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Prologue
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2024-10-29 19:42:56After a long tedious day of work, Gerard Ramirez slumped in his office chair and rubbed his eyes. He hated his job as the principal of Tranquillity Valley High School of New York City. This wasn’t an ordinary school where the core subjects would consist of maths, English and science. Under the Government’s latest ‘Talented Students’ scheme, the students of Tranquillity Valley High School were being trained in martial arts, archery, and sword fighting, along with other complex sports. The students here were not like the standard, regular teenagers loitering around street corners after school hours. Far from it. They were sharp, instinctive, highly skilled, and disciplined. With the constant need to monitor their performance in the gruelling training programs, and the endless signatures on irrelevant documents, the dreary meetings, along with the requirement to wear a suit every single day, Gerard Ramirez had had enough. He sighed in disappointment at what his life had come to. From the heights of being an Army soldier, to being trapped in the four bland walls of his office.
RING! RING! RING!
Gerard rolled his eyes. Another pointless phone call. About the school curriculum probably. Or about school health and safety regulations. He didn’t pick up, hoping the caller would hang up.
RING! RING! RING!
The shrill ringing of the phone continued. Gerard groaned. ‘What could be this urgent that I am being disturbed after work hours?’ he thought to himself. He wheeled his black leather chair over to the office telephone.
Private number. Strange.
‘Wrong number,’ he thought, as he unplugged the telephone cord and wheeled back to his polished oak desk. He just wanted to be alone. That’s all.
He untucked his shirt, loosened his tie and put his feet up on the desk, savouring the few moments of silence before heading back home in the hectic rush hour.
RING! RING! RING!
This time the exasperating ringtone was not coming from the office telephone. It was coming from his mobile phone. Gerard grunted. ‘Can I seriously not get one minute of peace around here?’
He dug into his pocket and pulled out his latest model of the iPhone.
Private number. Again.
RING! RING! RING!
Gerard frowned. Two phone calls back to back. Both private number.
RING! RING! RING!
The ringtone pierced Gerard’s ears and his thumb hovered over the decline button. But he hesitated. ‘Whoever it is clearly wants to speak to me,’ he thought. ‘I might as well answer so they can just leave me alone.’
He shook his head in frustration and took a deep breath.
And then he answered.
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“Come on!” Rachel screamed.I tried again, this time barging into it with my shoulder. The door remained shut.“Wait, I’m going to use my knife to open the lock. Face the guards,” Zak said hurriedly, as he inserted his blood-soaked knife into the keyhole.Rachel and I squared up to the guards, as they closed in on us.12 feet… 11 feet… 1
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“This is Sir Cornelius Slater. He is a wealthy English businessman. In fact, he is the richest man in the UK, with a net worth of £450 billion. He has now integrated himself in the world of English politics and is the leader of the new Action Party. He is running for Prime Minister of the UK in the upcoming elections,” Malcolm informed, pointing at the close-up photograph of a man in his early fifties, with a few strands of white in his otherwise dark brown hair. The CIA employees around me were typing rapidly on their laptops and scribbling notes on their notepads. I certainly felt out of place here, as I simply could do nothing but look ahead at the large screen ahead of me and wait for Malcolm to continue. Senor Ramirez, who was standing next to Malcolm, whispered something in his ear. Malcolm frowned and nodded.
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“Marco! We’ve arrived now,” I heard Senor Ramirez.I had drifted off to sleep, which was an inevitability in the scorching sunshine and the luxury of the Mercedes. I slowly opened my eyes, eager to see where we’d arrived. I looked through the tinted windows and was truly stunned at where the Covert Operations division of the CIA was located.“Thank you,” Senor Ramirez said to the driver. “Your car is a gem!”“Thanks mate! Indeed it is,” the driver replied, patting the steering wheel in admiration.
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“Well?” I demanded, as Senor Ramirez helped himself to another cup of tea and sat down on the sofa.“Relax. Everything I said was a lie. Malcolm Sanchez told me to make something up so that you could enrol in the CIA. I’m proud that you agreed to join the CIA, but as you know, we cannot tell your parents or anyone about this. So, your parents and everyone at school will think that you’re off to a school in Singapore when actually you will still be in the United States!” Senor Ramirez chuckled.“You think this is funny? Is this some sort of game?” I asked incredulously. Senor Ramirez’s expressi
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09:33.I had overslept once again. I groaned, as I uncurled myself and sat up on my bed. I winced in pain, as my ankle was still sore. My head felt heavy and a wave of thirst came over me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stood up. Limping off to the bathroom, I splashed three handfuls of ice cold water on my face, instantly waking me up. I looked myself in the mirror. Dark circles surrounded my eyes, as the events that had unfolded just a few days ago played itself out in my mind, like a ghost that remained persistent in its pursuit to haunt me. First, Zak and the tiger. The staircase that had appeared literally out of nowhere. Adrian’s betrayal. Obsidian’s headquarters. The dungeon. The warehouse. The laboratory. The bomb explosion. The helicopter chase.
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I frowned at Señor Ramirez. Señor Ramirez turned round and stood up. A well-dressed man, probably in his fifties, strolled in and shook Señor Ramirez’s hand.“Welcome, Mr Sanchez,” Señor Ramirez said.“Thank you, Gerard,” his voice was deep and possessed an air of power and authority. “Marco, I am stunned by your abilities.”I nodded in thanks and looked at Señor Ramirez. He read my confused look.“Marco, this is Malcolm Sanchez, the Head of Covert Operations in the CIA.
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Using his grip on my ankle as a pivot, I swivelled round and kicked him in the head with my left leg. I dropped on the warm sand, whilst Drago was sent flying back into the ocean with a loud crash. That bought me time. As he slowly recovered, I picked myself up and stumbled across the beach as far as I could. I fell to the floor, breathing heavily as another relentless wave of blackout dawned over me. I had to regain my composure. It wasn’t over. Yet.Drago slowly got to his feet, the blow to his head taking an evident toll on his body. He staggered through the shallow water and also dropped on the sand, panting desperately. The Golden Lea
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My fingers narrowly caught Drago’s helicopter skids, as just below me our helicopter exploded. A cloud of fire and smoke roared ferociously, as metal pieces were sent flying in random directions. The rotor blades dissembled and flailed about in mid-air, before crashing into the ocean. The metal body of the helicopter also plummeted into the ocean, creating an enormous splash that weakened my grip on the skid. My shoulders and arms struggled to keep hold of the skid, the sweat on the palm of my hands posing as a serious death threat. With all my remaining strength, I pulled myself up so that my armpits were resting on the skid. Perfect timing. I’d escaped from the clutches of death once again, and was now directly underneath Drago’s helicopter, flying away, with him completely immune to my presence.
