Destination: London

Nobody in the entire train station would have thought that the 12 ¾ year old girl who was freckled- faced, black haired, 5.5 tall, wearing a blue tee- shirt, jeans, and sneakers, with a navy blue backpack thrown over one shoulder, an black duffle bag on the bench she was leaning on, playing on a iPod touch, blowing a piece of bubble gum, was here in London, England for one reason.
A deadly mission.
The almost- agent Elizabeth Bracken was a 6th year at The MI6 Spy Academy, and was ready to graduate, but it one little snag. She hadn’t been out in the field yet, and to get out of school she had to complete, and succeed, a real mission.
Sure she was nervous, yet she was ready. She had the information she needed, the six years of training on her, and her wit and common sense. Elizabeth was thankful for the common sense, because the main reason spies don’t succeed their first mission is the lack of common sense. And boy would she need it.
She had come all the Italy to complete this mission. The train was easy, the M16 had given her a room on the train to prevent anyone following her from Rome. If someone did follow her, she was pretty sure that she could deal with easily. Well. She hoped she could.
Elizabeth looked up from her game, Angry Birds, and studied the people departing the train from Liverpool. There was many children, most her age, and seldom adults with their kids. Her eyes passed over a family that seemed to be very nervous about their surroundings. Elizabeth lowered her shades to get a better look at them. Her advisers told her to be aware of sleeper cells, people who are stationed in an area then BAM, they are able to turn into a deadly weapon with a simple signal from their leader, so she took a quick inventory of their appearance:
Man: Jeans, tee- shirt, German, black haired, brown eyed, slight limp, middle- aged, carrying an black computer bag.
Woman: Brown skirt, black plain tee- shirt, black haired, brown eyed, middle- aged, carrying an orange purse, German.
Girl: Denim jacket, brown skirt going to her knees, black stockings, brown boots, hair in a pony tail, about 13, brown eyed, German.
Boy: Gamer tee- shirt for Angry Birds, lose jeans, black haired, brown eyed, sneakers, carrying the family duffle bag, German.
Once Elizabeth’s inventory was done, she replaced her shades and checked the time. 1:15 pm, two hours and fifth-teen minutes until see was supposed to meet her contact. Certainly enough time to get settled into her hotel room, take a look at the news, get a latte, and check out the place where they where supposed to meet. Excellent.
She picked up her things and walked across the train station. She noticed a mirror on the other side of the station by the door and took a look at her refection. Hair okay, face okay, clothes okay, and supposed sleeper cells: ALERT!! The 13 year old girl was getting a backpack out the duffle bag and coming her way. This probably wasn’t very good. Acting like she didn’t notice anything, she brushed some dandruff off of her shoulder and headed to the door. She listened to her duffle bag going clunk, clunk, clunk as it was going down the stairs, then the tap, tap, tap, as the girl went down the steps behind her.
Out on the side walk she spotted a newsstand and headed to it. The headline, Journalist Killed!! Flashed upon her. Probably some idiot in the Middle East who doesn’t know when to duck upon enemy fire. She picked up a copy of The London Times, and she pulled out her map of downtown London. She might need that.
Suddenly, a man in a business suit bumped into her, talking on a Bluetooth. “Sorry, sir,” she called out to the man, but he turned around and gave her a dirty look as if it was her fault that he bumped into her. Before she could turn around she saw the exact same girl that she saw at the train station, at the same newsstand she was at before.
“Okay, time to shake a tail,” she muttered to herself, picking up her duffle. She spotted a Hampton on the other side of the road. Elizabeth picked up her duffle and crossed the street. She noticed that the girl did the same.
Taking a deep breath she entered the hotel, and slipped past the front desk to the elevator. That was quite easy, considering the lady at the desk was yelling at a guest about the recently spilled coffee on the rug.
