Chapter Ten
SLASH
As soon as the kids were dismissed and had left the office, Slash stepped into the office through an adjoining door. He knew what was coming and had prepared his arguments.
Dexter returned to his desk and sat down, a disappointed look on his face. “She didn’t do as well as you expected. I was hoping for a more instinctive response from her and from all of them.”
Slash shrugged, careful not to sound too invested. “I wouldn’t presume to contradict your impression as to what’s important, but Angel took the leadership role, and they followed.”
“She would have killed them. Strong leaders who make bad decisions often lose more people than weak leaders who are fearful to do anything.”
“Perhaps, but she used salt and was the only one of the three to actually score a hit,” Slash pointed out.
“Her instincts were off.”
“We’re looking for different kinds of instincts.” He approached Dexter’s desk and put both hands on it, leaning forward a bit. “Perhaps it’s time to consider the relevancy of the assessment tools given today’s rapidly evolving security environment.”
“It’s always about computers to you.”
“Not always, but it’s where the future of espionage is headed.” As the newest director of the Information Assurance Directorate at the NSA, the hardest part of his job was helping the current leadership understand and integrate technology into espionage. It had been a difficult challenge to convince many of the old-timers to move forward on this. While progress was being made, it was happening at a far slower rate than he liked.
“Our intelligence agencies are in transition,” Slash continued, keeping his tone light. He didn’t want to aggravate Dexter, just make a point. “We need to be prepared, and these kids are a step in the right direction.”
Dexter didn’t look convinced, but at least he didn’t openly argue. A clever man and an excellent agent in his own right, Dexter had been in the business long enough to understand the impact technology was having on intelligence activities. How to integrate the old to the new was the stumbling block. Slash’s job was helping to smooth the way.
“I understand what you’re saying,” Dexter said. “Regardless, none of them are what I expected.” Dexter shifted in his chair. “They’re different than our usual candidate.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“How? No matter how skilled they are in the virtual world, we both know the base qualifications for an operative remain the same. They need to have real-world smarts, too.”
Dexter was only partially right. While Slash couldn’t speak to the kids’ real-world capabilities, he had full faith in their brainpower, technical capability, and creative thinking. Whether they could withstand the pressure, psychological testing, and competition would be the real test. But he was certain that kids like Angel, Wally and Frankie were the kind of talent the agencies needed to cultivate.
“As the requirements for the operative evolve, so must our criteria,” Slash said. “We not only need to update the assessment tools we use in looking for the right candidate, but adjust the challenges and trials, too. I’m comfortable in saying the coming challenges will be more in line with their instincts.”
Dexter shook a finger at him. “I’m warning you, Slash, computer skills will not be enough. They’ll have to show a lot more intellectual flexibility, emotional depth and psychological potential than they just did.”
“They will. Give them time to adapt. They’re all smart, and not just in computers.”
“They’d better show those smarts soon or they’ll be the first to wash out,” Donovan warned.
“They won’t.”
“You really have faith in them.” Dexter studied Slash for a long moment, then let out a sigh and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms against his chest. “I do have to give them credit for agreeing to stick it out. I just hope you’re right about them.”
“I am.” Slash smiled, showing Dexter his confidence. “You’ll see.”
ANGEL SINCLAIR
We followed Jonas, aka the masked shooter, to our dorm rooms. Without the ski mask, he seemed normal. I put him at about nineteen or twenty years old, and he had blond hair and a nice smile. Frankie apologized twice for throwing the bleach container at him, even though we’d thought he’d been trying to kill us. Wally nervously asked him questions like how long he’d been at UTOP and how often he was required to portray an active shooter methodically hunting down kids.
Jonas laughed and brushed off most of the questions with ease. Exactly how an operative should act.
I thought the whole situation was exceptionally awkward, so I kept my mouth shut. We walked past the main buildings and down a brick pathway through the woods. I didn’t see another person and wondered if the other nominees had already come in.
“What does KIT stand for?” I asked.
Jonas stopped, perhaps because it was the first thing I’d said since we’d left Mr. Donovan’s office.
“Kids in Training,” he said. “KIT.”
“Oh. Did you train here?” Frankie asked.
