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"The Martyr: An Execution in Five Parts"
by John Payne
January 2000
1. Schultz
"Mr. Costa, I give you the Supreme Governor of the Federated Colonies of Mars," said Fowler. Standing protectively to the side of the door, Schultz kept his face impassive as he watched the two men from behind his mirrored glasses. Fowler was an unimpressive looking man of middle years. He was also the Governor's Chief-of-Staff, which made him Schultz's boss. Schultz had never liked him, but he was far too professional to let this show. Fowler ushered Costa in to the room, and then shut the door.
With nothing to do for a few minutes, Schultz reflected for a moment on Costa. He was an unknown. Fowler had insisted on bringing him in, despite objections from both Schultz and Sam Fong. The two bodyguards didn't like the idea of uncontrolled variables. But Fowler was in charge, and so they had agreed that it was probably necessary. Even so, Schultz didn't like it.
Costa hadn't looked like the man they had heard about. He was a black man of average height and build, conservatively dressed and well-groomed. He might have been any one of a thousand bureaucrats that had entered this office before. The only thing that marked him as any different were his eyes, which had swept quickly over everything, taking in every detail. Before being shown into the Governor's room, the black man's eyes had measured Schultz's six-and-a-half foot frame and muscular bulk, considering him thoughtfully. Schultz had wanted to sneer, but had suppressed the urge.
Of course Costa had no idea. No one but Fowler, Schultz, and Sam Fong had any idea. That was the whole point. No one could know. Especially the Governor. Pity the old man was so out of it. If he had figured out what was going on, Schultz would have gladly helped him put Fowler away. As things were, though, there was simply no alternative.
Schultz checked his watch. It was almost time. He pulled the pistol from his holster and checked it again. It was, as always, gleaming, clean, and fully loaded. Schultz smiled. If only everything in life were as easy to take care of as a weapon. You just take it apart, clean and oil all the little parts, and then put it back together. Follow the steps faithfully, and the machine will function flawlessly, day after day, time after time, just like a watch. There is beauty in order, he thought. And that's what it all came down to, in the end.
The pager on his belt vibrated-- the signal. Schultz smiled and switched off the safety on his pistol. As quietly as he could, he opened the door and slipped into the room, whereupon he was shot three times in the chest, dying almost without a sound.
END OF EXCERPT. TO READ MORE, PLEASE CONTACT ME.
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