Jonathan was already moving back toward Ms. Anderson’s classroom. I need to get back to my son. Inside the classroom, the announcement had generated precisely the kind of nervous tension Hayes had hoped to avoid.
Parents were checking their phones. Students were whispering among themselves. And Ms. Anderson stood frozen at the front of the room, clearly unsure how to proceed.
Jonathan entered and immediately took control of the situation. Everyone, please remain calm. This is a standard security precaution.
What’s happening, Mr. Carter, one of the parents demanded. Are our children in danger? Right now, the best thing everyone can do is stay calm and follow instructions, Jonathan replied, evenly. Ms. Anderson, please make sure all blinds are closed and the door is locked.
The teacher moved to comply, though her hands trembled slightly as she adjusted the blinds. Jonathan noticed Tyler’s father, Mr. Whitman, watching him suspiciously. Is this related to your presence here today? Whitman asked, accusingly.
Have you brought some sort of threat to our children? Before Jonathan could respond, Ms. Anderson surprisingly came to his defense. Mr. Whitman, please. Mr. Carter is clearly helping to ensure our safety.
Jonathan gave her a brief nod of thanks before addressing the room. I understand everyone’s concern. Please trust that we have security personnel throughout the building.
The lockdown is precautionary. He moved to where Malik and Ethan sat, their faces showing a mixture of fear and excitement. Dad, what’s really happening? Malik whispered.
Just a security concern we’re addressing, Jonathan replied quietly. I need you to help keep everyone calm, okay? Malik nodded, recognizing the seriousness in his father’s tone. Is it because of your work? Before Jonathan could answer, his phone vibrated again.
The message was brief but alarming. Suspicious package found in basement. EOD team en route.
I need to step out again, Jonathan told Malik. Stay here. Don’t leave this room for any reason.
As Jonathan moved toward the door, Ms. Anderson approached, him. Mr. Carter, she said softly, her earlier smugness entirely gone. Should I be worried? Just keep everyone in this room, he replied.
I’ll be back as soon as I can. Outside in the hallway, Jonathan found Agent Ramirez waiting for him, accompanied by two FBI agents in tactical gear. EOD team is ten minutes out, she reported.
Building services found a package near the main electrical controls. They say it has wires visible. Show me, Jonathan said.
They moved swiftly through the eerily quiet hallways, descending a service stairwell to the school’s basement. Two more agents were already there, keeping a safe distance from a backpack propped against the wall near the electrical panel. No one’s touched it, Jonathan asked.
Negative. Building services supervisor spotted it during his security sweep, called it in immediately. Jonathan approached cautiously, studying the backpack without touching it.
The partially unzipped top revealed what looked like circuit boards and wiring. This isn’t a bomb, he said after a moment. It’s a surveillance package, high-end military grade.
Someone’s been monitoring this building’s systems from the inside. Ramirez frowned. Why would foreign operatives be interested in a private school? That’s what we need to find out, Jonathan replied.
He turned to one of the agents. Get me the school’s personnel files, everyone who has access to this area, and I want security footage from the past week. Sir, the agent replied.
The school’s security system has been compromised. We don’t know if the footage is intact. Then get me the backup tapes.
A place like this will have physical backups. As the agents hurried to comply, Jonathan’s phone buzzed with another message. This one sent a chill down his spine.
Facial recognition match on school maintenance staff. Known foreign operative. Last seen near East Wing five minutes ago.
Jonathan showed the message to Ramirez, whose expression darkened. The East Wing. That’s where the server room is located.
And where they keep student and family information, Jonathan added grimly. This isn’t random. They’re after something specific.
Or someone, Ramirez suggested. The implication hung in the air between them. Jonathan’s position at the Pentagon gave him access to some of the nation’s most sensitive security information.
A foreign intelligence operation targeting his sons. School on the very day of his visit couldn’t be coincidence. We need to lock down the server room, Jonathan decided.
And I want all maintenance staff accounted for immediately. As they headed toward the East Wing, Principal Hayes intercepted them. His earlier composure now completely gone.
Mr. Carter. Parents are getting agitated. They’re demanding answers.
