Months Earlier (October 1991)

With a strong cup of black coffee brewing in his office, Morgan Abbott, listened to his pupil stumble through an explanation of the cultural differences between Cuba and North Korea. His small coffee pot matched the size of his office, filled with a desk, a pair of chairs for guests, crowded by the wall-mounted bookshelf on Morgan’s left, which stretched the length of the room.

As the coffee maker chimed, Morgan twisted his chair around and poured himself a cup of joe. He grabbed a pink packet of Splenda, prompting the pupil to say, “You don’t use Splenda.” The astute student, Julie, always kept her eyes open for changes in the moods and behavior of people around her.

Morgan held the Splenda between his fingers, similar to a cigarette, and tossed it in his top drawer. “I was hoping you’d notice,” he said with a sinister grin. Despite the evil look, he felt pride in watching her develop her skill throughout the last year. “Continue your talk of Cuba,” he said, waving his hand as his wedding ring reflected light in her eyes.

“Cuba and North Korea are both socialist countries; the only difference is race,” Julie said, “and you don’t see too many North Korean immigrants.” Her comment made Morgan chuckle, followed by him taking a sip from a red USC mug. “Do they give those to all the faculty?” Julie said. Born in Ecuador and adopted as an infant by a wealthy family, Julie spoke English and Spanish fluently, a skill helpful for anyone living in L.A. Her copper skin was a contrast to Morgan’s cooler tone.

“Yes,” he said.

“Let's talk about something other than class.” Julie brushed her long dark hair behind her ear, and her piercing brown eyes gave all the attention to the professor.

“Alright,” he placed his cup on a coaster. “What is the Russian military’s primary rifle?”

“Easy, the AK 47.”

“What caliber does it use?”

“That’s the 7.62.”

“What’s the country of origin of the Panzer tank?” he asked.

“Germany,” she said. “The German word panzer means armor.”

“What’s the best way to disable one?”

“Use a Panzerschreck!” she smiled.

He laughed and clapped his hands in applause, as the muscles in his biceps flexed. Morgan didn’t look like a history or psychology professor, more like a slimmed-down linebacker. The only evidence of him being in his mid-30’s are the bags under his eyes of late-night sessions of grading papers. At least that’s what he told people...

“The World War 2 era anti-tank rocket launcher, good job Jules.” He opened his bottom desk drawer where most professors keep their booze; instead, it’s the spot he kept his tools.

Morgan removed a leather case and placed it on his desk. “Your tools for tonight’s job.” He slowly pushed the case towards her, the length of which was about as long as a textbook. Julie hesitated in response. “Open it.” His voice stern and unwavering.

Slowly unbuttoning the case, she rolled it open across the desk, revealing its contents. A Slim Jim tool set, clean as a whistle without a single scratch. She rolled it up and put it in her backpack.

“Good luck on your assignment Jules,” he leaned forward. “Make us proud.”