0062120085. (C) (11 page)

And it basically went on like that for twenty pages. I finished in two minutes and then looked up again at the two Jensens. When Short Jensen saw I was finished, he reached out, grabbed the folder, and then ran it through a paper shredder built into the middle of the desk.

“Seriously?” I said. “I didn’t learn anything from that.”

“That’s the ‘on the record’ version,” Short Jensen said. “Just so you get an idea of how covert our operations are. But we can certainly have some off-the-record
discussions. Just don’t ask the name of the Agency. That’s classified as high up as Director Isadoris.”

“You don’t even know the name of the Agency you work for?”

“No,” said Tall Jensen, as if it were absurd to think that he would.

“But . . . how do you even know you’re working for the good guys?” I asked.

“Let me ask you this,” said Short Jensen. “What even makes the good guys the good guys?”

I thought about it. “Because they help people.”

“It’s actually not that simple, Carson. The actions of historical figures like Genghis Khan were seen as helpful to certain groups of people, but of course when the majority of the people whose life he affected are taken into account, his actions can be classified as easily more harmful than good. But then it gets even more complicated when you start to consider how his actions affected the world’s development. What I’m getting at is that it’s a more complicated question than you think. So many of the choices we make don’t break down to ‘good’ and ‘bad.’ There are choices I’ve made as an agent that I know were right, but I still regret. You yourself chose to come help us today, but I bet you had at least some misgivings. Was your
choice ‘good’ or ‘bad’? Or is it rather hard to tell?”

I nodded. He made a good point, even if it did give me a headache to think about.

“Okay, let’s get down to business, guys, shall we?” Tall Jensen said.

“Yes, we do have a lot to cover,” Short Jensen said. “Here is what you need to know about the Agency, unofficially. The Agency was founded in the late 1950s, originally coinciding with the installment of the Air Defense Command Base north of town. Shortly after that base opened, they established a Semi-Autonomous Ground Environment sector, which was basically a giant blast-resistant concrete building housing three 250-ton computers. These SAGE computers processed air surveillance information and sent the data to the Air Defense Command units. With me so far?”

“Uh, sort of,” I said.

I’d lived my whole life just twenty miles south of the Air Force base he was referring to, but I never had learned its history or knew what any of this military technical jargon meant. He continued without clarifying anything.

“The SAGE unit was essentially a computerized watchdog, commissioned with keeping our country safe from aerial attacks from the north. The Agency was
established covertly in conjunction with that program. It started with just two operatives whose sole job was to detect espionage in and around the residential populace in the vicinity of the Air Defense Command Base and the SAGE unit, and the eventual nuclear missile silos that the Department of Defense planned to install in the area.”

I had known about the nuclear missile silos. Everyone who grew up around here had seen or at least heard about the missile silos before. There were supposedly close to two hundred nuclear missile silos built underneath farm fields all across the state of North Dakota. I’d driven by some of them on the way to the lake before. They weren’t much to look at, really. They were marked simply by a patch of concrete with a small building on it surrounded by a chain-link fence. Plus two guys in military fatigues holding M-16 machine guns stationed outside.

“So the Agency was originally just here to make sure no Russian spies found their way to North Dakota since there were going to be nuclear missiles and bases built here?”

“Yes,” Short Jensen said. “We were originally a counterespionage unit. However, in the years that followed, as the base and the Agency grew, the prime directives also
changed and expanded. It was around the early 1970s that the major focus began to include counterterrorism along with espionage prevention, as well as some more unusual functions. Our goals and directives now shift weekly. The threats to our country, foreign and domestic, are constantly evolving. An organization as large and public as the CIA cannot keep up with this. That’s where we come in.

“We now have several branches across the country with an ever-evolving roster of agents and support personnel, each with their own purpose and mission and hierarchy chain of command. But every action ultimately goes back to only a handful of individuals, most prominently Agency Director Isadoris. These days our duties include much more than simply counterterrorism and espionage prevention. Some of the folks here in the Dakota office like to call us the Chaos Breakers.”

“Chaos Breakers?” I said.

“People just want things to be normal, particularly where they live. Their desire for such is so strong that they sometimes overlook the presence of odd things, strange people, weird events, et cetera. You feed off this desire with your pranks, Carson. You like to see what happens to people when the abnormal happens, when chaos erupts.”

I nodded. He was right. I pulled my pranks as a way to break up the routine. To make things more exciting. To cause chaos. But it wasn’t quite the same. I didn’t want there to be fainting goats running around town permanently or anything. Even I understood that wouldn’t really work, as funny as it would be.

“But I’m just having fun,” I said.

