Sammy Keyes 1. Chapter 1

_Warsaw, Poland: August 1, 1944_

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Someone was furiously pounding at my door.

My eyes still shut, I grabbed the pillow next to me and crammed it over my ear. I began to fall back into a dream-like state.

The incessant knocking refused to stop. My brain began to plead for me to get up and cut off the fist of the person making me lose sleep, but my body remained defiantly on the mattress. I had finally gotten to sleep in the past hour, and would have to get up at 5 a.m. Opening my bleary eyes a crack, my clock read 3:45.

I exhaled a short breath of air and heaved my six-foot frame off of the bed. I grabbed my gun off the desk, just in case, and started towards the door of my shabby hotel room.

I checked the peephole and did not see anyone in front of it. Frustratingly, the sound had not gone away with the person. Opening the door, I had to look down to see a boy who could not have been older than ten with his arm outstretched.

"Mister, you need to come quick!" the boy said in Polish, while wildly motioning me to follow him down the corridor.

Normally, I would inquire what was going on and who had asked him to get me, and how he knew where I was, but the urgency in the young boy's voice made me race for my army jacket and follow him.

Wars were no time to hesitate. Anywhere else, 'look before you leap' is preached, but in war, if you look, you're blown to bits by enemy fire.

Running down the hallway, I pieced together the tiny scraps of Polish that I had to learn while here.

"Who are you, kid?" I asked briskly while we sprinted down the three flights of stairs leading to the ground floor of the hotel.

"Aleksy Dembowski," he said, huffing heavily, "and I've been RECRUITED."

"Recruited? Whom by?"

He looked at me as if I was crazy. "The rebels, of course."

My brow furrowed. I had no idea who these rebels were, but for some reason I followed Aleksy three or four more blocks to a black building.

"Here," Aleksy said, puffing hard.

We walked into the building that I thought had been deserted, and found a group of men standing around a map of Europe. One man in a uniform came up and nodded briefly to Aleksy in a gesture of 'thank you'.

"You better get home quickly, boy," he said, as he slipped the messenger some Polish currency.

Aleksy's head bobbed up and down in response and he scampered off.

The man lifted up his face and turned to me. That's when I recognized him.

"Officer Wenton," I said, surprised. My hand snapped up to my face in a quick salute.

"Hudson Graham," he responded. "We need your assistance in a very...concerning problem."

A year ago, when I was eighteen, I graduated from high school and was drafted immediately into the United States military. Three months later, by chance, Officer Wenton had recognized my talent in code breaking and offered me a position in a secret base in Europe. I had been living here for the past six months, jumping around from hotel to hotel.

"Mr. Graham," Wenton said, "It is against my wishes but the circumstances require me to be blunt. I need a spy, and your fluency with the German language combined with your youth will raise no suspicions."

He paused to look me over. I was stunned. The Nazis had been taking over parts of Europe for the last five years. They had bombs and armies and officers with no concern for human life. Polish rebels didn't stand a chance.

"Tell me what I need to do," I said, softly and a little too curiously.

"You need to warm up to Hitler. Become his confidant. We need to know exactly what he plans to do about the rebellion, so we can come up from behind his back and - "

"Sir!" I said. "What rebellion? No one has rebelled yet! The Nazis are still controlling us into submission!"

"Why," he said, staring at me like he had no idea why I wasn't aware of the plan, "I'm talking about the rebellion that starts...today."

Against my own will, I shouted, "This is madness! They have tenfold the manpower we have! They'll tear us and this city to pieces!"

The Officer frowned at me slightly, and I registered what an act of disrespect it was to raise my voice out of turn at a commanding officer. I took a slight step back and straightened my spine. I pressed my lips into a tight line.

"Mr. Graham, I understand this completely, but the civilians have already gathered up their weapons. You'll find that your two cents will not sway so much as a single gun in this war. Your choice now here is to either let the Nazis continue to oppress Poland, or become our eyes and ears for their government."

Well, when you put it that way. I took the pen that Officer Welton held out to me and scrawled my name on a contract while skimming it over. I refused to read it in depth because a)that's how I roll and b)I couldn't risk chickening out at the last second.

Welton nodded when he was satisfied with my signing of the contract. "Excellent," he stated, "your training begins tomorrow."

