The Eagle (Spy Girl Book 2)

by Jillian Dodd

  And all of a sudden, I don’t feel alone, even though the place seems to be deserted.

  I move quickly and silently through the kitchen then to the front entry, past the Dean’s empty office, and up the grand staircase. I slide my sleeve down the thick, polished chair rail like I always used to and make my way to my dorm room.

  Everything is gone.

  I don’t understand how this is possible. Where did everyone go? Where is all my stuff?

  I stand in front of my window that looks out over the treed property feeling sad. It’s like going back home to find your parents moved out and left you.

  Most everything of importance I had was in the backpack I always carried with me. It was something my mom taught me—If you have to leave on a moment’s notice, always have a bag packed and ready to go.

  But I kept a journal under my mattress. I had some books and a few trinkets. What I don’t have is the key to my parents’ safety deposit box.

  I guess it’s time to find out just how thorough they were.

  I step into my closet, stretch up high, and run my fingers across the top of the door jamb until they connect with a metal object—my key.

  Feeling relieved, I slip the key into my pocket and decide there’s really no reason for me to stay here any longer. I take one last look out the window and am turning around when I hear a creak from the hallway.

  I quickly assess my options. I’m on the second story with a bank of three windows offering an exit onto the porch roof. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d gone out that way. I could risk going into the hall, but that would be bad from a tactical standpoint. Anyone out there could pick me off the second I peeked through the door. The closet would offer cover, but I would be trapped—which is never good.

  I consider opening the window, but know that can’t be done quietly. When I hear another creak, this time closer, I move into the closet and flatten myself against the wall. At least if someone steps inside, I will have a brief moment of surprise. There’s a good chance whoever is out there doesn’t know which room I am in.

  A few more creaks tell me a person has entered the room. The shadow of a hooded figure carrying a gun moves across the wall.

  When the figure steps into the closet, I attack, grabbing their gun arm and rotating it in a circle, stopping just short of breaking it when the gun falls from their hand. I quickly follow that with a palm to the chin. The assailant lunges forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and pushing me into the closet wall with a thud.

  I head butt him, smashing into his nose. His hands react naturally, flying toward his face as I dive for the gun.

  I grab it then tuck and roll, spinning so that I’m in a shooting position in one fluid movement.

  Then I take aim.

  “Jeez, X, you about broke my nose,” the hooded man says in a voice I recognize.

  “Josh?! What are you doing? Why did you just attack me?”

  “Because I don’t know whose side you’re on.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He pulls his hoodie sleeve down and uses it to stop the bleeding.

  “Tell me why you left school when you did!”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “It does, okay?! Answer the freaking question!”

  “I was sent on a mission.”

  “Why are you here now?”

  “Because today is graduation day. Where is everyone?”

  “They changed graduation to yesterday,” he says, looking visibly shaken.

  “Josh, what’s wrong?”

  He takes a deep breath and lowers his hands away from his face. “This year’s graduation included a reunion of all former students and faculty.”

  “I bet that was fun, seeing everyone.”

  “It wasn’t fun, X. They’re all dead. Everyone. Gunmen came in. They had assault rifles.”

  “What about M?”

  “She was giving a speech and was one of the first killed.”

  “Oh my god. And the Dean?”

  “He wasn’t in attendance. Professor Gunner was doing the ceremony. What you aren’t understanding is that I got away. I’m the only one who got away. Thirty-three dead and there’s nothing about it on the news. Don’t you find that a bit odd? Where are their families?”

  “Where is your family?”

  “Dead,” he says. “Probably true of all the students, now that I think about it. It’s obvious that we were all disposable, but why would someone take the time and effort to train us, only to kill everyone?”

  “They wouldn’t do that, Josh. It doesn’t make sense. You’re not making sense.”

  “That’s why I fell for you. Even though you are serious, smart, and have a tough veneer, there’s an underlying vulnerability to you.”

  “No, there’s not.”

  He reaches his hand out to help me up. I accept his hand but still keep my revolver trained on him.

  “Yeah, there is,” he says. “When you get tired, it shows in your eyes. And when you sleep, you have bad dreams. X, I need to know. Was what we had real, or did you sleep with me because you thought I was your best shot of getting the flag?”

  “We didn’t even know there was going to be a mission enactment.”

  “We knew one was coming.”

  “What does any of that have to do with what happened?”

  “I hid in the woods until nightfall hoping the authorities would come. But then I was afraid if they did and found me, they might think I did it. So I left and spent most of the night in a truck stop. It was there that I saw a photo of you on the cover of a tabloid. I was shocked. All your covert training and you’re on the cover of a magazine? It didn’t make sense, so I did a little more digging. I learned that apparently you’re the long lost daughter of a reclusive billionaire. That you were recently in Montrovia and caught the attention of their Prince. Then I read about your kidnapping and how you were saved by a British Intelligence agent. I suspect that’s all propaganda. You left school and were sent on a mission to protect the Prince, right?” He doesn’t give me a chance to reply; he keeps speaking. “We were all trained to move in the circles of the rich and powerful, but not out in the open. Not like you are. Why train you to be covert only to blow your cover immediately? But then I saw that you were in Washington for the State Funeral, and that’s when it clicked.”

