Chapter 4

Zach's POV

God, it felt so good to be able to play football competitively, and in a team with more than three a side for once. But I ache everywhere. A couple days ago, the doctor gave me the go ahead to be able to stretch and actually do things without aggravating my wound or actually making it worse. I know I probably overdid it today, but the euphoric feeling of running with the ball was too much. That's probably one of the things I would regret not doing in my teenage years. I spent my time shooting bullets into plastic mannequins, trying to kill directly into the heart, stomach and between the eyes from over 50 metres away, whilst normal kids would be playing football against other schools, chasing girls, worrying about keeping up their grades. I got the girls, never mind that, but I wouldn't have minded playing football and living a carefree life. I push open the door to home and unceremoniously dump my backpack on the pristine floor.

"Zachy? Is that you?" Mum's voice floats through the hallway, along with the delicious smell of chicken casserole.

"No!" I shout back, "It's an axe murderer, run for your life!" I grin at the irony. Mum could probably take any axe murderer with her super ninja skill moves that I have yet to learn. It's some Eastern Japanese martial art form that she learnt whilst on her honeymoon. Just another reason to prove how strange my family is. I stretch out my limbs, letting a long grunt rumble in my chest, my palm rubbing at my tired face. I wish I could spend the rest of the day sleeping: high school is mentally draining. Sure, I have to think when in action, but not about complex chemical equations that bond together to create chains of polymers that combine to make plastic bags.

"Z!" I spin around at the mention of my name, just in time to catch the sugar-fuelled boy that is Ace, my little doppelganger. "You home!"

I whirl him around in fast circles, his arms waving in the air madly as the rooms blurs. His giggles are infectious and I start laughing along with him as we continue spinning in circles. "Zachary Matthew Goode. Put your brother down this instant!" I dizzily lower myself down so that Ace can jump down.

"Come on mum, it's fine! It's not like I'm gonna drop him or anything."

"Mama, Z is fun!" Ace waves his little arms in the air in emphasis and puts on a grumpy face. Even at two years old, he's the grumpiest human alive, even beating Joe. But also the cutest, which makes him incredibly deadly and manipulative. Like I said, he's my little doppelganger. He's going to make a great agent some day; it's inevitable, he's got the genes that's for sure.

Mum sighs and drops the spatula she had been waving about to pick Ace up, "I know baby, maybe later ok? Do you want to help mama get dinner ready?" Ace claps his hands in response, his smile spreading across his face showing his teeth with one missing. We were all so proud of him for losing his first tooth. The 'tooth fairy' gave him five dollars for it as well. That kid is spoiled way too much, that's the good thing about being the baby in the family. I pick up my forgotten backpack and bound up the flights of stairs to my room. I basically own the whole attic. I won it off Jess when I was eleven years old. She challenged me to a sniper battle where we shot at dummies 1500 yards away for around three hours. If I had lost, I would have to do her chores for three years. If I won, then I we would swap rooms. I would get the attic; she would get the basement. It's fair to say I won. Jess didn't speak to me for nine weeks after that and the big bad sister act came out to play, leading to an all out sibling war. It eventually blew over, and now we are really close. She's coming home in two weeks, if her mission doesn't overrun or encounter any difficulties. She's been in Iraq, gathering intelligence on emerging criminal and terrorist organisations. It's been a pretty nerve wrecking six months, considering the danger. And I know I sound like a little boy, but I can't wait to have my sister home. I open the trapdoor to my room and climb out. I am met with the welcoming musty smell, the light from my skylight illuminating my bed as if it was beckoning to me. "Home sweet home," I mutter to myself as I launch myself unattractively onto my mattress, wrapping the duvet around me. It's been a long day.


I awaken as I hear the tell-tale creaking of wood that signals someone coming through the trap door. I don't bother opening my eyes, I was very comfortable sleeping earlier, whoever has just come can just piss off.

"Z?" My angry mood lightens as I hear Ace's voice. I hear his padded footsteps approach my bed and feel his gentle poke.

"Hey buddy," I mutter, my eyes still shut. Ace scrambles up onto the bed and wriggles his way under the duvet. I roll over slightly to make room for him, his little body fitting comfortably in the little space there is.

