Chapter Two- CIA

I stared silently at the paper I held in my hand. I had constantly been relaying the events of the past three days in my head, always ending with the number. My dad had said to call it. I still didn't have the nerve to call some stranger. I finally pulled my Motorola Razr from my pocket and dialed. 346-9822. I had looked up the number in the local phonebooks, but never found anything.

"Central Intelligence Agency. Sam? Is that you?" a gruff, businesslike voice asked. Holy crap! I thought. My dad was in with the CIA!

"No," I said, trying to sound as calm as possible, "this is his son, Lex Niquolai. Before my dad died, he told me to call this number."

There was a long silence on the other end. Finally, the man spoke, "I am sorry to hear that Sam has passed. He was an excellent covert operative. We will miss him."

"Why did my dad tell me to call you?" I asked, which was a question I'd wondered about from the moment he said "Central Intelligence Agency."

"I'm betting he wanted you to follow in his footsteps. We will send an unmarked car to pick you up. If anyone asks whom you are driving with, tell him or her you are going with one of your dad's business friends to see his office and keep want you want from it. Look for a red Mustang. See you soon, Lex."

He hung up. I set there for a moment, pondering what in the world was going on, and then I stood up and got dressed. If I'm going anywhere with anyone I don't know, I thought, remember my dad's death suddenly, then I'm not going without protection. I trudged into my dad's room, careful not to be caught by my aunt, Rosa, who was to be my "legal guardian" until my mom was found.

My dad had shown me his OA-93 Pistol about a year ago and told me that if anything happened to him, he wanted me to have it. He had a couple packs of a hundred rounds in the drawer too, along with three spare magazines and a holster. I slipped everything into my backpack and walked out the door, being sure to allow Rosa to see me this time.

"Oh, honey, where are you going?" she asked, her voice like Rose blossoms. I had been told that her parents named her Rosa because her cooing sounded like Rose petals in the wind.

"One of dad's business friends called me and asked me if I wanted to come and pick up the stuff I wanted from Dad's office. He said he would pick me up in a red Mustang. I'm gonna go and wait on the porch for him. Feed Scully for me, okay?" I answered, reciting the man's orders.

I sat down on the porch, waiting impatiently. When I closed the door, I hastily pulled the OA-93 Pistol from my backpack and slipped in a magazine I'd loaded fully into the submachine gun, cocking it. I slid the submachine gun into the pack. A few minutes later, a red Mustang swerved up in the driveway next to mine. I began to walk towards it. Suddenly, the man inside the car opened the door, saying, "Hello, Alexander."

Alexander? I told the man on the phone that my name was Lex. The man suddenly looked around nervously and, seeing no one in sight, pulled a .45 Caliber Sig-Sauer from inside his shirt, pointing it at my chest. "You Niquolai's never know when to quit, do you?" the man sneered.

Suddenly, another red Ford Mustang swerved into my driveway. The man distracted by the new arrival, I took advantage of the situation. I hastily drew the OA-93 Pistol from my backpack and aimed it at the man's chest, squeezing the trigger three times.

The man gasped in shock as the bullets buried themselves into his heart, collapsing to the ground with a look of shock on his face. I slipped the OA-93 Pistol back into my pack, disgusted by what I'd done. I'm the same as him and the dark-skinned man, I thought pathetically.