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"All right. Bill, turn around. Don't use your hands, just willpower."
He pivoted on his buttocks, scraping his heels to do so. I noted with
approval that Gwen had shifted to the steady twohanded grip. I then took my cane
and pushed Bill's homemade gun along the deck to a point in front of him. "Bill,
don't make any sudden moves. Take your hands down. Unload your pistol. Leave it
open with its load beside it. Then put your hands back on your head."
I backed up Gwen with my cane and held my breath while Bill did exactly
what I had told him to do. I had no compunction about killing him and I felt
sure that Gwen would kill him at once if he tried to turn that homemade gun on
us.
But I worried over what to do with his body. I didn't want him dead. Unless
you are on a battlefield or in a hospital, a corpse is an embarrassment, hard to
explain. The management was bound to be stuffy about it.
So I breathed a sigh of relief when he finished his assigned task and put
his hands back on his head.
I reached out with my cane, reversed, and dragged that nasty little gun and
its one cartridge toward me-pocketed that cartridge, then ground a heel down
onto its tubing barrel, crushing the muzzle and ruining the firing mockup, then
said to Gwen, "You can ease up a little now. No need to kill him this instant.
Drop back to flesh-wound alert."
"Aye aye
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