The Life of a Spy Chapter Four

-Sorry about his being late, I have been working pretty much nonstop for the past few days.-

"Mr. Cairo." Mr. Washington said in his usual no-introduction fashion as I walked in the room, "We have knowledge of a meeting of contraband. The blueprints of highly classified operations regarding are Capital that in the wrong hands could cause damage to the structure."
Mr. Washington was siting in the staff room, or more like his personal office. There wasn't much too it, the boss was not too keen on useless things like decorations. It was only a long metal table with simple chairs all along it that took up the middle of the room with Mr. Washington sitting at the head of the table with a stack of papers in front of him.
He pulled down his glasses and set them down on his desk before continuing to speak.
"You're training record has me convinced that you are more than qualified to take on this team mission." He said, "You will be working in a three agent group with another rookie such as yourself and Mr. Berlin, a colleague of mine who has been in S.O.D.I.A. as long as I have. Mr. Berlin is located in Conference Room 92 where you and the other rookie will be given all details by Berlin. Dismissed."
The whole conversation lasted for less than three minutes and I was already on my way to meet my crew leader Mr. Berlin.
As I made the walk down the paths and down the elevators, I reflected on the meeting with the head of this branch of the organization and thought about how quick and clear it all was. I had gone in, no introduction, was told the basic description of the mission, then left.
Quick and precise, a rule of the organization.
Before long I was at the door of the Conference Room and holding the knob in my hand.
"Mr. Cairo." The man inside said with his back turned toward me as I entered, "Ready for the mission status?"
"Yes sir, I am." I replied.
This conference room was much smaller than Washington's, with no long desk, but a few small desks and a projector. It reminded me of a classroom.
"All we have to do now is wait for Lady Madrid to join us and we can get started. Oh, by the way, I am Mr. Berlin." He turned around and saw the face of my mentor for the last ten years, the man who essentially took me out of my old life and put me in S.O.D.I.A.
"Mr. Berlin." A voice entered from the door, a young woman walked in with a purposeful stride and a sharp look in her eyes. Her long red hair pulled in a ponytail that dropped down to her shoulders. "Lady Madrid, ready for instructions."
"As poise as always eh, Madrid?" Mr. Berlin commented, "This is your colleague Mr. Cairo, the new recruit that I had just finished training only a few days ago."
She turned her eyes to me and I saw her eyebrow raise in a question, disbelief evident in her face.
"Just out of training? Why so soon?" She asked, keeping her eyes on me. I felt the sweep of each eye as it moved over my body, as if all my weaknesses were being appraised in that one look.
I knew that this was going to be an interesting mission, and it was only my first one.

The Life of a Spy Chapter Three

Since I first joined I was put under intense mental and physical exercises all for the purpose of creating the next top agent. Upon entering the S.O.D.I.A progam, I was stripped of my past, my name, and ultimately my identity. All new recruits were given the new name of a nation's capital around the world. I was given the name of Cairo, the capital of Egypt. There is no process to how they choose the names, they just choose from a list. As the list of nations capitals I was sent to various countries to learn the languages and different cultural aspects.
I learned many forms of hand-to-hand combat as well as complex combat patterns that are carried out by agent squads on their missions.
Needless to say: I quickly fell into the pattern of things.
The rules were to be obeyed at all times, all commanding officers were the final word on all matters, and no socialization, unless otherwise dictated, was allowed between recruits.
So that was the routine of things for the next ten years. The usual teenage angsts that were pretty much nonexistent during this period of training. I never felt any anxiety, and I never felt the need to want anything unnecessary.
I only knew my place in S.O.D.I.A.

Now at eighteen my long stay as a disciple had ended and I was given my final test. A series of rigorous tests that were specifically designed to probe the abilities of the student. Some are said to have died in the first few minutes of the test.
I passed with flying colors, much to the dismay of my peers.
"Ah. I see you graduated." My old teacher announced clasping his hands together, "I take it you enjoyed your last few years?"
I could tell he was being sarcastic but I answered truthfully.
"I did enjoy my training." I spoke in the standard monotone voice that every young agent had.
"I'm glad to hear that. I spoke with the higher ups about you." He paused as he spoke giving me a side look with a small grin, "And they are very impressed with you."
That statement actually stunned me.
"Why would they be impressed with me?"
"They know of your talents. You have always been the quickest to learn, top of the class both physically and mentally. They believe you are ready for a serious mission."
My eyes instinctively rose. It was very unusual for a new graduate to be asked for a mission this soon. Usually new operatives spent a year or two on intelligence gathering with a more experienced leader.
"It is an honor sir." I said bowing slightly.
"No. It's not." The man replied.
I recoiled at the remark.
"If it was I would have congratulated you. Have I?" The teacher said stepping in closer.
"No sir. You have not."
"The mission they want you to attend is a Class 3."
"Class 3?" I was shocked. Class 3 missions are only two levels below the most hazardous missions: Class 1, they were mostly suicide missions. They operated with an "At any cost" procedure that ended with lives lost.
Class 2 missions were less severe but they were still dangerous for all those involved.
Class 3 missions that was mostly renaissance and retrieval, marked for those who are to capture enemy operatives or illegal contraband. Still, it was a very dangerous class to start out in.
"Yes a Class 3 retrieval. We have reason to believe there will be at trade-off of illegal contraband in the coming weeks. The staff believes you should assist." The man said.
Before I could say anything the phone rang.
"Yes." the man said then hung up no long after answering.
"Your presence is requested." The teacher said as he turned.
I nodded and left for the meeting room ready and willing to do what is asked of me.