A faint smile touched Robert’s lips. «As I stated, our primary objective is to resolve situations well before they ever reach that critical point. But yes, I have indeed had to confront dangerous circumstances. The key lies in meticulous preparation, seamless teamwork, and—»
Robert abruptly paused mid-sentence as his phone vibrated discreetly in his pocket. He checked it with practiced swiftness, his expression instantly transforming from relaxed to acutely alert. To most in the room, the alteration might have been imperceptible. But David recognized it immediately. It was the identical look his father adopted when those late-night emergency calls came in.
Robert smoothly redirected. «The key is preparation, teamwork, and constant vigilance. Speaking of which, I should promptly check in with my team. Principal Thompson, might I have a word with you outside?»
The principal nodded, visibly surprised by the sudden interruption, yet unwilling to challenge someone of Robert’s evident authority. As Robert stepped outside with Principal Thompson, the classroom erupted into excited chatter.
«Your dad is so incredibly cool!» Jacob whispered excitedly to David. «Did you see Ms. Albright’s face when he started talking about prejudice?»
David nodded, though his attention remained fixed on his father through the classroom window. Robert was showing something on his phone to Principal Thompson, whose expression had grown increasingly grave.
Ms. Albright, attempting to salvage some semblance of control over her classroom, clapped her hands together. «All right, everyone, let’s resume our scheduled activities! Parents, if you would kindly join your children at their desks for our next project.» But her authority had been severely undermined. Parents and students alike kept glancing toward the door, anxiously awaiting Robert’s return.
After several minutes, Principal Thompson re-entered the classroom alone, his face etched with tension. He whispered something urgently to Ms. Albright, whose eyes widened in alarm.
«Class,» she announced, her voice noticeably higher than usual, «we’re going to take a brief intermission. Please remain in the classroom until further notice.»
«What’s happening?» David asked Jacob, a growing sense of unease blossoming in his stomach.
«No idea,» Jacob replied. «But your dad looked pretty serious out there.»
Robert Miller stood in the hallway outside the classroom, his government-issued phone displaying an alert that sent a chill directly down his spine: «Breach detected. Jefferson Academy.»
«How long ago?» he demanded of the agent who had delivered the initial warning.
«Minutes, sir. Our cyber team detected it during routine monitoring. It was immediately flagged due to your security protocols concerning this specific location.»
Robert nodded grimly. He had indeed implemented special monitoring on the school’s systems after the previous attempts to breach them—a precaution that now seemed remarkably prescient.
«What is the nature of the breach?»
«Multiple entry points, sir. They initially compromised the security cameras, then targeted the door-locking mechanisms. It bears all the distinct hallmarks of the group we’ve been tracking.»
Robert’s jaw tightened. For several months, his team had been meticulously monitoring a highly sophisticated foreign intelligence cell operating covertly on American soil. Their customary targets were defense contractors and government facilities. Not private schools. The fact that they had abruptly shifted their focus to Jefferson Academy could not possibly be a mere coincidence.
«Get me Agent Sanchez,» he ordered. «And implement security protocol Omega for this entire building.»
As the agent hurried to comply, Principal Thompson approached, his face a mask of poorly concealed panic. «Mr. Miller, what precisely is transpiring? Should we—should we evacuate the building?»
«No,» Robert replied firmly. «For now, everyone remains in place. I need you to initiate a ‘soft lockdown.’ Keep all students and staff in their current locations, with doors closed but not barricaded. Make it sound routine, like a drill. Can you execute that?»
The principal nodded uncertainly. «Yes, but—»
«Good. Do it now, please.»
As Thompson scurried toward the main office, Robert observed a familiar figure entering the school’s main doors: FBI Agent Ava Sanchez, the enigmatic woman in the trench coat David had noticed watching the school days earlier.
«Miller,» she greeted him with a curt nod. «Quite the coincidence, your presence here today.»
«I don’t believe in coincidences,» Robert replied, his gaze unwavering, «especially not when my son’s school is targeted by the same group we’ve been tracking for months.»
Sanchez’s expression hardened. «We have credible reason to believe there’s a direct threat inside this building. The cyber intrusion is likely merely the initial phase.»
«Are your people in position?»
She nodded. «Perimeter is secure. We have teams covering all exits.»
«Good. Let’s—» Robert’s response was abruptly cut short by the school’s PA system crackling to life.
«Attention all students and staff,» Principal Thompson’s voice announced, remarkably steady considering the dire circumstances. «We are initiating a precautionary lockdown procedure. Please remain in your current locations with doors closed until further notice. This is not a drill, but there is no cause for alarm.»
«No cause for alarm,» Sanchez muttered under her breath. «That always goes over well.»
Robert was already moving purposefully back toward Ms. Albright’s classroom. «I need to return to my son.»
Inside the classroom, the announcement had, predictably, generated precisely the kind of nervous tension Principal Thompson had desperately hoped to avert. Parents were frantically checking their cell phones. Students were whispering agitatedly among themselves. And Ms. Albright stood frozen at the front of the room, clearly at a loss for how to proceed.
«Everyone, please remain calm,» Robert called out as he entered. His authoritative voice sliced through the burgeoning chaos, bringing a momentary hush to the room. «We are enacting a standard security precaution.»
«What’s happening, Mr. Miller?» one of the parents demanded, a tremor of fear in her voice. «Are our children in danger?»
«At this very moment, the most beneficial course of action for everyone is to maintain composure and adhere strictly to instructions,» Robert replied evenly. «Ms. Albright, please ensure all window blinds are closed and the classroom door is securely locked.»
The teacher moved to comply, though her hands trembled perceptibly as she adjusted the blinds. Robert noticed Ryan Hayes’s father, Mr. Hayes, watching him with overt suspicion.
