Chapter 2

Amanda Anderson took a deep breath as she stepped into the batter’s box. She dug her cleats into the dirt, then tapped her bat on the far side of the plate, carefully positioning herself for the next pitch. It was the bottom half of the final inning and her team, Anaheim High, was losing to their archrivals, Western High, 4-3. Luckily, however, the bases were loaded, so if Amanda could get a hit, even something as weak as a bloop single, the runner from third would score and the game would be tied. Even better, however, would be if Amanda could hit a line drive or something into a gap in the outfield, either of which would score the runner from second and Anaheim would win.

That was the good news.

Here was the bad news.

There were two outs. So if Amanda didn’t get a hit, right there, right then, the game would be over and Anaheim would lose.

Most batters would be pretty nervous in a situation like that. But not Amanda. She had played softball for her entire life and it was one of her two passions (taekwondo was the other). She was one of Anaheim’s best players, and as such, she lived for moments like that. She could barely contain her excitement as she waited for the pitch.

Unfortunately, however, it was nasty. Western’s pitcher was a tall, blonde girl named Hailey Davidson, and she could throw several different types of pitches, all well, but her best by far was a wicked fastball. It was crazy fast. It blazed by Amanda so quickly she didn’t even have time to swing at it.

“Strike one,” blue called. In softball, the players called the umpires blue because they usually wore blue uniforms.

Amanda took a couple of practice swings, then got ready for the next pitch, which was another fastball, but this one was down in the dirt for ball one. The next pitch was a curve, just inside for ball two. The pitch after that was another of Hailey’s nasty fastballs, but this time Amanda was able to get a piece of it and foul it away. It bounced off of the fence in front of the bleachers where the parents sat.

That was when Amanda noticed something strange. Her dad, James, was not in the bleachers. That was highly unusual since he loved softball and had always been her biggest fan. He rarely missed games (only when he was out of town on business trips), and when he was there, he was normally in the front row, cheering her on and shouting quick tips and advice to her from his seat. In a situation like that, where she had a chance to win a game, he would have been riveted to the action.

But not on that day. Instead of sitting in his normal place in the front row, he was standing to the side of the field, down the first base foul line, and he seemed to be preoccupied with two men who were sitting in the bleachers’ top row. Both of them wore long overcoats and they looked European, possibly German or Russian, with sharp cheekbones and pale skin. James was watching them closely, from afar, and they seemed equally interested in him since they kept shooting quick glances his way.

Amanda had no idea what was going on since she had never seen the men before and didn’t recognize them, but regardless, it wasn’t something she could worry about at that point. She was down to her final strike and if she didn’t do something quickly the game would be over and Anaheim would lose.

She did not want that to happen.

And it didn’t.

The next pitch was another of Hailey’s dreaded fastballs, and it was arguably the nastiest one she had thrown all day. It looked like a bright, yellow blur as it came at Amanda. But Amanda was not intimidated, not in the least, and she did exactly what she had been taught. She kept her chin down, her hands up, and she whipped her bat around as quickly as she could. She hit the ball perfectly and it raced toward the outfield fence. Western’s center fielder chased after it and made a diving attempt to catch it, but the ball landed a foot beyond her mitt and bounced away from her.

That was all it took. Amanda’s teammates and the fans in the bleachers went wild, cheering and whistling loudly as the runner who had been on second base stepped on home plate, officially winning the game. Everyone mobbed Amanda as she returned triumphantly to the dugout, and they patted her on the helmet and the back, and several of them gave her hugs.

She had done it. She had come through in the clutch and won the game. It was a total rush.

But unfortunately, her glory was short-lived. She was still celebrating with her teammates when James walked up behind her and in a stern voice said, “Amanda, we need to go. Now.” He put extra emphasis on the word ‘now,’ and the tone of his voice was more than urgent.