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**A/N: Time to enter Hudson Graham's minddd! Dang, I've been wanting to write about him for so long, I can't wait for him to be a badass war hero in this, guys. Hudson has helped Sammy with safecracking, has different types of recorders, and has a ton of dictionaries in foreign language. Doesn't it make sense that he's an army spy for the United States?!**

**I made it so that his age is realistic for the times. In 1998, when the first Sammy Keyes was published, Hudson was around 73, so in 1944 that would make him 19. **

**Nothing really has happened yet; don't worry, just setting the stage for future events. I just needed to crank out this idea so I could get into it. Another chapter is coming soon! What else do you guys want me to update? **

**X, **

**DKMV**


	2. Chapter 2

**Graham 007: Chapter 2**

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_Holy smokes. Holy smokes. Holy smokes. _

I forced my features into a solemn face, but anxiety was eating away at my insides. I had made it into the training camp for the Nazis. I fidgeted in my athletic uniform; I had to punch out a soldier and stuff his unconscious body into a closet in order to get the uniform, so complaining about how it was too snug on my body was out of the question.

Right now, I was waiting in line for a skill assessment. Each soldier had to run one 400 yards around the track at top speed. People stationed around the lap wrote down each person's strengths, and determined what training sector he should further be placed in.

Soon I was in the front of the line, and I got down on my knee to begin running. At the shot of the gun, my knee sprung up and I began pumping hard down the lane. I tried to forget that multiple pairs of eyes were poring into me. What if, by the way I ran or something ridiculous, they could determine that I was American? I grimaced slightly as I blanched at the thought. I needed to block those ideas from my brain.

To propel myself down the last leg of the track, I imagined that all the Nazis staring at me were instead chasing after me. They were right behind me - reaching, grasping...and -

I tore past the finish line and slowed down. My heart was pounding in my ears, and I wasn't sure that it was just because of the run. I put my arms above my head as I breathed heavily. I looked up to see what division I had to report to next.

The man with the watch timer was staring at it incredulously. He glanced up at me and then back at the clock suspiciously, as if I had somehow cheated and altered the time without his notice. Finally, he turned to the man who was recording times,

"This boy just ran four hundred meters in 49 seconds flat."

The man looked up and removed his glasses, walking towards me. "Really," he said in an curious tone. He felt my arms. "Do you run in school?"

"No," I responded, silently cursing for drawing attention to myself. Damn my pride.

"I find that difficult to believe," the man responded. "You just ran a lap three seconds short of the world record."

All of the running soldiers had stopped at this point. It was beginning to draw the attention of some higher rank officials, and they began to walk over. My fingernails cut into my palms.

I was able to speak throughout this time and answer all his questions up to this point. But something caught the corner of my eye. I could see a man making his way over to me, surrounded by guards. He had a distinguishing mustache. He was the embodiment of evil himself. The very thing that the United States had spent so much time fighting against. He wasn't even a man in my eyes.

Hitler stuck out his hand. "So this is the boy with the fast finish," he said.

I wanted nothing more than to strangle him. But I knew that this would do nothing but get me killed and put the entire operation in jeopardy. I shook his hand back.

The man who had originally recorded my score stepped into view. "What is your name?"

"Hermann Adler." I quickly recited the name on the nametag that I found in my athletic shorts, praying that no one knew him personally.

He gave a curt nod, and then ordered the next person to step onto the starting line. Hitler and his guards made their way back up to the observation deck. I heaved a huge gasp of relief, and my back curved as I rested my hands on my knees.

My reassurance was short-lived. An officer was racing out of the locker rooms into the camp, searching wildly for anyone who would listen. While I was still within earshot, I heard him bend down to the man with the stopwatch.

"We found a knocked-soldier just now in the right wing closet."

"Quickly, you must fetch the hospital staff. Had he fallen ill?"

"No, sir, you misunderstand me. He was stripped of his clothes. Someone is here, in his uniform."

The man was intrigued. "These allegations must go to the Fuhrer. If these allegations are true, you will be rewarded for your observation. But, you must be absolutely positive. If you are mistaken in any way, you most certainly be punished."

"We've identified the senseless boy. Hermann Adler, eighteen."

I watched carefully as the other man registered that he had heard the name before. Very slowly, he turned. His furrowed brow turned from that of anger, into one of triumph as he located me in the line.

I felt like a mouse, like a mouse backed into a corner with the cat who hadn't eaten for days.

This was no time to talk my way out of things. I didn't pause to wait what he did after I saw him step onto the track closer to me. I high tailed it toward the nearest exit.

