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“I won’t. Consider it done.”

ANGEL SINCLAIR

Wally, Bo, and I walked side by side along the pretty brick pavers of the UTOP campus, headed for our Detection and Surveillance class located in Tallmadge Hall. The November sun was shining, and there was no wind, so it was comfortably cool.

“I can’t decide if I should go home or to the hotel while the campus is being de-asbestosized,” Wally said. “We have to tell them by five o’clock, so that leaves me only one more class to decide.”

“De-asbestosized isn’t even a word,” I commented.

“We’re scientists,” Wally complained. “Why can’t we make it a word?”

“We’recomputerscientists who don’t even have a degree yet.”

“It’s just semantics,” Wally declared. “What are you doing, Bo? Home or hotel?”

“Hotel,” Bo said, shifting his backpack on his shoulder. “Why’s it so hard for you to decide where to go?”

Wally thought for a moment. “Well, if I break it into pros and cons—the pros for going home are that my mom will cook all my meals, including my favorite desserts, do my laundry, let me sleep in, and fuss all over me. I’ll also have access to certain things like my World War II reenactment battlefield, some of my books, and an extra-firm mattress, all of which are important to me.”

Bo chuckled. He stood six foot four and had deep brown skin, muscular biceps, and the nicest smile I’d ever seen. Even though he was over a foot taller than me, and almost a foot taller than Wally, he never made us feel insignificant in his presence. During the UTOP trials, I’d come to view Bo as our group’s moral compass and leader, the most honorable among us. Somehow, he could always bring out the best of anyone who worked with him. The downside to Bo was that it took three normal steps for most of us to match one of his long strides. Walking with Bo was a serious workout.

“Doesn’t sound like much of a contest to me,” Bo said, picking up the pace as we got closer to the building. “What are the cons?”

“There’s just one, and it’s kind of private.” Wally huffed as he said it, busy trying to keep up with Bo’s long strides. I felt his pain.

“Let me guess.” Bo smiled as he tapped his finger on his chin. “Kira. Romanova.”

“Hey!” Wally’s head snapped up, a scarlet flush streaking from his neck to his cheeks. “How do you know that? Did Angel tell you?”

I stopped as well, secretly glad for the momentary reprieve in keeping up with Bo. “Wally, I didnottell him.”

Bo’s smile deepened. “Angel is telling the truth. Look, Wally,everyoneknows you worship the ground Kira walks on. But take a number, pal, because there’s a lot of people who wouldn’t mind being her number one.”

“Yeah, I know,” Wally said with a big sigh. “Story of my life. Last in line.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. “You’re not last in line. Technically, I’m not even sure there is a line, but that doesn’t matter. Kira thinks you’re great. I don’t know if that means she wants to date you, but she likes you, so that puts you ahead of most people on campus. Cut her a break. Like me, she’s not that into people.”

My words seemed to brighten Wally’s outlook significantly. “You’re right. If she likes me, that gives me an edge. Okay, it’s the hotel for me, then.”

I sighed. “Wally, I didn’t mean that to be the deciding factor. Plus, if you stay at the hotel, who’s going to give me a ride home? I guess my mom will have to come get me.”

“I’ll still drive you home, Angel,” Wally said. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s nice of you to offer, but I need to see what Frankie’s doing. If she has a ride, maybe I can go with her.”

We chatted some more about our upcoming week off until we arrived at the classroom. Typically our classes at UTOP were small, with anywhere from two to ten students. This class, however, had twenty-one, which made it my largest class by far. I’d concluded it meant that these skills were core to spy school, so I’d better do well.

Bo, Wally, and I slipped into seats in the middle of class. Wally and I opened our laptops to take notes, but Bo preferred to jot in a notebook. Our teacher, Professor Madeline Allard, stood in front of the class dressed in a black turtleneck and pants, her steel-colored hair in a tight bun at the back of her neck.

“Welcome to class, students. It’s your last class for at least a week. I hope you’re ready, because I’ll be giving you a lot of information today that I’ll need you to process and be ready to discuss when we return to the classroom.”

We nodded, so she continued. “Today we’ll focus on mobile and static visual surveillance. Every operative should know that the most important piece of field surveillance technology today is a digital camera. The camera should have high-definition capability, hours of battery life, and zooming capability. An operative would be well served to make sure said camera has an automatic time stamp to ensure the accuracy of time and date. Luckily, today’s smartphones offer many of these capabilities, and it’s easier than ever to use a cell phone in a public situation where a high-tech camera might attract unwanted attention.”

She walked around the front of the classroom for a minute, her hands clasped behind her back. “What other items might be useful to an agent conducting surveillance?”

A kid in the middle of the room raised his hand, and the professor called on him. “Hidden cameras?”

“Good. Yes, we strongly encourage the use of micro-cameras and mini-microphones combined with Bluetooth headsets. Both are excellent devices that can be easily concealed or disguised. Anything else?”