Spy School - Nemesis [1]

16: Hales

Havana,

Cuba

April 28

700 hours

We got off dock and wandered around the city, smelling the ocean breeze and enjoying the view. We bought a couple churros as Trixie led us to a street of houses facing the water. We reached a house and Trixie rand the doorbell. I, noticing Erica looking disappointed asked her what was wrong.

"Well, Alexander always said that his mother went senile after a mission here in Cuba, particularly during the Cuban Missle Crisis. Unfortunately, I don't think she can help us much." Erica answered.

Before I could inquire more, the door opened, and a woman of Cyrus's age stepped out. She had long, pure-white hair that went to her shoulder blades. She was wearing several cat themed items, including pajama pants, a knitted shirt, and a pair of slippers.

"Why hello," she smiled.

"Hi Grandma Elizabeth," Trixie happily declared.

"Why you've grown, Trixie, and Erica, you look like such a beautiful young lady, although I'm a bit offended at your senile comment. But then again, it's proof that I'm good at acting, if I can fool the best spy-in-training." Elizabeth responded.

"Oh, well sorry Grandmother," Erica muttered, slightly embarrassed.

"It's alright, it's fine, fine. I'm assuming you are looking for help on your mission? Just because I'm keeping an eye out on this place after the ol' missile crisis doesn't mean I can't hack into the CIA mission data base every once in awhile!" Elizabeth said cheerily. She straitened her glasses and looked Mike and I. "Veeery impressive for some newbies, by the way, I don't know what I'd do if you became a desk jockey, rather than becoming a field agent. Frankly, I would be surprised if they didn't put you three as a team. Now, I think I've talked enough, come on in," she ushered us inside.

Her house was full of cats. Large, small, white, orange, cute, vicious: she had them all. The place was a stereotypical cat-crazy old grandma house: scratches on the sofa, clawed curtains, bad lighting, smelled like catnip. Elizabeth flicked something that appeared to be a light switch, but it's function was much more different. Everything started disappearing: the broken couch, bad lighting, even the cats. All the holograms were gone and the cat-crazy grandma interior disappeared, replaced with a cozy home. Even Elizabeth's clothes changed, from cat-themed to a suit much like Erica's.

Mike whistled appreciatively. "Now, this was what I was expecting when I came into the spy game."

"Yeah," Elizabeth agreed. "People think boomers can't use technology? Ha! I coded the whole system myself. All those musty people at the top brass want to use only 'secure' and 'time-tested' things? Well, that's why the top brass is starting to fail, I say."

We all sat down, facing each other. A bowl of pita chips was on the coffee table, waiting to be eaten, and my stomach growled. I hadn't realized I would be starving so much on these missions. Next time, right before a mission started, I would eat as much as I could, just like in the "Hunger Games". Huh. Maybe Murray did have a reason for eating so much.

We all filled in Elizabeth on what happened during the mission so far. One would talk about one part while the rest hungrily ate from the pita chip bowl. (Except Erica, of course. She found some carrots from the fridge to eat.)

"So, you are saying this Murray kid has thugs strong enough to beat up Cyrus?" Elizabeth question.

"Well, he definitely has enough to do so, I suppose," I confirmed.

"Since he's a copy cat, what do you thi-" Elizabeth was suddenly cut off by Trixie, who was standing at the window.

"Look!"

We all ran over to were she was standing. Down the street a bunch of body guards in a circle, including Dane, who had an iron-shaped burn on his forehead. They were all surrounding Cyrus, who was in cuffs, and also a boy holding a suitcase...

Murray.

"There they are," someone whispered.

"Okay," Elizabeth said, clasping her hands together. "So, Erica, Ben and I will follow them. Trixie, Mike, stay here and help us figure out what their plot could be."

Mike and Trixie protested.

"Look here," Elizabeth said sternly, "if something happens to us, we need you to stop Operation Valley. And something is very likely to happen to us." I swallowed nervously.

Elizabeth grabbed remote and clicked some buttons. A drone came flying over, and it started projecting a hologram over Elizabeth, Erica and I. It finished creating the projection and then cloaked itself, and I took a look at Elizabeth and Erica. Elizabeth was a middle-aged woman of Mexican decent, with dark brown hair tied into a messy bun, and Erica looked like a mirror image of her, but smaller and younger. I took a look in the mirror. I was a male version of Erica, but I had lighter hair and slightly different colored eyes.

Mike and Elizabeth each took a transmitter. "Good luck out there, Ben, Erica, Ms. Elizabeth," he smiled. We waved our good byes and stepped outside, the drones now cloaked and following us.

The three of us starting walking behind them, pretending to be in an intense argument.

"But grandmother," Erica complained, her voice full pleas, "I don't want to go to the Museum of Revolution. I would rather go to Old Havana. I hear the buildings are beautiful, right Miles?" she nudged me with her elbow.

"Well, actually," I smirked, "I would prefer going to the Capitol building much more."

"Nerd!" Erica playfully shoved me.

"You're calling me a nerd? You're 16 and can't put on makeup without asking mom for help!" I shoved her back.

We continued shoving each other until Elizabeth interjected, "First we will go where I want, then your places and get ice cream, okay?"

"Sure," we agreed.

We continued following the group, and then they entered a museum. Dane was stationed outside.

"Why hello," Elizabeth said, pretending to ignore Dane's bulk and iron-shaped burn, "is the museum not open today?"

"No, it is not, I'll have to ask you to leave," Dane said in a gruff voice.

"Well, that's a shame," Elizabeth sullenly exclaimed. "For you, that is."

Elizabeth and Erica leapt into action, combatting Dane. Even though they were some of the best fighters the CIA had, and Dane was injured by an iron, he was still holding out on his own.

"Pick the lock!" Erica shouted, flinging some lockpicking tools towards me from her utility belt. I started using them on the door, trying to remember everything I could from Professor Goldworth's class.

As Dane flew past me, I heard the breaking of metal and saw that he crashed into Elizabeth's disguise drone, and we now looked like our normal selves.

"Curse you, chunk of blond muscle! I only had five of those!" Elizabeth yelled.

From inside the commandeered museum, I could hear shouts of "Ripley!", and maybe even, "I told you that he would go after you!"

I had just picked the lock when a voice said, "Freeze!"

I whirled around. The owner of the voice was a guy who looked around our age. He had messy black hair and looked like one of those cliché bad-boy skater dudes, except this time he was actually a bad boy. He was pointing a gun towards us, and he had brought almost half a dozen bodyguards, all slabs of muscle. One was holding Mike and pointing a gun to his head. Trixie was no where to be seen.

"Hands in the air," Skater Dude said. "Unless you want your friend to be shot, of course."

We all raised our hands, and we were marched into the museum.

1257 words.