Chapter 9: Nicholas

When Ace didn’t show up to school for three days, I was a little concerned. My first thought was that someone had taken him, and since Seth was the last person to see him, it would mean my mother was dating a kidnapper. But unless Seth was secretly a tenth degree black belt, there was no way he could overpower an Underground assassin.

My second thought was far more frightening. Ace was out on a job, and if it was enough to pull him out of hiatus, it must have been important. I scrolled through the news app on my phone, searching for deaths of important people. All that came up was an actress who had died of a drug overdose.

“Psst, Nicholas,” Lexi whispered. “Mrs. Hunter’s heading this way. She’ll flip if she catches you with your phone out.”

I stuffed it back in my pocket as the teacher walked by.

Alex tore out a sheet of paper from one of his notebooks and wrote “Project Suggestions” in giant letters across the top. “Throw them at me guys. There are no bad ideas.”

“Unless it involves fire, kittens, or flaming kittens.” I looked at Lexi.

“What?” she said.

“How about a slideshow?” Alex scribbled on the paper. “Or a poster of sorts?”

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

“Where’s the creativity in a poster?” Lexi complained. “We have to do something no one would ever think of.”

It buzzed again. And again. And again.

“But it also has to be feasible. Keep in mind we’re fourteen-year-olds who have no experience in engineering or volatile scientific experiments. Heck, we can’t even drive.”

My phone continued buzzing. Whoever texted me was getting desperate.

I glanced at Mrs. Hunter. She had her nose in a book, satisfied that the class was on task.

I pulled out my phone under my desk. Notifications filled the screen. There were at least fifteen messages, all from Tom.

They were variations of needing to contact me as soon as possible. The matter was urgent and Tom didn’t want to communicate through a line that wasn’t secure.

A hundred possibilities came to mind, none of them good. My phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up with another message.

I was to meet him at the Blue Jay once school let out.

Alex and Lexi bickered about project ideas as I watched the clock. After what seemed like weeks, the final bell rang and I jumped out of my seat.

I fired a text to my mom with an excuse about studying at a friend’s house and headed out the back.

The Blue Jay was an old safe house used for people in the Witness Protection Program. It was in a quaint little neighborhood, surrounded by a white picket fence. Tom lived there for the time being to keep people from getting suspicious of a vacant house.

It took me over fifteen minutes to jog there. I rang the doorbell and leaned against a beam on the front porch to catch my breath. My shirt was soaked with sweat, making me wish I had brought a change of clothes. Tom was strict about maintaining appearances. No doubt I would get the lecture of my life.

A young woman with waist length brown hair answered the door. She wore a crop top that showed off a silver belly button piercing.

When she turned her head, I could see a row of diamond studs running along the edge of her ear.

“Dad!” she called. “There’s a boy at the door. Should I tell him we’re not interested in buying popcorn?”

Popcorn? I stared at her like she had grown a second head.

“Let him in, Jenny,” Tom called back. “Send him up to my home office.”

The woman led me past the living room and down a side hall.

Tom had his home office arranged like the one at work. A large desktop computer sat on an L-shaped desk with file folders kept in a cabinet along the back. There was a cup full of pens and a framed photo of a German Shepherd.

Tom looked up from his computer. “Shut the door behind you.”

Jenny rolled her eyes but did as he told her.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter, sir,” I said.

“She lives with her mother most of the time. As you can tell, Martha was far too lax with her. The piercings are a dead giveaway.” Tom grabbed a file from his cabinet. “Anyway, one of our spies intercepted this note coming from someone high in the Underground. The problem is, the message is encrypted.”

He showed me a photocopy of a note addressed to someone named Atenia. I skimmed through.

“This is a girl complaining about getting her phone taken away,” I said.

Tom pursed his lips. “An agent almost died to get this message to headquarters. The Underground sent thirty mercenaries after her to get the note back. I would say it’s worth investigating.”

“EAGLE has codebreakers to figure it out,” I said.

“EAGLE had codebreakers,” Tom corrected. “The director sent them all into the field.”

“Why would he do that? EAGLE needs them.”

“Not as much as we need competent agents.” Tom rubbed his jaw. “Our numbers are dwindling fast. At the rate we’re going, it won’t be long before our director sends people like me back undercover.”

My jaw dropped. Tom had a leg injury that never healed properly. Even now, he walked with a limp.

“The director’s going too far,” I said. “Someone needs to stop him. File a complaint with the—”

“Do you know how long it takes to process a complaint? Not to mention the department will probably dismiss it. The director has public approval. Many people feel safer at night knowing that he’s taking down the Underground.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help.”

Tom sat back down. “Worry about the code and worry about yourself. Start taking a weapon with you if you don’t already.”

I stiffened. “Is something wrong, sir?”

“The Underground’s been too quiet for my tastes, like it’s preparing for something big. It could be nothing, but—”

“You didn’t survive this long by being careless,” I finished.

