***
Ten minutes later, Noah tapped on the two-way mirror in Morse Code, saying, "I'm finished."
Instead of Goodrich, the man with the hoodie walked in. Noah hadn't gotten a good look at the joggers' faces or builds earlier that day. It turned out Mr. Hoodie Runner was shorter than Noah by a few inches, black, and had cropped hair. His eyes sparkled with either wit or humor, and he walked into the room with an athletic confidence.
"Damn. You really are smart,” he said to Noah, looking at the thick stack of papers in disbelief. “Emily is blaming you for her dog being spooked, and her training being called into question. I convinced her not to trash your guitar in response. She can be a bit protective of Bruiser, but she’s okay most of the time.”
Noah felt eased by the man’s relaxed demeanor. He’d thought it through, every angle that might be used to deceive him, but had decided that Goodrich and his people really were trying to recruit him for Interpol. Noah still wanted to be cautious just in case they decided he was more dangerous than useful.
He sighed appreciatively and tried to sound as casual as possible. "At least one of you seems normal around here. My name’s Noah."
The man looked the papers over quickly, then backed into the open door. Before closing it, he said, "I know. Sorry, brother. We aren't allowed to touch you. But from this test, it looks like I can tell you my name. I’m Kareem."
Something about the way Kareem had spoken led Noah to believe he was speaking the truth. The door closed and Noah sat back down, tilting the chair back with his legs kicked up on the desk. He closed his eyes to think and weigh his options. They obviously remember how I got away from the dog. If they’re smart, and it seems they are, they probably know I could have hurt M really bad. Holy cow. I’m glad it didn’t go down that way.
His thoughts drifted to the test he’d just taken. While filling out the forms, moving quickly but confidently through them, he had gained an even greater appreciation for how his mother had pushed him to do his best. Maybe that’s really what was wrong with my past life, perspective. I always saw the way my parents kept reminding me about my potential to say that I wasn’t good enough. But I guess they just wanted me to work hard and constantly grow. I guess it’s one thing to know this intellectually, but another to feel it in my heart.
Suddenly, Goodrich stepped back into the room. It could have been an act, but the man seemed even more relaxed, as if he’d received good news.
I must have passed with flying colors, Noah thought. The solid older man dropped another folder on to the table, five times thicker than the previous one. He said, "This is your final test. Sorry about the time. Depending on how you do, we can either have a more casual conversation, or a more pointed one."
What does “casual” mean? Noah wondered. He made a face, then without a word, opened the test and began reading.
***
Three hours later, a dejected and nervous-looking Noah tapped the chewed end of his pencil against the mirror. The woman in the hoodie walked in. Ms. Hoodie Runner was cute in a severe way, her hair buzzed completely off, moving with the bravado and grace of a fighter. Her light olive skin glowed with the health of someone seriously into fitness.
The woman snatched the test out of Noah's hand and shut the door behind her when she left–no conversation. Noah didn't even bother testing to see if the door was unlocked. He wasn’t trying to escape, and it if looked like he was, he’d be treated differently.
That test was targeted, Noah thought as he sat back down, exhausted. The first part was probably standard Interpol like Burgess said. The second part was to see if I had any military training. I did okay on that one but only did a bit better than a normal kid my age would who was into military television shows. Spending three hours looking nervous and distraught is harder than I thought it’d be. Gosh, I’m hungry.
Most of the questions on the second test had been about military tactics and geopolitical conflict. Luckily, Noah had had a little bit of fun crafting his answers to seem like someone making everything up, winging it, but doing a fairly good job.
Unfortunately, during the last three hours, Noah had come to realize how stupid he’d been for meekly coming with these people to this warehouse. It had all worked out, but what if they had been with the Aelves? I’d been pretending to be arrogant and narrowminded this whole time, but maybe that’s not too far from the truth. Either way, for good or ill, he’d chosen his path and would see it through to the bitter end.
He could have quit the test early, or asked for guidance, or any number of other things, but he’d continue to stay in character. Noah needed to come across as a bored genius who needed guidance, very loyal, and too stubborn to quit. If they were going to hire him, or keep him around to watch, he’d probably need to be someone who would not easily give up.
Fulfilling Noah’s expectations, Burgess walked back into the room only five minutes later, a sly grin on his face. He dropped the test back on the table, face down. Noah noticed the grey-haired man didn’t sit down and instead stood in the open doorway. The Interpol agent crossed his arms, as if weighing his options, but Noah knew the man had already made a decision. He said, "It's easier to collar a tiger than to cage it, you know. Maybe more dangerous, but easier."
Noah breathed a genuine sigh of relief, but Goodrich continued, pointing to the exam which Noah flipped over. The test was riddled with red marks. It was technically his first failed test in his new life, and he had to suppress a laugh.
Burgess cracked his thick neck. "Luckily, I’ve got quite the collar for you. No cage, no jail."
Noah’s eyebrows shot up. This is good. He’s pointing out my mistakes on the test like a teacher would.
The older man stood up and motioned for the cautious young man to follow him into the hallway of the abandoned office building. Silently, he led Noah to a set of stairs that led downward, where he was allowed into a nearby restroom for a much-needed break before continuing.