Amanda was completely puzzled. This was totally out of character for him. Normally, in that type of scenario, after winning a big game, he would have been ecstatic. He would have been the one leading the team’s celebration, not calling for its end. He probably would have taken them out to dinner to celebrate. But on that day, he did not look happy at all. His face was completely serious and there was obvious concern, and a little fear, in his eyes.

“What’s up?” she asked.

“I don’t have time to explain. Just get your stuff and let’s go.”

“I want to celebrate a little more with –”

“Amanda. We need to go. You’re endangering everyone by staying.”

She had no idea what he was talking about. Danger? At a softball game? She had never heard of anything so ridiculous.

Regardless, she knew better than to argue with him, especially at a time like that when he seemed so serious, so she rounded up her gear, placed it in her softball bag, and walked with him to his car in the adjacent parking lot. He was walking at a brisk pace, much faster than normal, and she struggled to keep up with him (James was a tall man with quite a stride). As they walked, he kept looking back at the two men who had been in the bleachers during the game. They were now behind them, also walking toward the parking lot. The minute Amanda and James got to his car he popped the trunk open, grabbed her bag from her, and tossed it inside. He slammed the trunk shut and jumped into the driver’s seat as Amanda took her place next to him.

Just as she was closing her door, she noticed the two men were now at the far side of the parking lot, climbing into a car of their own, a red Audi TT. One of them was talking on a cellular phone and the other was looking directly at her. He had a nasty scowl on his face.

“What’s up with those two? They’re pretty creepy.”

James didn’t answer. Instead, he pushed two buttons on the car’s dashboard right below its stereo.

“Computer,” he said. “Activate voice recognition. Access code 102470.”

In response, and much to Amanda’s surprise, a voice came from the dash. “Voice recognition activated, agent Anderson.”

Amanda was in total shock. James had had the car for a little over a year, and it was a nice car, a navy Dodge Charger, but she never knew it had voice recognition capabilities.

“Activate main monitor,” James said. “Contact agent Jones. Priority one.”

Amanda watched in complete amazement as the dash in front of her transformed. The dash’s entire middle compartment, including the stereo and the car’s heating and air conditioning controls, rotated and disappeared and was replaced by a fancy computer screen. An image of a man’s face appeared on the screen the minute it appeared. The man was athletic and was in his mid to late thirties, with dark hair and deep, brown eyes.

“James,” the man said. “What’s up?”

“We’ve got a problem. And it’s a big one. I’m at my daughter’s game at Anaheim High. Two agents are here. Clearly foreign and clearly hostile.”

“That’s not possible. There’s no way anyone could have discovered where you live.”

“Well, someone did. As such, I need immediate assistance and extraction.”

“I’m on my way.”

“And Jones,” James said. “Just so we’re clear. Amanda is in the car with me.”

Jones nodded. “I’ll send everything I’ve got.”

Without another word, his image vanished.

At that point, Amanda was starting to get worried. Her mind was on overdrive, trying to process all of the information she had seen and heard, but she was totally confused and had no idea what was going on. Why did James have all of this fancy equipment in his car, who was this man named Jones on the screen, and who were these ‘foreign agents’ James seemed so concerned about?

“What’s going on, dad?”

“I’m not allowed to say much. Let’s just say we need to get out of here right now. But don’t worry. Everything will be okay.”

He backed the car out of its parking spot, then drove along the street that ran in front of Amanda’s school. As he drove, he kept glancing in the rearview mirror. Amanda turned and looked back and she could see the two men in the red Audi following them.

“Who are those men? Why are they following us?”

“They’re a couple of associates.”

“Associates? What type of associates?”

Amanda’s head was really spinning now. James was a salesman at a local car dealership. Why would any of his associates at the car dealership want to follow him to his daughter’s softball game? And even if they had, why would he be so concerned about them? He was acting like their lives were in danger. As such, he clearly wasn’t telling her everything and it was starting to frustrate and frighten her.

“What’s going on?” she demanded. “And what’s up with the equipment in the car? I’ve never seen anything like it. I’ve ridden in this car a hundred times and I never knew it had equipment like this. And who is that Jones you were talking to on the screen?”