"Mama says come down. Dinner is ready." I groan slightly at the thought of leaving the warm bed.

"But it's too cold," I grumble, wrapping the duvet around me tighter. I hear Ace's angry huff as he sits up, the mattress dipping under his light weight. I open one eye and let out a small laugh at his grumpy face. His eyebrows have furrowed and his dimples are even more prominent now that his mouth in curved in a frown. "Z. Move." Ah. See here, Ace is a mix of mum and dad's good looks, but he definitely has mum's annoying nagging attitude. I choose to ignore him and close my eyes again. I feel Ace leave the bed, leaving me in peace and quiet at last. I'll just eat later.


Why did I ever think I could get some peace and quiet? I walk into the dining room my eyes squinting at the bright light. The rest of the family is seated, minus dad and Jess. Even Ali is here. I could feel everybody's eyes on me as I walk to my chair.

"Well, don't think that beauty sleep worked for you bro." I glare at Cal through narrowed eyes. I sit down in my place next to Ali who gives me a small smile, which I return.

"Did Ace wake you up?" says Mum, her eyes exaggeratedly innocent. I scoff.

"You would know mum, you were the one who unleashed the devil!"

"I got duvet!" Ace runs into the room dragging my duvet behind him, his proud smile beaming.

"Is that your duvet Zach?" asks Ali questioningly.

"The little devil decided the best way to wake me up was to snatch the duvet off," I mutter into my food scowling. I shove a large piece of scalding lasagne in my mouth to try and wake me up out of my stupor. Ali bursts in laughter, her blonde curls shaking opens her arms and Ace runs into her hug. "Aren't you a clever little guy?" she coos, rubbing his copper brown hair.

Callum looks wounded as he regards the situation, "I don't get that treatment from you!" he exclaims in mock offence. I see my opportunity to make things super awkward and call out, "you would if you asked her out you prick!" It was a touchy subject around Cal, but Ali is used to it and laughs it off with a wave of her hand. She knows that she is as good as a girlfriend to Cal, and thankfully she has stuck around. He would be a nightmare without her. I receive a kick on my shin for my comment though, and choke on my food from the surprise. I glare at Cal, his gaze matching mine.

"Jerk."

"Ass."

"Prick."

"Boys." Mum's warning tone cuts through our murmuring quibble."Zach how was school today?"

Ali turns to face me in surprise. "What? You went to school today?"

"Joe thought that Zach needed to be normal," Cal replies with a laugh, "little bugger got five months off missions to go high school."

"Oh, met any girls then?"

I groan. "Why are you so hell bent on me getting a girl Ali? Cal doesn't have one!"

"Yes, but Cal has Ali to keep him in line," Mum chips in.

"And also if you get a girlfriend you would stop screwing around with poor unsuspecting girls," Cal adds in. Jeez, he's on fire tonight.

"There's this one girl," I trail off.

Ali literally jumps on me. "Seriously? Tell us about her! I bet she's super pretty!"

"Hang on! Let me finish. There's this one girl, but she's a total pain in my ass."

Ali's face falls in disappointment and sits back down in her chair. "Well we can only hope."

I smirk at her, "hope breeds eternal misery." She sticks her tongue out at me in response. "Real mature Ali, real mature."

Mum doesn't back down so easily, "what's her name?" "She's got like a boy's name, but she's a Morgan."

"Oh is she related to Grant?" Ali asks; her interest piqued.

"Dunno, we didn't really talk about that," I reply shrugging my shoulders.

"What is she like? Tell me everything you know." Mum's eager tone catches my attention and I look at her strangely. "Why all this interest? She's just a girl." She shakes her head slightly but I am not fooled. Her pupils have dilated slightly, and her nervous signals are on display: her fingers running gently over her wrists, and the fact her lips are sealed in a tight line.

"Mum," I start quietly. "Are you ok?"

"Yes honey, just got a little bit nauseous for a second." She stands up and walks out of the dining room purposefully, without turning back.

My head snaps towards Cal. "What's wrong with mum?" I question.

