Operation Child Soldier (The Academy Book 1)

by Jaci Wheeler

  Operation Child Soldier

  The Academy: Book 1

  Jaci Wheeler

  Operation Child Soldier

  Copyright © 2017 Jaci Wheeler

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address Books & Bowties Publishing

  4844 E. Michigan St.

  Orlando, FL 32812

  www.jaciwheeler.com

  Operation Child Soldier/Jaci Wheeler—1st ed.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  May 2017

  Published by Books & Bowties Publishing

  Orlando, FL.

  ISBN-10: 978-1544960173

  ISBN-13: 1544960174

  Edited by Rebekah Turnbaugh

  Cover design by Taylor Sullivan

  Praise For

  Operation Child Soldier

  “Just when you think you can put this book down and take a break, it sucks you in!”

  —Tanyia Pfennighausen

  “Dangerously Addictive!”

  —Dawn Canfield

  “Be careful if you pick this book up though, you won't get anything done until you finish it!

  —Katie Clancy

  To every girl out there who’d rather be a power ranger than a Princess, this book is for you.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  EPILOGUE

  SNEAK PEEK- THE ACADEMY BOOK 2

  THE CURIOUS TALE OF GABRIELLE

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  Present, Denmark

  “Hej, det er Mette,” I answer in Danish.

  “Mette? This is Bastian’s pre-school. We thought he might be hiding but we have searched the entire school but cannot find him.”

  The mother in me wants to break into hysterics. They found us. How did they find us? I’ve been so careful. It’s been years, so how did they find us now? Calm yourself, Mette; you can break down later once you find Bastian. I immediately shove the hysterical woman aside and bring forth the cold, hard spy. She can handle this efficiently. Assess the situation and proceed. Taking a deep breath in, I exhale and ask the important questions.

  “How long was he gone before the teacher went to look for him?”

  “Fifteen minutes.”

  “How long did you search before you called me?” I can tell I am scaring her now, and that isn’t my intention, but the faster I can get these answers the faster I can get him back.

  “About twenty minutes.”

  We have been on the phone for about ten, so that means they have forty-five minutes to an hour head start. Crap! They could already be out of the country by now. It’s time to end this conversation now and get my child back.

  “Thank you for letting me know; I appreciate it. A relative probably picked him up, I will find out and let you know.” This is clearly not the reaction she is expecting and I can hear the panic in her voice.

  “Oh no, Miss; we would have known if someone picked him up early. He would have to be signed out and you have a very strict rule that you are to be the only one listed. This is very serious; we must call the police.”

  Time to break out the rusty acting skills, Mette; your son’s life depends on it. If the police are called, I will never get out of here in time so I force a laugh and add a tinge of airhead to my voice.

  “Oh silly me, I bet it was my father. He is in visiting from the States.” Truth.

  “He mentioned he might pick Bastian up and take him out for a treat. I assumed he knew what time school let out, but it is much earlier in the States so I bet he got confused.” Lie. I hold my breath and pray she buys it; I don’t have time for this. I quickly look at my watch and scan the area once again. Nothing.

  “The States? I thought you were Danish?” Good, focus on that. I switch from the Danish we were speaking to perfect English.

  “No, my mother is Danish, but my father is American. I was born here and he left several years later,” I say in perfect English that obviously shocks her from the intake of breath I hear. It doesn’t matter what she knows now because our cover is seriously blown anyway.

  “Hi, baby. Did you have fun with grandpa? I’m so glad you are home; you scared me to death. Bastian just walked in so I really must run and scold my father for scaring us. I am so sorry, and please apologize to the teacher for me, but I must get him in the bath and wash his sticky hands and face. Have a nice day.”

  Before she can protest, I hang up the phone. I have no other option without knowing who he sent or which direction they went. I have only one option: to call the monster himself. He doesn’t want Bastian; he wants me. My son just happens to be the pawn in his sick and twisted little game.

  Tears start to prick the back of my eyes and make my vision blurry. I force them away quickly and allow my anger to fuel my hatred for the man who robbed me of my youth. I hide Mette away and bring back Aria, the assassin with the cold heart. She will serve me well.

  Knowing exactly where he will be, I dial the number I swore I’d never use again. He picks up after only one ring. The snake was waiting for me.

  “Aria. Or should I say, Mette?” He has the gall to laugh. The smugness is flowing off his tongue and all I can think of is how I will cut it out. Later, after I get Bastian back. And I will get him back. And then Edward will pay, and anyone else who is stupid enough to stand in my way.

  “Edward,” I say my voice dripping with venom. “Name your price. It must be high for you to be so stupid.”