“I’ll tell you later, Amanda. I need to concentrate right now.”

He had pulled onto one of Anaheim’s main drives, a long street heading northbound through town, and was weaving in and out of traffic, lane to lane, very quickly. Amanda had never seen him drive like that before. Normally, he was a conservative driver and he never went over the speed limit, especially when Amanda was in the car with him. But right then, he was already up to fifty miles per hour in a thirty-five mile per hour zone, and he was showing no sign of letting up on the gas anytime soon.

In the meantime, the red Audi was right behind them. And if that wasn’t enough, another car, a gray BMW, had joined it.

James spoke to the screen again. “Computer. Contact agent Jones.”

The man he had spoken to earlier appeared on the screen.

“Status?” James asked.

“I have several agents en route. Estimated time of arrival is less than five minutes. You?”

“Heading for I-5. I’m going to try to lose them there. In the meantime, I’ve got two confirmed tails and possibly two more. I’m definitely going to need some assistance. As far as I can tell, they -”

He was going to say something more when there was a loud thud. Amanda jolted forward in her seat. The car behind them, the red Audi, had moved to the side but the second car, the gray BMW, had moved forward and rammed them from behind.

“Is your belt on?” James asked, glancing over at her. His eyes were large with concern.

“Yes,” she said. “Like it’s always on when we’re in the car, dad. But we’re not normally being chased by a bunch of lunatics.”

“I know. Don’t worry. I’ve dealt with this type of situation before. I’ve got everything under control.” He turned to the computer screen. “Computer, activate oil slick, five second spray, maximum dispersal.”

“Confirmed,” the computer voice responded. “Oil slick activated.”

Less than a second later, a steady stream of thin, black oil sprayed from the rear of the car, covering the ground directly in front of the pursuing BMW. The car’s driver saw the slick but he reacted too slowly and drove right over it. His wheels lost traction the second they touched it and he spun to the side, completely out of control. He came to an abrupt and violent stop as he smashed through a wooden fence and hit the side of a small building. Chunks of wood, metal, and glass flew in all directions.

Amanda was completely in awe. For a brief second, her fears faded away and they were replaced with curiosity.

“This car has an oil spray? That’s so cool. It’s just like in those old spy movies we used to watch.”

“I had it installed last year,” James said. “I knew it would come in handy someday.”

“Sweet.”

Unfortunately, she didn’t get to say anything more. A third car, a yellow Porsche, darted out of nowhere and joined the chase. It hit them from behind, shaking them badly (even worse than when the BMW had hit them).

“Use the oil again,” Amanda said.

“I can’t. I used it all up on the first car. It’s a limited supply. But don’t worry. We’ve got other options.” He turned back to the dash. “Computer. Activate smoke screen.”

Less than a second later, a panel on the back of the car slid open and a thick plume of dark, gray smoke poured from within. The pursuing Porsche was totally engulfed and vanished completely for a few seconds. The driver, not being able to see even five feet in front of him, panicked, slammed on his brakes, and spun hard to the side. He ended up nose down in a nearby ditch.

But unfortunately, as fast as the smoke screen had formed, it was gone. And the original vehicle, the red Audi with the two European men inside, was back behind them, and if that wasn’t bad enough, a fourth vehicle, a white Mazda RX-7, had joined it. James weaved in and out of traffic, desperately trying to avoid them, then raced onto a ramp that led up and onto Interstate 5. As soon as they got onto the freeway, he hit the gas pedal as hard as he could and they surged forward, even faster than before, maneuvering through traffic at an absolutely breakneck pace. Amanda had never gone so fast in her entire life. She watched wide-eyed as James dodged to the left to avoid a white minivan, then swerved to the right to miss a red semi truck, then veered two lanes back to the left to avoid a school bus filled with children.

But then her heart stopped.

