![]() ![]() I nodded agreement, then entered Administration. “Well, if you feel like it, come find us afterward!” Zoe said, trying her best to be upbeat. It looked as though I’d told them I had to go face a firing squad. “I can’t,” I said, then pointed to the Nathan Hale Administration Building. “We’re getting up a soccer game on Hammond Quadrangle! Want to play?” Any time I displayed my actual incompetence, Zoe inevitably thought it was a ruse. Zoe had christened me “Smokescreen” as she was under the delusion that I was an incredibly talented spy-albeit a spy who often feigned incompetence to make everyone else underestimate him. It was Zoe Zibbell, a fellow first year and my best friend, who was with a large group of students. “Hey, Smokescreen!” a shrill voice called out. I spotted several friends playing Ultimate Frisbee on the main commons and could hear the distinct rattle of semiautomatic weapons on the firing range in the distance. Now that classes had ended, my fellow spies-in-training were reveling in the warm weather. The gothic buildings stood majestically around gorgeous green lawns fringed with flowers. The academy, which had looked so bleak and dreary in the winter, was now far more attractive. ![]() Outside, the sun was shining brightly, heralding a glorious summer. Then I set off for the principal’s office. It seemed like overkill, but this was standard procedure for all written correspondence at the Academy of Espionage, even Post-it notes. I dropped the note in my paper shredder, then burned the remains. The principal, on the other hand, was far more unpredictable. Frankly, I would have preferred finding a bomb in my room. I picked it up gingerly, as though it were explosive. The note, however, suggested there was trouble ahead. I’d made plans to spend it with some old friends, without anyone trying to kill or maim me. Plus, my thirteenth birthday was only a week away. Although I’d miss my friends from the Academy of Espionage, I was eager to head home, see my parents, and have a decent home-cooked meal for the first time in five months. Now, I was relieved to be done with class for the summer. I figured that had to be good for at least an A-minus. (I hadn’t scored any bull’s-eyes, but unlike some of my fellow first years, I’d at least hit the targets and not accidentally wounded myself.) I’d been most concerned about Intro to Self-Preservation, which had always been my weakest class, though that afternoon I had managed to last for over an hour on the training grounds against a dozen “enemy agents” armed with paintball guns, while much of my class had been smeared with royal blue before five minutes were up. I had jammed on my History of Espionage final, aced Codes and Cryptography, and squeaked through Basic Firearms and Weaponry. I’d been working hard at the academy and had improved in all my classes in the months since I’d arrived. To start with, I felt positive about all my exams. Up to that point, I’d been having a good day. The note was perched atop the pile of suitcases. I had already packed all my belongings, hoping to make a quick exit from campus. The first was waiting in my room when I returned from my final exam in self-preservation. On the very last day of spy school, my plans for a normal, uneventful summer were completely derailed by the delivery of two letters. No discussion of these pages will be tolerated, except during the review, which will be conducted in a secure location at |||||||| ||||||||||||||||| ||||||||||||||||| ||||||||||||| Please note that no weapons will be allowed at said meeting. ![]() Ripley and the others involved are to be believed, we came perilously close to ||||||||||| |||||||||||| ||||||||||| ||||||||||| |||||||||| ||||||||||||Īfter reading these documents, they are to be destroyed immediately, in accordance with CIA Security Directive 163-12A. ![]() This episode, although not an official CIA Operation at the time, is currently being classified as Operation Angry Jackal. The following pages are compiled from 54 hours of debriefings. Benjamin Ripley, aka Smokescreen, a first-year student at the Academy of Espionage, was involved. To Jeff Peachin, John Janke, Tracy Soforenko, Jon Mattingly, Miriam Zibbell, David Simon, Kent Davis, and Kenly Ames, who made life at 210 S. ![]()
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