"Good, it wasn't just me who realised," Cal replies, his eyes steeling into blue orbs of ice. He only gets that look when he's worried or threatened which only worries me more. "It wasn't news from dad was it?" I ask hesitantly. News from the Pentagon regarding dad usually puts mum in an unsettled mood rather than the comforted one, which is intended. "Nope, last communication was a week ago. News doesn't travel from Afghanistan to here that quickly." I nod in agreement.

"Shall I go check up on her?" asks Ali gently. "Maybe she needs someone who isn't family?" Cal wraps his arm around her petite shoulders and rests his face in her hair, "you are family Ali," he mumbles. She laughs quietly in return, and starts to stroke his hair with her hands. Well, this makes me feel like an awkward third wheel. Seriously, they should just declare whatever they have and get a bloody room. Ali has turned Cal into a blubbering mess of dependency with a heavy dose of affection; it's pretty perturbing for me. "Yeah, but I mean outside the family occupation," she counters.

"Go," I urge. She's right. Mum needs, uh, the 'feminine reassurance' thing. She peels herself away from Cal and rises to go find mum. I watch Cal's eyes follow her out of the room, and pretend to gag. "God, you are so whipped mate," I whisper theatrically. Cal turns to look at me, but it's not one of annoyance, but acceptance. I barely have time to respond to that before Ali rushes back into the room, "she's on the phone. Go, go!"

Cal jumps up and sprints out of the room down the hallway to the stairs leading down to the basement. I follow in anticipation. When I was around fifteen, Jess, Cal and I installed these wire taps that let us listen to every conversation being held on the house phone. We never got anything that interesting, mum and dad were clever enough to keep the secret stuff to their own personal means of communication, but every now and then, they would let loose a gem of information, which led to the hoarding of excellent blackmail material over the years. These wires always led back to Jess' room. She was always the technical genius out of us, our ringleader; I kinda worshipped her when we were younger. Cal punches in the 24-digit code into the secret back panel hidden behind the skirting board that grants us entry to her domain. I rush to the computer and fire it up, putting on the headphones, holding up my finger for silence.

"Rachael, calm down." Mum's voice filters through the ear buds and out into a small speaker that allows Cal and Ali to listen. I look at Cal as he mouths, 'Rachael Morgan? Grant?" It must be. "I know, but you have to calm down Rach. Don't let this scare you."

"Dammit!" I look at Cal and raise my eyebrows in question. "Damn wires must have been frayed from overuse, we can only hear mum's side of the conversation."

"Shite," I mutter as I listen to the silence. "No, Zach doesn't know. But if he finds out Rachael, hell if any of them find out, who knows what will happen? She's a threat to them." My ears prick up at this. "She's brilliant Rach, you know she is. That's why she's hidden. Don't worry, Edward and I will clean up. No one will find her out." Cal and Ali look at me both with questioning stares. Fuck.

"We have to go."


"God damn, who is it Joe? Who's the woman?" The past hour has resulted in us gaining no information. Nothing. I made a couple quick calls after I learned of the threat. Just as I expected, as soon as I told the boys of the news, they were more than eager to exterminate it.

"Look Joe," Preston leans forward, pressing his palms into the desk, "we know its high level security clearance. Jonas here had a crack at the system. Nothing. Absolutely nothing, and you know how bloody good he is. So, the real question here is, who the hell does the CIA have nothing on?" Preston's diplomatic tone achieves nothing. Bloody stubborn Joe still isn't talking.

"Why would mum and Rachael know something the CIA didn't huh?" I ask. His face remains impassive, Christ; it's the exact definition of poker face. He hasn't moved, talked, even acknowledged our words. The past sixty minutes have been spent here in his office, ranting on without getting any reply.

Grant's hands slam down on the desk. "Joe. I swear to God. I will tell everyone in this goddamn building that there's a threat in the school. I will scream to this whole bloody city that the CIA isn't invincible; that there is someone they are blank on. Jonas will post it on every fricking social network on this planet. So help me God, I swear I will do this if you don't tell me who my mum is so terrified of." Grant lets out a short humourless laugh. "Do you want me to threaten you? Please, give me a reason to, because I'd like nothing more than to introduce your nose to my fist if you don't tell us something." You could see Joe's thoughts whir into action the second Grant stopped talking. Glimpses of unreadable emotion flicker behind his steel eyes, his lips tighten together, his eyebrows scrunch together in either frustration or confusion, I can't decide. Minutes pass in silence. The tension in the room is palpable. Grant's eyes never leave Joe's.