“Exactly. And next time you come visit me, Nicholas, make sure you’re presentable. You look like you ran a marathon wearing clothes from a bargain bin.”

I smiled as I left the room. Some things never changed.

Per Tom’s advice, I started carrying a small pistol tucked in the waistband of my jeans with baggy shirts thrown over to hide it. Except for a comment from Alex about my questionable fashion choices, no one said a thing.

I also made a point to walk by the EAGLE headquarters on my way home, hoping the sight of a government agency could deter any stalkers.

On my fourth day, I ran into a familiar face.

“Nicholas!” Sandra smiled at me. “It’s been so long.”

“How have you been?” I said. “Gotten back with Brandon yet?”

“We’ve broken up for good.”

“That’s what you said last time. And the time before that. And the time before—”

She laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it.”

“Speaking of Brandon, where is he?”

“He’s leading a training session right now. He’ll be sorry he didn’t see you. Brandon will deny it until the day he dies, but he ranted for an hour yesterday about how he wishes the new recruits were more like you.”

Coming from Brandon, that was the highest compliment you could get.

“Wait a second,” I said. “What new recruits? EAGLE was over staffed.”

“That was before Harker started sending out agents like they were cannon fodder.”

“If no one likes the new director, shouldn’t he be fired?”

“The people like him. Crime rates have gone down, and the Underground has become less active since he got promoted.”

“All it cost was the lives of good agents.”

“But it might save the lives of hundreds. We can play these number games all day without coming to a conclusion.” She paused. “Do you want to come inside headquarters?”

Mom wouldn’t have approved, but I wanted to see what the director had done to the place.

“Sure,” I said. “Why not?”

The building had changed. It was nothing physical. The walls were still the same ugly shade of beige and the office cubicles, well, EAGLE directors weren’t known for their interior decorating abilities.

But a stillness hung in the air. Normally, there would be handlers at the computers barking orders into their headsets, interns juggling an impossible number of coffee cups and paper stacks, or codebreakers scratching their heads over an encryption. Now, it was silent except for our footsteps on the gray carpet.

“What happened to everyone?” I asked.

“Harker fired the people working office jobs or sent them into the field. Most of the spies are also on an assignment. The ones left train new recruits. Only the fifteenth floor doesn’t look like a ghost town.”

Sandra and I took the elevator up. She hummed along to the music that was playing, the same wistful song I never found the name of.

The doors opened in the middle of a sparring match. Brandon stood off to the side, lips pursed in disapproval as the larger man put his opponent into a headlock.

His arm was in a giant cast.

“Enough,” Brandon said. “You can’t rely on brute strength to overpower your opponent. You may have been able to defeat Hayden this time, Wesley, but unless you use the skills I’ve taught you, there will come a time when you find yourself overwhelmed.”

Wesley let go of Hayden. “It doesn’t matter how I beat him. It only matters that I did.”

“The Underground’s assassins won’t fight like your fellow trainees here. Nor will they fight like your criminal pals. They have received training, the same kind I’m trying to give you right now. And unless you do as I say, you’ll find yourself unprepared when you’re out on your first mission. At this stage, I could defeat the lot of you with my arms tied around my back.”

Wesley crossed his arms. “Then why don’t you come show us instead of jabbering like a songbird.”

Brandon glared at him. “Maybe I will.”

“No, he won’t,” Sandra interrupted. “The doctor told you to avoid strenuous activity for at least a month, remember?”

“I can demonstrate for you, Brandon,” I offered.

“You won’t be doing anything of the like, Nicholas,” Sandra said. “Your mother would never forgive me.”

“She’ll never know.”

Brandon frowned. “Nicholas can go ahead. Just don’t make me look like a fool.”

I smiled. “When have I ever?”

Wesley gave me a skeptical look. “I’ve been fighting longer than this boy’s been alive. How old are you, kid? Ten?”

“Fourteen.” I rolled my shoulders to loosen the muscles. “And you’d be surprised.”

I caught him in the jaw with an uppercut. The blow that could have knocked a man flat on his back a year ago only sent Wesley stumbling back a few steps.

No wonder Ace had beaten me at the old gym. My strength was nowhere near where it used to be.

Wesley swung at my head, and I ducked out of the way. When he came at me, I darted to the side. We played a game of cat and mouse across the room. I was too fast for him. He was too strong for me.

But I still had a few tricks up my sleeve.

The next time he rushed at me, I grabbed his arm and whipped it above my head, letting his own momentum carry him over my shoulder.

“Not bad, Nicholas,” Brandon said. “Not quite up to your usual standard though. The last shoulder throw was messy, and you missed several opportunities early on to end the fight.”

“You’re too harsh of a critic, Brandon,” a voice said. “It was an admirable match.”

