After lunch, we split into our two assigned groups, and went to our respective classrooms. David had saved us two seats in the back, and Felipe sat one row ahead next to an olive skinned girl named Liza Hamin. She turned in her seat, blatantly ignoring David's poor attempts at flirtation as we spoke.
"I would have never imagined ACME taking in such young recruits. How old are you, sixteen?"
"Close." Paul and I were both fifteen, him being older by a few months. "But it's not unheard of. I've been told that some years Training and Talent will scout for younger applicants because they consider us a 'blank slate'."
"Blank slate?" she repeated, eyebrows wrinkling.
"Too young to have any previous employment history in law enforcement, where they might have picked up habits ACME doesn't approve of." David explained. "Matter of fact, too young to have any employment history in general except maybe a summer job at In and Out..."
I rolled my eyes, and the smattering of freckles across his nose danced mischievously.
"I've heard that all classes have something in common, verdad?" Felipe asked, now straddling the chair backwards to join our conversation.
I nodded in agreement. "That's what I'm told. All classes have a common denominator."
Liza tightened her ponytail. "Wonder what it is with us?"
We made small talk for a while, diverting our attention briefly as the rest of our classmates settled in. When it became clear that all twelve of us were present, a slight restlessness rippled through the room. David fidgeted with a leather cord bracelet around his tanned wrist, while Paul glanced at the time on his ACME issued Communicator.
"Do you think it's like college, where if the professor doesn't show up in twenty minutes, we're free to go?" a cheeky redhead by the door inquired aloud with a thick Bronx accent. His question was met with a few laughs, but as a few more minutes passed, the group became more antsy. Felipe began walking aimlessly around the room along with a few others, pausing to look through the small window at the training field below.
"What's up with Amiraj?" David asked, bouncing his leg absentmindedly.
Paul gave his communicator another glance. "It's been a half hour. What do you think, Red?"
I shrugged. I had known the
Instructor to be a no nonsense type of person and figured this to be out of character. Still, there was the off chance that she was pulled into field work, and the Agency could be looking for a temporary fill in, which would explain the delay.
The redhead had torn a leaf out of his notebook with an exaggerated flourish, passing it around for us to sign as attendance. Once he had collected all the signatures, he went towards the door, jiggling the handle a few times and pushing.
"Is it stuck?" Liza questioned, coming over to help him. Her round face wrinkled with effort as she too, wasn't able to open it.
Felipe joined their efforts, the well defined muscles in his shirt tightening as he too, wasn't able to make any headway.
"We're locked in." Liza announced.
"What should we do?" David asked.
"Maybe wait." Paul suggested, in his soft voice. "They know we're here, it's only a matter of time."
His idea was reasonable, but not for a group of investigative minds with a problem to solve. I went towards the front, giving the door a push of my own. It was indeed locked. The redhead joined me with an unfolded paper clip in his hand, but I stopped him.
"Don't bother. All the doors have Bowley locks, totally unpickable. You won't be able to hit all the pins in the tumbler with just that."
"Great." His cheeks were beginning to match his hair. "Now what?"
"Maybe this is our first test?" Paul suggested, flushing himself as all attention turned towards him. "Find the key?"
Everyone stood now, looking under chairs and tables, in and around the Instructor's desk, alongside and under the windowsill, and in any other crack and crevice of the room. When it seemed as if everyone had turned up empty, Paul decided that we split ourselves and the room into fours, and give the classroom second scrutiny.
Finding nothing again, I stood in front of the room thoughtfully, leaning against the desk.
"What do you think, Red?" Paul asked, scanning the area alongside me.
"I've heard of this exercise before. Lock and key." I quietly replied. "Someone from the Agency locks us in here from the inside...we have to figure out who's the odd one out and that person will have the key."
"How would we know someone wasn't lying to fit in?"
I winked. "I have a backup theory too. But let's play the game and give it a shot?"
I announced my idea to the others, and the redhead - Sean O'Malley - tore out a few more sheets, compiling a brief profile as we each took turns standing in front of the room, one by one, answering questions about ourselves from the others. Once done, he had spread them all out on the Instructor's desk for us to study. The group ranged from 15 - 25, an almost even mix of male and female. I reorganized the papers to reflect this, splitting them into two groups.
"It's a start." Liza nodded, piling her dark hair on top of her head into a bun. "What next? What would be important to the Agency for us to all have in common?"
"Law enforcement background?" another male, Nathan Gunnar offered in a deep baritone.
"No, that excludes too many." I said. "I know the Agency is always looking for a skill set..." I studied the papers again. "Paul Leung's a computer whiz, Liza Hamin is a martial arts expert, Gunnar, you speak six languages fluently..." I sighed. "Still too narrow."
"No, I like where that is going." David encouraged me. "Let's group by skill set next."
We did so, now ending up with roughly three groups - STEM specialities, law enforcement, and the outliers - Frances Miller, a law student, Robert Espinoza, a social worker and mediator, and myself.
"Where are you hiding it, Red?" David ribbed.
"Shut up." I snapped. While the others began to split hairs about those in the 'other' group, I looked at the larger group again, the law enforcement.
I knew it would do no good for our 'keyholder' to stand out in the outlier group, where his or her story would be further scrutinized. Instead it would be best for them to go the expected route, by picking a backstory that didn't lend to too many questions and that was similar to what they knew now. David and Felipe had military backgrounds, Liza was from one of the three letter agencies, Jasmine Denmark was with SWAT in LAPD, and O'Malley was in ESU with NYPD. I put my finger on his, following a hunch.
"O'Malley, how many ESU trucks are there?"
"Eleven." he answered, without missing a beat.
"And where was your command?"
"The X." He crossed both his arms to form the letter.
"What number truck were you on?"
"Seven. We nicknamed her Lucky." He leaned back in his seat, arms now behind his head.
"I know in New York, ACME Special Operations trains at Floyd Bennett, which is ESU headquarters. Truck 11 is there...but the Bronx has 3 and 4."
"Little Agency brat." Sean replied, but he grinned, displaying charmingly crooked teeth. "What gave it away?"
"I know my family." I smirked. Sean had also been the one to draw attention to the door being locked, and to the fact that we would not be able to make it out any other way except with the key. "ACME loves giving everything a nickname...and lying in half truths."
He slid me the key, laughing. "That's right. That's why it's important to be able to sell it, so no one feels the need to dig deeper." He stood now. "I am Special Operations Detective Sean O'Malley, born and raised in the Bronx, had a dad that was a cop, but was recruited straight out of school before I got the chance to do the same. I've been observing you all since you came here, seeing who you are when you think you're not being watched. This exercise is dual purpose - it not only allows you to get to know and work with each other, but I find it very useful as well to see how you approach things." He nodded to me. "I'm impressed."
"Just one thing." David piped up. "So, if we're all supposed to have something in common, what is it?"
"Now, Gumshoe, why would I tell you that and ruin all the fun?" He grinned again. "Class dismissed."