Spy School and the Dead Agent

Chapter 2: Mission

1800 hours

Friday

CIA

Training Facility, Alaska

"This can't be good," Erica said, grabbing my hand as we walked toward the small airfield outside the base. After a while, we saw Zoe and Mike approaching us as well.

"That doesn't look like Alex and Catherine's chopper," Mike said. I nodded in agreement.

"It isn't," Erica replied as we picked up the pace. We arrived at the outskirts of the airfield, pulling back the large wired gate connected to a barbed-wire fence. In the distance, we saw two black SUVs on the pavement with Cyrus Hale and Erica's parents, Catherine and Alexander Hale, standing with their arms crossed, waiting for the helicopter to land.

Besides Cyrus, the two younger figures were Erica's parents. Catherine was one of the most talented spies I have ever met. Though she worked with MI7 instead of the CIA, I first encountered her at the Washington Museum when an armed group tried to kill Erica and me. Since then, she has escorted and protected me on multiple missions and, on some occasions, used me as bait. Despite this, I've come to trust her completely. Her father, on the other hand, was a CIA agent. At first glance, he seemed like a competent, handsome spy, but in reality, he was more of a fraud. His true skill lay in deception, pretending to be a great spy rather than being one. He even went so far as to throw his daughter under the bus, nearly preventing Erica from attending the academy. However, he later apologized and confessed to his superiors, trying to make amends for his actions.

"That's a sweet-looking chopper," Mike mused.

As we got closer, I could see the helicopter more clearly. It looked like an ordinary chopper, but with multiple stealth features installed on the nose, rotors, and tail, it seemed like something out of a sci-fi movie.

"It seems to be a UH-60 Stealth Hawk. It was most famously used in the capture of Osama bin Laden, and now it's used by top officers in the agency," Erica said; reading my thoughts. I nodded in agreement.

The helicopter landed, kicking up dust and debris. As the rotors slowed, a sense of urgency filled the air.

The helicopter touched down, and the doors opened, revealing a tall young man with white hair, looking about 20 years old. He wore a sharp navy blue suit with a bright red tie. Four tough-looking bodyguards surrounded him. They all wore heavy Kevlar vests and helmets, with serious expressions, scanning the area. Each had a belt with gear and holstered guns, ready for anything. We stood at a distance as Cyrus shook his hand. The two talked for a while before Alexander, Catherine, and Cyrus turned to look at us with confused glares. Cyrus nodded for us to approach, and we obediently walked towards them.

"Alright, do you know this man?" Cyrus asked, looking at us. All of us, except Erica, appeared confused. Cyrus sighed.

"This man is the Director of Operations for the CIA, Nick Roman," Cyrus said. The man smiled and looked down at us.

"I've heard you've been going on missions at such a young age. Very fortunate of you," he said. We gave him confused smiles, except for Erica, who narrowed her eyes, inspecting him silently.

"I imagine the teens are quite stunned to see someone like you," Catherine remarked in her crisp British accent. "Now then, let's move quickly—somewhere private, where we can talk freely."

Cyrus nodded and took the lead, heading toward a line of waiting SUVs. We were split between vehicles: Cyrus, Catherine, Nick, and two of Nick's bodyguards got into the first one, while Erica, Zoe, Mike, Alexander, and I were ushered into the last.