Read Online Demon Accords 05.5: Executable by John Conroe - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: John Conroe
Ads: Link
face in place. I’ve seen lots of kid fights, and no one was ever that calm three minutes later.
“Yeah, he hates me, but I have a certain amount of credibility with him. And for the most part means that he will trash your reputation on the school social scene. Spread a campaign of lies. Sorry, Sarah. You’ve only been here a day, and you’ve crossed the biggest douchebag in the school. What were you doing here this early anyway?”
She studied me for a moment before answering. “Not having gym clothes was a problem. Mother and I bought some last night, and I wanted to put them in my locker and return Mrs. Bockman’s loaner clothes. And I don’t really care about a reputation one way or another. I am just here to get through senior year. But thank you for keeping him from pressing charges. That would have been… less than ideal.”
I knew she was homeschooled, but her manner of speech was definitely weird. Obviously, she hung out with too many adults, although she had not trouble sprinkling in a few choice curse words here or there. But what kid says “less than ideal?” Other than Rory, that is.
“Why are you here so early?” she asked.
“I was going to type up my lab report, but now it might be too late,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone and mentally calculating my typing speed.
“I’ll do it for you. I’m the fastest typist you’ll likely ever meet,” she said without sounding boastful.
“I’ll take you up on that,” I said although I didn’t think she could get it done. I was wrong.
Watching her with my Apple laptop, I came to the conclusion that she was dead right… I’d never seen or heard of anyone who could type so fast that it sounded like one continuous click. People were filtering into my homeroom by the time she was finishing up, but she still had plenty of time to complete it before giving me a nod and heading to her own homeroom, leaving me to add her ridiculous typing speed to a growing list of very odd traits.
Chapter 9 - West
Mike West absently scratched his leg where it met his prosthetic foot as he observed his quarry through a high-power monocular. Machete had parked his rental Honda on the road across from Castlebury High School and was watching the entrance with a pair of military grade binoculars. He had been studying the kids as they disembarked from buses and cars to start their day and still was watching two-and-half hours later.
West was parked in a service station parking lot about one hundred and twenty or so yards from the AIR agent’s spot. It was a much less conspicuous location than parking right on the main road and eyeballing the kids like a pedophile, which was going to attract attention. West had seen quite a few parents notice the AIR operative, and he wondered how they might react. His answer came when a Chittenden County Sheriff pulled up and rapped on Machete’s widow. Machete looked annoyed but handled the big male deputy by simply showing his government ID, which was probably some form of Homeland Security credential. The ID would be valid, the name on it not so much.
So AIR was apparently interested in a child , and something had brought them to the top of Vermont to this out-of-the-way school—Castlebury High—home of the Fighting Knights.
Satisfied with the credentials, the deputy continued to talk to Machete , who apparently was capable of some charm when he dug down deep. It looked like the deputy was giving Machete some advice, which the young AIR agent took with impatience. The sheriff cruiser pulled away, and Machete started his car and pulled away, heading back into town. Mike West watched him for a moment, then checked the tracking program on his iPad to make sure the tiny GPS unit he had hidden on Machete’s car was working properly. That done, he settled down to watch the school, his instincts telling him to stay where he was.
A
“Yeah, he hates me, but I have a certain amount of credibility with him. And for the most part means that he will trash your reputation on the school social scene. Spread a campaign of lies. Sorry, Sarah. You’ve only been here a day, and you’ve crossed the biggest douchebag in the school. What were you doing here this early anyway?”
She studied me for a moment before answering. “Not having gym clothes was a problem. Mother and I bought some last night, and I wanted to put them in my locker and return Mrs. Bockman’s loaner clothes. And I don’t really care about a reputation one way or another. I am just here to get through senior year. But thank you for keeping him from pressing charges. That would have been… less than ideal.”
I knew she was homeschooled, but her manner of speech was definitely weird. Obviously, she hung out with too many adults, although she had not trouble sprinkling in a few choice curse words here or there. But what kid says “less than ideal?” Other than Rory, that is.
“Why are you here so early?” she asked.
“I was going to type up my lab report, but now it might be too late,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone and mentally calculating my typing speed.
“I’ll do it for you. I’m the fastest typist you’ll likely ever meet,” she said without sounding boastful.
“I’ll take you up on that,” I said although I didn’t think she could get it done. I was wrong.
Watching her with my Apple laptop, I came to the conclusion that she was dead right… I’d never seen or heard of anyone who could type so fast that it sounded like one continuous click. People were filtering into my homeroom by the time she was finishing up, but she still had plenty of time to complete it before giving me a nod and heading to her own homeroom, leaving me to add her ridiculous typing speed to a growing list of very odd traits.
Chapter 9 - West
Mike West absently scratched his leg where it met his prosthetic foot as he observed his quarry through a high-power monocular. Machete had parked his rental Honda on the road across from Castlebury High School and was watching the entrance with a pair of military grade binoculars. He had been studying the kids as they disembarked from buses and cars to start their day and still was watching two-and-half hours later.
West was parked in a service station parking lot about one hundred and twenty or so yards from the AIR agent’s spot. It was a much less conspicuous location than parking right on the main road and eyeballing the kids like a pedophile, which was going to attract attention. West had seen quite a few parents notice the AIR operative, and he wondered how they might react. His answer came when a Chittenden County Sheriff pulled up and rapped on Machete’s widow. Machete looked annoyed but handled the big male deputy by simply showing his government ID, which was probably some form of Homeland Security credential. The ID would be valid, the name on it not so much.
So AIR was apparently interested in a child , and something had brought them to the top of Vermont to this out-of-the-way school—Castlebury High—home of the Fighting Knights.
Satisfied with the credentials, the deputy continued to talk to Machete , who apparently was capable of some charm when he dug down deep. It looked like the deputy was giving Machete some advice, which the young AIR agent took with impatience. The sheriff cruiser pulled away, and Machete started his car and pulled away, heading back into town. Mike West watched him for a moment, then checked the tracking program on his iPad to make sure the tiny GPS unit he had hidden on Machete’s car was working properly. That done, he settled down to watch the school, his instincts telling him to stay where he was.
A
Similar Books
