Hope Acosta had always been captivated by her grandfather's tales of espionage and intrigue. She would sit on his lap as a little girl and listen to him talk about his adventures, not knowing at the time that he left out the more violent and disturbing parts.
So, when she joined the CIA at twenty-five, she felt ready to follow in his footsteps.
However, she never expected that for her first mission, they would team her up with Carlos Acosta, the legendary CIA sharpshooter, who was also her grandfather.
“Pop Pop, what are you doing here?” Hope said when she walked into the Langley briefing room and saw him. She was both thrilled and apprehensive. His hair had gotten very gray, and he was looking much older than she remembered. “You’re retired. You’re supposed to be in Miami having a mocktail by the pool. Does Gram know you’re here?”
"Hope," he greeted her with a hug, “it's nice to see you, too. Gram thinks I’m in New York visiting your father. And given the situation, I’m afraid if you tell her where really I am and what I’m doing, it's a breach of CIA protocol and I’ll have to kill you.”
“Very funny,” she replied. “But seriously, Pop Pop, why are you here?”
“It sounds like a tired cliche,” Carlos said, “but there’s one more mission.” “And it had to be you?” Hope asked.
“In this case, yes,” he replied. There’s a man involved that I need to confront. Let’s call it closure.”
“And what are you carrying?” Hope asked. “It looks like a staff. Who are you, Gandalf the Grey?”
“It is a staff, made with an advanced metal-polymer, light and strong,” he replied. “I can knock just about anybody on their ass with this. Plus, it shoots poison darts. It also has the benefit of making me look old and frail.”
“But you ARE old and frail, Pop Pop,” Hope declared. "Are you sure you’re ready for this?"
He flashed her a confident, devious smile. "I’ve been doing this most of my life. The question is, are you up for this, little girl?"
Their mission was critical: retrieve a stolen micro-drive which contained a list of undercover CIA operatives before it could be sold to foreign enemies. The intelligence pointed them to a remote village in Romania, where the drive was hidden with a notorious black-market dealer.
On the private jet to their destination, Carlos couldn’t help but voice his doubts. "This isn’t a game, Hope. It's dangerous. One mistake and it’s over. Are you prepared for that? I don’t think I could live with myself if anything happened to you."
Hope met his gaze, unshaken. "Pop Pop, I’m a grown woman. I’ve trained for this, and the decision to be here is all mine. I understand the risks. If anything happens to me, it won’t be your fault. I know what I signed up for.”
“Okay,” Carlos replied. “But if he tries to hurt my little girl, he’s going to regret it.”
“Who is he?” Hope asked, already knowing the answer, having seen the dossier of the man they would be confronting.
“Victor Dragolon,” he answered. “He’s a former CIA operative who betrayed me and the Agency years ago.”
“He was your partner,” Hope stated plainly.
“He was,” replied her grandfather. “I haven’t seen him since he abandoned me in Rome. Abandoned our mission and took all his intel and experience to our enemies.”
“I’m sorry he did that, Pop Pop,” Hope replied. “If he tries to hurt you again, I’m going to kick his ass into next month.”
Carlos smiled at his granddaughter, silently proud that the clever little girl he once knew had grown up to be a strong young woman.
When they got to Romania, advance intel put the Dragolon in an old, abandoned monastery on the outskirts of a small village. The night was pitch black as they approached the crumbling structure. Carlos’ experience guided them through the shadows, but Hope’s quick thinking and agility kept them from tripping alarms.
Inside, the air was thick with dank moss and must, and danger. They crept along the stone corridors until they reached the main hall, where they found their target.
Hope’s heart pounded as she recognized the man from the dossier, the man Pop Pop had told her about: Victor Dragolon.
Carlos froze, his eyes narrowing. "Victor," he said quietly.
"Carlos Acosta,” Victor said as he saw them, his scarred face splitting into a malicious grin. “I never thought I’d see you again. And you brought a young protégé, I see."
Hope stepped forward, her gun trained on Victor. "We’re here for the drive."
Victor laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "So, the CIA sends children now? And you, Carlos, still clinging to your glory days."
Carlos’ jaw tightened. "Hand over the drive, Victor."
Victor’s smile faded. "You’re both too late." He snapped his fingers, and armed guards emerged from the shadows, surrounding them.
"Stay close," Jack whispered to Hope, raising his weapon, having decided a pistol was a better choice than the staff against Dragolon.
But Hope had her own plan. She moved swiftly, disarming one of the guards with a well-placed kick and using her pistol against the others. Carlos covered her, his sharpshooting skills honed by years of experience.
Amid the gunfire and shouts, Victor tried to escape. Hope saw her grandfather follow him through a side door and pursued them with a surge of adrenaline.
She emerged into a narrow courtyard, and saw Victor pointing his pistol at her grandfather’s head.
“Pop Pop!” she yelled, realizing the mistake as she said it.
“Well, well,” Victor said to Carlos. “This isn’t just your protégé. Is this sweet, young girl your granddaughter, Carlos?
Carlos shot a look at Hope, worried that Victor would somehow use their relationship against them, with a tragic outcome.
“I am his granddaughter, and proud of it,” Hope admitted. “I’m just a little older than your own granddaughter, aren’t I? How old is Valarie now, about twenty-two?”
Victor looked at Hope, stunned, then recomposed himself.
“I’d ask you how you know that, but it doesn’t matter,” Victor replied. “You’re still—”
Victor was cut off by the sound of his own mobile phone ringing.
“I think you’ll find that call is about her,” Hope said. “There’s been a bad accident, and Valarie is in the hospital in Tblisi.”
“You couldn’t possibly know that,” Victor responded.
“And yet,” Hope said. “She needs you. You are the same blood type.”
Victor was shaken just enough to let his pistol drop an inch, when Carlos swung and knocked the gun out of his hand. Hope lunged toward Victor and leaped into the air feet-first, connecting with his body and sending him backward onto the ground. Carlos scrambled and jumped on top of him, punched him in the face until he was out cold.
“That was incredible, Hope,” her grandfather said, fishing through Victor’s pockets until he found the micro-drive they had come for. “But how did you do that?
“I went beyond the dossier and found more info about Dragolon and his family,” Hope replied. “And the Agency gave me the last known mobile for him. I’m glad it still worked.”
"Well, not bad for a rookie," he joked, looking at her with a mixture of astonishment and pride.
“Sometimes, some solid info is better ammo than bullets,” she replied.
With Victor in custody and the micro-drive secured, they made their way to the nearby extraction point. As the helicopter ascended, an onboard medic nursed Carlos’ bruised fist.
"You did good, kid, Carlos said with a smile. “Maybe you’re ready for this after all."
Hope smiled, feeling a sense of validation she had always craved from her grandfather. "And maybe you’re not as old as I thought."
As they flew away from the crumbling monastery, Hope basked in the fact that the bond between them was now stronger than ever, and wondered what the future would hold.
“So, what now, Pop Pop?” Hope asked him. “Back to retired life? Bingo and fruit cups in the rec room?”
Carlos thought about this whole experience with Hope and knew that he wasn’t ready for retirement yet. He still had a few more good years where he could work for the CIA and make a difference. Katherine wouldn’t be too happy, especially knowing that their granddaughter was going to be involved and at risk. But he knew that together, he and Hope were a strong and capable team.
“Let’s see what other missions the Agency gives us, and go from there,” he replied to Hope.
“Us?” Hope replied with a grin.
“Sure, partner,” he said. “I hate bingo.”
