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."
I tacked up the three pictures of Leo Krasnikov, Maxim Ivanov, and Anton Popkov.
"Is it a coincidence that Diane Petrov is a Russian immigrant and these men all have ties to the Russian mob?" Little Dean questioned.
Little Dean was sitting on the floor against my bed.
"Gray?" I asked, letting him do his thing on the computers.
"No apparent connections between families or occupations. The only similarity is that all four of them were born in Saint Petersburg, Russia. Went their separate ways after being in Russia for most of their lives. No communication between them after leaving Russia," Grayson explained.
Skipping over the Russian connections, I continued with the hierarchy.
"Above the Russians is Donovan Halstead. He's higher than the three Russians because he hired them to carry out the murder and kidnapping," I explained.
Whoever this woman was, she devised this plan in secret. Her involvement wasn't known until Donovan Halstead let it slip that a woman was involved. She could've flown under the radar this entire time.
Maybe Donovan Halstead did that on purpose.
Maybe he purposefully planted the information to make sure I knew he was talking about a woman. This woman could be the only thing standing in his way from getting what he wants.
What could he want?
"New theory," I said, nodding at Thea. She was writing down anything we needed to know. "Donovan Halstead was a third and unmentioned participant in Experiment: Ariel & Carl Rhea. Maybe he wants to be more powerful and wants another dose of the psionic pills."
"Why wouldn't Halstead brag about that?" Little Dean asked. "If he had some kind of superpower, then he'd want everyone to know that he's better than them."
Archer, who'd been eerily silent, suddenly spoke up, "Because he doesn't have his superpowers anymore!"
Everyone looked to Archer for an explanation.
At first I assumed he wasn't paying attention to all the espionage talk. Archer has been reading through the files of Ariel & Carl Rhea. Ever since I first gave him that file, he's been reading through it line by line. I'd assume he has it memorized by now.
I found those files in the safe in Archer's bedroom. The experiment name wasn't listed on those files, because of the secrecy, which I assume is also why the files were hidden in Archer's bedroom.
"This is ridiculous," Thea sighed. "Superpowers aren't real."
"Thrilling, isn't it?" Celia grinned.
We all ignored Celia. I looked to Archer to explain his reasoning.
My latest theory isn't proven. It hasn't even been put to the test. There's no way to prove whether or not Donovan Halstead has ever taken the pills created by Maya and William Hawthorne.
"The Elegance of Eight," Archer muttered.
"I'm sick of numbers," Celia whined. "Don't spy's use anything other than numbers."
"Numbers are our friends," Grayson muttered.
Archer flipped through the files and explained, "My parents used to talk about the elegance of eight all the time. It was a code so I never knew what it meant, but it had to do with pills."
"Okay ... let's say you're thinking of the correct thing. What do you know about the elegance of eight? And how do you know that if Donovan Halstead had psionic abilities, that he doesn't have them anymore?" I asked.
"Your parents took the pills in 1994 and they died in 2010. It says here, ''As of 2008, the subjects have reached peak elegance in the utilization of their usages and now should engage in a second dosage'," Archer read.
Celia dramatically raised her hand like a child in a classroom. I pointed to her, while still trying to keep my mind focused.
This is why I work alone.
Having people asking questions and talking in both my ears gives me a migraine.
Pacing around my bedroom is helping, but I'm ready to kick everyone out of my room.
"Your parents were still keeping an eye on the process of their experiment. Ariella's parents never did anything strange in the company of others to make it seem like they have mystical powers. How could they have controlled all the variables when they haven't seen much of Vivian and Bruce?" Celia questioned, thinking through all possibilities.
"How does what you just said imply that the psionic abilities are temporary?" I asked Archer.
"The word elegant," Archer said, reading through the file again in his head. "It's a codeword that my parents and I used to say. They use the word elegant in place of the word temporary."
Elegant.
Elegance.
"Give me the Thomas and Martha experiment files!" I shouted, reaching for the files on my bed. Celia and Thea went into frantic-mode trying to find it in their pile.
I found these files over a month ago. Back when I was focusing on finding my parents' names in the files of Maya and William Hawthorne's experiments.
Everything is written in codenames.
My parents: Jude and Lucy for Experiment: Ariel & Carl Rhea.
Another file for subjects Thomas and Martha were written down for the same experiment details. The word elegance is now standing out to me. At first, I assumed that their diction for details about their experiments was how they interpreted their research. Using fancy words would be common for two individuals of high intelligence who have been researching and experimenting nearly all their lives.
Thomas and Martha have been under our supervisor for approximately six months.
Martha exhibited signs of crudeness after the administration done by Ariel & Carl Rhea. She has been discontinued from the graphing of the experiment.
Thomas, on the other hand, exhibited signs of elegance throughout the administration. Thomas feels that due to his elegant feelings and abilities, another dosage would be beneficial for the data collection.
Without the Eight, another dosage is impossible.
I read the statements out loud to the group. "It's all connected by Batman," I muttered, looking directly at Archer.
"Excuse me?" Grayson questioned.
"Batman is my favorite superhero," Archer answered. "My parents drilled the comic books into my head. We would see all the movies in theaters. They bought me a bunch of clothes with the batman symbol on the front."
"Cognitive programming," Grayson said, typing everything on his computer. He pulled up the different levels of cognitive programming. "Your parents must've had these plans for months. They knew this work would eventually be their demise, so they programmed your brain to associate Batman with things about their work. On a subconscious level, your parents have been filling your mind with the information to solve their kidnapping."
