“Come on!” Rachel screamed.
I tried again, this time barging into it with my shoulder. The door remained shut.
“Wait, I’m going to use my knife to open the lock. Face the guards,” Zak said hurriedly, as he inserted his blood-soaked knife into the keyhole.
Rachel and I squared up to the guards, as they closed in on us.
12 feet… 11 feet… 10 feet…
“COME ON!” Zak cried desperately, as he continued wedging his knife, hoping to find the click that would unlock it for us.
I had my sword and shield at the ready, whilst Rachel had her bow and arrow lined up in position.
9 feet… 8 feet… 7 feet…
I saw the inhumane ferocity in the guards’ eyes. They lashed their sword out at us, when all of a sudden we were tugged firmly and dragged through the open door.
“SHUT IT NOW!” Zak shouted.
I shut the door with my feet, my sharp reflexes coming into action. Luckily, it locked automatically, leaving the three vicious guards behind the door and outraged at letting three teenagers escape from them.
“I swear you’ll never get away with this, you three. Who do you guys think you are? I swear to Obsidian you will pay for your deeds!” one of the guards bellowed, as we darted as fast as we could away from the enchanting hotel and blended ourselves into the hustling and bustling streets of New York.
A narrow escape.
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“3 chicken burgers please,” I said to the waiter.
We’d found a nearby fast food restaurant, which was buzzing with children, mums, dads and families. A perfect place where the risk of getting attacked would be next to none.
“What’s the plan now?” Zak asked.
The three of us looked at each other, startled.
“Let’s get the facts straight,” Rachel said. “We know that the Golden
Leaf has been taken by some criminal organisation known as Obsidian. It seems like the leader has been taken out,” – she gave a quick glance to Zak – “and news would’ve spread quickly to other members of Obsidian. That means the other members of this organisation are going to be more prepared and more determined to” – she gulped nervously – “to kill us.”
Zak and I looked at each other, concerned and feeling defeated already before the true quest had actually begun.
“Here you go, 3 chicken burgers, freshly grilled with a side of fresh fries and salad!” the waiter exclaimed, his mood the complete opposite to how we were all feeling.
I had no appetite, as there was one question that played on my mind like an outdated cassette.
Exactly how had Drago been our taxi driver? How did he know we were taking a taxi to The Benjamin Hotel? Perhaps Señor Ramirez’s office was bugged. My mind performed somersaults at the potential possibilities, as I forced myself to indulge in the delicious meal. Butterflies flew around in my stomach, as I came to a dark realisation.
That this may have been our last meal on Earth.
RING! RING! RING!
The flip phone vibrated in my pocket and I swiftly took it out, raring to tell Señor Ramirez everything that had happened. I put it on speaker so that Zak and Rachel could listen in amidst the noisy restaurant.
“How are you doing guys?” Señor Ramirez asked.
“We ran into Drago Caracas in the hotel. He was the one who drove us there, posing as a taxi driver. He tied up Zak and Rachel to a chair, but the three of us narrowly escaped,” I informed.
“How on earth did he know about the taxi? And the hotel?”
“I don’t know. Maybe your office is bugged.”
“Maybe. But anyway I’m glad you’re safe now. Listen, I found some more information on this Stingray Island. Apparently, whoever has gone in, has never come back out. As I said before, it’s not on the map, and even the CIA and FBI have not heard of this island.”
“And you expect us to get the Golden Leaf and bring it back safely?” Zak asked impatiently.
“Yes, because if you three truly believe in yourselves and work together, you make a formidable force,” Señor Ramirez replied sternly.
“I’ve informed your parents that you are on a school trip, so they won’t worry about your whereabouts. Now I want you guys to be on Stingray Island by the end of the day. Got it?”
I looked at Zak and Rachel, bewildered at Señor Ramirez’s sudden high expectations. We were yet to know the exact location of Stingray Island, and here he was ordering us to be there by the end of the day.
“Got it,” I said.
With that, Señor Ramirez cut the call, leaving us overwhelmed with questions and thoughts. Just then, my eyes caught the little television screen hanging in the corner of the restaurant’s ceiling.
“……Our National Geographic team have made an extraordinary discovery,” the news reporter on the little television screen informed.