  “What clicked?”

  “Were you sent to Montrovia to protect the Prince?”

  “You know we’re not supposed to talk about our missions.”

  “Are you still on a mission?”

  “Yes, kind of.”

  “And you will continue to pretend to be this Huntley Von whatever?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s why everyone is dead.”

  “How could that have anything to do with it?”

  “Do you remember E? He was a former graduate who came back to train us on team tactics.”

  “Of course, I remember him. He was my—first.”

  “Like sexually?”

  “Even though you and I were in the same class, I’d been at Blackwood since I was twelve.”

  “How could that be? The minimum age is eighteen.”

  “Josh, how did you end up at Blackwood?” I think about what Terrance suggested. That the school had been created for me. I thought it ludicrous at the time, but now I’m starting to wonder.

  “I got in trouble.”

  “Doing what?”

  “What didn’t I do would be the better question, but mostly I did extreme stunts that weren’t always exactly legal. Did you not research me when I told you my real name? That’s the reason I told you. I thought my stunt videos would impress you. Anyway, I was doing all these videos, and the response was overwhelming, so I started doing bigger and crazier stunts. What started out as skateboarding jumps off roofs turned into base-jumping off a skyscraper. The last one, I free climbed a construction crane that was forty-four stories tall and hung off of it.”

  “T
hat sounds equally amazing and stupid.”

  “I’m doing all this stuff without getting caught, loving the thrill and adrenaline rush. So, of course, I suggested that our senior class do an epic prank.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Honestly, it was stupid, but it was funny. We broke into the school and stole the principal’s desk, which we then managed to hoist on top of school’s roof. Then we put mannequins dressed like the school principal and secretary doing it over the desk. It was hilarious. Unfortunately, not everyone thought so. I got kicked out of school right before graduation. The school pressed charges, and I was found guilty—not too tough when the video of it had gone viral. A guy came to our house before I was supposed to go to prison. He offered to have my record erased if I’d go to Blackwood. I said no. He left his card. A few days later, my family—Mom, Dad, and my little sister—were killed in an auto accident. It’s said my father was driving while drunk and drove straight off a cliff. Which was odd considering my father never drank. But maybe when your only son is going to prison, you make an exception.”

  “You told me you were recruited because of your test scores—that they were nearly perfect.”

  “They were. I just omitted the other part.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a crush on you since we first met, but you weren’t interested in me until this year.”

  “I thought you were immature.”

  “I probably was. Tell me about E.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. It was my fifteenth birthday. I was in the school’s kitchen, a cupcake in hand, ready to make my wish, when he walked in looking for a snack. What happened next was sort of a blur. I blew out the candle. Then we kissed.”

  “And he took your virginity? That night?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How old was he?”

  “Nineteen.”

  “Jeeze. That’s illegal.”

  “It didn’t feel illegal, Josh.”

  “He took advantage of you.”

  I shake my head. “No, he didn’t. If anything, I took advantage of him. I had a crush on him. I knew his habits. When I blew out the candle, he was my wish.”

  Josh wraps me in a hug like I need one. I pull away, still gripping the gun tightly. I’m not sure what the hell is going on here. No way everyone is dead. They can’t be.

  “Sex is just sex, Josh. The means to an end. Isn’t that what they taught us? That you can and should use sex to your advantage?”

  “Yeah, but you just never seemed that way. You impressed the hell out of me with your skill at—well, everything— but there’s a softness inside you that you don’t let many people see.”

  “So back to graduation.”

  “I believe they are cleaning house because of you. Just what kind of a mission are you on?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “How many people did you interact with at Blackwood during your time here?”

  “There were eight students when I arrived along with four instructors, the Dean and his secretary, two kitchen staff and two cleaning crew. Four came my second year, four more my third year, and then our class had ten, including me. Twenty-six students—all the letters of the alphabet.”

  “So with the staff, that means thirty-six people know the truth about you. Thirty-six people who know you’re not really Ares Von Allister’s long lost daughter,” Josh states. “Thirty-three of which are now dead. That leaves three. Me, you, the Dean.”

  “How do I know you didn’t kill them, Josh?” I ask, pointing the gun at him. “We were all well-trained. Why are you the only one who got away?”

  “The two assailants came in from the back and opened fire. I managed to dive behind the stage steps and hide while I tried to assess my options. From what I could see, everyone was down but me. The pair was now going row by row and finishing off anyone who wasn’t already dead. One of them came to check the bodies on the stage. I ambushed him, took possession of his gun, and shot the other assailant.”

  “And then what?”

  “I took off their masks. One was E. The other was A.”

  “Two former students were the shooters? That makes no sense.”

