The Lost Agent

Chapter 5

Well, this isn't going according to plan.

The chair she usually sat in is empty. This makes me angry, even more so when I already worked out my plan all night. How dare she.

I've searched high and low, visited all the places she's usually at. Don't ask how I know, when you have extroverted friends, they will literally tell you everything. I've searched her desk, her usual spot in the canteen—and just had to run into her other friends. I even searched the warehouse and everything, but to no avail. I've been looking at her social media pages just in case I can find a clue on where she is, but nothing. How come when I don't need her, she's here, but she isn't when I need her. Usually, I'd just cut people off immediately, but I don't know why I'm still searching for her. I still need her for information, but I can find that myself most of the time, so why? I guess a little part of me wants to believe she isn't against me. Part of me wants to believe she's good.

The last room to check, the music room. I have no idea why I chose to check this room, Eleanor doesn't even usually hang out here. I went in, instantly met with a gray room of absorbent foam. I came to the realization that I don't know anything about her. I went into this room just because I don't know where else to search. Of course I don't blame myself, but I still feel a weird feeling about it, like something I felt was in my grasp slowly slipping away. That feeling slowly lurks and settles in every inch I step around the room.

This room is bland, really bland. No one really uses this room except for the few who come to play music or just scream sometimes, well, most of the time. Other rooms have artworks and more, but this room doesn't. Except for one.

I looked deep into the painting hung on top of the drums. It doesn't look like it fits in this room, but it does make a great distraction. It's an eyepatch, which I think would better be at the library or the gallery since it's where all students' artworks are usually displayed. It scratches a part of my brain, but I don't know what. I shrugged it off, remembering the reason I went here in the first place. As I was about to turn around, a too familiar voice startled me.

"Looking around, aren't we?" Why is it that everytime I'm in a complicated situation, Ralph always shows up?

"What now?" I asked with a slight sigh to my voice. If you can't tell, I am very tired from this.

"Nothing, it's just you're looking at my painting just now." He said with a slight boast in his voice.

"I don't care, get out of my way." I said as I pushed him out of the way.

Frankly, I wasn't trained enough to deal with these types of people, they irritate me a little too much. I turned a little to take another look at that painting and Ralph, it rang a bell in my head.

"Wait, you painted this?" I asked while pointing my finger towards him. He nodded in response, the confusion on his face bluntly recognizable.

I stepped closer as he took a few steps back. My gaze switched between the two, trying to make up my mind.

"Why though?" I asked, looking at the painting.

He coughed before answering, "It reminded me of my so-called friend."

Bingo.

Well, not really. It sparks up more question marks, but I have a lead. I left the room, leaving Ralph in confusion. I need to get to the bottom of this too, since a suspect just popped on the radar.

Ralph.

–

One major thing I realized I have been overlooking is the fact that the agent wore an eyepatch often, which opened up a whole new possibility for Ralph to be the target. He could just easily fake the painting being about his friend, because there is no way the agent had used the same disguise, but there's also no way the agent could've come up with a flawless disguise without the help of the force. I need to make sure that my speculations are true.

Here I am, in front of the school gallery. I have approximately fifteen minutes before class starts. I set my alarm down for less minutes, just in case someone walks in on me. Now to actually do the deed.

I walked in and was instantly greeted by a painting of an eye. I looked at the label, it was Eleanor's. I shrugged it off and remembered to ask her about the exchange tomorrow. I hope to God she shows up tomorrow, though. I walked further in, the silence of this room makes me even more conscious about my footsteps. I finally got to the section I was searching for, the school's soccer team. I know Albert's here somewhere, he has been in the soccer team since he's set foot in this school. Eleanor even said that he had been playing before he got to this school.

I looked at the picture from two years ago, the team was big back then and the pictures are all in black and white. I can't say I know why the school used black and white cameras in all their photos of achievements two years ago, but I can still recognize the eyes of the agent, and there he was. Albert with his one eye covered. I'm surprised he can still play with just one eye open, but the feeling of relief sinks in together with the sight of him in the picture. So, my speculation was wrong about Ralph. He was telling the truth, which I didn't expect.

I was ready to walk away when my elbow nudged the side of the frame. I looked over and was shocked when the photo opened itself. I took a step back to process what was going on and then my eyes met with a secret compartment that was behind the photo. Curious, I opened it, and inside it was a stack of files. I took the file carefully, trying as hard as possible to not make it messed up. I was instantly met with the sight of reports, but not just any reports. The reports of the missing agent. I froze in place, my hands trembling while I flip paper through paper. It was all there, his information, the records of his findings, his first and last mission in this school. This is the report that the force had been searching for these past two years and the culprit was written all in front of the cover.

Albert.