When the two of them reached the bottom of the stairs, two stories down, Burgess opened a door. A long hallway lit with bright, artificial light led forward, the walls scrubbed clean. When the gravity of the situation settled, excitement ran through Noah. He had already accomplished a great deal of his plan to prepare humanity for the Shift. He’d generated a great deal of money to spend acquiring information and stocking up on everything his community and network would need. He’d even pushed his body and mind beyond anything he had ever dreamed possible, but he had identified a gap in his plans.
It didn’t matter if he littered the entire world with stockpiles of resources if the right people didn’t find them. After all, most all of it had already existed in his first life and hadn’t significantly helped anyone. He had a folder on his cloud computer server with instructions, all ready to send to a distribution list via email, but while he’d identified powerful people to receive this information, powerful didn’t mean trustworthy. He needed people he could trust to follow his overall vision, not just forts that catered to greed and broke down over time. From experience, he knew that toxic communities didn’t protect anyone, they just eventually made everything worse.
These days, Noah lived under the daily, crushing pressure of responsibility. He sometimes had terrible nightmares of Redford finding all of the resources that had been prepared. The man might still be out there, Noah still couldn’t track him down. If the scarred-lipped sadist had found a supply warehouse in Noah’s past like the young man was building in the present, the Red Chain would have evolved from a wandering raider group to a small, terrifying nation unto themselves. King Redford had a ring to it that made Noah break into a cold sweat even after all these years.
Noah needed the right people who would not only trust his words, but also trust in him. He realized that this would be a long shot while he was still fourteen years old. Even the smartest, most logical teens were usually ignored. Realistically, the best he could do would to lay a very strong, social foundation and keep networkin
g.
It was beginning to look like he’d played his cards right in the current situation. Dressrosa had always told him stories of hackers who were caught by the government and recruited to work for them. If I’m right, I can use this to establish more contacts across the world, people I can trust to carry out my plans after the Shift occurs. There are still people I need to find who have specialized skills.
Noah’s concentration sharpened, noticing interesting security measures and metal doors with sturdy locks. Noah could only imagine that this office building was some sort of Interpol safehouse or cache. After he followed Burgess to the end of the hallway, the older man led him inside. Noah sat in a chair facing a metallic table, and the man in the black suit sat opposite. Burgess steepled his fingers and leaned his elbows on the metal table. Noah decided to start the conversation on a friendly note. “Your second test can eat it.”
Burgess smiled appreciatively. "Not used to not getting things your way?"
"What was the point of those questions?" Noah replied. He knew the answer but had to act as if he found the test pointless, adding an offended tone.
Burgess leaned back comfortably in his chair. "The first measured quick thinking and adaptability with a tactical mindset. You passed.”
“Cool.” Noah smirked. He didn’t have to pretend here; it actually felt nice to show off his prowess and get complimented on it for once. His mom was supportive, but she never praised him all that much, probably because she was afraid of feeding his ego. He had to admit, sometimes it just felt good to impress people.
Before he could say anything else, Burgess said, "The second test I gave you was to see if you had any military training. It's clear that you don't. Even if you tried to flunk it on purpose, I would have known. You really are doing everything on your own, aren’t you?"
Burgess’ large frame leaning back in the chair reminded Noah of scenes in movies where a rebellious kid is given a chance to tell the truth. Noah found himself liking the man. He replied, "I just got a head start on everybody. The stuff I’ve been doing seemed fun and I learn fast. What about Anonymoose?"
Burgess frowned. "Like I implied earlier, it was easy to lay a trap for your friends when we knew what specific phrases they were cracking databases to search for. Unfortunately, we were only able to apprehend some of their machines, some of which had data, but it still led us to you."
Good. That means none of Anonymoose was a rat. I’m glad they got away. Noah considered the angles. It looks like the offer is about to come. Time to push a little in that direction. “What do you guys want? You think I’ll rat on my friends?”
Goodrich let out a tired sigh. The man said, "Noah, you’re smart. I bet everyone says that. But like I said before, you’re bored, aren’t you? I’m a man of my word. You passed both tests, so no jail. You can walk out of here right now. Of course, we’re still going to monitor what you do within our jurisdiction. If you pursue any more criminal activity, I might not be there to save you again.”
“I can just walk out of here?”
“Yes. But…”
“But what? Why did you bring me all the way down here? We just traded one uncomfortable little room for another.”
The older man belly laughed and took a second to get his mirth under control. He pointed at the filing cabinets, scanner, and copy machine in the corner. “This room is set up to handle paperwork,” he said. “I have a proposal.” Burgess paused for a moment then said evenly, “Why don’t you come work for us? You’ve proven you have the skills. We can give you training. Working for us will help your legitimacy if your character is ever called into question again, and more importantly, it will give you purpose.”
This is it, Noah realized. Charisma tingled at the back of Noah’s mind, telling him to resist Goodrich a little. He said, “I’m fourteen.”