He grinned. “I’m not a kid.”
She put her hands on her hips, gave him a little frown. I think she wasn’t used to having to work so hard to charm anyone. “And that’s not an answer.”
“That’s because the answer is classified, Miss Chang.” He pointed in front of him. “Here we are. Welcome to your new home.”
Home was a giant, white concrete bunker with small windows. It looked like it could withstand a tornado. It seemed out of place next to the colonial-style masterpieces of the regular UTOP campus. Jonas led us to the front door, entered a code on a keypad, and pressed his thumb to a biometric reader.
“The front and back door codes and the Wi-Fi password are all in the welcome packets in your rooms. You’ll be fingerprinted and processed tomorrow.”
That sounded more like jail than spy school, but what did I know?
There was beep, and the front door popped open. We followed him inside and down a loud, echoing corridor. It seemed as empty here as the other buildings had. We went up a flight of stairs and down another corridor before coming to a spot in the hallway where it forked off in two directions. Jonas pointed to the left.
“Mr. Harris, room number seven is yours. The password on the door is 7777. Once your roommates arrive, the password can be changed at your leisure, although I suggest doing so as soon as possible. If you think you can find your way by yourself, I’ll escort the ladies to their room.”
Wally straightened. “Of course I can find my way. See you later.” He strode off down the hallway without another look back.
Jonas led Frankie and me down the right corridor, stopping at room four. “Ladies, this is where the official tour ends. The temporary password on your door is 4444. Don’t change it until all of your roommates arrive, and then make sure everyone knows the password. You’re free to roam around the building and outside as long as you stay on the KIT campus. There’s a map in your welcome packet so you don’t get lost. The packet also has information on where the laundry room, gym, library, gaming areas, and cafeteria are located. I trust you’ll be fine, as long as you remember the restrictions on where you’re allowed and not allowed to go.”
“Thank you so much, Jonas,” said Frankie, shaking his hand like he hadn’t just been trying to kill us a half hour earlier. “I hope to see you around.”
He shook his head with a smile. “You won’t.”
He disappeared down the hallway. Shaking my head, I tapped out 4444 on the keypad. The little light on the keypad turned green, and the door popped open. Frankie and I entered into a seating area with a couch, two worn armchairs, and a coffee table that looked as if it had seen better days. Two small side tables held some ugly lamps. That was it for the common room area.
To the right was another door. When we went inside, we saw two military-style bunk beds, four desks, and two tall dressers. Our suitcases and my laptop bag were already at the foot of one of the bunk beds. There were stacks of sheets, blankets, towels, and a pillow on the beds. Across from us, the lower bunk bed had already been taken and someone had made the bed. A dark-blue suitcase had been pushed against the wall, and a laptop, printer, and small lamp were set up on one of the desks.
I wasn’t thrilled to discover I’d have to share a room with Frankie and two other people I didn’t know, but I swallowed my reservations. Time to deal. I wasn’t going to fail again.
“Someone’s already here,” Frankie said in a hushed voice. She walked over to the closet and held out a hand. “There are clothes in the closet. They’re nice.”
“Well, we’ve got one roommate, at least,” I said. The upper bunk still looked empty, and the sheets and towels hadn’t been touched.
“I call lower bunk,” Frankie said, sitting down on the bed. “You’re nimbler than I am. You take the top.”
I didn’t care one way or the other, so I didn’t argue. Instead, I stood on Frankie’s bunk so I could reach my towels. “I wonder where the bathroom is.”
Frankie hopped up. “I bet it’s in here,” she said, disappearing into an adjacent room.
I followed her into a stark white bathroom with two sinks and a large mirror that stretched across the wall. Two shower stalls with blindingly white tiles and a separate toilet section completed the area.
“Wow. This place could really use a decorator,” Frankie observed.
“It’s functional,” I said, putting my towels on one of the unoccupied bars. “At this point, that’s all that matters.” I left the bathroom and picked up my cell. “I’ve got to text my mom.”
“Me, too,” said Frankie. “My family will be anxious to hear how I’m doing.”
After I texted, I picked up one of the welcome packets on my desk. I shook out the papers and sorted through them. “Want to look around? I’ve got a campus map.”
