CHAPTER ONE
"What is this...the young executives club?"
The girl passed the group of twenty-one teenage boys, wondering what could possibly be waiting for them on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean, in Frankfurt, Germany. All dressed up in their suits and ties, the young men on TWA flight 740 out of New York, appeared to be headed perhaps to a speech and debate tournament, or maybe even a J.C.W.A. convention (the Junior Council on World Affairs). But nothing could be further from the truth. They say truth is stranger than fiction...well, I'll let you be the judge of that...
Having finished his Manicotti Bolognese dinner, the brown haired boy in the blue blazer sat back in his seat and reviewed the events of the past day. It had been a long day even though he had not done much of anything save for standing around in airports and sitting around in airplanes. Now he tried to sleep. I say tried because Ryan Alan Forsythe always had trouble sleeping in foreign places (and what could be more foreign than the middle of the Atlantic Ocean at 5:21 on a Saturday morning?).
The day started out as any other. Young Ryan woke up and had his usual bowl of cereal on the first day of April, the year of 1988. Some call it April Fool's Day. For Ryan, it could have been called something else, but that's a different story. It was not too long before the members of our hero's immediate family began hounding him with all sorts of questions and expectations concerning his ten day trip to Europe during the spring holiday interruption, for which he would be embarking that day.
"Are you excited?" asked one.
"What do you think it will be like?" asked another.
And still another: "Get me some chocolate!"
Ryan was excited to be leaving the bizarre creatures that populated his small town of Richmond Heights, Ohio, but he dared not show it. He remained calm and collective, preferring to save his energies until much later in the trip when they would be in dire need.
Ryan's father packed his bags (Ryan's bags, not his father's) into the Oldsmobile 98 that sat in the garage, as Ryan said his farewells to his room, his house, and his older brother, Bob, who had so surprised the family by waking up on a Friday morning when he did not have to be anywhere.
"Is Johnny going?"
The question came from Ryan's younger brother, Dan. Danny firmly believed that Johnny was a fellow classmate of Ryan's at St. Ignatius High School, but alas, we know differently. A schoolboy was quite a cover for one of the top agents of a worldwide police organization known simply as RAGE.
It was the goal of RAGE (the Regal Agency for Global Emergencies) to keep peace and order in a crazy world. This is inherent in the organization's motto: "We keep peace and order in a crazy world."
Johnny was not permitted to join the mission. What would happen if the plane crashed? Their department of RAGE could hardly afford to lose BOTH Johnny and Ryan, let alone one of them, so, no, Johnny was not going.
Ryan answered his brother with a simple, yet resounding "Not."
A few minutes before Ryan was ready to depart, Johnny called. The two had worked on various adventures in the past, but this mission was more dangerous than all of those combined and Johnny knew it.
"Be sure to bring me back something," said Johnny.
"I will," replied Ryan, even though he wasn't one hundred percent certain that he would. Ryan knew what Johnny wanted him (Ryan, not Johnny) to bring back - himself. If there was one thing Johnny wanted, it would be to have Ryan and the rest of the team back home and safe after a successful mission.
Ryan hung up the phone and joined the rest of the family in the waiting car (except for Bob who had found someone to talk to on the phone). As they sped toward the airport, Ryan's Mom and brother Dan stared out the windows from the back seat, driving duties belonged to Dad, and Ryan rode shotgun (a term he had come to despise since his first mission, the unfortunate Katz incident).
In the Cleveland Hopkins Airport parking lot, Dad manuevered the Oldsmobile into a spot next to the Jaguar of the Wolf's, whose son Cliff would be accompanying Ryan on the journey. The agency investigated each and every student on the trip, to make sure there would be nary a troublemaker, but Ryan was suspicious of this one they called Cliff Wolf.
As they got out of the car, it was slightly chilly, and Dad suggested Ryan put on his green sweater, which he did - and later regretted.
Mom reminded Ryan of her sister's desire for a gift from Germany. "If it's no trouble you can get her something. But if it takes too long, forget it."
"I know, I know," replied Ryan, for he knew. Mary was his aunt. She had asked him to get a beer stein and other such things, but Ryan would not have time to run about buying such trivial items. This was not a vacation, it was all business.
Inside the airport, the Forsythes found the proper gate and waited for the twenty other students and the four faculty members. This gave Dan time to go over a few more "Lasts...at least for a while."
The perceptive brother noted such things as "This is your last day in the United States until you come back" and "Yesterday was the last day in which you would be in America the entire day, at least until you return.
These intriguing ideas were but a few in a long line of famous "lasts." Before he left home, Dan informed Ryan that "this is the last time you will see your brother Bob for a few days." On the way to the airport, Ryan learned that it was his last car ride for some time in the U.S.
Anna Ruth Robertson, a.k.a. the Wootie, was supposed to be at the airport to give Ryan a big sendoff. While his family waited in the airport, Ryan's aunt (actually his Mom's aunt) appeared down the corridor and waddled over to the group.
"Hi, Hi, Hi." (The usual greeting from Wootie.)
Chat.
Small talk.
And then it came. What Ryan had been waiting for.