“DO YOU KNOW HOW MUSH THIS RUG COST??? Á 6,000, PLUS TAX!!! IMPORTED DIRECTLY FROM NEW ZELAND!!! DO YOU HAVE ANY RESPECT WHAT-SO-EVER ABOUT THE PROPERTY OF OTHERS?! WAIT UNTIL THE MANGER TAKES YOU TO COURT!!!” the desk lady yelled at him.
Picking the most reasonable floor, floor 6, perfect quick-escape floor and the elevator took her upward. As soon as the she got to her level she made sure that the girl was following her. The numbers above the door slowly went down to one stayed put a minute, then begun to going up. She grabbed her duffle and ran to the nearest emergency exit. 0As fast as she could, she disabled the alarm that went off when she opened the door, thirty seconds. Looking at the elevator, she saw that the elevator was two floors below her. Elizabeth pushed open the door and raced down the stairs. In one minute flat, she was at the bottom. She used her shoulder to push open the door and jumped out.
Elizabeth had made one miscalculation: there was a three foot drop below the door, that she had not noticed.
Lizzie felt her self falling. WHAM!! She fell on the concrete first, eagle- sprawled on her back. Then, came her duffle. Which, by some miracle, only half landed on her.
“Ohhh…..That- really-hurt,” Elizabeth moaned as she pushed the duffle off her. “I think I will have to take the latte off of my schedule,” she muttered, checking her watch, 1:46.
You have to get out of here NOW!! Lizzie’s mind screamed at her. Pretty soon, the girl that was following her find out what was going on and catch up with her. Lizzie ran out of the alley, her duffle trailing behind her. Before she went back out on the street she pushed her duffle behind some old apple crates, out of sight. She pulled a brown curly wig, hat, glasses, red jacket, and boots out her backpack. Lizzie snuck behind a dumpster and changed. When she reappeared, she was completely different. Her navy blue backpack was now red and her eye color was green instead of bright blue.
She walked out of alley and took a look around, the sleeper cells didn’t seem to be anywhere, which was good. She held up her map. The Hiatt that she was staying in was on the Tower Street. Just to far to walk. Elizabeth seemed to be in the right spot, because the subway station was right next to her.
She walked inside and grabbed a map of the trains. The train to going west to Tower Street will come to the station in 15 minutes. Good enough. Elizabeth’s mind reeled as she bought a ticket and waited for the train. How did they find me so quickly? Where they sent by the M16 to see if I could shake a tail? Did the person who I’m going against hack in classified files? If so, I must be careful, because these people are smarter than I think.
She was pulled abruptly out of her thoughts when she heard the rumbling of the subway trains rambling down the track. She checked her watch, 2:01 pm, one hour thirty minutes left. I just might be able to fit that latte in, she thought happily. Caffeine was defiantly on the top of her list.

**********

Six shots of espresso, milk, chunks of chocolate, topped with whipped cream, and on top of all that, melted chocolate drizzled atop the whipped cream. Elizabeth stared into her cup at the heart attack waiting to happen, not knowing the after affects if she took a sip. The seat she was sitting in was almost swallowing her up in it’s cushion . Above her was a neon sign for Starbucks Coffee shined out the window, casting a red light on her brown wig.
She sighed and took a sip. It seemed that electricity flew through her body. Waaaay to much espresso. But at least after I finish this, no mugger or murder would dare confront me. she thought optimistically. Because if they did they would be in for the biggest surprise of their life.
Knowing that she should drop her things off by the hotel before meeting her contact. Elizabeth hoisted her backpack onto her shoulder and pulled out her iPod and earbuds. She casually pulled her shades out of her jacket. She placed on her head a red sunhat that matches the jacket she was wearing.
Walking out of the Starbucks, she carefully placed the mirrors on the side of her sunglasses so that she could easily have 360 vision without anyone noticing. Moving out of the doorway Elizabeth leaned against the cool window and pulled out her map. If her hotel was on Tower Street, that means that she would only have to walk a few blocks away. Looking to her left, she examined the distance. Considering how large the blocks where, in her opinion, it should take about twenty minutes. She just might make it.

