Lorna pounced on Arena when she entered the dining area, bubbling over with excitement. Arena’s first live test would happen that morning. She would be allowed to leave the compound, closely supervised, and would have to complete a mock mission. Lorna would not tell her anything else, except to put on normal clothes and be in the common area in an hour.
Not sure what to expect from her ‘mission’, Arena dressed like a regular college student in black jeans, running shoes, and a pithy T-shirt, but packed a backpack with tech gear, a dark sweatshirt, and dressy clothing, including shoes and jewelry.
Lorna, wearing a bright-orange sweater with purple tights decorated with red party hats, waited for Arena in the common area. Lorna glanced at Arena’s backpack, and cracked a slight smile, but said nothing about it.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
Arena nodded, though she didn’t feel ready. There was no point in delaying, though. Might as well get it over with before her worries paralyzed her, though part of Arena wanted to go for a run on the treadmill.
For the first time since her arrival at the compound, Arena entered an elevator taking her to the rest of the world. Lorna led Arena to a parking garage, where there was a delivery van waiting. Arena could see out the front if she strained, but the two large men sitting in the front made visibility difficult. The area didn’t look at all like California, and Arena wondered where she was.
Arena could see tall buildings and patches of snow, which in late March probably meant they were in a northern state, and Arena guessed either New York or Chicago.
Lorna turned to her and said, “Your mission is to find a man with a yellow handkerchief in his pocket, sitting near a fountain in the park. He will have information for you. You will take that information to the point listed on your handheld, via taxi or other means. You may find a few obstacles on the way. Improvisation is key. This is just a practice mission, but the CIA will be watching through various means. Please put in your earpiece.”
Arena pulled her earpiece from the case in her backpack. A deep, rumbling voice filled her head. “Hello, Cyclone. In ten minutes you will reach the drop point. You are to progress to the center of the park.” Sterling’s voice sounded professional, but there was a touch of something else she couldn’t identify. “I will be on comms with you the whole time, but too much talking to yourself will be obvious. This mission is timed, so do the best you can as fast as you can. Stand by.”
Lorna smiled at her. “I’m not coming with you. I have somewhere else to be. Good luck!”
The van stopped. One of the men came around to open the door. They were tucked in an alley. Arena hopped out with her backpack and walked to the street. She was definitely in New York City. At the corner, she could see down the street at trees beyond. Central Park. She walked briskly toward the park. Nobody but street vendors gave her a second glance.
“Good, Cyclone. You are headed in the right direction,” Sterling commented. “Your contact is an older man wearing a gray suit with a yellow handkerchief in his front pocket. You are to use the code word ‘extraordinary’.“
Arena walked into the park, and followed the pathways toward the center. She had been to New York once before, when she was a child. She vaguely remembered visiting Central Park, but it did not seem familiar now.
She came to the fountain in the center of the park, and spied a man in a pale gray suit sitting on a park bench, off to one side. He was bent over slightly, leaning on a cane, but she could see a lemon-yellow pocket hankie. His wrinkled face bore a very sour expression. She sat down next to him and casually nodded at him politely.
“Snow this late is rather extraordinary, isn’t it?” she said, her stomach churning.
The man next to her snorted and said in a gravelly voice, “Some years it is and some it is not. That is just the way of the world. But you are not even wearing a jacket.”
Something in his voice was oddly familiar, and she turned and looked squarely at him. He mirrored her, one tufty white eyebrow raised. Under the brows, green eyes challenged. Nate. He smirked.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
Her eyes widened and she suppressed the urge to laugh. At least, she kept under control until Sterling said in her ear, “If you manage to kick his butt now for the information, I’ll give you bonus points.” She covered her laugh with a cough.
“I believe you’ll find what you need in your pack,” Nate said and added in his normal voice, “I don’t think violence will be necessary--or effective.”
Arena looked down at her pack. She hadn’t even seen him move his arm. She’d have to practice that later. Opening her backpack, she made a show of rummaging through it. The small manila envelope was on top. She pulled out her sweatshirt, pushing the envelope to the bottom of the sack.
