I pick up the sealed envelope. McAllister stands to leave. “When’s the assignment due?” I ask as he turns to leave.

Without turning back, he says, “I expect it’ll take you a few days to complete, no more.”

Once he’s gone, I slip my finger under the flap and tear into the envelope. Inside is a single sheet of paper, with a brief typed message. I can’t help but notice, it isn’t addressed to anyone, there’s no date and no name signed at the bottom. It strikes me as odd. The instructions are simple and as I read them, I hear McAllister’s voice in my head.

He wants me to uncover who Ivan Kazcyk is working for. He’s a former Russian mafia leader and known assassin trying to purchase twelve million dollars’ worth of explosives and rumored to be involved with some Middle Eastern business men. I’m supposed to find out who is involved and what they want with the explosives.

How am I supposed to solve this? I reread the note again. I have no idea where to start.

I glance around at the computer lab, wondering if I have this all to myself. It’s an awesome set up –three desktop computers, with large HD monitors, and a MacBook Pro that is a definite upgrade from the laptop in my bag. I select the MacBook and get started.

I spend the first thirty minutes exploring the network setup at the academy. I download a free open source network mapping system. It’ll tell me what hosts are available on the network, what operating systems they’re running and what types of firewalls are in place. I can already tell the network security here is much better than what I’m used to at my old school. This is going to be fun. I feel the familiar buzz of excitement as my fingers dance over the keys.

After I get the lay of the networks, I search for information about Ivan Kazcyk. I pick up his trail in a database used by the British military. I guess McAllister isn’t the only one interested in this guy. The site I’m on is an official military database, housing confidential records. I pull back, my fingers hesitating over the keys. This is bigger than any hack I’ve done before, probably against the law, and I’m torn about what to do. If I refuse the assignment, I’ll get sent home, like I’ve wanted all along. But something tugs inside me urging me on, to see if I can do this, to prove to myself that I do belong here. And if my assignments are going to be help capture dangerous criminals, really how could I say no?

And then there’s the whole avoiding going home to face my ex thing. Piper might hate me for it, but the idea of staying here a bit longer, avoiding seeing Wes and working on my hacking skills appeals to me.

I flip open the folder again, and glance down at his photo. I’m sure hacking into a British site wouldn’t be against US law. And besides, I’m just gathering information. My general rule of thumb is that if I’m capable of getting in, they practically deserve to be hacked.

I hear someone approach and look up to see Colt. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe and watching me with a crooked smile. 

Chapter 8

I lean against the doorframe and watch Taylor work on her laptop. She has a tiny crease in between her brows and chews on the end of a pen with enthusiasm. It’s more than a little distracting. She looks so absorbed that I don’t want to startle her. I clear my throat, signaling my presence. Her eyes dart up to mine, and the pen falls from her open mouth.

I step inside the room and she watches me with rapt attention. “I was going to come in here to work today, if you don’t mind.”

“Fine with me,” she chokes out.

“My office is next to McAllister’s and he’s been bugging the shit out of me lately.”

She coughs loudly, covering up a laugh. So she finds my reaction to McAllister funny? Everything about her so far has been unexpected. I smile at her, and when I do, she dives under the table top to retrieve the pen that has now clattered onto the floor.

When her head pops back up, I continue. “Plus I wanted to check on you. Bria can come off a bit…strong.”

Her cheeks flush slightly and she looks down.

I was right about her being shy.

She picks up her chin and meets my eyes again, more confident this time. “It’s fine. I’ve recovered. It’ll take a lot more than an over-sexed Zumba instructor to get to me.”

I chuckle at her honest assessment of Bria. “Good.” I shift in my seat so I’m fully facing her. “Plus, I wanted to talk to you.”

Her eyes are guarded as she searches mine for an explanation.

I slid into the chair next to her, leaning back casually. “As one of your instructors, it’s my job to make sure you’re settling in well.”

“How kind.” A mocking smile is planted on her lips and her voice is laced with sarcasm.

She turns back to her computer and begins tapping at the keys, though with not quite as much vigor as before. That crease on her forehead is back, like she’s deciding what to do.

“Let me guess…Russian assassin assignment?”

She hesitates, looking cautious.

“McAllister is nothing if not predictable. And I’m sure he told you this is an actual case?”

Her eyes widen and she nods again.

I scroll through my email, in an attempt to appear uninterested in how she’ll respond, but of course I’m curious as hell. Is she going to stick around despite McAllister’s shady assignments? “He wants to test your commitment. You have to break into something, don’t you?”

“Yeah…How’d you know?”

“It’s the same first assignment every time. No matter your specialty, you have to take down a Russian assassin and do something potentially illegal in the process. It’s McAllister’s way of testing your allegiance.”

She’s quiet for a few seconds, as if processing what I’m saying.

“Once he knows he can trust you to follow through, you’ll be given actual cases.” I pause, letting my words soak in. What I don’t tell her is that McAllister himself will be directly overseeing her assignments, something he never does with first years. “So, what are you going to do, Taylor?”

Her blue eyes sparkle and her mouth turns up in a grin.  She doesn’t answer, but instead, taps at the keys again as she sets off to work. 

Chapter 9

I following day I slip into my seat in Global Studies next to Logan. “You’re so lucky you started during Geek Week,” he says.

“Geek what?” I turn to him and await an explanation while he shares a knowing glance with MJ.

“When you take the date of Einstein’s birth and multiply it by the year of Socrates’ death…”

I tune out his long-winded explanation. Something involving the birthdays of genius’s throughout history being multiplied together and then divided by pi, which apparently gave you four twenty one, or April the twenty-first.

“The teachers incorporate these fun tests and on Friday night all the results are revealed and we have some competitions and a party to celebrate,” Logan finished.

To celebrate what? Their geekiness? “Sounds delightful.”

Tate gives us the access code for a website that promises to test our geekiness. I’ve never thought of myself as all that geeky, sure I liked to spend an unhealthy amount of time on my computer, but so do a lot of people.

I easily answer no to the first few questions: doing math problems for fun, in the marching band, played in role player games, I’m firmly in the no category on those. But my answers to the next set of questions start to concern me.

I click yes on all the following: in “smart” classes, have fixed someone’s computer, on speed dial as someone’s personal tech support, skipped parties to program or repair computers.

I might just have something in common with these gifted geeks after all.