  “It does if they work the same place you do. Who do you work for?”

  “Have you ever heard of Black X?”

  “No, what is it?”

  “Are you sure you’ve never heard of it? Think. When they talked to you about what you would do after graduation, wasn’t it ever mentioned?”

  “No. It wasn’t. Not that it matters now. You have to help me, X. In the twelve hours I’ve been gone, someone came in and cleaned all this up. The bodies, the carnage, it’s all gone. All our possessions. Every single file. Every trace of any of us is gone. And as soon as they figure out I’m not dead, they’ll come after me.”

  “And you’ve never heard of a covert organization called Black X? I’m pretty sure it’s how Blackwood Academy got its name.”

  “Never have I ever,” he says, making a little joke.

  I make a quick decision and stuff the gun into my waistband. “Come with me, Josh. We need to get out of here and figure this all out.”

  “What did you do!?” the former Dean of Blackwood Academy yells, spittle flying out of his mouth, as he storms into the leader of Black X’s office.

  “What are you talking about, old man?”

  “Graduation was supposed to be today. I went. No one was there. Nothing was there.”

  “Due to a situation, graduation was held yesterday. You must not have gotten the memo.”

  “Where are my students? What did you do?”

  “I did what I had to.”

  “Tell me where they are!”

  “They are dead,” the leader says.

  The fear of this has been sitting in his stomach since he arrived at the school to find it not only empty, but completely cleansed. He knew the school would be closing, but the current students had still been living there.

  “Why? Why did you have me train them only to kill them? They could have helped us here like the other graduates have!”

  “I’m afraid the other graduates along with the staff are dead as well.”

  “You wiped out most of our organization?” Tears fill the old man’s eyes. Spies aren’t supposed to get emotionally attached, but he isn’t a spy anymore. He had become like a father to those young men and women. He had taken pride in their advancement.

  “We can only afford to have those who we explicitly trust.”

  “Who does that even leave us with? A concierge, an anthropologist who likes to shop, a decrepit spy, a couple hackers, and The Ghost? How are we supposed to run an operation with so few?”

  “You forgot to mention Aristotle and Huntley. The rest of them have served their purpose and had to be eliminated.”

  He touches a photo on the leader’s desk. “She would be ashamed of what you’ve become.”

  “They killed her because of me—because of the mission I sent her on—and I will do whatever it takes to destroy them.”

  “Wouldn’t it just be easier to let the Ghost kill them?”

  “Their plot runs deep. Cutting off the head of the snake will not cause it to die. It will simply rise again in another form.”

  “Does X know?” he asks. “Those were her friends.”

  “You trained those young men and women admirably. You taught them to survive on their own. She does not know the fate of her former classmates, and she must never find out.”

  “I quit,” the Dean says.

  “You owe me your life. I could have let you go to graduation and suffer the same fate.”

  “So it’s come to this? You don’t even trust me?”

  “I do trust you. That’s why you are still alive. And I need you to continue to monitor her. She trusts you.”

  “So you’re only keeping me alive because I’m useful?”

  “Yes, and you would be wise to remember that fact.”

  The old man flips him off as
he exits the room. He knows he deserves it but he can’t be swayed by the old man’s emotion. He slides his hand down the photo, remembering how she called him right before she died. How she told him she had figured it out. How they would meet the next morning.

  His thoughts are interrupted by a computer beep, indicating a secure email from one of his sources in the Middle East.

  He reads it, then picks up his phone, hits a button, and says, “We need to talk.”

  A few minutes later, the Ghost enters his office. “I was on my way in here when you called. We have a big problem. One of the graduates managed to escape.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “He was well-trained, I assume. But it gets worse. He took the men’s hoods off and knows two former graduates were sent to kill them. I’ve cleaned up the mess, disposed of the bodies, and the school has been cleansed. No one will ever know what happened, unless—”

  “He talks,” the man says. “Do you know where he is?”

  “No idea. I’d ask the old man for help, but he’s not going to be happy to learn that we disposed of his former students and staff.”

  “He already knows, but don’t worry, I’ll deal with him. We did what we had to do. I would have preferred to use them in our fight. They were well-trained. But with X’s high profile, it was inevitable that someone would make contact with her. We couldn’t risk blowing her cover.”

  The Ghost nods in agreement. He understands sometimes there is collateral damage on the path to justice. “If you would have let me take care of it as I requested, it would be done. Now we have dangerous threads blowing in the wind. One little pull could unravel what’s left of our organization.”

  “Something curious has happened in the world today,” the leader says, indicating their previous conversation is over. “We know part of their plan hinged on controlling the Strait of Montrovia. I just received a tip from a source that the Syrian government has seized control of the Russian port in Tartus.”

  “Are they crazy? Russia will destroy them.”

  “It’s my understanding that Russia is trying to work on a diplomatic solution, which will take too long. We have to do something.”

  “Why was this not on the news?” the Ghost wonders.