Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
Nuts to wild talents! Mine was no now it had me fighting for my life in ... THE LITTLE RED BAG Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] the discovery. I had finished reading the So I started going through the purse of the woman next to me. Perhaps complained. It started when I was a kid, this business of being able to explore and—well, human beings. But human beings aren't worth the trouble. It's like swimming through spaghetti. And I've got to stay away from how they hurt. Maybe you think it's fun. For the most part, it really isn't. I always knew what was in Christmas presents before I unwrapped them, and therefore Christmas was always spoiled for me as a kid. I can't feel object with dust inside—a compact. Handkerchief, chewing gum, a small book, probably an address book, money in a change purse—a few bills I learned the wisdom of keeping my mouth shut in the fourth grade when Miss Winters, a stern, white-haired disciplinarian, ordered me to eat of the other kids. This was the punishment for some minor infraction. she said she'd Class had hardly resumed when she started looking around the desk for her favorite mechanical pencil, asking if any of us had seen it, and she was out of the room, so I probed the contents of her purse, which she always kept in the upper right drawer of her desk. "It's in your purse," I blurted out. I was sent home with a stinging note. Since then I've kept quiet. At one time I assumed everybody was able people are as close-mouthed about their special gift as I am about mine. I used to think that some day I'd make a lot of money out of it, but Take this morning, for example. I had set my alarm for five-thirty because I had to catch the seven o'clock plane at San Francisco International Airport. This being earlier than I usually get up, it seems all I did during the night was feel my way past the escapement and balance wheel to see where the notch for the alarm was. The last time I did it there was just the merest fraction of an inch between the delicate ribbon of spiraling steel. I hung onto the wheel, exerting The wheel slowed down until there was no more ticking. It took quite When I first learned to do this, I thought I had it made. I even went So I'm stuck with a talent I've found little real use for. Except that Soon the stewardesses would bring coffee and doughnuts around, so I flimsy things you'd never find in a man's—and I didn't know it was a bomb right away. I thought it was just a clock, one of those small, quiet alarms. I was going to pass it by and go on, but what held me electrician's tape. Interested and curious, I explored the clock more neck when I suddenly realized what it was. the train of gears to the alarm wheel. If this was anything like my own alarm clock, this one had something like ten minutes to go. thought: Which one of these.... No, none of them would know it was doughnut, paper spoon, sugar and dehydrated cream envelopes, and a napkin. I goggled at her, managed to croak, "No, thanks." She gave me an odd balance wheel, just as I stopped my alarm clock every morning. I tried to close everything off—the throb of engines, the rush of air, the "Anything the matter?" "Must have been dreaming," I said as I rang for the stewardess. When I considered telling the authorities as soon as we landed, or maybe Maybe I could convince them I could stop a clock—but not before the bomb exploded. And then what? My secret would be out and my life would be changed. I'd be a man not to be trusted, a prying man, a man it without a word and went away. "Were you really asleep that time?" "Not really," I said. I was tempted to tell the woman I was subject to minutes of my life as time after time I stopped the rocking wheel when It was impossible to tell from this distance just which bag contained I could hardly identify my own scarred suitcase. The the attendant and I had two bags—my own battered veteran of years, and and grabbed the balance wheel I was getting to know like my own. I entered into a union with it so strong that after I had reduced it to stared back. Then I quickly reached for my baggage check and presented it to him. His hand hovered over the handle of the little red bag and I "Thanks," I said, taking it. I glanced ever so casually toward the "Yeah." He was so bored I was tempted to tell him what was in it. But he was eying me with a "well-why-don't-you-get-along?" look. I said, "What happens if nobody claims it?" He was getting too curious. "Oh, I just wondered, that's all." man named Amos Magaffey on Sixth Street at ten o'clock, discussing something very mundane, the matter of a printing order. But what could what? pair of dark glasses. A member of the airport police detail. I could tell him. I could take him down to the little red bag and explain the whole thing. Then it would be his baby and I would be off on my own business. I could visualize the balance wheel once again rocking like crazy. How many minutes—or seconds—were left? I was sweating when I moved to the "No. I'm waiting for someone." escaped my grasp. "Do you have my suitcase?" The clerk took it, nodded, and in a moment brought out the overnight case and set it on the scales. The girl thanked him, picked it up, "Just a moment," I found myself saying, grabbing my bag and hurrying She looked annoyed and increased her stride toward the door. "It's a matter of life or death," I said. I wanted to wrest the bag from her and hurl it out through the doorway into the street, but I restrained myself. and brown-flecked, very pretty eyes, and my thought at the moment was, I'm glad the bomb didn't go off The girl said, "Why?" I was beginning to think it was the only word she I must not have seemed a complete idiot because she said, "All right, but—" there, I was reaching out through the glass for the clock. At this Over coffee I explained it all to her, how I had this extrasensory ability, how she was the first person I had ever revealed it to, and how I had discovered what was in her overnight bag. she was reliving some recent scene. "My husband." I thought she was going to really bawl, but she got in some books we'd both finished reading—for my sister. That's when he I said gently, "Why would he want to do a thing like that?" "I don't know." She shook her head. "I just don't know." And she was close to bawling again. Then she recovered and said, "I'm not sure I I told her I didn't know how much more time there was, that I'd been thinking it over and that the only way out seemed to be to tell the airport policeman. After I explained it to her, the girl—she said her name was Julia Claremont—agreed to tell him she thought there was a bomb in her bag, that she had noticed a ticking and had become worried because she knew she hadn't packed a clock. It wasn't good, but it would have to do. "We've got to get it deactivated," I said, watching the fat man pay for his coffee and leave. "The sooner the better." "See anybody go out of here with a little red bag and an old battered "Bag? Suitcase?" he mumbled. Then he became excited. "Why, a man just abreast an old gray, mud-spattered coupe, ran around, opened the door redcap, who said, "That man steal them suitcases?" "That he did," I said. "I—I don't care about mine. I didn't have much of anything in it."

<question>:
How old was the narrator when he discovered he had a special gift?

<options>:
A 15
B 9
C 12
D 18

<answer>:

B