The teacher didn’t believe the boy when he mentioned his dad worked at the Pentagon — until a man in uniform walked in and said, “I’m here for my son!” The whole class went silent…

Inside the classroom, the announcement had generated precisely the kind of nervous tension Hayes had hoped to avoid. Parents were checking their phones, scrolling through news feeds for information. Students were whispering among themselves, casting anxious glances at the windows. Ms. Anderson stood frozen at the front of the room, clearly unsure how to proceed without her usual script.

Jonathan entered and immediately took control of the situation, his presence commanding the room.

— Everyone, please remain calm. This is a standard security precaution.

— What’s happening, Mr. Carter? — one of the parents demanded, standing up. — 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 again.

— 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, tugging on his father’s sleeve.

— Just a security concern we’re addressing, — Jonathan replied quietly, kneeling beside the desk. — 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, falling into step beside him. — 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. He squinted at the components, recognizing the configuration not as an explosive device, but something equally intrusive.

— This isn’t a bomb, — he said after a moment, standing up. — It’s a surveillance package. High-end military grade. Someone has 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, — Jonathan snapped. — 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 son’s 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.

— National security? — Hayes’s eyes widened. — 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 my son’s.

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 have 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.

— He comes with us. Both of you, hold onto my jacket and don’t let go.

As they joined the line of students and parents being escorted from the classroom, Jonathan noticed Ms. Anderson hanging back, seemingly frozen with indecision.

— Ms. Anderson, — he called. — Come with us. Now.

The teacher startled at his voice, then hurried to join them.

— I’m sorry, — she whispered as they moved into the hallway. — I didn’t believe him. I didn’t believe Malik about you.

— We’ll discuss that later, — Jonathan replied curtly. — Right now, focus on getting safely out of this building.

The hallway was filling with students and staff from other classrooms, all being directed toward the nearest exits by FBI agents and local police who had responded to the alarm. Through the growing crowd, Jonathan spotted something that made his blood run cold: another maintenance worker, moving against the flow of evacuees, his hand reaching suspiciously inside his jacket.

— Ramirez! — Jonathan called out, pointing toward the suspicious figure. — Three o’clock!

The FBI agent reacted instantly, signaling to her team. Two agents broke off from the evacuation line and moved to intercept the man. Seeing he’d been spotted, the man suddenly pulled out what looked like a small remote device.

— Everybody down! — Jonathan shouted, pulling Malik and Ethan to the floor and shielding them with his body. Ms. Anderson dropped beside them, covering her head.

Instead of an explosion, however, the school’s lights suddenly went dark. Emergency lighting kicked in seconds later, casting the hallway in an eerie red glow.

— Power cut, — Jonathan muttered, helping the boys back to their feet. — They’re trying to disable the security systems completely.

The evacuation continued, more urgent now in the dimmed lighting. Jonathan kept a firm grip on Malik and Ethan as they neared the exit, his eyes constantly scanning for threats. They had almost reached the doors when a loud crash came from behind them. Jonathan turned to see the second operative engaged in a struggle with the FBI agents, knocking over a glass trophy display case in the process.

Glass shattered across the floor as students screamed and parents pushed toward the exits in panic.

— Keep moving, — Jonathan urged, guiding the boys and Ms. Anderson forward.

Outside, the school grounds had been transformed into a tactical operations center. Police cars, FBI vehicles, and even military personnel created a secure perimeter around the building. Students and staff were being directed to gathering points where they were checked off against attendance records.

Jonathan guided Malik and Ethan to the nearest FBI checkpoint, where Agent Ramirez was coordinating the response.

— Status? — Jonathan asked her.

— Two operatives in custody, one still unaccounted for, — she reported tersely. — We found surveillance equipment in the server room, the principal’s office, and three classrooms.

— Including Ms. Anderson’s? — Jonathan asked.

Ramirez nodded.

— Primary target. They’ve been monitoring it for at least a week, according to the equipment timestamps.

Ms. Anderson, who had been standing nearby, gasped audibly.

— Monitoring my classroom? Why?

— That’s what we intend to find out, — Jonathan replied, looking back at the school building where FBI agents were still conducting a thorough sweep.