**********

As soon as Elizabeth walked into the hotel, she knew that her time actually in the hotel would a least on the most part, be easy going. The Haitt lobby was absolutely beautiful. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling about, what, like fifty stories up. Lizzie was willing to bet all the money she has that the rug that covered the entire length of the lobby be hand-made. Each floor had a balcony over looking the , what it seemed, thousands of people on the floor below. In fact, out of the corner of her eye, she saw some kids getting a scolding from leaning over the railing so far, about 25 stories up.
Spotting the front desk about 50 feet away, she pushed though the crowd that was gathering around some celebrity , that she did not care about, to get to the front desk.
Then in a matter of seconds, she found herself face-to-face with Bill Gates. Right then Lizzie had only one thing running though her mind: If this is on camera, the M16 is going to kill me. Of course some people would wonder why a 12 year old girl would not be happy about accidentally running smack-dab right into the front of who-knows- how- much- it- cost suit that belongs to Bill Gates. But she was only worried about the camera part. The first reason is that Bill Gates is a M16 agent himself and he and Lizzie had met before. And two, Lizzie is more of a Apple person instead of Microsoft.
She watched as Mr. Gates looked at her with surprised recognition. He probably recognized the shades she was wearing, and she just had the Spy Academy build to her. She quickly took of her shades and said,” Um, hello, Mr. Gates.” There wasn’t very much anything else to say. Mr. Gates quickly answered, “I’m pretty sure you where in quite a hurry. Do you need to get to the front desk?” Liz quickly nodded. “Then I’m sure there is a few people blocking your way.” Almost like magic, a path through the crowd appeared. She quickly turned on heel and walked out of there. Behind her she heard Gates going on about the latest technology in Microsoft. “Anyways, the newest Microsoft Word Processor has newer features such as…”
Hurrying past the staring faces, made her way to the front desk once again. “May I help you?” asked the desk lady. “Uh, yes. I believe there is a room for Kristine Brown. Minor stay?” Liz asked politely getting on her toes to see over the giant desk. The desk lady leaned over the desk so close to Lizzie’s face that she could smell the lady’s foul breath. “You do have a reservation, yet I can not give it to you because you need a form signed by your parents. And if you don’t have a form you will have to spend the night in gutter somewhere that I do not care. Understand Simpleton?” Okaay. That’s kinda creepy. Thought Lizzie as she took a few steps backwards from the desk. “I have a form. Yet if you don’t want me here or my parent’s money, then I guess I will go find another hotel.” and with that Lizzie turned around and begun to walk off. “Wait!! I can give you your room. I’ll even have a bellhop carry our things for you!” she cried. Liz turned around. “I give the form. Yet don’t have a bellhop carry my things please,” said Liz with a small smirk that she could not suppress from her face. She reached into her backpack and pulled the form from the jumble of thing inside her backpack. “Oh, I just noticed your name is Gentry Evans. I’ll keep that in mind. And just so you know, I’ll be reporting you to your manger. Will Halfman I believe?” Liz said, after the lady handed her her key. She loved the face Ms. Evans had in her mirrors on her glasses as she walked away from the desk.
The ride up the elevator was rather that fun. The walls where clear, so you could see the people below turn into ants as you went up. Liz had a sudden urge to stomp on all the people below her.
Floor 50 room 5016. Liz stood in front of the door, making the key swing around her finger. She was about to insert the key into the lock. But froze. Her room could be bugged, or worse, a assassin laying in wait for her inside. Liz reached into her jean pocket and pulled out what seemed to be a cockroach. It actually had a mini camera, face recognition, and could find and destroy bugs that would be hidden in her room. Then pulling out of her back pocket, her iPod.
Placing the bug on the ground she watched as it slipped beneath the door. Liz put her back against the wall and slid down to the floor. No other guest walking down the hall would think that a girl propped up against the wall would actually be previewing her room before hand.