Burgess shrugged. “A minor detail. Emily has already met with your parents to explain you had a misunderstanding with the law. She’d gotten their consent for you to work. Of course, if you decide not to work with us, we will be forced to tell your parents the true nature of your crimes and activities instead of merely securing their consent for you to work. Based on our research, they don’t seem to know you own multiple homes.”
Noah squinted his eyes at him. “Is that a threat?”
He nodded. “Yes, it is, and I don’t enjoy it–that’s why I have Emily do it for me. But if I didn’t take serious situations seriously, I wouldn’t be sitting where I am.”
“I do fine on my own,” Noah said without looking the man in the eye. “Why would I work for you guys? What would I even do?”
Burgess chuckled. "I’ll lay it out for you plainly. Like I said, you’re smart. We won’t ask anything about Anonymoose that you won’t provide voluntarily. If you work with us, you won’t go to jail, and that should be incentive enough. Anything you do under us will be considered legal. Other than that, you can think of us like the international law enforcement version of ROTC. You will be required to take a few more tests in the future. To be frank, this is an unpaid position for someone like you, but you should agree.”
“Why?”
“Because you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
“I thought I could walk away free?”
Burgess smiled. “There are different levels of freedom after you’ve been identified as a cyber-criminal.”
Perfect, Noah thought. He needs to believe that he is gradually winning me over.
The smartly dressed man glanced behind Noah, nodding at a camera on the ceiling. He said, “You aren't the first problem-teen we've hired and turned into a career analyst, you're just the oddest. It’s not like you need money, but we still don’t understand why you do what you do. At this point, I’m not sure you do either.”
Noah squinted his eyes and said, “It’s my money.”
Burgess nodded. “Besides the fake Caleb identity, you earned it fair and square, unlike most of the stock traders I’ve met. I doubt your parents know you’re worth more than they are, though."
Noah paused before replying. “So, you’re basically saying I gotta work for you guys or you lock me in the slammer, and pass manila files to my family. How long is this gig for, anyway?”
“Four years minimum. Once you graduate high school, we can send you to London to train as a full agent. But keep in mind we will be keeping an eye on you the entire time. Trust will have to be built. You think you’re up for it?” Burgess phrased the words as a challenge, like he had given this pitch before.
Noah wondered if Kareem and Emily had been in similar situations before. Now he knew they were Interpol, but that was about the extent of it. He asked, “What do you guys really do anyway? Why are you in town here?"
Burgess adjusted his tie and said seriously, "We are in town because of you. As for what we do, we prevent problems, Noah. I’d rather deal with a fire when it’s still just a spark than after it’s turned into a disaster."
Noah’s feeling of being in control wavered a little bit, but he settled himself. One way or another, he’d made his choice.
Chapter 17
Noah tried to appear nonchalant as the bus rumbled forward. Other than a couple goons in suits and M, he was the only person on the bus. The effect was eerie, and while the gifted young man had pretended to be in over his head before, this time he really was not in control.
M, or Emily, still definitely did not like him, and pointedly kept to herself during the ride. The Interpol-Merriweather agent might never warm to him, and that was fine. Then again, it could be she was grouchy because she didn’t have her dog. Weren’t law enforcement animal trainers really tightly bonded with their animals? Noah made a note to look it up when he got a chance.
The Merriweather division was still a bit of a mystery to him, but Burgess had said that their group’s name was a somewhat common word for a reason. As to why they seemed to be operating with impunity on US soil, it had something to do with American budget cuts and international law
enforcement agreements.
Noah’s thoughts were drifted, trying to distract himself from the enormous pain he’d somehow landed himself in.
A summer camp for at-risk geniuses, really? he thought. Of course, the camp had been pitched to his parents as a special learning environment, but Noah knew better, not least because Burgess had told him to keep his mouth shut.
Ultimately, playing along was a price Noah was willing to pay to avoid getting harassed anymore by the government, any government, and ten days out in the mountains wouldn’t tank everything he’d been working on—but was still a little frustrating. His only choice was to try getting some benefit out of the situation, since he couldn’t change it.
He frowned at the bags at his feet before staring glumly out the windows of the bus. Rolling hills full of trees, lots of trees, blurred by.
From a practical standpoint, maybe being out in the wilderness at a summer camp would give Noah the opportunity to brush up on some wilderness skills. He focused on that thought, another glimmer of light in the situation. One of his greatest enemies was wasted time. Still, as long as he could improve himself or otherwise prepare for the Shift, a week of bad food and forced singing shouldn’t be too hard to handle.
Noah felt his glum expression lighten a bit and he forced a smile at one of the agents in suits, a big, pale-skinned man with a crew cut. The big man looked away. Friendly, huh? Noah thought.
It felt like he’d been traveling forever before the bus turned off the main highway onto a dirt road, and crept forward for what felt like another hour. Even though he’d been traveling for hours, Noah felt a little lucky. Burgess had said that some of the other campers he’d meet had been flown in from other countries.
Lucky! Hah. His sour mood tried to return, and Noah vowed to find a bow the first chance he got to make sure the next week and a half wouldn’t be a complete waste of time. Right now, it was hard not to think about desirable real estate that might come up for sale while he was stuck out in the boonies. Roasting marshmallows was not going to save anyone from the Aelves.
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