily childhood squabbles
to her benefit.
This had
turned her into an
extrovert by
necessity,
and she had the
intellect to match her outgoing demeanor. On the high school debate
team, she was known for her ability to turn any controversy to her
advantage. Her nature was one of competition, both intellectually
and physically, but her upbringing had also taught her the
necessity of
empathy,
and she was gracious in
both victory and defeat. She attended college on a track
scholarship,
and it was there she first gained
notoriety in politics. At a student rally of the Economic
Reformation Party, the president of the local chapter was leading
the group in support of a politician running for the United Senate.
Katherine was walking by on the way to an academic lecture when she
heard the assertions of the young man leading the rally concerning
global
monetary
restructuring. It was this
type of
idealistic, illogical, and
entirely unachievable proposal
so readily claimed by the
politically uninitiated that she found particularly irksome. It had
become
obvious
to her that the momentum of
global economies was such that any
claim
of
rapid positive change was pure fantasy. She stopped and turned
toward the rally, refuting the orator’s claim on how his candidate
planned to accomplish this Herculean feat. An impromptu debate
ensued in which the local president’s assertions on the efficacy of
his candidate’s platform were quickly countered and the rally
fizzled. It was over in a few
minutes,
and
Katherine was not even late for class.