James’s Charger was fast, but the other two cars were even faster. As such, they kept up, and the Mazda moved to their right and swerved toward them, smashing into the Charger’s passenger side right next to Amanda. The door panel caved in right next to her right leg, nearly crushing it. James struggled with the steering wheel and was barely able to keep them from spinning out of control, but then slammed on the brakes unexpectedly, sending the Mazda shooting forward in front of them. He let up on the brakes and sped along again.

“Brace yourself,” he told Amanda as he caught back up to the Mazda. “This could get ugly. Computer, acquire target, directly ahead. Fire missile upon target lock.”

Amanda’s jaw dropped as a thin, gray missile flew from the Charger’s grille and hit the Mazda, destroying it completely. There was a massive explosion and chunks of flaming metal, plastic, and glass rained down on them from above. Amanda’s heart skipped a beat as a tire came out of nowhere and soared right over them, missing them by less than a foot.

James spoke to the screen. He was calm but there was unmistakable urgency in his voice. “Jones, I need your location. Now.”

The man he called Jones appeared on the screen. “We’re here. We see you. Just hold on for a few more seconds.”

In the distance, just coming into view was a small helicopter, and it was racing right toward them. But unfortunately it did not arrive in time. The car behind them, the red Audi, pulled next to them, directly to their left. The passenger rolled down his window, pulled out a gun (a large pistol of some sort), and fired. The window next to James shattered, sending chunks of glass spraying all over him. Temporarily distracted and disoriented, he lost control of the car and it lurched violently to the right, hit another car that was in the lane next to it, and flipped. It rolled down the freeway, end over end, completely out of control. It turned over at least five times, maybe ten, maybe more, then came to a stop upside down in the exact middle of the freeway. It was engulfed in smoke and was a complete mangled mess of glass and metal.

The last thing Amanda heard before blacking out was the sound of James’s voice next to her. He was completely desperate and frantic.

“Amanda. Are you okay? Amanda. Jones, I need an ambulance. Now.”

Amanda awoke in a hospital bed, hooked to an intravenous drip and countless other tubes and wires. She had no clue what most of them were for, but the sheer number of them frightened her. She was completely disoriented and had a pounding headache that felt so bad she thought her forehead was going to explode. She was barely conscious, and she couldn’t see much of anything because one of her eyes, her left one, was completely swollen shut and her other eye was blurry. She only stayed conscious for a few minutes but it was just long enough to overhear James, standing on the far side of the room talking to the man she had seen on the screen in the car. The one he had always referred to as Jones.

“That’s not an option,” James said. “I don’t want her exposed to this type of life. I’ve tried to keep her out of it for years.”

“We’ve had this discussion before,” Jones said. “This is the perfect time to bring her in. You’ll never get a better chance. This is an unfortunate accident, there’s no doubt about that, but it’s also a great opportunity.”

“I don’t like it, not one bit.”

“There’s nothing you can do. She already saw too much. What are you going to tell her? This was all just a mix-up? A freak accident? She’s a smart girl, James, she’ll never buy it. And you know how much the agency needs new agents, especially young ones like her. She’s the perfect age for the teen program. And if she’s anything like her old man, and I know she is, she’ll turn out to be one of the best agents we’ve ever had.”

James hesitated for a second. “I’m so mad I can barely think right now. I wanted my daughter to do something different. Something safe. I don’t want her to end up like her mother.”

“I didn’t want my daughter to join the program either. But look at how she’s doing. You’ve got to admit she was invaluable during the recent op in Cuba. Amanda will be okay, James. And I bet she’ll enjoy being an agent. Just you wait and see.”

James was quiet for a long while, clearly weighing his options, but then he let out a loud sigh of resignation. “If anything happens to that girl, Jones, I’m going to hold you personally responsible.”

“Whatever,” Jones said. “Let’s get the doctor. We need to move her as soon as possible.”

A few seconds later, a doctor, a nurse, and two technicians wearing scrubs entered the room and wheeled her away.

Ten minutes later, according to official documents, she died.