Stare Down
A "What
if" story from Sweet Revenge
“Sir?”
“Yes?”
“He’s
arrived, sir.”
“Good. Show him in.”
James Marshall Gunther moved his head slightly. “Uh,
that’ll be all, Thomas.”
He sat there for a moment, the paper evidence of his
crumbling empire on the floor around him. Finally, he stood up and moved around
to sit behind his desk. It’s all gone.
Everything I worked for, gone in an instant. He opened the right-hand top
drawer, took out the gun he thought he’d never use, and held it in his lap. Then
he waited.
Armageddon came without as much as a knock on the door.
Gunther knew the face of destruction well. He’d seen it in his nightmares for a
long time. Still, a perverse need for propriety forced him to acknowledge the
presence.
“Come in, Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson.”
The blond detective stood with his arms to his sides.
Funny, he looked so much larger in person. “James Gunther.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”
“THE James Gunther.”
“James Marshall Gunther to be correct.
You’ve met my butler, Thomas. Meet my assistant Mr. Bates. He so looked forward
to meeting you.”
Still, his nemesis approached. “You’ve come to arrest
me.”
He didn’t even look down when
The older man flinched slightly when
“Please.”
He barely heard what the detective said. It was something
about killing, and something about his partner. The detective’s voice was
filled with venom as the blue eyes staring back at him regarded him with contempt.
Like a snake striking at its prey,
The
atmosphere grew heavier around the silent tableau as there was a subtle shift
in intent. Two strong hands encircled
his, crushing his fingers around the grip of the weapon. Slowly, inexorably,
the gun moved. Gunther saw the barrel turning toward his face, until he looked
down the small black hole.
When Ken Hutchinson looked into the eyes of evil, he
didn’t see the bodies of McClellan, or Thomas May, or even Lionel Rigger. He
didn’t see the years of graft and corruption inflicted by Gunther on an
unsuspecting society. The only image he saw was Starsky, on his side, knees
drawn up in a fetal position, his head shoved against the wheel of the
James Marshall Gunther raised his eyes from the gun and
stared into the icy blue eyes of doom. His plea for mercy never made it past
his lips. He looked past the withered old man that was reflected in those unforgiving
orbs and saw only the eternal fires of damnation. As he felt his index finger
squeeze the trigger, he whispered a plaintive denial.
“Nooooo!!”
Sergeant Kenneth Hutchinson leaned back as the cab made
its way to the airport. It’s over,
Starsky. It’s finally over. I’m coming home. His eyes closed briefly as his
head relaxed against the seat. He barely heard the radio newscast.
“In
today’s top story, James Marshall Gunther was reportedly shot and killed this
morning while resisting arrest. The owner and CEO of Gunther Industries, a multi-billion
dollar corporation, has been the focus lately of a Federal investigation,
according to a statement released this afternoon by Judge Sidney Holmes.
Allegedly, Gunther Industries is guilty of bribery, blackmail, and murder, as
well as the attempted murder of a police officer. The body of Geoffrey Bates,
personal assistant to James Gunther himself, was found in Gunther’s private
office. He apparently had been poisoned. When asked if Gunther was a suspect in
the homicide, Judge Holmes declined to comment. Stay tuned to this channel for
further developments. “