CIA Agent? Piece Of Cake.

The Answer

SATURDAY, 6th OF APRIL 2013,

THE LEONE RESIDENCE.

DAVE'S POV:

I was still sleeping even after my alarm clock rang furiously. It was probably saying Get up you lazy ass! It's yo birthday! You got work to do!

After consistent nagging from the alarm clock, I woke up reluctantly and got off my bed, yawning and stretching. I checked the alarm clock. It was 0830 hours. I decided to go for a morning jog.

I washed up and changed into my black tank shirt with shorts and my Nike sport shoes. Cheymayne's room door was closed and her Maserati was in the compound, parked nicely beside my Lamborghini. Spark was already awake, waiting for me to come downstairs and let him into the compound.

I jogged to the park near my neighbourhood, where there were at least a dozen of my neighbours jogging. I didn't take an iPod with me; I loved to listen to the morning birds chirping and also, it was to make sure I was fully alert to everything around me. I might seem like a clumsy guy, but I am still a CIA agent. I had my own rules to follow. Number one:

Observe.

It was a good thing I noticed everything around me. I observed, aware. I observed the way my neighbour Mr. Phillips jogged; he was having difficulty maintaining his breathing. If you didn't know, Mr. Phillips had a near-death heartattack, and it was all due to his lack of exercise. The amount of fats around his heart nearly killed him.

But what stood out was the man sitting on the bench.

He was just an average joe, but what stood out was that although he was in a runner's outfit, he had the shifty look in his eyes and that twitchy movement where his head jerked at the slightest suspicious of sounds.

He had a backpack too; did that make sense? A runner holding a backpack? If it was an Adidas backpack, nobody would give him a second glance. But it wasn't. It was a big backpack, used for travelling a few nights.

As usual, my agent instincts tingled. I slowed down, and bent down on one knee to feign tying my shoe lace. But my eyes never left the man.

I estimated the man to be about in his mid-twenties. He had brown short hair, thin eyebrows and narrowed eyes. He was wearing an Adidas jersey, together with running shorts and Adidas sport shoes. The way he held his backpack was as though he was waiting for someone to make an exchange with.

I decided to watch him. From the distance, I spotted another suspicious figure.

He was a tall man, probably in his thirties, coming out from a Ford Mustang. He was dressed in a leather jacket that was worn over his black T-shirt together with jeans and loafers. The man had a big, strong build. My instincts told me that he was the partner or maybe client of our dear friend at the bench.

True enough, they both met. They embraced each other as though they were old friends, shook hands and sat down on the bench. I was standing at an equipment, doing chin-ups while I watched them like a hawk.

The man passed his backpack to the client. Just as he opened the zip, I jogged past and bumped into him purposely.

"Hey, watch it!" he shouted at me, but I saw the contents of his bag. Tons of drugs packed tightly, stacked on top of each other. Probably cocaine.

I made it my mission to capture both of them, but I had to do it in a way that I will get both of them at the same time. I had to lure them somewhere. But how?

Just as I thought that, the client zipped the backpack and both of them stood up. I expected them to shake hands and to part ways, but instead they both walked together, towards the Mustang. I couldn't wait anymore.