So far so good. No bugs, no cameras, no people. Her room was completely tamper- free. Or so she thought. She picked herself up, put the key in the lock, turned it, and open the door.
She closed the door behind her, turned around, and threw her back pack on the ground. Taking a deep breath, she looked around the room. It was fairly nice. Yet she had the strange sense that she was being watched. Taking a 360 around the room there seemed to be nothing out the sorts. Returning to her spot by the door, she sighed, and fell on the ground atop her duffle. That’s when she screamed.

**********

You know, after a long trip of travel, you just want to ease back and take it easy. So I fell onto the top of my duffle bag and relaxed. Or at least I hoped. Because right now that’s the exact opposite what I was feeling now.
Someone was, quite literary, on my ceiling. Like this person was duct taped to my ceiling. He seemed to be at least nineteen years old. Immediately I took my gun out of my coat pocket, pointed it at him, and cocked it.
“Wait! Wait! Wait!! Hold your fire!” he yelled panicked. “If you let me down, I will tell you who I am and how I got here!” I read his expression. The only thing that was going on was pure fear and that was smack- dab right on his face. I don’t think he was hiding anything. Anyways, this guy has information, reliable or not, I need it.
To make sure he got the message that I wasn’t afraid to hurt him if I have to, when I loosened the duct tape, I undid his hands first. When I did this he fell forward and only suspended above the ground by his feet I duct taped his hands behind his back, so when I let his feet go he would fall right on his face.
“You know, I think I’m going o just let you hang there until your feet let go and that, my friend, will catch you completely by surprise,” I said grabbing his wrist behind his back and yanked. Taking a step sideways I watched as he fell the floor in heap. Then grabbing him by his ear, I pulled him across the room and threw him into the desk chair, that appeared to be on wheels.
“I’m going to untie your hands, but you are going to keep your left one on the table where I can see it. Now remember, one lie and all I have to do is pull a trigger,” I said, enjoying the feared expression on his face. I reached behind him and cut loose his hands. He nimbly put his left on the table and I grabbed his wrist and felt for pulse. I could tell I he was lying because there was a physical change when he did, such as his heart rate.
“Spill it,” I said to him. He seemed to calm himself a bit and begun talking.
“I am just a normal civilian like most people but one day I was ambushed by these giant guys and they stuffed me into a car an took me to some place in Germany I think.
“ Later I was put in, what seemed to be dungeon, yeah it was a dungeon. It was horrible, they tortured me until I said I would do anything they wanted. That’s where I got this scar.” He moved away his shoulder length blond hair and a dark scar appeared on the skin just below his left ear that seemed to be at least three inches long. I suddenly knew that he wasn’t lying, only a hunting knife could have made a mark like that. It was not fake at all.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Ross Noland, age 18. Birthplace: London, England.” he said, “Now, they are going kill me that I told you.. They sent me to spy on you so they can figure out what M16 is up to,”
“Why me though? And how did you end up on the ceiling? How do you know my location?”
“I DON’T KNOW BLOODLY WHY!!!!! I’VE HAD THE MOST UNPLEASTENT WEEK OF MY LIFE AND THE LAST THING I REMEMBER IS BEING KNOCKED UNCONSIOUS!!!THE ONLY REASON I WOKE UP IS BECAUSE YOU SLAMMED YOUR STUPID DOOR!!! AND THEY COULD BE HERE AT ANY MOMENT TO KILL US BOTH!!”
“Yo, man! Settle down! Your going to get the other guest weirded out!! First thing’s first, I’ve got to meet someone and I have to keep a eye on you to make sure you don’t reveal anything that is top secrets that you might have picked up some how. Follow me.” I stood up and uncocked the pistol. He stood up too and followed me into the bathroom. “Do you know how to dye hair?” I asked him.