“Right, but there are others who are not. There are certain groups of people looking to cause chaos for a variety of reasons. Sometimes for money, sometimes for political purposes, sometimes simply out of principle or ideology. That’s where the Agency comes in. We are the people here, behind the scenes, making sure that chaos doesn’t happen. That people in this country are able to go on leading their normal lives. We’re the ones who make the tough decisions so that the rest of the people out there don’t have to.”

I wondered just how many things Dillon had been right about all these years after all. I mean, Dillon was basically the opposite of the people Short Jensen was talking about. He saw the odd, the suspect, the dangerous everywhere, even in the most normal things. There were so many of his theories that could be tied to possible Agency activity. His claims that he’d found wiretapping
devices all over the school, stories of seeing strange men following him, even the cameras in the swallow nests he had seen yesterday. The list went on and on.

“So, what are you doing here?” I asked. “I mean, there can’t be
that
many threats to the country here in North Dakota. Shouldn’t you be off in some other country doing spy stuff?”

“Both Mr. Jensen and myself are officially considered Field Operative Operational Coordinators, meaning we generally oversee the planning and execution of a wide variety of missions taking place all around the country, and sometimes even off American soil. This is something technology allows us to do from here, without needing to travel as often as agents did in the past,” Short Jensen said. “Or as much as Active Field Operatives need to.”

“So you’re kind of like the bosses or supervisors to other agents?” I said.

“Yes,” Short Jensen said.

“And I’m never allowed to tell my parents and friends any of this stuff?”

“Well, a part of us asking you for help is trusting you with this information,” Short Jensen said. “We can’t stop you from telling them, of course. In the end, the decision is yours—you must weigh the benefits of telling them
against the risks, to them and to you.”

Would they even believe me anyway? Would I want them to? Who knows what kind of danger I could bring on them if I did tell them?

“All right,” I said. “So what’s next, Mr. Jensen? Or, Mr. Jensens, or, whatever, you know what I mean.”

“I think it’s time you started calling us by our agent names, Carson,” Short Jensen said with a smile. “I’m Agent Nineteen.”

I followed his look over to Tall Jensen.

“Blue,” Tall Jensen said. “Agent Blue.”

“Cool,” I said. “Do I get a codename, too?”

Agents Nineteen and Blue exchanged a quick look.

“Of course,” Agent Nineteen said. “You will be known by the codename Zero.”

“Agent Zero,” I said to myself.

Agents Nineteen and Blue nodded at me. It was a pretty cool codename. I mean, the fact that I had a codename at all was awesome; it didn’t even matter what it was.
I have a codename
, I thought to myself again. It barely even sounded real in my own head.

There was definitely no turning back now.

“N
OW, WITH YOUR AGENCY DEBRIEFING OVER, WE’RE GOING
to finally discuss your primary directive,” Agent Blue said.

“Remember how I said before that there are groups out there looking to cause chaos?” Agent Nineteen said.

I nodded.

“Well, right now we’re particularly concerned with a group referred to in Agency circles as the Pancake Haus.”

“The Pancake Haus?” I said, wondering if I was supposed to be laughing at this part.

“Yes, it’s a goofy codename, I know. It’s a long story.”

I nodded. “Pancake Haus, got it.”

“At this point, the Pancake Haus don’t appear to have any political affiliations or unified causes. The few things that have been attributed to them, either allegedly or confirmed, haven’t seemed to have had much of a purpose, unfortunately, other than to simply wreak havoc in some way.”

“Okay, so what does this have to do with Olek? Is this Pancake Haus you’re talking about after him? Why?”

“Well, as you may have guessed, Olek is not his real name,” Agent Nineteen said. “But that’s the name by which we’re referring to him and shall continue to do so. Olek’s parents are in witness protection. The Agency has been tasked with providing protective custody for his parents and, in turn, Olek as well. Olek’s family ran a small fabrication business in their home country, where his dad unwittingly helped to create housings for bombs that were used in recent terrorist attacks in several countries, including a recent failed attack in Great Britain. He did not know what he was creating. He thought he was fabricating a housing system for a pesticide trailer for a commercial farming operation. With me so far?”

I nodded and tried not to look as frightened as I was
getting. Bombs? Terrorists? This was definitely no game. I couldn’t believe they were actually telling me this much. But I supposed if I was going to help them, I had to know why.

“When Olek’s parents found out what his father had been doing, they contacted the US government immediately and were referred to us. With Olek’s parents’ help, we were able to track down and apprehend several prominent terrorists thought to be behind the attacks. They are now awaiting a trial hearing in front of the International Terrorist Defense Organization.”

“International Terrorist Defense Organization?” Olek had mentioned that the day before. “Why are the terrorists even getting a trial? Can’t you just lock them up forever?”

