Episode 2 - Sinister Revelations

The high-pitched ring of the bell sounded predictably. Mr. Robertz closed his briefcase and pulled leather gloves over his hands while the students slowly filtered out of the classroom. With a confident stride he walked through the cacophony of the school hallway. He gave the necessary nods and greetings as he passed his colleagues but the distance in his eyes indicated his thoughts were elsewhere.

He stepped into his nondescript Jeep Grand Cherokee and drove to a small cafe a few miles away. Waiting in the shade of a table umbrella sat a man in a suit closely resembling Mr. Robertz's. This was not the first time they had met at this cafe and, presumably, it would not be the last.

"Good afternoon, Z." the suited man smugly greeted, "It appears you'll be putting in a bit of overtime this week."

A chiseled chin protruded from under the brim of the man's straw Bermuda hat. Strange attire for someone trying to blend in in Grand Rapids, Robertz thought. Small tufts of dark black poked out from under the hat and met the tops of the man's dark sunglasses. The only visible parts of his face were the ones below those glasses. Robertz imagined that was all the man could see of his face, as well. Good, he likes things this way.

"The Golden Eagles are at it again," the man said in a gravely voice, pushing a stack of files across the table. "This time they're going all the way to the top."

"Three targets," the man said as Robertz quickly flipped through the first file. "First they want to hit the construction site of Aquinas' new fieldhouse."

"It's taken us almost thirty years to get that fieldhouse under construction. Agent Wegert was a teenager when the plans were first drawn, for Christ's sake. I can't tell you how important it is that you protect that site."

"Next, they want to take down your headquarters. Our intelligence indicates that they haven't located your secret base of operations, codenamed Mayfield, but they're getting close. Protect it at all costs."

"And the last target," he said, taking the final file and flipping it open in front of Robertz, whose eyes grew large as he saw the photograph that was the first page. "Is Aquinas College President Balog himself."

The man lowered his glasses slightly as he peered at Agent Z. "I don't know how they got this information on the president," he said. "But they know more than you can imagine."

"The president is of utmost importance to Aquinas College," he said. "Without him, we're through. You must protect him at all costs."

Recovered from the initial shock, the man known as Z silently gathered up the files, tucked them into the recesses of his jacket and stood up.

"Weapons and supplies in the normal spot," the man said as Robertz turned to walk away. He replied with a slight nod over his shoulder.

After a few steps Z stopped, turned his head and asked: "What does NUP stand for, anyway?"

A slight smile curved upwards on the man's face.

"You'll never know," he replied. "And Z," he said after Robertz had taken another couple of steps. "Trust no one."

Episode 1

Saints Films presents....

A BealSchaner Production....

AGENT Z!!!!!!!

Episode 1 - A Warm Day in Hell

It was a cool, sunny afternoon in Grand Rapids. Already mid-July, the temperature had only eclipsed the 80 degree mark once. A small classroom on the rural outskirts of the city was filled with noisy, rambunctious teenagers who were eagerly awaiting the bell to signal the school day's end. The German II class they sat in was considered by student body consensus to be one of the most boring courses offered. They knew only eight minutes needed to pass before they could finish exploring the grammatical nuances of subjunctive form and begin their liberating weekend. Their buzz was growing steadily louder.

"SEIEN SIE JETZT RUHIG!" hounded Mr. Robertz. He had tendency to overreact towards his anxious students who became less productive near the end of class and although the students could not comprehend his angered, German shouts, he refused to ever communicate to his class in English as a matter of educational principle.

Mr. Robertz was known as a stern teacher who was prone to wearing dark suits and dark ties to school each day. Compared to the laid back khaki pants and unbuttoned top buttons of his colleagues, Robertz's wardrobe was downright formal. But his stiffly starched collars and firmly pressed shirts weren't nearly as curious to the students and teachers at Gerald R. Ford High as were the black leather gloves and dark sunglasses he had a tendency of wearing; many times even after he had entered the building.

He was a man of contradictions. Even though his tough outer shell exuded a take no shit attitude, deep down there was a place, however small, that let his students in. And, despite himself and his indecipherable German rantings, like his students he was anxiously awaiting the ticking of those last eight minutes off the clock.

He had some business to attend to.