A man in a dark blue pinstripe suit smiled at me. He had light brown hair that was graying at the temples and hazel eyes that crinkled at the corners.

“I state the truth, sir,” Brandon said. “I always have.”

“I’m more than aware of that fact. So, Nicholas, one of our agents uncovered a major assassin meet point earlier this month and we have planted a false assignment that should send many of them scrambling to the place. How would you like to be part of the extraction team? It’s what you’ve been training for these past few weeks.”

“I’m not a part of this class,” I said. “Sandra brought me here to see how headquarters have changed.”

“I’m afraid we do not allow civilians in the building.”

“Nicholas has worked at EAGLE for years,” Sandra explained.

The director studied me. “Nicholas, as in Nicholas Pierce?”

“Yes sir,” I said.

“Even better. You have experience in the field. I cannot stress how important this mission is. You’ll be in the first task force to enter the place.”

Sandra gasped.

I frowned. “Sir, I’ve never—”

“Are good agents expendable to you?” Brandon snapped. “Nicholas’s strengths don’t lie in extraction missions. He’s a spy, not hired muscle. You know, maybe if you sent agents on missions that fit their skill set, you wouldn’t have a shortage of employees here.”

“Watch your tongue, Davis,” the director’s friendly demeanor evaporated like dew in the sun. “I won’t remind you again.”

“You won’t have to if you would listen to what everyone here has been saying! We’re all afraid for our lives. Yes, there is a certain amount of danger involved with our occupation, but sending out people whose talents lie in other areas isn’t only risky. It’s suicide.”

I could tell this rant had been building up for quite some time, and Brandon wasn’t done yet.

“A good director would play to our strengths. They would let codebreakers work on ciphers, handlers sort out information, and older spies take care of things like paperwork, not send them all on missions that get them killed!”

“That’s enough,” the director said.

“With all due respect, sir, it’s not, because I don’t think you’re listening to what I’m saying.”

“Enough,” he repeated. “Go to my office. I’ll speak with you there.”

Brandon opened his mouth to argue.

“My office! Do you not understand English?” the director snapped. “Class is dismissed. Pierce, I expect to see you by the front entrance in fifteen minutes. Do not be late.”

The crowd of trainees dispersed as Brandon walked off with the director.

“You’re not going on the mission, are you?” Sandra asked.

I shook my head. The first task force that entered a dangerous area was the one that drew the most fire. The people on the team seemed to have a sixth sense that allowed them to evade the bullets. I, on the other hand, would be gunned down within seconds.

Sandra smiled in relief. “Good. Let’s head out. I’ll buy you an ice cream at the old parlor.”

“Don’t you want to wait around for Brandon?”

“He’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

“But he wants you to take care of him,” I teased.

Sandra cuffed me over the head. “Watch it Nicholas or you’re not getting any rocky road. Even worse, I’ll make you eat the mint chocolate chip.”

“Whoever made mint flavored ice cream has a twisted mind.”

“It’s not the devil’s flavor like you say it is. Now come on. My car’s in the parking garage.”

Sandra’s GPS was glitching, turning what was supposed to be a five minute drive into a large circle around town with a detour through a field that scared off a flock of birds.

We stopped in an older part of the city. The ice cream parlor was small, with a table set outside and a neon sign announcing it was open. Sandra rubbed at a spot of bird poop on her car, muttering about demon pigeons.

A bell above the door jingled as we walked in. The place hadn’t changed, although I hadn’t been there in half a year.

“Nicholas! Sandra! Where have you kids been?” croaked the old man at the counter.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mr. Rossini,” Sandra said. “We’ll have a scoop of pink champagne in a cup and—”

“Two scoops of rocky road in a cone,” he finished. “I remember your usual. I may be old but my brain is as sharp as ever.”

He tapped his temple as he busied himself with getting our orders. Sandra slipped him an extra twenty when we paid.

I plopped down in one of the spindly chairs. Sandra sat down beside me, then shot back up like the seat was red hot.

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

The only sound was the clinking of metal as Mr. Rossini tidied up the counter.

“Popping noises, almost like—”

She stopped and rushed out the door, pink champagne ice cream forgotten on the table.

I chased after her. “Sandra, what’s wrong?”

Then I heard it, a distant cry of pain followed by several faint bangs.

“Gunshots,” I breathed.

“Something’s happening down the street.” Sandra patted her pockets and cursed. “I don’t have any weapons on me.”

“I do.”

I pulled out my gun and ran toward the commotion.

The intersection between Claremont Street and Gisele Lane had turned into a mini war zone. The assassins were trying to flee from the antique shop but had a hard time getting past the barrier of agents at the tiny entrance.

Those that made it through had a short-lived victory before they were gunned down. I spotted Harrison in the fray. He was fighting like a demon, taking down Underground assassins left and right.

A woman aimed her weapon at his head. Before she could shoot, I raised my own gun and pointed it at her.