Read Children Of Fiends - Part 2 A Nation By Another Name: An Of Sudden Origin Novella for Free Online Page A

thought Dean. Then he caught her looking askance at him and he had a sudden revelation: The girl wasn’t shy around him, she had a crush of her own. Suddenly, he found himself feeling full of responsibility. He needed to tread carefully here. The young woman’s heart was vulnerable. Then he caught himself and stifled a laugh over the absurdity. What the hell had come over him? He was their captain. He was far more than a boss; he was the patriarch of this slapped together family. His greatest responsibility was to be above it all and do his job with steely resolve. Tossing his shovel aside, he told them good work. He felt the sense of command return to his spine; the moment of embarrassment replaced by his certainty in his ability to lead. The train was now his ship. MacAfee might be the mission commander, but he was in charge of getting them to where they were going. Tomorrow was going to be a big day. He would pore over the maps with the colonel and Wen Blakely, decide the best path forward and then get a good night’s rest – in the observation deck. He’d let Eliza and the pucks stay were they were tonight and move them upstairs before they pulled out in the morning.

CHAPTER FOUR
  Damning Evidence

    It was 9AM and Plimpton was enjoying a hot soak when Hanson informed him from the other side of the door that the constable was downstairs. Plimpton allowed exasperation to fill his voice and said, “Hanson, I’m bathing. What could he want?”
    “Didn’t say, sir. Just that it was personal.”
    “Tell him to see me at my office like everyone else.”
    “Personal, sir. Clear he made that.”
    Plimpton felt a slight tinge of fear cool his blood. Suddenly the tub water was downright tepid. The feeling was quickly replaced by irritation. While he was enjoying his bath no less. “Put him in the library.” Hoping the exasperation in his voice would punish Hanson for the interruption, he stood up and grabbed a towel, yelling “Offer him tea - not hot enough for him to wish to linger. I’ll be down in fifteen.”
    When Plimpton entered the library he was dressed in his finest suit, his hair perfectly combed and his face cleanly shaven. The constable, a man named O’Connor (Irish, how droll thought Plimpton) was perhaps fifty-five, rail thin with pale skin and a skimpy white beard. His blue gray eyes were his greatest weapon; by invoking utter calm and sympathy, they tended to allay any perpetrator’s fears. The same eyes were capable of turning steel gray when angered and could bring the same perpetrator to his knees with dread for his very future. The constable had once been the chief homicide detective for the Dover Police Department. He was very good at his job and he was quite certain that he was sitting in the home of a barbarous killer. Plimpton was the most powerful man in The Shore. He offered his kind eyes to begin with.
    Plimpton felt his shoulders relax. Probably a minor manner. Something about a fellow council member that required discretion.
    “I see that Hanson has provided you with tea, Chief Constable. Is there anything else you might need to be comfortable?”
    The constable set down his cup and stood, “Counselor, I am here on rather serious business. Business that I believe may directly pertain to you.”
    Plimpton felt his shoulders tighten again. “Sit, sit, O’Connor. I’m sure that whatever you’ve come to talk about can be said so in a civilized manner.” Plimpton looked at the lone cup of tea and muttered about the lack of a full pot at the table. He turned his head slightly to call behind him. “Hanson, have Maribel bring me some tea as well, would you?”
    O’Connor didn’t sit. “Actually, Counselor, I’ve asked Mr. Hanson to remain in the room. This pertains to him as well. Mrs. Morella has been excused for the day.”
    “Excused? By whose authority?” Plimpton felt a sudden genuine fear grip his loins and his guts. He was grateful that he had taken a seat.