“What do I look like? A beauty stylist? Of course I don’t!” he retorted back to me. “Hey, if you’re trying not to get killed, then you might not to look like yourself. We’re going to dye your blond hair brown, so we will look like siblings. And gel it up a bit, so it kind of comes up in the front. Then we will give you, well I don’t know. A mustache? Nah that would look like you just came out prison or the Alps or something.” I told him. His face seemed to fall when I said that he wouldn’t be getting a mustache.
“Okay, let me go get the hair dye while you are taking a shower. Because, no offence, you stink,” I turned around and left him. I heard him shut the door behind me. I pulled the brown hair dye out of my backpack and threw it on the bed. I decided on how I was to meet my contact while trying to lug this idiot around without making people wonder what a 12 year old is doing dragging around a 18 year old. And by the looks of it this guy has never been in a gunfight in his life. I guess if needed I could use him to just blame everything on him if we get put into custody. Any how, I couldn’t just go around flashing my M16 badge to anyone when I need to have supervision, and if I teach him the right stuff, he could actually be useful. Yeah right.
I heard the water stop, and I pounded on door and yelled at him, “Do you need the dye?” He open the door, thus hitting me in the head and made me drop the dye. I heard him pick up the dye of the floor. “I’m going to take a look around the hotel while you do that. Be done in twenty minutes and meet me in the lobby. If you really mess up, I’m going to use you to recolor the bricks outside with your face, I’m not kidding.”
I picked up my backpack and tucked my hand gun securely inside my jacket in the left side. As I headed out the door I made sure I slammed it so that he heard me leave. I walked across the hallway to the balcony and examined the lobby below me. The crowd that had surrounded Bill Gates was now gone and the usual mingling was going on. I thought of a perfect escape plan if I was to be assaulted by anyone of the sorts.
Speaking of which, two guys in suits came running down the hall armed with guns. I looked out over the hallway and lobby. A plan formed in my mind. Pulling out the pistol out of my jacket, I aimed it at the other side of the chandelier. I cocked and pulled the trigger. The gun made a ear-splitting sound, I probably should have put on a silencer because as soon a it was shot the, people down in lobby screamed and ran all over. As if the zombie apocalypse had started and zombies had started biting off people’s heads. The chandler swayed to one side and broke loose.
Okay, the chaos I was talking about before, just doubled. The chandler moved to us with a creak, thinking quick, I jumped to one side and covered my head with my hands. The other guys didn’t seem to be so lucky. They got the full blast of glass, metal, and what ever else was in that chandler. I could feel some shards of glass dig into my skin. I winced at the pain in my hands.
As soon as the debris and dust settled to the ground, I walked through it pulling out the glass from my hands, resisting every urge to scream. As soon as I found the men who where trying to kill me. They seemed to be unconscious, yet just as a precaution, I kicked them both in the side. One guy made a sound that seemed to “Uhhhh, fresh baked cookies? My favorite, umm,”. The other said nothing.
I searched their pockets and found: a phone, a few pens, a calculator, and a pin. I gasped when I saw the insignia on the pin.
It was a Nazi swastika.

*********

“Okay, let me get this straight. You knocked two people unconscious by hurling a chandler at them, broke chaos out in the lobby, destroyed probably the best hotel in London and, on top of it all, found a pin with the Nazi swastika on it. Did I just so happen to leave anything out?” Ross asked me as we headed around the hotel, which was now teaming with police. “Yes you did. The guys where trying to shoot me,” I replied, jabbing him hard in the ribs with my elbow.
“Do you think we should report this to the police?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder. “Buddy, let me tell you something. I AM THE POLICE! In fact, I’m over the police!” I said, putting a hand over my head and shaking it to make my point. “Okay, okay! You don’t have to yell at me to make a point!”
“Anyways, how come you didn’t hear the chandelier and all the other stuff while you where in the shower? I mean seriously, how can you not hear that?” I asked him. He turned to me. “I ,uh, was.. Singing?” Okay, I thought, this guys like nine-teen and he’s singing in the shower so loud that he can’t hear someone shoot a gun and a hotel be ruined? If this gets us captured by Nazis because he’s not paying attention, I’m am going to kill him.