Some are threatening to leave with their children despite the lockdown. Tell them that doing so could put everyone at risk, Jonathan replied firmly. This is a matter of national security.
Now, Mr. Hayes, the principal’s eyes widened. National security? At a school? I need your cooperation, not your questions, Jonathan said. Keep everyone where they are.
We’ll handle this. As Hayes reluctantly departed, Agent Ramirez received an update through her earpiece. We’ve got a problem, she reported.
The maintenance worker identified as a foreign operative. He’s not in the East Wing. According to building services, he should be doing rounds in the West Wing right now.
Jonathan felt his blood run cold. The classrooms are in the West Wing, including your son’s, Ramirez confirmed. Without another word, they both began running toward Ms. Anderson’s classroom.
As they rounded the corner, Jonathan saw a man in a gray maintenance uniform outside room 112, fiddling with what appeared to be a key card reader next to the door. FBI, don’t move, Ramirez shouted, drawing her. Weapon, the man’s head snapped up.
For a split second, his eyes met Jonathan’s, cold, calculating eyes that Jonathan instantly recognized as those of a trained operative. Then he bolted, running down the hallway away from them. Stay with the classroom, Jonathan called to Ramirez, as he took off after the man.
The chase led through the winding hallways of Jefferson Academy, past startled teachers who had peeked out of their rooms despite the lockdown orders. The operative was fast and clearly knew the building’s layout, taking turns and shortcuts that suggested detailed planning. Jonathan followed him down another stairwell, into a service corridor that led toward the cafeteria.
As they burst into the large, empty dining area, the man suddenly whirled around, a knife appearing in his hand. You should have stayed out of this, Carter, he said in heavily accented English. Who sent you? Jonathan demanded, keeping a safe distance.
His body automatically shifting into a defensive stance. The man smirked. You know who, the same people who’ve been watching your every move for months.
Did you really think your son would be safe here? A cold fury rose in Jonathan’s chest. If anything happens to my son, then you should have been more careful about where you sent him to school, the man interrupted. So many important families, so much valuable data.
This place is a goldmine of intelligence. Before Jonathan could respond, the gymnasium doors behind the operative burst open. Two FBI agents rushed in, weapons drawn.
The operative, seeing he was cornered, made a desperate lunge toward Jonathan with his knife. Jonathan sidestepped the attack with the practiced ease of someone with extensive combat training. In one fluid motion, he caught the man’s arm, twisted it behind his back and forced him to the ground.
It’s over, he said as the agents moved in to secure the operative. Tell your handlers they picked the wrong school to target. With the immediate threat neutralized, Jonathan hurried back toward Ms. Anderson’s classroom, his mind racing.
If this operative had been watching the school, what was his ultimate goal? And more importantly, was he working alone? As he approached, room 112, he saw Agent Ramirez outside the door, speaking urgently into her radio. We’ve got another problem, she said as Jonathan reached her. Building security just reported movement in the air ducts near the main office.
And there’s an unauthorized voice on the school’s radio frequency. Jonathan’s expression hardened. This was never about data or surveillance.
It’s a coordinated extraction operation. They’re after one of the students. Or multiple students, Ramirez suggested.
Think about it. This school has children of diplomats, government officials, defense contractors, including my son, Jonathan finished grimly. We need to get everyone out of here, now.
Just as he reached for the classroom door, a muffled bang echoed through the building, followed by the immediate wail of fire alarms. Inside the classroom, panic erupted. Parents clutched their children, students cried out in fear, and Ms. Anderson stood helplessly at the front, trying in vain to maintain order.
Everyone stay calm, Jonathan called as he entered. His authoritative voice cut through the chaos, bringing a momentary hush to the room. We need to evacuate in an orderly fashion.
Follow the FBI agents outside to the designated safe area. What? Was that explosion? someone demanded. Likely a diversionary tactic, Jonathan replied honestly.
Which is why we need to move quickly but calmly. As Agent Ramirez began organizing the evacuation, Jonathan moved to Malik’s side. Stay right beside me, he instructed his son.
No matter what happens, don’t get separated. Malik nodded, his eyes wide but remarkably steady. What about Ethan? Jonathan glanced at Malik’s friend who looked terrified.