"How'd I not see it?" Archer asked in a quiet and timid voice.
"They didn't want you to see it," I explained. "They didn't want you to worry about them, but your parents aren't naïve. They knew that what they were doing could have consequences. They connected your life to mine in the hopes that I'd be able to help."
"The Hawthorne's could've been keeping an eye on Seven for years. Knowing that she went into the family business," Grayson said.
I took a minute to think about all the evidence that connects Archer and me. Our lives have been intertwined since before we were born. Maybe my parents wanted me to be a spy. A hardened secret agent in order to protect the Hawthorne's in the future. Maybe they didn't care about me saving the world, but saving their friends.
"If I had to guess, I'd say that your parents wrote you that note within the last ten years. After my parents were killed that's when I started training to be a secret agent. If my parents didn't die, then I probably wouldn't be able to help," I explained.
For the first time, Grayson stood up. He quietly made his way over to the boards. The letter that Archer found from his parents was pinned up on the board. He read it through in his head. Everyone's eyes watched the board.
Seven and Nine are people.
Eight and Three are numbers.
These four numbers are of significance.
Keeping my feet moving, kept my brain stimulated. It was the only way that I could focus on all of this information.
We started working through the latest developments this afternoon. Celia, Thea, and Grayson ditched their real jobs today in order to help. Little Dean and Archer are prisoners in our apartment, because I need to keep them safe. I don't trust Little Dean running around the city with his father here. He may be behind bars, but I don't have faith in Little Dean not to get himself killed.
"How can this lead us to finding my parents?" Archer asked.
I'm going to be perfectly honest, I've barely looked Archer in the eyes all day. Normally, I'm focused on his face because I need to study him. Whenever we discuss something involving the mission, I need to note any body language changes.
However, I can't even look at him.
After last night, looking at Archer makes my heart ache. He is Subject 1031. My heart may have thumped in my chest like the bass pounding on speakers when my lips touch Archer's, but I can't let this change the course of my mission. I need to complete my mission.
Archer looks at me like there's something in me worth looking at. Like I'm worth something, other than being a merciless secret agent.
"The more information we have will get a lead on where they were taken," I explained. "If Donovan Halstead is Thomas and the word elegance means temporary, then we can conclude that he wants the pills. He wants another dosage that he wasn't able to get from your parents."
"If they weren't going to give it to him, then he's going to take what he wants," Little Dean added.
Once the Hawthorne's agree to give me what I deserve, then I'll let them continue living.
That's what Donovan Halstead had said to me when he kidnapped me. I've come to the conclusion that he covered his face and altered his voice in order for me to not recognize him. I didn't recognize him.
The Hawthorne's must've stated that they weren't going to or couldn't give Donovan Halstead a second dose of the technology.
I'll do whatever is necessary to guarantee that I get what's meant to be mine. I've waited long enough to get my hands on what's mine again.
Again.
He wants it again.
"New theory," I stated, trying to make the theory concise in my head. "Donovan Halstead went after our parents to confirm his theory that the pills' effects don't last forever. They were already long into retirement by this point, so they probably didn't want to think about the past. When the polite approach didn't work, he murdered our parents, then Donovan Halstead went after the Hawthorne's."
"Maybe the polite approach to the Hawthorne's didn't work either. If he couldn't get his hands on the actual pills, then maybe stealing the files was his way of getting the process of creating it for himself," Grayson said, taking over from where I left off.
Donovan Halstead claimed that when the Hawthorne's agree to give him what he wants, then he'd let them live. Why wouldn't they just give it to him? He was given the pills once in the past, what's wrong with giving it to him now? He's a convicted criminal. He's a homicidal psychopath with no remorse. These are accurate.
I aggressively rubbed my eyes, before running my fingers through my hair. Thinking through every possible theory and idea is causing me to have a migraine. If I look at another sheet of paper, then I might start seeing stars in my line of vision. The words might become distorted on the page.
Grayson and I started working through this theory in our heads. Our minds were insync enough to know the timeline and work through the possible events that took place. We don't need to speak when it comes to confirming or denying a theory. Timelines created by Grayson sat on four of the monitors.
One timeline followed the life of my parents when they came out of retirement. They were reinstated by the organization as secret agents less than a week before they were killed.
A second timeline tracked the movements of Donovan Halstead during this same time period.
A third timeline tracked the movements of Maya Hawthorne after my parents were killed.
A fourth timeline tracked the movements of William Hawthorne after my parents were killed.
After Archer went to see Donovan Halstead, he said that he saw Archer on the day of my parents' fake memorial service. The memorial service claimed that the two were in a car accident. If Archer went to that memorial service, then it can be concluded that his parents went as well. The fake memorial service took place two months after their actual death.
"Do we get naptime at some point during this?" Celia asked, breaking the silence. Grayson and I glared in her direction for disrupting our concentration. She sunk down into my bed, resting her head on a pillow. "I'll take that as a no."
"Should we start looking into the meaning of the numbers?" Grayson suggested.
I looked at everyone in the room. Grayson and I were ready to work. Celia was struggling to keep her eyes open. She usually takes an afternoon nap in her office when she's working. She claims that being well-rested helps fuel her anger towards the people that work for her. Little Dean was focused on the tasks at hand. He was trying to pull himself out of the gutter. He also was trying to compensate for his father. Little Dean wants no association with that man, so he's trying his best to help me accomplish my mission. Archer looked overwhelmed and confused, but he was overall focused on trying to help.
Out the window the day had left.
"I'll put on a pot of coffee," I sighed.
We're going to be here for a while.