“Hey Ross, come here! I yelled at him. He was staring into a dumpster as if it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen in his life. Idiot. “Ross! Come here! NOW! I want to show you something!”
He walked over to me and asked, “ What’s up?” I turn away from him and pushed aside some old crates and some trash. “Whoa,” he muttered. In front of us was a brand new motorcycle. It gleamed with perfection complete with two helmets. “Get on,” I said, tossing him a helmet and swinging my leg over the motorcycle. “Huh? Wait… you don’t mean I have to get on that thing. I bet you have never seen that thing in your life! I bet you don’t even know how to operate it! Do you know how dangerous those things are? You could fall off at any second!” he said in a panicked voice. I rolled my eyes. “Are you done? Because I have somewhere to be and you aren’t to delay me. Got it?” I said staring him in the eyes with the expression on my face that said: You know, I can just leave you here for the Nazis or police.
“Okay, if you say so,” He put on his helmet and got on behind. “Okay, Ross, these have a intercom and computer in them so don’t say anything beginning with ’computer’,” I said to him as if he was a little child. “Awesome! Computer can I have a cheeseburger with a extra large fries, and a large coke?” he asked the helmet. “Please wait one moment, processing your order,” the computer said in a voice that was neither man nor woman. “Oh, man. This is awesome! Where did you get this? It actually gave me a cheeseburger, with fries, and a soda in a little box!” Okay, this guy’s a idiot. “Ross, just so you know, that’s my lunch,”
I took a deep breath and started up the motorcycle and drove out of the alley, past the police cars now infesting the hotel. I heard the police the shouting over the sirens. “WHAT WAS THE CAUSLTIES? FIFTY?……. PEOPLE THOUGHT THEY HEARD A GUNSHOT!” My stomach did flips when heard the number of casualties. I didn’t mean to hurt that many people. Yet I rode on.
“Computer, set coordinates for contact and MI6 agent Gustav Palko,” I ordered. “Processing information. Request granted. Gustav Palko located. Please turn right at next available turn.” I sighed. My colleague who invented this was quite a genius, and had issued me the only one she had at the time. Now I’m beginning wonder if she was just trying to annoy me…. More noticeably with the horrible accent the computer was giving. “Computer: please give me the exact coordinates of Gustav Palko, or I will personally disable and take you apart piece by piece, and put those pieces in envelopes and send them to different countries so you can never be put back together. Now, if you will, coordinates,” I said. Something must have clicked in the motherboard, because whada ya know? A map appeared on my visor with a red dot where was I was supposed to go and another that was the motorcycle moving along tower street.
Then I realized that something. I. Could. Not. See. Through. The. Visor. “Computer: lighten projection on visor,” Nothing happened. “Ross,” I said to the helmet. “We will pull over in a few mintues. I think I have a toolbox in the storage under you. This might set us back a couple minutes, but it will be totally worth it,”
And what do you think happened? It seems as though the computer actually has feelings. Now I could actually see through the visor. Not a big surprise really.
I checked the map. Palko was at a McDonalds, sitting in a booth. I turned to the right and parked a block away. You could never be too safe. “Okay Ross, do you have any money?” he shook his head. “Fine, here’s ten pounds, go buy your self something or whatever. Give me a half a hour and meet me back here. Stay within sight of the window, and you know what window I’m talking about. If you step into a shop with anyone, call anyone, go out of my sight, you’ll be dead before you can even see me. Got it? Now be a good boy and don’t get killed,” I patted the top of his hair. “Ow! I think a bee stung me on my head!” I smiled to my intelligence and walked away, tossing my backpack over my shoulder. Ross followed me behind and separated just as I entered.
I saw Palko in the corner. I assumed that he was carrying a hand gun most likely in his left pocket, under M16 regulation. I sat down in front of him. He was wearing a plaid dress shirt with black dress pants and a blue and red polka dot tie. So much for staying invisible.
