My Classified Life

Chapter Forty-Three: Operation: Red Means Go

The wait was excruciating as I counted the minutes in my head before I could go running inside the mansion, finish the mission, and leave this behind me. I was more than worried about him, living off of every sound that came in my ear from Dylan's walkie, holding on for dear life that I wouldn't hear the word 'pickle' come through it. I don't know why I agreed to that stupid codeword, it was way too silly for what it would mean. Danger.

I jolted in the tent when the sound of Dylan's voice came over walkie, perfectly calm and safe, “Red means go. So, red.” I smiled to myself, he was in the control room. He was safe.

I started out of the tent and outside, tightening my hood around my face as I trudged off towards the mansion. I followed the same path Dylan had taken, small imprints of his footsteps still in the snow. The closer I got to the mansion, the more intimidating it was.

It rose up out of the ground like a violet in the snow, standing apart from the rest of the world. The tall towers and peaked in place not because it's owner loved the medieval ages, it was all part of the show. What Pierce Hamilton didn't know was that in the show he put on for himself, I was about to become the star.

“There will be a door straight north of where the tent is. You know the rest from there.” he whispered into the walkie. And I did. I'd spent hours pouring over those blueprints, predicting the room that would hold what we were looking for. Memorizing the twists and turns of the hallways, I knew that if I went left-right-straight-left, there would be a bathroom. I knew that the bathroom had a closet to your left when you walk in. But that information didn't really matter, I needed to find Pierce Hamilton's trophy room and get the hell out of there.

The door Dylan had directed me to was black in the night, a snowdrifts piled in front of it. I stripped off my heavy outer wear and stashed it in the snow, only slightly burying it in a drift. I pulled my black cap tighter down my head, it matched the rest of my completely black outfit, now. I wrapped a black bandana around my mouth, only my hazel eyes and cherry brown hair was showing, I was Amanda. I wrenched the door open forcefully, eying the broken padlock on the ground before stepping inside. The door shut with a light thud after I tried to close it soundlessly, the wind yanking it shut. Inside was pure black, not the dull gray like it was outside. I felt beside me on the wall, feeling a light switch that I left alone. I continued to feel my way down the wall, the bumps of moldings around doorways keeping me on track of where I was. I counted them in my head until I came to number five, I turned into it and walked briskly down what I knew to be a hallway, keeping quiet all the while.

“How much more time?” Dylan's voice in my ear asked.

“Minute or less.” I whispered back.

My eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness when I saw the faint outline of a door at the end of the hallway, option number one for a trophy room. I doubted it, the floor beneath me wasn't fancy, the walls had no decoration, it wasn't a boastful enough hallway. It wasn't the kind of place you would drag someone down to, just to show them your latest prize. But, I'd agreed to check it out. The truth was, we didn't have the slightest idea where a man like Pierce Hamilton would hide a document from the lost Library of Alexandria. He could display it proudly, ship it away somewhere else, or hide it in a secret, temperature-controlled chamber, just waiting to be broken into. There was endless possibilities.

As I continued to the end of the hall, one thing became eminently clear to me: this was way too easy. There was supposed to be alarms, sensors, body guards. This was supposed to be impossible for two teenagers to sneak into, almost blindly unprepared. I was almost... disappointed?

I got what I wanted the next moment when the floor began to shift beneath me, knocking me off my feet and into the wall. My feet couldn't find steady ground as the once solid floor shifted wildly beneath me like an earthquake had struck. I reached my arms out to try to steady myself, but it was as if I was a rag doll, colliding with the walls and stumbling. My head clashed with the wall, hard. I fell into a heap on the ground, suffering blows to my body as the floor continued to shake and rattle. As my body was thrown against the wall, my hand became outstretched, my forearm touched solid ground. I clawed my way towards it as quickly as I could until I was resting on solid floor. My breath was heaving and ragged.