«Is this entire situation somehow related to your presence here today?» Mr. Hayes asked, his tone accusatory. «Have you inadvertently brought some kind of threat to our children?»
Before Robert could offer a response, Ms. Albright, to everyone’s surprise, unexpectedly came to his defense. «Mr. Hayes, please. Mr. Miller is clearly endeavoring to ensure our collective safety.»
Robert offered her a brief, appreciative nod before addressing the entire room. «I fully comprehend everyone’s concern. Please trust that we have qualified security personnel deployed throughout the entire building. The lockdown is purely precautionary.» He moved to where David and Jacob sat, their young faces reflecting a mixture of fear and burgeoning excitement.
«Dad, what’s genuinely happening?» David whispered, his eyes wide.
«Just a security concern we’re actively addressing,» Robert replied quietly. «I need you to help keep everyone calm, alright?»
David nodded, recognizing the profound seriousness in his father’s tone. «Is it because of your work?»
Before Robert could answer, his phone vibrated once again. The message was concise but deeply alarming: «Suspicious package found in basement. EOD team en route.»
«I need to step out again,» Robert informed David, his voice low. «Stay right here. Do not leave this room for any reason whatsoever.»
As Robert moved toward the door, Ms. Albright approached him. «Mr. Miller,» she said softly, her earlier smugness completely gone. «Should I be worried?»
«Just keep everyone contained within this room,» he replied, his gaze unwavering. «I’ll return as swiftly as I can.»
Outside in the hallway, Robert found Agent Sanchez awaiting him, accompanied by two FBI agents clad in tactical gear. «EOD team is ten minutes out,» she reported, her voice terse. «Building services located a package near the main electrical controls. They report visible wiring.»
«Show me,» Robert commanded.
They moved swiftly through the eerily silent hallways, descending a service stairwell to the school’s basement level. Two additional agents were already positioned there, maintaining a safe distance from a backpack propped against the wall adjacent to the electrical panel.
«No one’s touched it?» Robert asked, his eyes scanning the scene.
«Negative. Building services supervisor discovered it during his routine security sweep and immediately reported it.»
Robert approached cautiously, meticulously examining the backpack without making any physical contact. The partially unzipped top revealed what appeared to be complex circuit boards and intricate wiring.
«This isn’t a bomb,» he declared after a moment of careful assessment. «It’s a sophisticated surveillance package. High-end, military-grade. Someone has been monitoring this building’s systems from the inside.»
Sanchez frowned. «Why would foreign operatives be interested in a private school?»
«That’s precisely what we need to ascertain,» Robert replied, his mind already racing through possibilities. He turned to one of the agents. «Obtain the school’s personnel files—everyone who has access to this specific area—and I want all security footage from the past week.»
«Sir,» the agent replied, «the school’s security system has been compromised. We cannot guarantee the footage is intact.»
«Then acquire the backup tapes. A facility like this will undoubtedly possess physical backups.»
As the agents hurried to comply, Robert’s phone buzzed with another message. This one sent an immediate chill down his spine: «Facial recognition match on school maintenance staff. Known foreign operative. Last seen near East Wing five minutes ago.»
Robert showed the message to Sanchez, whose expression visibly darkened. «The East Wing. That’s where the server room is located.»
«And where they safeguard student and family information,» Robert added grimly, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to click into place. «This isn’t random. They’re targeting something specific.»
«Or someone,» Sanchez suggested, the unspoken implication hanging heavily in the stagnant air between them. Robert’s prominent position at the Pentagon afforded him access to some of the nation’s most highly sensitive security information. A foreign intelligence operation targeting his son’s school on the very day of his visit simply could not be a coincidence.
«We need to immediately secure the server room,» Robert decided. «And I want all maintenance staff accounted for, without delay.»
As they moved toward the East Wing, Principal Thompson intercepted them, his earlier composure now completely shattered. «Mr. Miller! Parents are growing increasingly agitated! They’re demanding answers! Some are even threatening to depart with their children despite the lockdown!»
«Inform them that doing so could place everyone at grave risk,» Robert replied firmly, his voice unwavering. «This is a matter of national security. Now, Mr. Thompson.»
The principal’s eyes widened perceptibly. «National security? At a school?»
«I require your absolute cooperation, not your questions,» Robert stated unequivocally. «Keep everyone precisely where they are. We will manage this situation.»
As Thompson reluctantly departed, Agent Sanchez received an update through her earpiece. «We have 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 conducting rounds in the West Wing right now.»
Robert felt his blood run cold. «The classrooms are in the West Wing,» Sanchez confirmed. «Including your son’s.»
Without another word, both Robert and Sanchez broke into a sprint toward Ms. Albright’s classroom. As they rounded the corner, Robert spotted a man in a gray maintenance uniform outside Room 112, meticulously fiddling with what appeared to be a key card reader beside the door.
«FBI! Don’t move!» Sanchez shouted, instantly drawing her weapon. The man’s head snapped up. For a split second, his eyes met Robert’s—cold, calculating eyes that Robert instantly recognized as belonging to a highly trained operative. Then, he bolted, fleeing down the hallway away from them.
«Stay with the classroom!» Robert yelled to Sanchez, as he took off in hot pursuit of the man.
The chase led through the winding, intricate hallways of Jefferson Academy, past startled teachers who had cautiously peeked out of their classrooms despite the lockdown orders. The operative was exceptionally fast and clearly possessed an intimate knowledge of the building’s layout, taking sharp turns and unexpected shortcuts that suggested detailed pre-planning. Robert followed him down another service stairwell, leading into a narrow corridor that stretched toward the cafeteria.
