Espionage? Teenage spy? Sounds bonkers. That kind of thing only happens in movies.
Normal teenagers wake up every morning and go to school, come home, do homework, do their chores, go to sleep - then wake up and do it all over again.
Ariella Alder...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
𝚝𝚠𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚢-𝚝𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎 | 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚡𝚝
Everyone — Grayson, Little Dean, Thea, Celia, Archer, and me — were sitting in my bedroom working through the clues of this mission. It's discomforting having people work with me.
Usually I'm alone.
Grayson was sitting in front of the computers on my desk, typing away taking notes on our discussions and watching the cameras. Thea and Celia were curled up on my bed trying to help in any way that they could. They can't. They don't have the same skill set that Grayson and I have. I appreciate them trying to help, so I have them looking through files for any female names. I don't care if I already know the name, they are putting all the female names in a separate pile.
The key to accomplishing this mission – is the woman.
Now we just need to find out who she is.
How hard could that be?
The three low level Russian criminals have been talked to by the C.I.A for over twenty-four hours straight.
Those idiots have no idea where the Hawthorne's are being held. Anytime the mystery woman or Donovan Halstead brought the three Russian men into the hideout, they were blindfolded in order to keep the location hidden. They've been claiming that they had no idea where they were. Once inside they were allowed to remove the blindfold. Even in cars, they were meant to be blindfolded.
Also, they claim that none of them have ever seen the woman in person.
"Donovan Halstead isn't smart enough to orchestrate the anonymity that comes with keeping three giant Russians out of the loop," I argued.
"This mystery woman is higher up in the chain than we thought," Grayson said, replaying the interrogation tapes on a loop. We needed all of his information, whether blatant or subtle.
Hierarchy.
Everything in life has a hierarchy.
I adjusted the boards in my room and removed the pictures of everyone involved in this mission.
The C.I.A, F.B.I, and even the police force have hierarchies. Families contain a hierarchy. Cults have a hierarchy.
"Okay," I sighed, grabbing a new board. "All the way on the bottom, Archer," I said, placing his picture at the bottom of the board. "Above him, Maya and William Hawthorne."
"Why would they be part of the hierarchy?" Celia asked, not looking up from her files. "They're the ones who were taken. Shouldn't Diane and Anthony be below them?"
"Correction," I said, tacking the pictures of Diane and Anthony above Archer. "Above Archer, Diane Petrov and Anthony Scardino. Above them, we have Maya and William Hawthorne."
