Big John

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Mr. Degeneres looked at me appraisingly, his richly appointed office looking jarringly inconsistent with the desperation on his face. “Do you think you’re up to this, John?”

“I think so, sir. I really do.” The sour feel of fear was sloshing around in my stomach.

“You’re our last hope, you know.”

I nodded. I knew.

He produced The Belt. “Here’s your video gear. Remember, try to keep this part clean. It looks like a decorative stone, but it’s actually the video lens. You trigger the camera by running your finger down the length of the metal buckle. It’s calibrated to your fingerprint.”

I nodded. “What kind of memory have you managed to get for me?”

Sara spoke up, the strain sounding in her voice. “We’ve managed to pack in twice as many flash memory chips as before. Basically, there’s a row of them between the two leather strips that comprise your belt, and a row of them on the inside. It ought to afford you over sixty hours of recording time.”

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