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"What is the definition of 'right'? What are the 'Miranda rights'? Explain the fifth amendment of the Constitution of the United States. Define the following ten terms. " Nykki chewed on the end of her pen as she skimmed through the list of thirty test questions. She shot a look of mock horror at her twin. He returned it with a grimace. She quickly crossed her fingers once for luck, then bent her head and started answering the questions.
They had a few minutes before the next class. The cadets were together discussing the answers to Hupperman's test. "Hupperman's questions didn't concentrate on Constitutional Law! He's a Con Law tutor for Christ's sake! Why should he ask questions on court procedure?" someone was complaining at the top of his voice. "Is the answer to question six true or false?" someone asked. "I put true," answered Brent. "I wrote false because..." put in another voice. "How do you define corpus delicti and actus rens?" Leander shouted at Nick over Dale Parker's shoulder. "And what about that explain the fifth amendment question?" "I don't know. I think that question is vague. What does it mean by explain?" In frustration, Nicholas ran his fingers through his already tousled hair. "What did you put Alex?" "I regurgitated the whole paragraph from his book. It was the only answer I could think of that sounded logical. But I'm sure Hupperman will take off points for irrelevancy - I've never seen another tutor so miserly with grades. It wasn't even half this bad in college!" Ellie DeWitt was asking Rachel Meyer. "How about the..." "What are you all doing here?" a voice boomed from behind them. Guiltily, the cadets spun around en masse. It was the Director. "Is there some piece of earth-shattering news I haven't heard about?" he asked them softly, which made it even more terrifying. "Do you have class now?" Several nodded. The rest were frozen. "I suggest all of you get ready for it now. I don't want to see you loitering about the halls again, understand?" With a simultaneous, and somewhat shaky "yes", the group dispersed, leaving the Director alone in the corridor.
"Learning to cuff a suspect is very important. It is an art." Snickering. Robert Finch, the physical instructor, turned and shot a withering look at the row of cadets. "And in order to cuff someone, you must exploit the opponent's weakness. An unarmed suspect can be cuffed using only the proper attitude - and we're here to teach you the proper attitude." "Rather full of himself, isn't he?" Leander whispered into Alex's ear. Unfortunately, he was spotted by Finch. "Westfield! Get your butt out here and be my volunteer!" Finch yelled. Before stepping forward, Leander threw a tortured look back at his fellow cadets and drew amused chuckles from all of them. Finch, however, was not the slightest bit amused. There was a glint in his eye when he turned onto Leander. "Now," he said to Leander silkily, "I am going to demonstrate the proper procedure of arresting a suspect. All of you," he said over his shoulder, "should take note of the details." "FBI!" Finch said to Leander, "you're under arrest!" Leander tried to escape, like a proper suspect when cornered, but Finch grabbed his arm, wrenched it behind is his back to slammed him against the wall. "Put your hand in the air! Against the wall! Move your hand up! Higher! Higher!" he shouted. In agony, Leander obeyed and stretched his free arm as high as it would go. Finch held it and pulled it behind with the other hand and pushed him on the ground, face-down and hurriedly handcuffed him. "Notice," he said, "that my gun-belt is always away from the suspect. He doesn't like you, and killing you with your own gun would please him the most." He took the cuffs off Leander's wrists and sent him back with a curt 'thank you'. Leander rubbed his sore wrists and scowled at the instructor, who pointedly ignored him. "Now, come over and check your names. You'll be working in pairs, one being the arresting officer and the other the suspect. Move it!" Nicholas was paired up with Ellie DeWitt. She shot a quick, wistful look at Nykki which she did her best to ignore. Nykki looked for her alias on the sheet of paper. Her partner was Brent Shepherd. "Damn!" she muttered under her breath. Brent was waiting for her. "Come on Alex! Stop walking like you're eighty years old!" Annoyed at his apparent enthusiasm, she deliberately sauntered over to where he was. "We're supposed to be practicing, okay? Look, don't make this difficult for yourself, and don't fight me when I'm doing it. I've had more experience than you - my father's an FBI agent, and he taught me this move when I was six years old." She nodded sourly. "Okay, FBI. You're under arrest. Put your hands up and against the wall!" Brent stood by her right side and shackled her right hand behind her back. He struggled to open the cuffs and that was all the time she needed. The moment he had the cuffs open, she wrenched around and quick as a viper, pushed him roughly on the ground, and handcuffed him. She took the fake gun from his holster and held it to his head. "Bang! You're dead. Try harder next time." She patted him on the back consolingly. Brent squirmed on the ground. "Hey! Aren't you going to let me out? Alex!" She just stood looking at him. Finch removed the cuffs and motioned for the rest to crowd around. "What Alex did is the perfect example of how dangerous it can be when things go wrong. Two of you switch around and try it again." Nykki managed to cuff Brent in the minimum amount of effort and time. Brent was once again sprawled on the floor, cuffed and angry. "Now Brent," she said silkily, "if you would just stop being the utter jerk you are, maybe you won't end up on the floor so often." At the other end of the gym where he was supervising another pair, Christopher was unwillingly impressed by Alex's dexterity, and his suspicion doubled. Finch glanced at his watch. "Okay. Class dismissed. See you tomorrow." The students left to go and change. Nykki unlocked the cuffs on Brent and he got up, rubbing his sore wrists. The look in his eyes could only be described as murderous. Nykki ignored him and went off with her twin. On the way out, Nicholas whispered into her ear. "Nykki, you'd better be careful around Brent. He'll do anything to get even with you." "Don't worry," she answered, "I can take care of myself."