"The Chameleon."

Hallelujah, the man talks! "What about them?" asks Jonas, his voice inquisitive and cautious.

"Tell me what you know on 'the Chameleon'." I sigh at this feeble question. If you have been with the CIA for a while, then certain rumours from the field reach your ears. 'The Chameleon' is the code name for a top-secret target of the CIA. It is unknown whether it belongs to a male or female, but all everyone and anyone knows is that 'The Chameleon' is the daughter or son of two CIA agents, and that they have been off the grid since the beginning. He, she, it, whatever, is also rumoured to be the best pavement artist ever.

"What does this have to do with 'the Chameleon' Joe?" Joe stands up so quickly his chair falls to the ground with a bang that reverberates through the room.

"Think boy. Think and use that brain of yours." I stand up to match Joe's powerful posture and ground my teeth in overbearing frustration, "I am not a boy." I spit out, emphasizing my words.

Joe's face morphs into a shark-eating grin, his eyes glinting in the light from the chandelier above us."Oh you aren't a boy? You are all boys: young, stupid boys who know nothing of the real world. You boys are stupid enough to even think you can get into this mess and come out on top. So think boys. Think". Joe's booming voice echoes through the room. "You want in? Fine. You're in. Don't come crying to me if this gets too much for you. This is personal." I'm determined to hold my face and not reveal my shock. Sure, Joe has shouted at us before, he's even waved a loaded gun in our face, but never have I ever seen him so riled up and exasperated. I grit my teeth so hard in an attempt to keep myself from lashing out; my jaw hurts. We all watch as he reaches into his trouser pocket and retrieves a small memory card. He gently places it on the desk, his careful actions so different from his aggressive behaviour moments earlier. We don't react, even though I can sense Jonas itching to grab his hands on it to reveal its many secrets. Joe slides it across the mahogany desk towards us. "You want in. This is you in."

"What is it?" Grant asks. Realisation hits me.

"It's everything the CIA has on 'The Chameleon'," I breathe out. Jonas snatches the card from the desk and instantly plugs it into his laptop.

"The Chameleon is at our school? The Chameleon is a woman?" asks Preston.

"Well done Preston, nice to see you using your redundant brain cells for once in a while," Joe drawls.

"What the hell? Is that why we were sent to school? To bring the Chameleon to the CIA?" I counter.

"No, my intention was always to send you boys to school so you could experience a normal life. You boys needed a break. You are all so young yet have experienced more than some of my adult agents have." Yay, here's the Joe we all know and love, not the previous angry Joe. That man's moods have more swings than a playground.

"Wait, so mum is scared about the Chameleon being at our school? asks Grant.

"Mate, she's probably worried that the Chameleon is gonna beat your ass into pulp, that's all," Preston quips in.

"Oh."

"Holy Einstein," Jonas breathes out in a tone that I can only assume as awe.

"What does Einstein have to do with this?" Preston exclaims.

"I'm sure it's Jonas' way of avoiding an expletive," I mumble, "right?" Jonas pays no attention, his fingers rapidly dancing over the keys accompanied by the furious tapping of the keys.

"The target is being attacked." My head snaps up at this.

Joe nods in confirmation, "someone is targeting the Chameleon, and they are trying to either take her out, or recruit her into their circle. An asset like her in a terrorist organisation could be deadly to America. Dr Steve has been hounding my ass to get FBI on this; apparently the CIA cannot handle it. You boys are my last chance to try and save her. I had thought against it, but since you are so eager, I'm giving this one to you." I watch Grant nod eagerly, and find myself reciprocating the action. God, it'll be good to get some action. Only three days out of the field and I'm itching to shoot something. "But boys, I want you to behave like normal teenagers. Find her by being normal; give her no indication that she is being hunted, or it'll make her run. We can't risk that. Abby and I will be on site to monitor you and to make sure you aren't taken out by this group."

"Hold up, who are they Joe?" He lets out a quick laugh and gestures in my direction. "Zach knows them. He got shot by them."

Christ, not again. I groan.

"Circle of Cavan."


A/N: Thanks for reading. Reviews appreciated!