“Let’s unpack first. I want to be organized.”
“Okay, as long as you can finish before lunch. I’m starving.” I sorted through the papers until I found a schedule. “Looks like lunch today is at noon sharp in the cafeteria.”
“That gives us forty minutes.”
I finished well before Frankie, and that was after I’d made both of our beds and hooked up my laptop and printer to the Wi-Fi, adding extra peripherals like a Wi-Fi enhancer.
Frankie was still unpacking her clothes and shoes.
“I can’t fit all my clothes into two drawers,” she complained with an armful of clothes.
“Because you brought too many,” I said.
“I hardly brought any,” she said, frowning. “I just didn’t know what we would need.”
“Didn’t you read the instructions on what clothes to bring? Two pairs of jeans, a couple of T-shirts, one nice outfit and dress shoes, underclothes, a swimsuit, a warm coat, hat and gloves, and a couple pairs of pj’s. You’ve got a lot more stuff than that.”
“It’s important to be prepared for every occasion.”
I sighed. “Fine. You can take one of my drawers. I can fit everything into one.” I rearranged my drawer so Frankie could put the rest of her stuff away.
She gave me a hug. “You’re the best, Angel. Thanks so much.”
“Are you ready for lunch now?” I asked.
“Yes. I’m starving. Is it time?”
“We’re five minutes late, and we still have to find the cafeteria. It’s a good thing we’ve got a map.”
“Okay, let’s go.”
We followed the map down two flights of stairs. The cafeteria was in the building in the left wing. Calling the place a cafeteria was a stretch. It was more like a large café with a one-person serving staff and a few round tables that sat about four. Wally already sat at one of the tables, talking with two guys I didn’t know. A third guy sat alone at a table with his back to us. A pretty blonde girl with long legs sat at a table with Wally. He seemed relieved to see Frankie and me and nearly leaped out of his chair to greet us.
“Angel, Frankie, you’re here. Come meet everybody.”
One of the guys sitting with Wally unfolded from the table. He was huge, maybe six foot four, with deep-brown skin, muscular biceps, and brown hair cut nearly to the scalp. Being five foot three, I had to look up…a lot.
“Hi, I’m Bo Coleman,” he said gruffly, sticking out a hand and shaking hands first with Frankie.
His hand completely swallowed hers up. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Frances Chang, but please call me Frankie. This is my best friend, Angel Sinclair.”
“Angel?” he turned to me. “That’s your name?”
“Wait. You’re a nominee?” I blurted out.
“I am.” He grinned. “Why do you look so surprised?”
“Because you don’t look like a kid. You’re so…” I let the sentence trail off.
“Handsome?” he filled in for me. “Buff?”
“Tall and muscular. I mean…how old are you?”
Frankie elbowed me, probably thinking I was being rude, but Bo didn’t seem to mind. “Eighteen. And you?”
“Sixteen.” It was a lie since technically my birthday was in a couple of weeks, but both Frankie and Wally wisely kept their mouths shut.
“Seriously?” He laughed. “They’re starting them younger every year.”
I might have been offended, except he had a kind twinkle in his eyes that put me at ease. He returned to the table, picked up one of the three hamburgers on his plate, and resumed eating.
The blonde next to Wally didn’t stand, but she lifted her hand, acknowledging us. “I’m Kira Romanova from Ontario, California. Before you ask, I’m seventeen.”
“I thought Ontario was in Canada,” Frankie said with a grin. She walked over and pumped Kira’s hand like they were long-lost buddies. Frankie was the friendliest and nicest person I’d ever met, and it was all genuine.
“I’m really excited to meet you, Kira,” Frankie gushed. “We’re going to be roommates. It’ll be so much fun.”
Kira carefully withdrew her hand, looking a bit freaked out. Thankfully, Frankie didn’t notice, because she was already focused on the guy sitting next to Bo.
“Hello,” she said to him. “Who are you?”
The guy rose from his chair. He was thin, with stringy, dark hair. His black jeans were too big for him, even with a belt. A baggy black T-shirt with a skull on it hung nearly to his knees. He had a nose ring and a half dozen silver studs in the lobe of his left ear.
