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. I said
gently,
"Not your fault, dear. He doesn't have a warrant. Shall I throw him out?"
"Well..." She looked troubled.
"Oh. I see. I think I see. Throughout history, innkeepers have found it
necessary to get along with cops. And throughout history, cops have had
larcenous hearts and a bully's manners. All right, as a favor to you, I'll let
him live." I turned back to the cop. "Boy, you can chase back to your boss and
tell him that I will be along presently. After I've had at least two cups of
coffee. If he wants me any sooner than that, he had better send a squad. Xia,
would you like coffee? Let's go see if Sing has coffee and Danish, or such."
At this point Joe Stormtrooper made it necessary for me to take his gun. I
can be shot-I have been shot, more than once- but I can't be shot by anyone who
thinks that just pointing a gun at me has changed the odds.
His gun was nothing I wanted-door-prize junk. So I unloaded it, made sure
that his ammo was not the caliber I use, dropped the loads down the oubliette,
and handed his gun back to him.
At the loss of his cartridges he screamed bloody murder, but I patiently
explained to him that his gun was as good as ever for the purpose for which he
used it and that, if I had let him keep ammo, he could have hurt himself.
He continued to squawk, so I told him to go squawk to his boss. And turned
my back
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