It got slightly louder as more people registered that I was heading for the door. They didn't know what I was doing, as most of them didn't know about my impersonation yet, but my hasty departure was enough to raise their voices and point in my direction. I could hear someone yelling for a rifle.

Before I had entered the training camp, I had drawn a map of the town that surrounded it so I could be better acquainted with the layout. I internally screamed at myself to remember where the nearest safe space was, but in the blur of trying not to get shot, my mental map began to jumble. I made it to the streets of the city, telling myself that I would just have to get to an area populated enough to blend in with passersby.

I rounded the corner, nearly spilling onto the cobblestone street. I took in a million observations at once, filtering out the useless places and trying to focus on places where I could hide.

My eye landed on a girl entering a house down the street. She slipped the key into the lock, and opened the door wide. Without thinking, I sped up and slipped into the house right behind her, slamming the door shut with both of us safely inside the house.

"Oh my - " The girl began, her eyes wild. She looked around desperately, and settling on the broom next to the door, grabbed and attempted to beat me down with it, shouting all the while. I took it from her and placed my hand over her mouth, careful not to hurt her.

With my free hand, I pulled up the window curtain slightly to check to see whether I had been pursued. No uniformed men were in sight. I turned to my new acquaintance.

"If I let go of your mouth, will you promise not to scream?"

She nodded rapidly, her eyes still frightened. I let go of her mouth, and she raced for the door again, clearly about to yell to the neighborhood about my surprise visit.

"No, no, no!" I said frustratingly. I grabbed her again before she could make it to the entryway. "I really don't want to hurt you. This is a matter of life and death. They're after me. Now will you please not scream?"

The girl's eyes widened. I could tell she didn't entirely trust me, but her curiosity got the better of her, and since I wasn't harming her, she relaxed slightly in my arm and nodded.

I let go. She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. "Who is the 'they' that's after you?"

I didn't know whose side she was on in the war. Whatever I said, if her alliances were to the other side, could get me caught. "Evil people," I finally decided on.

"It's the _Nazis_, isn't it?"

She said it as if she were disgusted by them. I was relieved that at least we were on the same side. Maybe this common interest would make her inclined to not send me to prison, as I did sort of barge into her home.

"Yes, it's the Nazis." I conceded.

"What did you do?"

I stiffened. "Nothing."

"Who are you?"

"You ask a lot of questions, you know that?" I snapped. My tone made me instantly feel bad, but my adrenaline was just not ready for any interrogation. I was already discovered at my first assignment, and I didn't want another person to ask so many questions that I faltered and revealed something important.

"I have a right to know who you are," the girl pressed. She sat down on the couch, not taking her eyes off me. "You are in my house, and I am probably committing a serious crime here, harboring you."

I relented. "Rolf Weissberg," I invented. Even though she did not sympathize with the Nazis, there was no way I was giving away my American identity.

The girl stood up, and I fully registered her characteristics. She was a short girl, with wide eyes, red lips, and brown hair tied up into a ribbon. She wore a a long pink skirt that suggested middle class German.

She curtsied sarcastically, "Well, sorry the circumstances of our meeting weren't more ideal, Rolf, but they'll have to do. I don't think I can stand by watching another person getting captured by those Nazis."

She had no idea at how much I appreciated her help. Even though she had curtsied as a joke, I bowed earnestly back.

"I didn't catch your name," I said, peering once more out the curtain.

She stuck her hand out. "Rita Keyes."

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**A/N: Eeek I'm so glad who Hudson got to meet here! By the way, just pretend that Rita never changed out her maiden name...similar to how Lana Keyes never changed hers to Cole. **

**Hudson in this chapter was heavily influenced by Louis Zamperini, an Olympic running star. He was an Olympic running ace, and the one who Hitler personally recognized for being speedy. Zamperini fought for the United States during World War Two, and is famous for surviving a huge plane crash and spending 47 days stranded at sea. He was eventually picked up by enemies and taken as a prisoner of war. A movie about him, entitled Unbroken, just came out about him this year, directed by Angelina Jolie. I would recommend it.**

**Finals are looming, so I hope all of you get plenty of sleep and retain your sanity over the course of the next few weeks. I'll be back to updating after I battle the last few moments of the semester. Good luck to everyone!**

**Reviews are greatly appreciated :)**

**X,**

**DKMV**


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Sammy Keyes, Mystery, Suspense