  “Oh, my dear sweet Aria. Always were the cocky one, weren’t you? But you are right to be so. The apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree does it, my dear?”

  “Edward, you are trying my patience so you have exactly five minutes to give me back my son or so help me I will serve your heart on a platter. This. Is. Not. An. Idle. Threat!” I say, enunciating each and every word so he knows just how serious I am. He knows not only that I would do it, but that I could do so very easily because he taught me how.

  “You will get him back once you do something for me. I have one last job that only you can do, Aria, and then you will get your precious son back.”

  “You self-serving, arrogant...”

  “Do you really want to waste time name-calling or do you want him back?” He asks, the smugness slipping back in his tone. I hate his tone almost as much as I hate him.

/>   “You have exactly one hour to grab the go bag I know you have stashed away somewhere and board a plane to the States. I will have someone meet you at the airport to go over your assignment.” He's so assured that I will comply. Little does he know I’m done blindly following his rules. If he thinks he can get me that easily, he has clearly underestimated me.

  “That is where you are wrong, Edward. I am not following your rules. You will play by my rules from now on, do you hear me? You think you can waltz back into my life, steal my son, and tell me what I’m going to do? Have you forgotten who you are messing with? Your biggest mistake is taking the only thing left I care about, because now I’m not only dangerous, but I have nothing left to lose. You have exactly ten minutes to bring my son back. And Edward, unlike you, I don’t make idle threats,” I say and hang up.

  Aria is back. And she’s going to love making them scream.

  CHAPTER TWO

  23 years earlier, Los Angeles

  Estevan, five years old

  I wake up shaking so bad I think my teeth might chip. I can’t figure out why I’m so cold until I realize I peed the bed. Oh no, Mom is going to get so mad and hit me again. She always hits me and calls me mean names when I’m a bad boy and wet the bed.

  I’m too scared to leave my room when she has the bad men over. I try to go to sleep so I can’t hear them, but then I usually pee in my bed. I don’t have anything to clean the bare mattress with, so I take off my dirty pajamas and try to soak it up. I rub my ribs where I know I’m going to get kicked in the morning when she sees the stain.

  I can’t worry about that now. What I need to worry about is getting some food. It’s been at least two days since I ate. Thank God I’m finally a big boy and can go to school now. They feed me every day at lunch and it’s the best time ever. The cafeteria lady likes me and will sneak me extras.

  Sometimes I stay longer and don’t go to play and will help her wash the tables and she sneaks me extras to go home with. I think she knows I don’t have food at home. My mom spends all our money on the bad medicine. She says she needs it, but when she takes it all she does is sleep. When she doesn’t have it, she feels really sick and is mean to me.

  I hate the weekends. Mom has the bad men over a lot on the weekends. Sometimes they ignore me; I like that the best. I don’t like it when they are mean to me. Mom sometimes tells them to leave me alone, but if she’s had her medicine she doesn’t seem to care. I will hide under my bed or in my closet so they don’t know I’m there and I sing songs in my head. Only in my head.

  My stomach growls loud, and I can hear the music turned up really loud in my mom’s room. She won’t come out for the rest of the night and I really need to eat something. I open my window as slow as I can so it doesn’t squeak.

  After it’s opened just big enough for me to slip through, I hurry to the fire escape and down the stairs. A few of my neighbors have cats. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, they will have some leftover food in their bowls. It tastes really bad, but it stops my tummy from making noises and keeps my head from feeling fuzzy. Tomorrow is school. I can’t wait for tomorrow.

  I sneak over to Mr. Huerta's balcony and see that his cat Fluffy ate all her food. What am I going to do now? I look over at the big dumpster. It’s too big for me to get inside, but I have to try something. Maybe someone has a bag next to it.

  Old Mrs. Contreras can’t lift her bag so sometimes she sits it next to the dumpster. She doesn’t usually have much food in her bag but once in a while I can find something in there to eat. I decide to take my chances and hit the jackpot with a half can of cold beans. I eat them as fast as I can swallow.

  “That doesn’t seem like a very good dinner,” a deep voice says, scaring me to death. I start to shake and look for where I can run.

  “It’s ok, little fella, I won’t hurt you. I was just going over to a buddy’s house and I got lost. I think he gave me the wrong address. I was going to bring him some food, so I have an extra hamburger and fries here. You wouldn’t happen to want it, would you?” he asks, holding out a bag.

  I can smell it from here. It smells like heaven. My stomach growls even louder and the man chuckles.

  “I’ll take that for a yes. Come sit down here and eat with me for a minute. You look cold. Here.” He takes off his jacket and holds it out to me. Something tells me I shouldn't stay here, that I should run away, but the promise of hot food and a few minutes of warmth is too much to pass up. I quickly put on the jacket that swallows me up in its warmth and take the bag of food. I eat it as fast as I can and it’s the best thing I’ve ever had.”

