Stan, Grace, Elijah and I, sit in the car in silence. The boys are on full alert, ready and waiting to attack. Grace is pressed against me tightly, for comfort I think. Stan drives. To anyone else we probably look like a bunch of teenagers ditching school for a fun day out, which is so far from the truth it would almost be funny, if we weren't putting our lives at risk.

I watch London whizz by. It feels like a lifetime ago I was here. That girl had no idea of this world. That girl had no idea of the secrets her parents held, how well she had been trained, who she was. You know the phrase 'ignorance is bliss'? I'm living proof of that.

Even now, we have a name for the organisation that took me; C.O.A, led by Robert Snider, with his son Daniel at his evil side. Daniel, the seventeen year old who shot my mum right in front of me, then kidnapped and tortured me. I'd hate to imagine what his childhood was like; the path he's been forced down. I appreciate the life my parents had tried to give me, a normal one. They did what they did out of love.

It's still led me here though, shoved into a Ford Focus with two trainees and one professional operative. Despite my parents protections, despite their wants; I got sucked in anyway. I became one of them and dad must of known I would, otherwise why train me to the calibre he did? Why bother pretend I'm taking self defence classes with a combat master? If he never thought this is the way life would pave me, why prepare me for it?

"It's the house on the left," I say.

"Wa know," Elijah says softly. "We've been here before."

"Right." I nod.

Stan drives straight past and pulls over further down, stopping so we still have a clear shot at it. I don't know what I thought, that it would be some run down and deserted swamp by now, the door kicked in and the windows boarded up. But it looks exactly the same as I remember. It almost looks cleaner, as though someone has been taking the time to look after it.

We sit in the car, staring at it. Waiting. Clouds have started brewing, the sky dark, winds picking up. Not unusual for England this time of year, but it feels very foreboding as we sit there, staring at my empty childhood home.

"Perimeter sweep," Stanley says, opening his door.

I know patience is something we must master and yada, yada, yada but, well, it's never been my forte. I get out and make a beeline straight for the front door.

"Amelia," Stan hisses, but I ignore him. Elijah will be hot on my heels anyway.

I don't pause as I walk along the pavement, nor when I reach my gate. I march up to the familiar blue door and shove my key into the lock, not hiding my surprise when it turns and clicks open.

I push the door, letting it creak to a halt and stare down the hallway, that for the longest part of my life, was my safest space. It's a little dusty, not enough for a house that hasn't been lived in for a year, but definitely enough to show us it's been untouched for a while. I reach my hand to the right and flick a switch on, the hall is illuminated in a dim yellow glow.

"The bills are still being paid," Elijah notes, taking a step in front of me. "Let me go first-"

"No," I say, reaching out a hand to stop him. "I know this place best, I can get around the entire house without creaking a single floorboard. I'll go first, you can follow."

He doesn't argue with me because he knows I'm right, he's not happy about it though. I won't waste time looking in places that I know won't have any meaning. I head upstairs, straight for dads office.

Elijah's footing is exactly the same as my own, we're like to cats in the night as we slip through. If there's anyone here they're going to be unpleasantly surprised by our sudden appearance.

Unsurprisingly, we reach the top floor without bumping into anyone. At the end of the hall I see dads office door is closed. It makes me draw a breath, the sight unbelievably familiar; some things never change, even when the whole world has.

We slink down the hall and stop outside the office door. I put a hand on the knob and look back at Elijah, my eyebrows raised; what if it's rigged? What if the place explodes once we turn it? He shrugs, and nods, giving me permission to turn the handle. At least if we do this, we're doing it together; I can practically hear him think.

I steady myself, taking a few breaths and then swing the door open.

I don't know what I thought it would look like; but it's the same. I can tell it's been rummaged through, because there's certain things dad would never have left it as. A couple of books not being in alphabetical order, the pens not decreasing in size, the drinks tray not creating a perfect triangle. These things don't look out of place to anyone that isn't me; but I know better.

It feels weird being back here after all this time. In some ways it feels like I'm looking at it for the first time, I suppose the new me, is. This time I know I'm trained, I know what to look for; with the added bonus of being my dads daughter.

We don't make quick work of it, we are methodical, efficient. Elijah starts at one end and I the other, I know he's already searched it, I know Stan has looked too. I know they think we won't find anything, but they're not me.

We search high and low, open every drawer, pull out and put back every book, but we find nothing. Defeated I collapse into dads large swivel leather chair. It's the first time I've ever sat in it, and I'm a only allowed because dad is dead. I feel a laugh bubble it's way up, as if this whole year has been a joke.

"There's nothing here," Elijah straightens, turning to look at me.

"I know," I say. We stare at each other.

"So, what next?"

"I'm thinking."