"WILL BYFIN FOURSKYTE PREASE KHO TO A KURTSY FOAN."
The speaker boomed the message out to all those in its vicinity in a rather diseased way. Ryan heard it. Ryan's Mom had heard it. Ryan's Dad had not, but he took Ryan to the phone anyway just in case the operator meant Ryan Forsythe when she said Byfin Fourskyte.
The operator put them on hold. The operator took them off hold. The operator said no call for Ryan Forsythe - at least not anymore, but Ryan knew the meaning of this. Everything was set. Ryan had gotten the green light from Headquarters to proceed as planned. No problems had arisen...yet.
When Ryan and Dad got back to the group, Wootie was chatting with a newfound friend about ceilings or something like that. Maybe it was walls.
The chaperones started showing up after a while, relieving Ryan, who was anxious to get the whole affair over with. Four teachers from St. Ignatius High School would be escorting the young men to Europe and, if all went as planned, back home again.
Mike Howard was a history teacher with the school, as were Fr. Larry Ober, and Alan Wilhelms. The fourth was speech teacher extraordinnaire Joe Buzzelli. It was the responsibility of these four men to see that all went as planned.
Fortunately, the agency was able to substitute one of its men for one of the teachers or there could be more trouble. Of course the agency did not tell the student agents that one of their chaperones was actually a member of the force. Better to let the students proceed as planned and just let agent eleven watch over them.
When Joe Buzzelli arrived, he told everyone to leave their bags where they were, go to the boarding gate, and prepare to depart for New York Kennedy Airport, from whence they would depart to Frankfurt.
Ryan and family waited for Wootie to board a wheelchair to quicken the pace, allowing them to get to the gate moments before the plane was to take off.
The group arrived at the proper place and after a few rounds of goodbyes, Ryan began the descent down the ramp to the airplane that would bring him one step closer to history.
"Hey, Ryan!" called out his Dad, as he fumbled with his camera. "Let me take a picture."
Ryan turned around, smiled for the picture, and disappeared into the corridor.
A friendly stewardess greeted Ryan at the entrance to the plane. This was no ordinary stewardess, mind you, but the greatest disguise artist in the entire RAGE organization: LaBeeb Beggiani. It was such a good disguise, Ryan did not even notice that the cute blonde stewardess was actually one of his superiors.
RAGE had taken every precaution to ensure the safety of the mission. Having Beggiani along on this flight heightened the safety of the other flights, Ryan would take.
"Seat 8-E. Just go down the left aisle and it should be on your left."
Ryan walked past the rows of seats, and arrived at his destination. Bob Capri, a fellow student was seated in seat 7-E, so Bob kindly got up to allow Ryan passage to his seat. Just as Ryan prepared to move in, he heard a voice behind him.
"Hold it a minute, let me in there first."
Ryan turned around to see Screaming Mike Howard.
Mr. Howard passed through to the window seat, then Ryan sat between Capri and Howard.
"Gum?" asked Bob Capri, offering a piece to Ryan.
"Sure, Thanks."
After a short delay, the plane was ready to depart. The stewardesses came to the front of the compartment to explain to everyone how to work their seatbelts, just in case they had never used one before or could not understand the complex instructions on the emergency card located in the pocket of each seat.
One of the stewardesses looked vaguely familiar to Ryan. Maybe she was a member of the crew on a different plane he took sometime.
Ryan glanced at the student next to him. Bob Capri was holding up okay on his first plane trip. But Terence Bizga was another story. Terry was a little worried about the plane being shot down by Canadian terrorists, being engulfed in flames, and everyone aboard dying a slow and agonizing death (or something like that).
Mr. Howard attempted to cheer Terry up. "Don't worry Terry. If we are shot down, you won't have to worry about a slow death, it will be pretty quick...you probably won't even feel a thing."
"Gee. Thanks for making me feel better."
"No problem, Terry."
During this exchange, Ryan wanted to tell Terry not to worry, that his agency had taken steps to ensure that nothing happenned to the plane, but he knew he could not say a word. It was far too important a mission to chance telling anyone any part of it.
The plane landed in New York without a problem and the group waited around a few hours before departing to Frankfurt with their sister tour group from Peoria, Illinois. Ryan did not want any agents from any of the other local branches of RAGE, but headquarters had insisted. It seems there is a girl in the Peoria branch in line for the new position of Chief Director of Operations (the same position Ryan wanted).
His boss told him neither the Cleveland group nor the Peoria group would be told who from the other group was or was not an agent. Ryan would have to find out somehow just who this girl was so he could keep her from getting to the prince (and the job), before he himself did.
CHAPTER TWO
He turned toward the window and withdrew the dossier from his carry-on, making sure not to reveal the various other contents of the bag to any passenger who might happen to be a little curious.
The mission sounded simple enough, but Ryan was not naive, and he realized a lot of work and luck, would be needed for the mission to be completed. His wisdom and experience went much farther then his fifteen years might lead one to believe. To those around him, he was a pimply freshman at an all-male Catholic high school in Cleveland, Ohio. Quite a cover for one of the most innovative and resourceful agents in RAGE.