He held up his hand, palm out, as if warning Frankie to stay where she stood. A black-stoned ring on his thumb glinted in the light. “Hello, and welcome to the KIT compound,” he said. “I’m sure you’re going to enjoy your stay here no matter how badly we screw with your head. Good luck and may the odds be in your favor.”
“Hey, that sounded exactly like Mr. Donovan,” I said. Holy crap, he was good. If I hadn’t seen him doing it with my own eyes, I would have believed Mr. Donovan was standing right behind him.
“Wow.” Frankie clapped, clearly impressed. “That imitation was so good. Can you do other voices?”
He grinned and in a girl’s voice said, “I’m really excited to meet you, Kira. We’re going to be roommates. It will be so much fun.”
Unbelievable. He sounded exactly like Frankie, right down to the inflections in her voice. “That’s wicked skill, dude,” I said.
He gave me a grin and a thumbs-up. “Now, this is my real voice. I’m Mike Garcia from the Jersey shore. Seventeen. I’m not hungry and I’m not into chatting, so I’m going to ditch the party. Later.” He stood and left the cafeteria without another word.
I watched him go, his black boots clomping on the floor. The fact that he wasn’t the talkative type kind of gave him points in my plus column.
The last guy present, who was eating with his back to us, hadn’t turned around the entire time we’d been in the cafeteria. I think Frankie had been put off a bit by Mike, so when she didn’t try to engage him, I spoke up. “Excuse me. You in the corner, would you like to introduce yourself to the rest of us?”
The guy turned slowly in his seat. My breath caught as I got my first glimpse of his face. Jet-black hair, a square jaw, high, sculpted cheekbones, and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen. I froze, unable to look away. Finally, his mouth curved into a smile.
“You going to stare at me all day, Red?”
My cheeks flushed. Could I act any more like a dork? I’d finally been assertive, something I never did, and then choked when he actually responded. I cleared my throat, trying to regain control. “I’m not staring…exactly.”
“If you say so.” He dipped his head. “Before you ask, I’m Jax Drummond from Queens, New York. I’m seventeen.” His voice held just the faintest touch of a lilt, Scottish maybe. “Now that the obligatory introductions are complete, I hope I can be left alone to finish my lunch in peace.” He abruptly turned his back on us.
Another friendly soul…not. This was going to be a strange group dynamic. I’d been hoping spy school would be more like Hogwarts and less Hunger Games, but it certainly wasn’t feeling that way to me so far.
Frankie shrugged it off and waved me over to the counter where we could order our food. A young woman wearing a hairnet and plastic gloves sat on a tall stool. She was looking at her phone but put it away when we arrived.
“Hey, girls. What can I get you to eat?” she asked.
Frankie beamed at her. “Oh, thank you so much for being patient while we took time to meet our fellow nominees. We know we’re late, and we really appreciate you waiting for us.”
“Oh, hey, it’s no problem.” The woman smiled at us. “Today’s menu is behind me. Hamburgers, egg salad sandwiches, and a few different kinds of salads and soups. The sides are listed there.” She pointed to a chalkboard. “I’ve been advised of any and all food allergies and meal preferences, so we have a wide selection of vegan, gluten-free, and nut-free options. Just ask me if you have any questions.”
We quickly made our selections and loaded our drinks and sides on a tray. I would have chosen a table for just Frankie and me, but Frankie was determined to be inclusive. She made a beeline for the table with Kira. I didn’t see a way out of it that didn’t make me seem rude, so I swallowed my annoyance and joined them.
Wally leaned over from his table. “So, girls, what do you think of your room?”
“There isn’t enough drawer space,” Frankie complained. “Regardless, this will be a real adventure.” She actually sounded excited about it, like it was going to be all fun and games and we hadn’t just been through an active-shooter scenario.
Wally must have been thinking the same thing, because he leaned toward me. “Hey, Angel, did you know everyone had the same shooter scenario upon arrival?”
“Really?” I looked across the table at Kira. “You did, too?”
She nodded. “Yes. I was in the limo with Bo. We got picked up together from the airport. Bo tried to take the guy down physically. He got the gun out of his hand, but our attacker ended up subduing him. I ran like a rabbit and hid in the woods. They couldn’t find me, so they finally had to announce it was a drill, and I came out.”
