The nervous police officer glanced down the hallway. He had been standing there for only a few minutes. The airconditoning was uncomfortably cool, but still his uniform stuck to his sweating body. Every so often a drop of sweat would find its way into his eye causing him to blink furiously. He didnt need the distraction. He had been listening, carefully trying to work out where his enemy was. His breathing shallow, quietened to listen better.
Like a baby learning to walk he stumbled quietly forward. He hadnt noticed before, but there was all manner of rubbish lying about on the floor, ranging from stacks of books to chunks of concrete. All he had to do was make one simple misjudgment as to the height of something and all hell would break loose. No pressure.
Minutes which felt like hours went by. The first door. The peeling paint on the simple wooden door gave no hints at what secrets lay within. Just days before it had been headlines: “Third Cop Murder This Week, Drug Bust Gone Wrong.” It had his name all over it. This place was just perfect. The cool corridors, the flickering light in the stairwell, the lack of clean windows.
Slowly unclipping the clasp on his holster, he began to draw his weapon. Mentally preparing himself for a move forward in his career he slowly went through the list of mental checks to himself. Ammunition. Safety. Flashlight. He took a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow one last time, and barge in.
The door gave in like a brick through a window. The fragile wood not able to withstand the assault from the shoulder of the officer. In an explosion of splinters he raised his weapon to take out any resistance. The room was empty, but thanks to the noise he had made he now had to work faster. The light coming from under the door at the end of the room seemed promising. He leant back to check if anything had happened in the hallway, but all was clear.
It was time. He ran to the opposite side of the room and took position beside the door. It had taken him four years to get to a rank where he could openly carry a firearm, three more since then to get to today. He wasted no time in deciding what it was he would do. He kicked the door open and a single shot was fired.
The envelope on his desk seemed to have been lying there for a while. The dust that covered everything in his office was absent underneath it. It was good to be back. He opened the envelope carefully, and withdrew the piece of paper from within. The first few words made his legs weak, and he had to sit down to catch his breath.
You see, our dear police officer had spent several months in hospital recovering from various injuries. On entering the second room our dear police officer miscalculated a little. His daring ventures in the hallway had been well thought out and safe, but running off fire escapes surely isnt. He had done the unthinkable, and broken out of the building, falling off the fire escape, the complete shock causing him to fire off a single shot. It had been a short fall, but he had still broken both arms.
The letter he now read was kindly worded, but had huge impact. Here is what it read:
“Dear Officer,
We are sorry that your mishaps have caused you serious harm and hospitalisation, but you are still a lucky man. On the day of your accident we had been scouring the buildings in the area for a large drug smuggling group that has been the cause of all the recent police fatalities, and because of the gun shot, we thought they had attacked another cop.
Naturally we rushed to where you were and amidst all the uproar of ambulances and police vehicles partolling, the said gang handed themselves in, too frightened to take on the whole force.
You see, you would not be alive today if it wasnt for that fall of yours. Upon raiding their living quarters we found high calibre rifles that were abandoned when they gave themselves in. Unfortunately your standard issue police firearm could never outmatch these weapons, and we are quite glad you have survived with little lasting physical harm.
We have spoken to your superintendant and he has agreed to up your rank.
Regards,”
Unfortunately, our police officer never found out who the letter was from. His sudden steady stream of tears blotted out the signed name right at the bottom. Our police officer chose to take a desk position. It was not the risking of life and limb he feared, nor the threat of being taken hostage that moved him. He had realised that not all weapons cause harm, and that words are often more powerful then the most lethal weaponry.
Our police officer decided to become a police negotiator.
Posted by betweentwovertices 
Posted by betweentwovertices 
Posted by betweentwovertices 