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As soon as the kids were dismissed and had left the office, Slash stepped into the office through an adjoining door. He knew what was coming and had prepared his arguments.

Dexter returned to his desk and sat down, a disappointed look on his face. “She didn’t do as well as you expected. I was hoping for a more instinctive response from her and from all of them.”

Slash shrugged, careful not to sound too invested. “I wouldn’t presume to contradict your impression as to what’s important, but Angel took the leadership role, and they followed.”

“She would have killed them. Strong leaders who make bad decisions often lose more people than weak leaders who are fearful to do anything.”

“Perhaps, but she used salt and was the only one of the three to actually score a hit,” Slash pointed out.

“Her instincts were off.”

“We’re looking for different kinds of instincts.” He approached Dexter’s desk and put both hands on it, leaning forward a bit. “Perhaps it’s time to consider the relevancy of the assessment tools given today’s rapidly evolving security environment.”

“It’s always about computers to you.”

“Not always, but it’s where the future of espionage is headed.” As the newest director of the Information Assurance Directorate at the NSA, the hardest part of his job was helping the current leadership understand and integrate technology into espionage. It had been a difficult challenge to convince many of the old-timers to move forward on this. While progress was being made, it was happening at a far slower rate than he liked.

“Our intelligence agencies are in transition,” Slash continued, keeping his tone light. He didn’t want to aggravate Dexter, just make a point. “We need to be prepared, and these kids are a step in the right direction.”

Dexter didn’t look convinced, but at least he didn’t openly argue. A clever man and an excellent agent in his own right, Dexter had been in the business long enough to understand the impact technology was having on intelligence activities. How to integrate the old to the new was the stumbling block. Slash’s job was helping to smooth the way.

“I understand what you’re saying,” Dexter said. “Regardless, none of them are what I expected.” Dexter shifted in his chair. “They’re different than our usual candidate.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“How? No matter how skilled they are in the virtual world, we both know the base qualifications for an operative remain the same. They need to have real-world smarts, too.”

Dexter was only partially right. While Slash couldn’t speak to the kids’ real-world capabilities, he had full faith in their brainpower, technical capability, and creative thinking. Whether they could withstand the pressure, psychological testing, and competition would be the real test. But he was certain that kids like Angel, Wally and Frankie were the kind of talent the agencies needed to cultivate.

“As the requirements for the operative evolve, so must our criteria,” Slash said. “We not only need to update the assessment tools we use in looking for the right candidate, but adjust the challenges and trials, too. I’m comfortable in saying the coming challenges will be more in line with their instincts.”

Dexter shook a finger at him. “I’m warning you, Slash, computer skills will not be enough. They’ll have to show a lot more intellectual flexibility, emotional depth and psychological potential than they just did.”

“They will. Give them time to adapt. They’reallsmart, and not just in computers.”

“They’d better show those smarts soon or they’ll be the first to wash out,” Donovan warned.

“They won’t.”

“You really have faith in them.” Dexter studied Slash for a long moment, then let out a sigh and sat back in his chair, crossing his arms against his chest. “I do have to give them credit for agreeing to stick it out. I just hope you’re right about them.”

“I am.” Slash smiled, showing Dexter his confidence. “You’ll see.”

ANGEL SINCLAIR

We followed Jonas, aka the masked shooter, to our dorm rooms. Without the ski mask, he seemed normal. I put him at about nineteen or twenty years old, and he had blond hair and a nice smile. Frankie apologized twice for throwing the bleach container at him, even though we’d thought he’d been trying to kill us. Wally nervously asked him questions like how long he’d been at UTOP and how often he was required to portray an active shooter methodically hunting down kids.

Jonas laughed and brushed off most of the questions with ease. Exactly how an operative should act.

I thought the whole situation was exceptionally awkward, so I kept my mouth shut. We walked past the main buildings and down a brick pathway through the woods. I didn’t see another person and wondered if the other nominees had already come in.

“What does KIT stand for?” I asked.

Jonas stopped, perhaps because it was the first thing I’d said since we’d left Mr. Donovan’s office.

“Kids in Training,” he said. “KIT.”

“Oh. Did you train here?” Frankie asked.