“Wow,” I said. “So you beat the scenario?”
She shrugged. “I guess. Wally already told me what happened to you guys. Sounds like it sucked.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” I tried to shrug like it was no big deal. Apparently we’d been totally incompetent. “Anyone know what happened with Mike or Jax?”
Wally took a slug of his Coke. “Mike said he and Jax were together.” He dipped his head at Jax, who had a set of earbuds in and was listening to something while tapping his foot. “Mike said they also ran for the woods, but they stuck together. Mike started a small fire as a distraction, and Jax came at the guy from behind when he came to investigate. Jax and Mike took him down. But only temporarily. They didn’t have any way to restrain him, so eventually the attacker got loose and brought them both in. Still, I think it counts as a win for both of them.”
My shame deepened. Was I the only stupid one who had insisted on going into the buildings?
Kira sipped what looked like tea and regarded Frankie and me. “You guys seem really friendly. Do you know each other?”
“We do,” Frankie said, beaming. “We all go to same high school in DC.”
Bo leaned forward. “Wow. Must be one heck of a high school. Three nominees from one location. How many more of us do you think there’ll be?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I thought there would be a lot of us.”
Jax snorted, and I realized the earbuds were only a defense against unwanted conversation. I’d done it before myself. He’d been listening the whole time.
“You guys don’t know anything. This is highly specialized training. It takes a lot to be invited to something like this. I’m surprised they found seven of us to compete.”
I wondered if he was right, and if he was, how did he know that?
“We have one more bunk in our room that hasn’t been taken yet,” Kira pointed out. “It has sheets, blankets, and towels on it. It could be eight.”
“Interesting,” Wally said. “Four girls, four guys.”
I looked at Jax. “You said compete. Are we competing against each other?”
“What do you think, Red?”
“First, my name is Angel, not Red. Second, I think we’re competing against ourselves and a set of standards developed by the intelligence agencies for this kind of work.”
“Wrong,” Jax said. “They look for whoever rises to the top in the group. Sometimes, if no one rises, they fail the entire class.”
Bo leaned forward on the table, frowning and asking the same question I’d had. “Exactly how do you know that?”
“I have my sources. Spy school, remember?”
Kira stood up. “Well, it’s been real, but I’m done here. I’m going to go look around.”
“Why don’t you wait for us to finish, Kira?” Frankie said. “Angel and I will go with you.”
She shook her blonde hair. “Thanks, but I prefer to do my investigations solo.”
Frankie looked crestfallen but pasted a smile on her face anyway. “Sure. See you back in the room.”
One by one, everyone left the cafeteria until it was just Wally, Frankie, and me. Wally took Kira’s vacated chair and put his elbows on the table, facing us. He looked upset, so I asked him what was up.
“Did you see those guys? All of them look buff except for Mike. But at least he’s skinny. I bet he can do a push-up or two.”
“Wally, I told you, this is not boot camp,” I said.
“So you say, but did you expect to encounter an active-shooter scenario the first two minutes after we arrived on campus?”
“No,” I admitted.
“Exactly. Those guys at least tried to take down the attacker. I threw a cake cutter.”
“Mr. Donovan said your aim was pretty good.”
“Not helping, Angel.” He took off his glasses and polished them using his shirt.
I pushed my tray to the side. “Frankie, what’s your first impression of our fellow nominees?”
Frankie finished swallowing her bite of sandwich and took a sip of water. “Honestly? I think they’re all cool. Everyone will have a lot to offer to the experience.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you always have to be so positive about everything? What if Jax is right and we end up competing against each other?”
“Then we’ll do our best and the right people will be selected, won’t they?”
It was not fair that even when she was looking at the world with rose-colored glasses, she was still perfectly logical. “Grrrr. I really hate it when you’re right, Frankie.”
Wally chuckled as Frankie dabbed at her mouth with her napkin and pushed her tray aside. “You should be used to it by now, Angel.”
Maybe I was, but it didn’t help my mood. No matter how positive Frankie felt about the situation, I was worried. I didn’t want to be the first one to go home, but after hearing how the other candidates handled the active-shooter scenario, I thought that might be exactly what happened.