“Don’t worry, you can talk freely. Everyone within listening range is a agent,” he said, reaching for the Big Mac in front of him. “You know Palko, that’s a just a bit unnerving,” I said taking a quick glance outside. Ross had just ran into a stop sign. No worries there.
“Before I say a word I need to tell you of my cousins death,” I said shortly looking around. “I am terribly sorry about Robert,” Palko replied. If even the slightest word changed a bit, I might as well go ahead and turn around and leave.
“Er, Palko, what type of agents are these? Please be anything but technicians, because they can’t even hit a barn door with a banana if you catch my drift,” I said looking around quickly. Palko gave me a dirty look. “In case you haven’t realized, Ms Bracken, I’m also a technician. And your thought on us is going to be ignored,” he said. I rolled my eyes, “That explains a few things,” I muttered.
“Please, we are not here for socialization, we must speak about your training. What have you learned so far,” he said with a hint concern. I leaned forward, taking a brief glance out the window. Ross was sitting on a bench directly outside. “I learned that you have a hint of German in you accent, I’m guessing north of Berlin. And I cared to bring up your file on the way to England, your grandfather was quite a Hitler supporter, wasn’t he? I’m guessing that’s a family trait, considering what happened on the way here. You are not my contact Gustav Palko, and if you are, you’re a mole working in MI6,”
Palko smiled. “You’ve pulled my bluff,” he said. “Erschiessen,” he said swiftly. My mind translated it quickly from German. Shoot her. Everyone in the restaurant pulled out a gun of some type.
Crap. First day on the job and someone has a bone to pick with. Twice. MI6 is not going to be at all happy with this profermance.
The Nazis inched closer, sending me stumbling into the window ledge. I grabbed for the window latch for support. I couldn’t believe that some idiot Nazi had set the bait and I had been stupid enough to go for it.
I racked my brain for ideas, finding only one.
“Well, I really hate to say this. But, Auf Wiedersehen und hoffe, daß sie Menschen sind schlechte schüsse!"
I opened the window with a swift movement, jumped out, grabbed Ross' collar, and ran. A shower of bullets followed me down the street. "Er, what's going on?" asked Ross once he regained the ability to run. I said nothing. "This way!" I yelled, over the roar of traffic. Ross asked no more questions as we zigzagged through pedestrians and traffic.
Finally I found it. It was a small hardware store tucked into the buildings, almost invisible. Mathew Inden's 6 Store Hardware. MI6. Ignoring Ross', "A hardware store? What are we going to do? Fight them with hammers and nails?" we darted in. Mathew sat at the desk, a plate with a half eaten sandwich on his lap, snoring. Still dragging Ross, I took him to the back of the store. Tossing aside a curtain, I ran into the office. "Where is it? Where is it?!" I practically screamed, my eyes searching for the trashcan. I heard the bells in the front room ding. I went around to desk, finally spotting the trash can.
I flipped it up and a keypad appeared. Please type your access code. It read on the screen above it. 38674023A75. "Come on, come on," I muttered, hearing a heavy footsteps coming closer. Hopefully Mathew will hold them up. A retina scan popped up above the keypad.
"What do you want? Are you just going to nose around, or are you going to buy something?" Mathew asked grumpily, seemly waking up from his nap.
I forced my face into the retina scan, seeing the green light flash through the scanner like a printer. I blinked a couple of times. "Liz, the floor," Ross warned.
I pulled him closer as we fell into the darkness.

* * *

"Ug, I feel like something the cat dragged in," Liz muttered. Elizabeth lay to the right of me. She seemed to just be waking up. I knew exactly what happened, considering that I had gone throught that entrance numerous of times.
"Hey Liz, I hate to tell you, but we are at the headquarters, about to be debriefed by the Head of TSP," I said. She looked at me groggily, "Wha?"




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