This mission had been in the planning stage for fourteen months, and just now was coming to fruition.
Forsythe's mind was in overdrive so he decided to watch the in-flight movie to help him relax.
"Excuse me, Miss," he stopped the stewardess. "Might I have some earphones for the movie?"
"One moment." The stewardess went to the back and came back with a pair of headphones.
For the first time, Forsythe glance up at the screen. Robin William was screaming "Good Morning, Vietnam!" Not exactly the movie Forsythe wanted to see, with his own personal war expected to begin in the next few days. He flipped on the radio instead. Static.
Halfway over the Atlantic, he couldn't pick up a good station, so he turned the thing off. He was just about asleep, when the intercom came on.
"We will be arriving in Frankfurt in just under six minutes...Please extinguish all cigarettes and remain in your seats until we have landed...keep your seat belts fastened until further notified...etc..."
Forsythe picked up the travel bag and clutched it tightly, his knuckles turning an ever whiter shade of pale. He could not afford to lose the contents of the bag. His life as well as the lives of thousands of people depended on it.
"Enjoy your sleep?" asked fellow agent John B. Jones, as they left the confines of the monster 747.
"What sleep? You know I can't sleep in strange places." Forsythe answered the massive Jones. From their previous missions Jones was aware of his companion's professed sleeping troubles, but he was not aware of one thing. Forsythe did not sleep because he could not sleep in strange places. He would not sleep in strange places.
It all went back to the Katz incident. There was a stakeout of K.A.T.s' headquarters. The Katz Army Today organization was a bad group of old men who brainwashed young boys into doing their dirty work. Forsythe had seen the effects of the KATs firsthand, for his own brother had fallen prey to the group's leader, Old Man Katz.
The stakeout had been particularly garrulous. Three men had been victimized by the 200 kilovolt lines running through the main yard of the headquarters. One of the men had gone mad during the ordeal under the pressure and just started running towards the house yelling "Death to the Wayland Boot kid!" One other man was torn to shreds by the pack of evil dogs situated at the rear entrance. The head of one man was blown completely off by a blast from the shotgun of Old Man Katz's houseboy, Gino Amata.
The tension did not quite get to Ryan. He worked best with the pressure on. Unfortunately, he was a liitle too calm in the face of the danger of the Katz - he fell asleep!
When Ryan awoke, the destruction was unbelievable, the bodies of his fellow agents were layed in a row with their shirts ripped off. With a knife, Old Man Katz had carved one word on the chest of each of his victims. Laid together, the bodies spelled out "THE BOYS ARE MINE ANYONE WHO TRIES TO STOP ME MUST DIE."
Apparently the entire force of twelve RAGE agents assigned to the area had been obliterated. Ryan was alive because of luck. When Katz saw him lying on the ground, he assumed the electric lines had gotten to Ryan first. In actuality, Ryan was so calm during the mess, he did not even feel the knife of Old Man Katz upon his chest.
Two years later, the scars of Old Man Katz' knife were close to healed. Ryan could again go to the pool without people asking about the "BOYS" on his chest, carved by the maniacal madman who was number one on RAGE's most wanted list, Old Man Katz.
And that is why Agent 78-90 would not sleep in strange places.
After getting their luggage, the members of the group (twenty one students and four teachers from St. Ignatius High School and sixteen students and one teacher from Peoria Manual High), made their way to the tour bus.
The tour guide welcomed everyone. "Hello Everybody, my name is Wolfgang Schenk. I will be your tour guide for the next nine or so days. This is my wife Anna-Marie and this is our bus driver Taio." Wolfgang motioned to the lady next to him, and the man seated at the steering wheel.
Wolfgang was a stately chap, fiftyish, with an apparent German accent. His wife Maria was an odd looking creature that Ryan was sure he had seen somewhere before...if only he could remember where. Taio seemed to Ryan like a cross between his uncle Bill and Bill Murray, (with dark sunglasses).
Ryan seated himself towards the back of the bus next to Brad Borke, whom he had never seen before at school. Brad appeared to be a menacing person, but he was harmless if one did not speak to him. Ryan did not speak to him.
Before departing the parking lot, Wolfgang made an announcement. "We have a two to three hour bus ride ahead of us so you may want to get a little rest if you didn't sleep much on the plane."
Ryan did not sleep, preferring instead to take in the sights and sounds of a different country. The bus was virtually silent as the vast majority of the people snored the hours away. At the front of the bus a few of the teachers were asking Wolfgang questions. At the back of the bus a few of the Cleveland students were playing cards. John Mannis cheated Arthur Borowski out of a few coins at his version of poker.
The group arrived in Munich in time for a brief tour of the city before settling down to lunch at WeinerWald (more commonly referred to as WeinerWorld by the tour group). Everyone received the same meal at WeinerWorld: weinerschnitzel and fries. Everyone, however, did not receive the same beverage to drink. Since beverages were not paid for in the cost of the trip, some students opted not to even have a drink.
After lunch, the group convened to a cathedral down the street.
© 2001 ryan@forsythe.to