I'm not thinking. I'm fresh out of ideas. Though, I do believe if it were me the last place I would hide something valuable, something important; would be in my office. Isn't that where everyone would look? If they thought I spent most of my time there, then they'd expect it to be close to me.

But dads office isn't where he spent most of his time. He spent it with me. We'd play games, watch tv, make food together. Every night, two hours before bed, he'd bring me a cup of tea in my room and we would talk and talk.

My room. Not his office. Not his bedroom. But my room. That's where we spent most of our time, dad would sit on my giant beanbag whilst I sat in bed and we would talk; endlessly. He'd tell me silly stories, give me advice. But it was nearly always in my room. I get to my feet and move.

"Amelia," Elijah hisses, following me out. I don't stop. "Care to fill me in?"

"Did you search my room?" I ask him, not looking back.

"Of course I did," He says.

"But as thoroughly as the office?"

Elijah pauses, "No, I was looking for information that might lead me to you. You wouldn't have looked in your room."

"No, I wouldn't have. But everyone will think that, won't they? I was the most precious thing to him, so he won't have put it near me. It's the last place anyone would suspect."

My bedroom door is left ajar and I step inside. Like everything else, it's the same as when I left it. Barely touched, a little dusty. Now that I've shared a room with three other girls, I can see that it's unusually neat. Teenagers shouldn't keep their rooms like this, but I did. I liked to know where everything was. I liked to keep it orderly, I suppose I'm like dad.

We look around, I look in places that I suspect and Elijah looks in places I know there won't be anything. That's when, for the first time in my life, I notice the picture dad had hung on my wall. It's a drawing I made of he and I when I was five. It's unflattering and nothing like us, but he loved it anyway. In the bottom of the golden frame is an indent, the perfect size of the golden clover necklace my mum gave me.

When the time is right, she said.

Is that now? I run my fingers over it, half expecting it to electric shock me or guns to explode from the floor; but nothing happens. Elijah draws up beside me. I don't need to speak, but his brain puts things together faster then mine ever would. He unclasps my necklace and hands it to me. I take the clover off the chain, and place it in the indent.

The second they connect, a panel under my bed pops open. I stare at it, a little dumbfounded and kind of amazed.

"It can't be that simple," I say to Elijah.

He shrugs, "Sometimes things are."

I pad over to it, lower myself to my knees and pull the panel back. I'm met with a flurry of papers, blue prints and a usb hard drive. Right at the bottom, there's an envelope titled; my darling Amelia. Everything feels as if it stops spinning. It's his handwriting, I'd know it anywhere. I reach for it, and fight back tears as it sits in my lap.

"Read it," Elijah says softly, lowering himself next to me.

"I... can't." I say, flipping it over in my hands.

"You can," He says. "You're the one person I can say for sure, who can do anything she puts her mind to."

"You read it," I hand it to him. "I'll listen."

He takes it from me and starts reading, "Dear Amelia, if you're reading this, then I'm probably gone. It means you've found the panel in your room, and that can really only mean one thing."

Elijah talks, but it's as if I can hear my dad. Not the boy I'm in love with.

"Please forgive me for never telling you, and please forgive your mother too. It was my idea to raise you as we did, she was never happy about it, which I think has come out in many other ways. I like to think I've kept you out of danger, but if you're reading this then it's unlikely." Elijah pauses glancing at me, waiting for permission to go on. I give a small nod.

"Inside this box and on that hard drive are the blueprints for a weapon I developed in the nineties, with a man named Robert Snider. It's a bio weapon, the first of its kind. A chemically engineered mastermind. It was designed to take out enemies silently, no more collateral. But Robert decided that the best use of this would be to rid the world of 30% of its population. Once I found this out, we disbanded and Robert went on his mission with other means. As of June 20th 2018, Robert has been unsuccessful in his mission, and I believe he's going to come for the blueprints. If you're reading this, then I'm already gone. You must take them to a man named Ethan Kade, he works in conjunction with the Prime Minister. I'm sorry to lay this at your feet kid. Know that if you have this letter then I had no choice, and more importantly, I have no fear you'll succeed where I couldn't."

Elijah pauses, then he says, "I love you. Dad."

I sag against him. It's one thing to find out your dad works in espionage, it's another to find out he engineered a weapon so dangerous it could wipe out 30% of the worlds population. Even worse to know that someone actually wants to do that, and me, his sixteen year old, is in charge of making sure it doesn't happen. Out of all the people in the world, all the adults who could have shouldered this responsibility; it had to be me.

"You know," a voice rings out, "my dads been trying to get those blue prints for three decades, and you've led us to them in less then a year."

We turn to see Daniel Snider causally leant against my bedroom door, as if this were an easy reunion and we're old friends. He's smiling down at us, as if he's pleased to see us. His eyes land on me, watching me. My skin crawls.

"Hello Amelia, love. You're looking much better."