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The brief Second Amendment of the Constitution guaranteed the right of militias to keep and bear arms. It didn't specifically say that all citizens had that right.
Sachs continued, "I've read George Mason's notes, and personally I think his intent was that he was referring exclusively to militias." She held up a hand as Walker was about to interrupt. "But then he added, 'Who are the militia? They consist now of the whole people, except a few public officers.' That means the right applies to everybody--back then every citizen was potentially militia."
"I'm with you!" Walker beamed. "That's nearly a direct quote, by the way. So, don't trammel our rights." He nodded.
"Not quite so fast," Sachs added coyly. "It's not the end of the argument."
"No?"
"The Constitution gives us a lot of rights but it also lets Congress regulate us in a thousand different ways. You need a license to drive a car or fly a plane or sell liquor. You can't vote until you're eighteen. Why shouldn't you have a license to own or shoot a gun? I have no problem with that. And it doesn't conflict with the Second Amendment at all."
Walker responded happily, enjoying their argument, "Ah, but of course if we get licenses, then Washington knows where the guns are and they'll come in the middle of the night and take them away. Don't we need our weapons to stop them from doing that?"
Sachs riposted, "Washington has nukes. If they want our guns they'll take our guns."
Walker nodded. "True, there is that. Now, we've been digressing. How can I help you?"
"We recovered a bullet at a crime scene."
"One of ours, I assume."
"You're the only company making a four twenty spitzer boattail, aren't you?"
"Oh, our new sniper round. And a very fine cartridge it is. Better than the four sixteen, if you ask me. Fast. Oh, fast as a demon." Then he frowned in apparent confusion. "And the round was involved in a crime?"
"That's right."
"We don't sell to the public. Only government, the army and police SWAT teams. I don't know how a criminal could have gotten his hands on one--unless he, or she, fell into those categories. Where exactly was the scene?"
"I can't say at this point."
"I see. And what do you want to know?"
"Just some information. We're trying to find the rifle this slug was fired from but not having any luck. We're assuming they're custom-made."
"That's right. The loads are too big to fire in retooled commercial rifles. Most of the shooters find somebody to make their weapons for them. A few do it themselves."
"Do you know anyone who does that work?"
He smiled coyly. "I can't say at this point."
She laughed. "And that goes for information about customers you've sold these bullets to?"
Walker grew serious now. "If somebody had broken into one of our own warehouses--" A nod out the window toward nearby buildings. "--and the rounds were used in a crime, then I'd be happy to help you out. But I can't gi
ve you customer information. We have gag clauses in all our contracts, and in most cases there're additional national security requirements. To give you information like that would be a crime." His face grew troubled. "Can you tell me anything about what happened, though? Was it a homicide?"
Sachs debated. "Yes."
Walker's face was still. "I'm sorry about that. I truly am. It doesn't do us any good when somebody misuses our products and something tragic happens."
But that didn't mean he was going to help. Walker rose and extended his hand.
She stood too. "Thanks for your time."
Walker picked up the instructions and screwdriver and walked back to the trike.
Then he smiled and picked up a bolt. "You buy a Harley-Davidson, you know, it comes already assembled."
