Thursday, March 3, 2011

Heavy Type - The Right Way

by John Prins

There was a wrong way, Jacob mused, and a right way. To everything.

Of course, which was which depended on the individual. In this particular case, Jacob and his parter differed. Which was, of course, perfectly all right. Peacekeeper Peijun Ba was certainly entitled to her own opinion. However, Jacob was the senior partner.

They would do things the right way.

The right way isn't always immediately apparant, Jacob knew. Which was probably why he and Peijun disagreed this time. But she was new, and she would learn. Some things only came with time.

The subject of their disagreement concerned one Jorge Grey. Currently the Assistant to the Secretary of Finance. Mister Grey was undoubtedly an intelligent man, having climbed the ladder of the civil service through a combination of merit and personality. He was efficient, clever and certainly highly respected.

He was also under arrest. Though he didn't know that yet.

The disagreement between Jacob and his partner centered around the very important manner in which they were to arrest such a person. Mister Grey was most certainly guilty of misappropriation of government funds. The Peacekeepers did not arrest high ranking officials in the bureaucracy without irrefutable evidence. So the matter of where to arrest Mister Grey was completely irrelevant. No where could he have the opportunity to destroy enough evidence to clear him of his crimes.

Ideally, Peacekeeper Ba had argued, the Assistant should be arrested en route to his place of work. In that way Mister Grey's arrest would be less subject to media scrutiny, as well as avoiding any shame to the Assistant's co-workers or family members. Which would be the case if he were arrested at work or at home. Peacekeeper Ba's arguments were correct, logical, and sound.

They were also entirely the wrong way of doing things. She had entirely missed the point. So they would do things the right way, and she would not only see, but understand.

And so it was that both she and Jacob were currently sitting outside the office of the Assistant to the Secretary of Finance, each drinking a cup of excellent cawfee. Upon their arrival, Jacob had informed the Assistant's receptionist that there were two agents of the law in his outer office awaiting to arrest him. Furthermore, they would give him enough time to call his lawyer, his family, and regain his composure so that he should not shame himself in front of the cameras that were surely at this moment racing to the front door of the Financial Offices. Then the officers would conduct him to the nearest Peacekeeper's barracks for processing and eventually he would be handed over to the Mekong Assembly for a formal inquiry, hearing, or trial.

Mister Grey's receptionist was a credit to her profession. Without a single change in expression she relayed the Peacekeeper's message to the Assistant to the Secretary of Finance. After, of course, she had prepared some excellent cawfee for the two officers to drink while they waited.

The muffled thunderclap that could be heard through the thick doors to the inner offices of the Assistant gave Jacob a small measure of satisfaction. Not in the confirmation that he had been right in his choice of methods in this arrest, but that his estimation of Mister Grey had been precise. As his partner and the receptionist exploded out of their seats to investigate what had surely been the sound of a gunshot in the Assistant's office, Jacob finished the cup of cawfee, savoring its excellence, before getting up.

Jacob knew what awaited him in the office. There would now be no lengthy, money consuming inquiry. More importantly, the Grey family would not be raked over the coals of the media circus that would have followed the arrest. That Jorge Grey had chosen to redeem his honor by blowing his own brains over the windows of his office would soon be forgotten, almost before the shame of his crimes would be washed away from his family's good name. Which was, in the final analysis, the truly important matter. Jorge Grey, in the end at least, had found the right way of doing things.

[John Prins] [Heavy Type]

The above article was archived from Heavy Type: A Heavy Gear Fan Fiction Website as part of the Hermes 72 Archive Project. It has been edited from its original form and is used without permission.

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