“That’s a great question,” Agent Blue said. “It’s not quite like you see in the movies where America just captures terrorists and locks them up without a proper trial. The ITDO was established to independently try those accused of international acts of terrorism. Olek’s parents’ testimony is critical to our case. If they’re not able to testify at the trial in five days, then these guys will likely walk free. Free to cause more harm to innocent people.”

“And so,” I said, starting to put the pieces together,
“terrorists are after Olek to use him as leverage? To keep his parents quiet?”

“Precisely,” Agent Nineteen said.

“Not just Olek, either,” Agent Blue added. “They’re also after his parents. There have already been two attempts on their lives. All three of them have been split up and are being kept in three different locations for extra security. It was difficult to convince Olek’s parents to let him go, but after the first attempt on their lives, they were convinced that Olek would be safer somewhere else.”

“Why is the Pancake Haus involved?” I asked. “Are the terrorists part of that group?”

“As far as we know, the Pancake Haus has no affiliation with these three terrorist leaders. They’ve most likely been employed by a third party to kidnap Olek and then auction him off to the terrorist groups who are affiliated with the accused individuals. Or maybe the Pancake Haus wants them set free simply to cause more chaos.”

“So why move Olek here, to North Dakota of all places?” I asked.

“Integrating him into a school’s population in a small town is the best way to hide him while also allowing us to watch over him. Also, North Dakota is the last place anyone would ever look for someone.”

“Except,” I said, “they
are
looking for him here.”

“It appears that way,” Agent Nineteen said.

“So if they already know he’s here, then what can I possibly do to help?” I asked.

“That’s what we wanted to show you,” Agent Nineteen said and then nodded at Blue.

Agent Blue walked over to a small locker in the corner of the office. He scanned his fingerprint on the door. The locker clicked open. Agent Blue took something out, closed the locker, and then set the object in the middle of the table.

“Betsy!” I said. I had kind of hoped to never have to see her again.

“Who?” Agent Nineteen said.

“Oh, uh, yeah, that’s what I started to call this thing,” I said.

“Did it remind you of Betsy Hummel or something?” Agent Blue asked as he opened the lid and exposed the screen.

“Actually, yeah,” I said, surprised that he would know how annoying Betsy Hummel was. But I guess maybe teachers noticed more than we all thought they did.

“Well, this thing is actually a PEDD,” Agent Blue said. “Agent Orange’s PEDD, to be precise.”

“Pet? Huh?” I said.

“No, his
PEDD
,” Agent Nineteen said. “It stands for Personal Encrypted Data Device. All field agents are issued a PEDD for transporting encrypted data too sensitive to be exchanged via wireless modes of communication.”

“Like I said, this was Agent Orange’s PEDD,” Agent Blue continued. “We’d lost all contact with him in recent weeks. He was supposed to be stationed in Omaha, Nebraska, running surveillance on a smuggling outfit. What can you tell us about how you acquired this?”

I told them all about what had happened. About the sweaty guy in the suit. What he told me. That I saw him get forced into a dark sedan by a few guys with pasty faces and guns. I even told them about seeing the black sedan driving in front of my house a bunch of times.

“Well, that all fits what we’ve found,” Agent Nineteen said to Blue.

“And our suspicions that Agent Orange has likely been compromised,” Agent Blue agreed with a slow nod.

He turned to face me again.

“Do you think you’d be able to recognize the guy who gave you the package if we showed you a photo lineup?”

“I don’t know, maybe,” I said.

Agent Blue then took a piece of paper from his
briefcase. He put it on the table in front of me. There were eight color headshots printed on the paper. I looked at each of the faces. They all looked so similar, it was hard to say. Plus, I had been so distracted that day I hadn’t really gotten all that great of a look at the guy.

I shook my head.

“I’m sorry, I can’t really say for sure. It might be this guy, but they all look so similar. . . .”

I pointed at one of the pictures.

They exchanged another look and then nodded at each other. “Agent Orange,” said Agent Blue, and he tilted Betsy’s screen so that all three of us could see it.

“Well, we’ve partially recovered the PEDD’s contents,” he said as he started pressing some buttons on Betsy’s monitor. “The data was secured using some older Agency encryptions, which is why it’s taking longer than usual to decode the entire hard drive. But here’s what we’ve found so far: Apparently Agent Orange had intercepted a coded message from Pancake Haus’ chiefs to their field agents. He must have immediately abandoned his station in Omaha and rushed here to deliver us the message. We’re guessing his interception wasn’t totally clean, which is why he left his post without following the proper channels, and also why he had enemy agents on
his tail. Here is the message he lifted from the Pancake Haus communiqué.”

