Spy School - Salvation [3]

02: Escaped Prisoners

Smithsonian Institution

Washington DC

May 14

1000 hours

"Please tell me that this time, you took me here because you actually wanted to," I told Erica, wearily. It was the next day, and she had brought me to another museum this time, the Smithsonian. "And not because you're setting me up for another surprise exam."

"Well, it's kind of too late to be asking that anyways, if I was taking you to another surprise exam. Instead, I'm taking you here to train your people-watching skills, if that counts as actually wanting too," Erica said.

I huffed. "It's never too late to ask a question."

"If you just got kidnapped and you wanted to call for backup, it would be too late because the kidnapper knocked you out and took all your communications," Erica pointed out. "Anyhow, it's time to refresh your people-watching skills."

I felt grateful that Erica thought that I had people-watching skills, but this wouldn't have been an effective lesson if I hadn't come clean.

"I have no people watching skills, Erica," I said.

"Oh sure you do," said Erica. "From what I gather, you were the school nerd who was in love with Pasternak. You were a loser, who would watch everybody else talking to their friends with sadness in your eyes."

"Excuse me, Erica," I interjected, "but I wasn't a school loser. I had a friend!"

"If you consider that having one friend didn't make you a loser, then you were a loser."

"But you had no friends after Joshua!" I complained. "You wouldn't call yourself a loser!"

"Yeah, but I can snap everybody else's neck, and everybody knows that. You can't," Erica said.

"Of course," I muttered.

A little while later, we both sat down at a café table in the museum. We bought a single small coffee to have an actual reason to sit there, something that made the cashier give us a glare, but Erica ignored him.

After taking a quick survey of the room, Erica turned towards me and said: "There is one person of Russian descent in that room talking to a woman with a black purse and black hat." She pointed through the window. "For the first people-watching practice, tell me what they're feeling about the conversation they're having."

"How am I supposed to tell that when I can't even hear what they're saying?" I complained.

"Look at their expressions, see how aggressive their hand gestures are," Erica said.

"And how am I supposed to tell if they're Russian?" I demanded.

"Eh, you'll learn the tiny differences in how the skin around the eyes is set and the way the chin juts out eventually," Erica replied. She then got out her copy of Fahrenheit 451 and began to read.

"And one last thing; don't look like you're watching someone," Erica added.

I always thought I had good peripheral vision- it's useful when exams include surprise attacks from behind- but it's really hard to be out on the lookout for someone when attempting to find them only by using peripheral vision. I did eventually find two women arguing, with one of them having a black purse and hat.

"They're at my 3 o'clock, and they seem to be having a mild argument," I reported to Erica.

"Finally," she muttered, and then spared a brief glance to see that what I said was indeed correct. "Good, but you took way too long. There are more ways to watch a crowd discretely than from your peripheral vision."

Erica paused as she zeroed in on something behind me. Her mouth formed into a thin life as her eyes widened. She reached into her bag, pulling out some stuff.

"Ben, put on this hat. Cover your face," her voice full of urgency said as she was putting on a baseball cap. I did as she told me.

"What's happening?" I asked, lowering my voice.

"Don't look," Erica murmured, "but Ivy and Murray seem to be looking at the exhibit behind you."

"Wha- Murray, as in Murray Hills?" I whispered, freaked out. My mind was racing, what, how? Murray fell, I heard him splat on the ground, I was there myself. I saw how he picked up the dagger, and then Erica kicked him in the chest. I saw him fly back over the balcony, and then plummet downwards out of view.

But then again, there were so many factors. I never looked down to see Murray's brains splattered on the ground- maybe they never were. I didn't know who cleaned up the body- maybe the person that did was not in fact, some poor janitor but a SKITTLES agent who resurrected him.

My mind froze for a moment, and then it started up again, although it was like a car engine on a frosty morning, rather than a fully functioning brain.

"It seems to be so. Come on, let's go," she said. She pulled out her phone with one hand and dragged me by the wrist with the other.

"You can't be serious!" I whisper-shouted as we got closer to Murray and Ivy, one inch at a time. "They'll recognize us!"

"They won't recognize us if they don't see us," Erica replied. "Which is why we need to be sneaky. And that is why you'll be in the boys' bathroom calling Cyrus and telling him that we have spotted Murray and Ivy, and I'll be following them."

I opened my mouth, but before I could say anything, Erica gave me her phone to call Cyrus, shoved me into the boys' bathroom, and disappeared.

The stubborn part of me wanted to flush Erica's phone down the toilet. I was sick and annoyed that she still didn't trust me to not mess up. Sure, in the beginning I was definitely a huge liability, but now I had hoped I had proven myself.

However, I had to shove aside my stubbornness. Two criminals were on the loose, one of which was supposed to be in prison, the other who was supposed to be dead, and a lone agent-in-training was following them. Murray and Ivy wouldn't visit a museum for no reason, especially not so soon after Ivy's escape from prison.

I pressed the button to dial Cyrus' number. It rang once, twice, three times.

Then it was interrupted by a gunshot and a scream.

1056 words

ooh- what's going to happen next?

thank you all for reading, commenting, voting, and following. it motivates me when i feel like i can't write anything. :>