Agent Atlantis

Chapter 13--The Name's Atlantis

The man raised an eyebrow at Collins as he slipped through the door into the penthouse office on the top floor of the Tsipas center.

"Mr. Tsipas," Collins said respectfully, bowing his head slightly. "Seeing your wonderful hair once again makes me forget the strain of taking the elevator up two floors to your office."

The bald headmaster scowled at the captain. Just under six feet tall and almost blending in with the brown bookshelves flanking his desk, the middle-aged Nicholas Tsipas looked like any ordinary office worker—and not the head of a top secret intelligence organization. "My lack of hair has nothing to do with my hair follicles. It's a choice of style."

Collins' smile only grew bigger. "That's what they all say, Headmaster. You shouldn't look at it negatively—hair loss has treated your looks well."

"It's not hair loss . . ." The man sighed as he realized that he'd walked right into Collins' trap. "I didn't call you here to talk about my wardrobe choices. I heard that you've admitted a student."

"Plenty of bright students have joined in the middle of a term," Collins said innocently.

"You know what I mean, Collins. In your six years serving this fine institution, you have never once sponsored a kid." Tsipas raised an eyebrow. "Especially one that can be deported at a moment's notice."

"Headmaster—"

"Explain. Now."

Collins turned serious. "You deployed me for a mission last week."

"How could I forget? You were assigned to figure out Mercenary Zero's identity—as well as scout out those scummy Wartenians in their strategic camps in Central Artena. Then we lost contact with you. I was afraid that I'd cut your pay one too many times and you had decided to defect."

"That Mercenary Zero you're talking about? He's in our sparring arena right now."

A pause. Tsipas' eyebrows were furrowed together. Then he jumped out of his office chair like a frog. "You brought the man back here? Into our headquarters? Collins, have you finally gone mad?"

The captain stayed calm. He handed the headmaster his loose-fitting glasses back, which had launched across the room with his violent movement. "He's a boy."

"You're telling me—the bane of the Wartenians was . . ."

". . . a boy that hasn't even turned eighteen."

The headmaster slumped back down on the chair. "Why did I promote you to be the leader of our top squadron? You're going to destroy us from the inside! Mercenary Zero is a Wartenian!"

"He was," Collins corrected. "Then he helped me escape with the mole data from the Agency. If that doesn't prove his motives, I don't know what will."

"Wasn't he the one that captured you in the first place?"

"Luke is a brilliant child," Collins said honestly. "He's probably on par with me in terms of fighting. I have no doubt that if he really wanted to kill me, I wouldn't be standing here. He must've planned this years in advance to get his hands on the Wartenian servers."

If Luke had been there to witness Collins' awe-filled expression, he would've been completely appalled at the misinformation that the captain was accidentally spreading. But he wasn't there—so the headmaster's ears were enveloped in lies.

"Even one tiny incident," Tsipas warned after a moment of silence, "and he's out. Mark my words."

The captain just smiled. "Give him a few hours, and he'll shake the EAUD to its core."