I looked at the message now displayed on Betsy’s screen:

“Playground?” I said.

“We surmise that’s their codename for Olek,” Agent Blue said.

“So they know Olek is here, but just don’t know what he looks like?” I asked.

“Correct,” Agent Blue said.

“And as you read, they’re looking for someone who fits Olek’s description. New to town, mostly alone, doesn’t seem to quite fit in,” Agent Nineteen added. “We’ve been able to further validate this information via interrogation of the two individuals who pursued you and Olek Thursday after school.”

“That actually makes sense,” I said. “Those two guys were just asking me questions. And they didn’t actually chase after Olek until he started running away.”

Agent Nineteen nodded. “We believe Olek tipped them off. Only people who have a reason to run would run in that situation.”

“But how did they find out Olek is here?” I asked.

“We’re not sure,” Agent Nineteen said. “We’re hoping either the rest of the information encrypted in Agent Orange’s PEDD or further interrogations of our detainees will answer that for us. Although we have reason to suspect that they may have coerced the information from another field agent of ours who went missing several weeks ago.”

Coercion, interrogations, compromised agents. This
whole thing was suddenly starting to feel very, very real to me.

“So now that they know he’s here, why not just ship Olek off to some other town? Why not keep hiding him somewhere else?” I asked.

“At this time, it wouldn’t be wise to pull him from school enrollment,” Agent Blue said.

“Why not?”

“For one, we have a stronger presence here than anywhere else. This is our turf, he’s still safer here than anywhere else. And second, there are only five days left before Olek’s parents testify. Planning and initiating transport to a new location will take several days, and moving him will likely bring even more attention his way, especially if the Pancake Haus has agents on the ground here. We think it’s better to hide him in plain sight. Which is where you come in.”

I nodded. Then I paused.

“Wait, what?” I said.

“As you saw in that encrypted message,” Agent Nineteen explained, “Pancake Haus is looking for a kid on his own, a kid with no friends. A new kid. Someone who is alone when he arrives to school, when he goes home, when he eats lunch. That’s likely why they singled out
both you and Olek that day. You guys were alone when they attempted to question you. They won’t be looking for a kid with friends, a kid who looks comfortable at school, like he’s been here for a while. So that’s what we need you to do: make Olek
belong
.”

Nineteen was right. Helping Olek fit in with other kids at school was something no adult would be able to do. At that moment, the idea of a kid helping out real-life secret agents suddenly seemed less ridiculous than it ever had before.

“So that’s your primary directive. Befriend Olek. Get him in with your friends as well. Sit with him at lunch, bring him with you when you hang out with other friends outside of school. But also keep an eye on him, and watch out for enemy agents or suspicious activity.”

I nodded, thinking that this actually might not be too hard. I mean, I already liked Olek and apparently he liked and trusted me, too. That was a pretty good start as far as I was concerned.

“A few other details,” Agent Blue said. “Starting today, for any Agency matters, you will be known simply by your codename, Zero. This codename is not to be spoken or even thought about in the presence of non-Agency personnel. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” I said, nodding.

“Good. If we need to contact you further, we’ll send you messages via Agent Chum Bucket, who currently doubles as one of your school cafeteria food service providers. Messages will be delivered
only
in this format, or in person via Agent Nineteen or myself. Any other message you may receive via any other means shall be disregarded and reported to either myself or Agent Nineteen immediately.”

“What if I need to contact you guys after school hours?” I asked. “Like if Olek and I are in danger or something?”

“You will have this,” he reached into his briefcase and took out what looked like a very small keyless entry remote for a car.

It was about an inch wide, two inches long, and almost cardboard thin. It had only two buttons, a green one and a red one, and no other markings of any kind.

“What is that?” I asked.

“Should you ever find yourself in a situation where you need backup, press and hold down the red button for ten full seconds,” Agent Blue said. “If you have a message or need to communicate with the Agency in a non-emergency situation, press and hold the green
button for ten full seconds. In either scenario, someone from the Agency will contact you within the appropriate amount of time.”

“But how will they know where I am?” I asked, not understanding how pressing a red button on a tiny remote could possibly help me in an emergency situation.

“There is a GPS tracking device inside the remote,” Agent Blue said. “All of this said, we don’t anticipate you needing to use it. If you integrate Olek effectively, they’ll have no reason to suspect either of you. Besides, we’re going to have Agency eyes on you both at all times up until the trial. We’ll have your back if things go south.”

“There will be further instructions awaiting you when you get home,” Agent Nineteen added. “That covers everything for now. Any questions?”

Of course I had hundreds. But at that moment, I didn’t think I could handle any more information. I had my mission, and so I just swallowed and shook my head.