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Henri was scowling. He was careful, though, to be gentle when
helping the judge from the ground.
Harrison gave the guard a cold look.
The guard blanched behind his face shield. He saluted and ran back
to the building to hold the door.
As they entered, Henri sneered, hurrying the judge by with the
guard babbling apologies. The guard ran after them still whining.
The elevator opened for them, and Henri hustled the judge in it,
then up. He set the squealer to mask anything said in the elevator. The devise
was only slightly illegal, and no one was going to arrest a judge for having
one, let alone a baron. Harrison was clinging to him. Henri tried to pry the weak
grip off of his waist.
“Look, you could be a nice man. People would love you was you
cool.”
Harrison stared weeping.
With a sigh, Henri said, “I'll be nice to you, if you try
harder. OK?”
Harrison's hands slipped down to a place too close to the belt.
Henri slapped them away, then knocked Harrison to the floor.
“You said you'd be nice to me,” Harrison cried. “It's
illegal to refuse me anything, now.”
“Not like that. Not ever again, or I'll kill you, just to save
you from Alma.”
Huddled on the floor, Harrison was weeping. Henri was in the act
of dragging the judge up when the doors opened and there was the guard.
“Judge? I mean, Lord Baron Harrison, sir?” The man blinked. He
frowned, reaching for a side arm.
“He fell,” Henri said, dusting Harrison off. “I keep telling
master, the work is too much. The hours too long. But this man is a dynamo. He
refuses to give up helping the city even if it is killing him, poor soul.”
The guard hesitated.
Harrison was shivering. He glanced up, and Henri smiled.
“Hey, guard. Why don't you give the judge a little help with
something. Might make up for trying to get him ass-sass-in-ated.”
Gratitude and relief flooded over the guard's face.
“Anything. Anything,” he said, beaming at Harrison.
Henri found himself leaning on the door of the questioning room.
Lips pursed, he scowled at a fleck of dirt under one fingernail. Pleading cries
had long since subsided to quiet whimpers. Henri rapped on the door.
“Now, man. You due on stage in less than a minute.”
The door opened, and an exhausted but happy judge staggered out.
Henri took a quick glance in. A paddle in one hand, the guard lay sprawled over
the table smoking a cigarette and glaring at Henri.
“Hey, no hard feelings,” Henri said. “We all got to do our
part. For a better tomorrow. Right?”
The guard shuddered and began to drag on his clothes. He pulled
out the pistol, and Henri let the door slide shut. The paddle rammed the door.
Once in the courtroom, Henri yawned and dozed off for a few
moments. Life was tough, but at least the shame of serving the judge was easing.
For that guard, it would be a while. Maybe even a turning point.
Like suicide.
On the bench, a gentle and smiling Harrison waited the first case
of the night.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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