  The man laughs.

  “Slow down, buddy, you are going to get sick. Here, have a chocolate shake.”

  Chocolate shake? This must be a dream. If it is, I don’t want to wake up.

  “How old are you, buddy?”

  “Five, sir.”

  “You’ve got good manners. Your momma teach you that?”

  I shake my head.

  “No, sir. My friend who works in the cafeteria says if you call adults ‘sir’ and ‘ma'am,’ it’s a sign of respect. She says it’s important to treat older folks with respect.”

  He smiles down at me.

  “Your friend is very smart. Where is your momma?”

  “At home.”

  “I see,” the man says, frowning.

  “I’m Edward. What’s your name?”

  “Estevan.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Estevan. You see, I was just going over to talk to my friend about this new school I am starting. It’s for kids who are really smart and want to learn a lot. It’s very important and you have to focus really hard on your work. You see, because it's so much work, the kids live there. At the school. You wouldn’t be interested in that, would you?” he asks.

  My eyes get huge. Live at school? This is my dream come true! If I never have to leave school, that means I could eat every day!

  “You mean I can stay there? Like sleep there? And have food every single day?!” I yell.

  The man frowns but then nods and smiles at me.

  “Yes, Estevan, you would live there. You would have your own room, and you would get three meals every day, and snacks. It’s very hard work; we expect you to work hard and do as you are told, but nobody would hit you or hurt you there,” he says as he looks at my ribs. I pull the jacket closed and look down. Momma would be so mad if she knew someone saw my bruises.

  “What if Momma says ‘no?’ I don’t think she would want me to go to this school with you.”

  “Don’t you worry about your momma, son. You leave that to me. If you want to go, I’ll talk to her.”

  “You would do that?!”

  He smiles real warm like and pats my shoulder. I flinch, thinking he was going to hit me and the man frowns again.

  “Eat up, son. Then we will go talk to your momma.”

  “Tonight?” I ask, surprised.

  “I don’t think she is going to want to talk tonight. She has the bad ma- um, she has someone over,” I say, catching myself.

  “Don’t you worry about that. You just finish your food and leave your momma to me.”

  That was the last time I saw my momma. It was also the last time I went to bed hungry and cold.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Edward

  It’s been a long day. Long, but productive, and I can’t help but smile when I think about all the progress I’ve made this past year. They scoffed, laughed, called me a fool when I brought up the Academy, but who is laughing now? I make my way to my office and shut and lock my door behind me.

  All I need now is a Cuban and a brandy and then I can let the gloating commence. I pour the brandy, clip my cigar, and prop my feet up while I wait for the phone call.

  The phone rings right on time, as usual. I sit up straight and answer on the second ring. I can’t look too eager, but also wouldn’t want to piss him off by waiting.

  “Good evening, Senator.”

  “Edward, what do you h
ave for me?”

  Of course, I don’t warrant a greeting. He's much too pompous for that, but I’m in too good of a mood to let him ruin it.

  “Wonderful results, sir, just what I was expecting. OCS is bypassing my expectations daily. Did you get the encrypted files I sent over?”

  “Of course I got the files; that is why I’m calling you. Explain this psych report to me. How can you call this successful?” the man bellows.

  Out of all the successful data, pages and pages full, he would bypass all of that and skip right to the one weak area.

  “Listen, sir, there are bound to be a few issues in these kids. The fact that we have been so successful up until this point is great. They are doing very well in their studies, all receiving top marks. The training is exceeding our expectations. Because of some of the horrors these kids have lived through, they don’t blink twice at shooting a gun or welding power; they thrive on it. We are giving them back what was stolen from them. But of course, every upside will have a downside. There is going to be trauma from their pasts. Nothing we can’t control or handle, sir.”

  I can hear papers shuffling on his end of the line. I rub my aching head; why can’t anything be easy? Can’t he just congratulate me on a job well done and leave it at that?

  “So bedwetting, nightmares, insomnia, trust issues, fears…you are telling me this doesn’t bother you? It should, Edward, and that is concerning! We don’t have any room for mistakes!” he yells into the phone and continues on his rant without expecting a response.

  “All it takes is for one kid with mommy issues to go rouge or run his mouth and we are done, finished, and not just this school but everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve is over just like that!”

  I sigh, hating to agree with the senator on anything.

  “Are you suggesting we shut it down this close after inception? Have you seen Number Six? Look at his charts, the performances, dedication. He would do absolutely anything I asked of him.”