Small Town Heroes (Wearing the Cape Book 4) by Marion G. Harmon

Author:Marion G. Harmon
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2014-09-29T07:00:00+00:00

Littleton Radio, The Daily Hour.

* * *

It wasn’t like Sheriff Deitz was expecting me; he’d been really nice about it, but basically he had told me he’d call if there was a cat in a tree. But he and Deputy Sweet had to be Littleton’s first line of defense if anyone got past the Scoobies in the Garage, even if the big gun I remembered Angel carrying that night in Grand Beach didn’t seem like much beside the three tin-man teams guarding the door.

But I trusted Sheriff Deitz to keep me more in the loop than Veritas, who I hadn’t even seen since he’d dropped me at the B&B, which meant telling him why I was here. He hadn’t asked—probably used to people doing classified things on a need-to-know basis. But it was his town and I should have.

Walking down the street, I realized how off-balance I still was. The Thomas Kinkade America look of the town, the weird streetlamps and the high, percussive hum I kept forgetting I was hearing—the perfect Midwest weather in Cuba. And the Institute? If this was the movies, I’d find out that The Institute kept a secret cryogenic prison for storing uncontainable lethal breakthroughs on ice and the Bad Guys wanted to unleash all that Evil In A Can. None of it was normal, which didn’t help my growing feeling that its artificial perfection was under siege. Little Atifa and her…godfather?...were in danger and I didn’t know why. And, and…

“What is that humming sound I’m always hearing?” Not what I’d been planning to say when I walked through the door. Sheriff Deitz looked up.

“The echo-mapping system? It’s built into the street lamps. Full aural surface mapping of the entire town, AI-monitored in realtime. Atlas-types always hear it.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. That plus the mics, cameras, and the infrared imaging pretty much means we know when a sparrow falls and can positively ID the cat that took it down.”

“That’s…”

Deputy Sweet snickered from where she sat stripping and cleaning a gun at her desk. “Creepy? You think? But it’s what ‘high-security environment’ means these days. We’ve got dozens of Witness Protection subjects to keep track of, scientists to protect, spies to spy on…” She laughed at my look. “Nah, that part is handled by Navint—Naval Intelligence.”

“Hi Angel. Sorry about not saying hello.”

“That’s alright. Should we be worried that you’re loaded for bear?”

“What? Oh.” I’d forgotten I was still in armor and carrying one hundred pounds of titanium maul. “No—I’ve been to the Garage.”

Deitz kicked a seat away from his desk. “Sit. Talk to us. Coffee?”

Angel went to pour us some, her attention staying on me. In contrast to Deitz’s easy way, she always reminded me of a dark-eyed hawk. Even her smile was assessing.

“So, what’s going on?” Deitz asked after I’d stripped my mask off and taken an obligatory sip. I kept my eyes on my cup.

“How much did the DSA tell you about why I’m here?”

“Just that you’re an asset the DSA wants to exploit for a while.

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