Putting on her sweatshirt as she stood, she rubbed her arms for emphasis, wishing she had some crumbs to give the few gathering pigeons. She took out her phone and glanced at the GPS. It showed a location three blocks to the west of the park. She took off in that direction, leaving Nate sitting on the bench. Suspicion of being followed flooded her senses. She stopped to get a coffee at a stand, trying to remember the simulations she did on spotting tails.
As she walked away with her coffee, she said, “I’m being followed, Catalyst.”
“Yes,” Sterling replied. “Your tail is from the larger organization. They are watching you.”
Arena frowned. “Both of them? Are they listening, too?”
She heard an intake of breath. “You have more than one?”
“ I’m pretty sure,” she responded.
The long pause made Arena nervous. She strode out of the park and across the street. Then Sterling said, “Comms are secure as far as I know, Cyclone. Proceed to the next drop point. Deadeye is on the way.”
A soft female voice interrupted, “Comms are not secure. Proceed with caution.”
Trying not to panic at Anita’s voice, Arena wanted to turn and run back to where Nate was. She hoped he was following her and that thought gave her some comfort. She swallowed and crossed the street, glancing in a shop window at the woman in a pink jogging suit close behind her. The other tail was a man in a business suit carrying a laptop case, but he was much farther behind. Arena guessed the man to be the CIA operative, and the woman to be something else entirely. She had a dark ball cap pulled down low over her face.
“You’re almost there,” Sterling sounded very worried. “I’m watching you. Just keep going.”
Rough hands grabbed her and dragged her into an alley. Arena struck with her elbow, her body responded to the training Nate had given her. She hit the person holding her, and dropped to the ground, rolling, trying to kick at his feet. She scraped her leg across broken glass, but did not make contact. He grabbed her feet and yanked her up, thrusting her against the wall by the neck.
“We meet again, little one. Isn’t that funny?” Arena faced the man with the scar from the night of the competition. She tried to kick him, but his hold got tighter and the edges of Arena’s vision began to turn white. “So you are working for someone, are you? I thought we had a nice little chat about that last time--”
Something slammed him from the side and he let go. Arena dropped to her knees, clutching her throat and gasping for air. She heard a female voice bellow, “Don’t move!”
She regained a little sense and found the woman in the pink jogging suit straddling him, a gun aimed at his head.
Footsteps sounded. Lorna came around the corner, also aiming a gun at the man. The man carrying the laptop case also appeared with a gun, with Nate close behind him, missing most of his disguise.
The woman in pink moved so Lorna could handcuff the man, but she still held the gun to his head. Once he was handcuffed, the man with the case said, “Thank you, Agent Kershaw. I think we have it from here.”
Agent Kershaw? Arena spun to the woman in pink. Sophia faced her with a faded black eye, but alive. She smiled thinly at Arena, who very nearly hugged her, but was pulled away and examined closely by Nate.
“Are you okay?” He touched her neck, which ached, and she suspected it would be bruised for a few days.
“Cyclone? Atticus? Report!” said Sterling into her ear. “I can’t see what happened.”
“Suspect apprehended and in custody, Catalyst. All accounted for,” responded Nate.
Arena slumped against the wall, too overwhelmed to speak. What happened to Sophia? She wondered. How did she end up here? Was it a trick? Tears tickled her eyelashes, and she swiped her arm over her face.
The man with the case said, “We’ll take him. Agent, why don’t you go with them. We’ll pick you up later,” he said to Sophia. He turned to Nate. “Get her brief while she’s there.”
Nate nodded at the man, “Yes, sir. I will send it over as soon as we finish with the vid.”
The man turned to Arena, “Good work, there. Sorry about the interference. It was not planned and will be taken into account.”
The man with the scar leered at Arena as he was put into a car. Nate guided Arena by the shoulders to the delivery van. He had to push her inside.
Sophia followed and sat down next to Arena. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” Tears streamed down her face. “I wasn’t supposed to be involved, I promise.”
The van door shut, and the inside went dark. She felt Nate’s hand on her shoulder. Sophia grasped her arm, and fell asleep on her other shoulder for the ride back to the compound.