“Someone, turn it louder!” I shouted.
The volume instantly went up, as I received confused and angry looks from the staff and the dining customers, who’d instantly gone silent by my sudden outburst.
“18 miles to the East of Lower New York Bay, in the Atlantic Ocean, there lies what seems to be a mythical island. The name of this island is not yet known but stay tuned in for more details to find out more about this remarkable discovery.”
The three of us looked at each other.
We’d found Stingray Island.
“So, what now?” Zak asked eagerly.
“Let’s get going then,” I replied.
“This is Sir Cornelius Slater. He is a wealthy English businessman. In fact, he is the richest man in the UK, with a net worth of £450 billion. He has now integrated himself in the world of English politics and is the leader of the new Action Party. He is running for Prime Minister of the UK in the upcoming elections,” Malcolm informed, pointing at the close-up photograph of a man in his early fifties, with a few strands of white in his otherwise dark brown hair. The CIA employees around me were typing rapidly on their laptops and scribbling notes on their notepads. I certainly felt out of place here, as I simply could do nothing but look ahead at the large screen ahead of me and wait for Malcolm to continue. Senor Ramirez, who was standing next to Malcolm, whispered something in his ear. Malcolm frowned and nodded.
I was greeted with an abundance of blinding white light as a wave of cool, refreshing air slapped me in the face. I found myself in a narrow corridor that led to another door, which was twenty feet further ahead. Apart from the stream of white light shining from the in-built ceiling lights, everything else in the corridor was sparkling black, from the tiled flooring, to the two walls either side of me. Senor Ramirez stood by the door, gesturing me to hurry along. He seemed unable to contain his excitement, which was strange considering his usual stern and serious demeanour. “I just want to say a few things before we open this door, Marco,” Senor Ramirez said, breaking the eerie silence of the corridor as we stood in front of the mysterious door. “I know this might be all too much for you. After all, it was literally a
“Marco! We’ve arrived now,” I heard Senor Ramirez.I had drifted off to sleep, which was an inevitability in the scorching sunshine and the luxury of the Mercedes. I slowly opened my eyes, eager to see where we’d arrived. I looked through the tinted windows and was truly stunned at where the Covert Operations division of the CIA was located.“Thank you,” Senor Ramirez said to the driver. “Your car is a gem!”“Thanks mate! Indeed it is,” the driver replied, patting the steering wheel in admiration.
“Well?” I demanded, as Senor Ramirez helped himself to another cup of tea and sat down on the sofa.“Relax. Everything I said was a lie. Malcolm Sanchez told me to make something up so that you could enrol in the CIA. I’m proud that you agreed to join the CIA, but as you know, we cannot tell your parents or anyone about this. So, your parents and everyone at school will think that you’re off to a school in Singapore when actually you will still be in the United States!” Senor Ramirez chuckled.“You think this is funny? Is this some sort of game?” I asked incredulously. Senor Ramirez’s expressi
09:33.I had overslept once again. I groaned, as I uncurled myself and sat up on my bed. I winced in pain, as my ankle was still sore. My head felt heavy and a wave of thirst came over me. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and stood up. Limping off to the bathroom, I splashed three handfuls of ice cold water on my face, instantly waking me up. I looked myself in the mirror. Dark circles surrounded my eyes, as the events that had unfolded just a few days ago played itself out in my mind, like a ghost that remained persistent in its pursuit to haunt me. First, Zak and the tiger. The staircase that had appeared literally out of nowhere. Adrian’s betrayal. Obsidian’s headquarters. The dungeon. The warehouse. The laboratory. The bomb explosion. The helicopter chase.
I frowned at Señor Ramirez. Señor Ramirez turned round and stood up. A well-dressed man, probably in his fifties, strolled in and shook Señor Ramirez’s hand.“Welcome, Mr Sanchez,” Señor Ramirez said.“Thank you, Gerard,” his voice was deep and possessed an air of power and authority. “Marco, I am stunned by your abilities.”I nodded in thanks and looked at Señor Ramirez. He read my confused look.“Marco, this is Malcolm Sanchez, the Head of Covert Operations in the CIA.