"Butz!" marksman Mark Hash shouted at the bespectacled young man. "Yes... yes sir?" "How many times do I have to tell you. Don't point your gun at anyone in the room, especially not at me!" Hash carefully pushed the muzzle of the gun away. "Now, put in it your holster and don't take it out again until I tell you to!" "Yes... yes sir." "Okay, this is the first time you're handling a real gun. This is a Beretta Pistola Automatica 9mm - standard issue. Just a question: How many of you own your own guns? Real guns, not the type we've been working with." Several cadets put up their hands. "Okay, hands down." "The gun is not the most important part of an FBI agent's wardrobe... the suit and tie is." Laughter broke out at his joke. "However, it comes in very handy when you are faced with a dangerous criminal who is threatening to kill you or your partner. In order to use it well, the gun must be made a part of you. 'What do I mean?', you may ask. Look upon it like a lethal extension of your arm. You don't want to dislocate your arm right? In the same way, you must not dislocate your gun and treat it like a separate object. Look at the gun. Feel it. Caress it. And for those of you who really have a problem trying to visualize what I'm saying, kiss your gun and pretend you've just made love to it." Snickers sounded from the group of cadets gathered. "No laughing. That's a tried and tested method of teaching people how to use guns. You won't believe how many people who come in here have a phobia of firearms. You hold the gun like this, exactly like the toys. Yes Butz, you can take yours out of the holster now." Finch walked around to check on them. He led them to the practice room. "Each of you take a cubicle. The bullets you're using are called wad cutters - these make nice round holes so you can count exactly how many hit the target. The cartridges are on the table. Squeeze the trigger, don't snap it. Concentrate on your target, don't fire heedlessly. If you want, you can pretend you're Clint Eastwood. Any questions? Great. So, let's shoot!" The shots rang out. Nykki suppressed an involuntary shudder. The sound was too familiar. She concentrated on shutting all the other sounds out, and sought out that part of her mind that was always watching calmly. She became an outsider in her own body, passively looking on and grading her progress. Hash read out the marks after the lesson. "Bickerstaff, seven-point five... Butz, three-point-six - practice, a lot... Cain, eight ... Daniels, seven... DeWitt, nine-point-three - good work, you should consider becoming a sharpshooter... Fraser, six... Grant, seven-point-six... Holmes, seven-point-eight... Lance, eight... Alex and Nick Mason, both nine-point one... Meyer, eight... Parker, seven-point seven... Pontini, five-point nine - needs improvement... Shepherd, eight-point eight - good work... Sommers, seven... ... Westfield, eight and Wolfe, eight. Did I get everybody?" Twenty-seven heads nodded. "All right then, off to the showers. I'll see you tomorrow. Dismissed." As the twins were walking back, Brent brushed rudely past them. He stopped in front of Nykki and waved his fist under her nose. "It isn't over between us Mason. No one does better than Brent Shepherd, no one." "Have it your way. Although your first concern should be to stop saying stupid things before you get your nose rubbed in the dirt again." Nykki pushed past him, towing her twin behind her.
It was nearing the end of the Con Law class, and Hupperman finally conceded to give out their test papers from the day before. As he handed out the papers, he broadcast all the marks. "Mr. Holmes, C-minus. Mr. Bickerstaff, B-plus. Ms. Pontini, A-minus, good effort. Ms. DeWitt, F, one more and you're out DeWitt. Mr. Butz, A, good work. Mr. Parker, B. Mr. Westfield, B-plus." Leander heaved a huge sigh of relief from beside her. Nykki flashed him a quick grin and spared a second for a quick prayer. "Mr. Shepherd, B-minus. You're slacking Shepherd." Brent's jaw had fallen open and he stared at his paper in disbelief. It was her turn now. Hupperman dropped her test paper into her hands. She saw the mark before he said it. "Alex Mason, A. Nicholas Mason, A. Keep up the good work, both of you. Ms. Meyer, A-minus. Mr. Wolfe..." Nykki exchanged a wink with her twin. Suddenly, someone kicked the back of her chair. She turned back and stared at Brent. "Don't think you're so smart just because you beat me a few times. I'll get you yet," Brent hissed. She looked away. "Okay, tomorrow, there will be a quiz on chapters twelve to twenty of your textbook. I don't want to see any failures for this test." Hupperman was saying, looking pointedly at DeWitt. He dismissed the class, and everyone gathered their books to leave. Nykki did the same. As she turned to leave, he grabbed the her collar. "Don't fool with me Mason," he threatened. "Get your hands off me," she replied. "I don't think you'll enjoy the consequences." Brent released his grip and took an involuntary step back at the coldness in her voice. "Just you watch out Mason." With the last threat, he left the room. Leander shook his head. "What a chicken," he remarked. "Alex. Tell me how you do that." "Do what?" "You know, do that thing with your eyes. You looked really... wow. I'd give anything to do that. Maybe you could give lessons, teach people how to kill with their eyes." "Forget it, it's not good for you" answered Nicholas cryptically. "Alex took years to master that. Come on, everyone's already gone. There'll be no food left for us when we get down." "I need to dump my books first. Catch you downstairs!" Leander ran off. The twins were alone. "Nykki, be careful of Brent. He'll do anything to make you quit." "I know. But that's his problem. Don't worry, nothing will happen. He doesn't have the brains to pull it off. Let's go. We're already late."
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