"What did you find?" I asked, settling into one of the kitchen chairs while Evelyn moved closer to hear Anthony’s response more clearly.
"It took longer than I’d hoped," Anthony’s voice crackled through the phone’s speaker. "When you retreated back to the apartment, the assassination team went deep underground. No communications, no movement patterns we could track, complete radio silence. But we eventually managed to trace them back to their staging area."
I could hear the satisfaction in his voice. Like he was just done solving a particularly challenging puzzle through methodical detective work.
"The good news is we’ve identified their base of operations. It’s a local school called Hudson Heights Educational Academy. Private institution, about three hundred students, mixed elementary and high school programs."
"A school?" Evelyn’s voice carried a note of concern that I shared. The idea of assassins operating out of a place filled with children added a layer of complexity that made my stomach tighten with worry.
"That’s our assessment," Anthony confirmed. "The location makes tactical sense from their perspective. Lots of legitimate foot traffic, multiple entry and exit points, established routines that would help them blend in. Plus, it’s the kind of target we’d hesitate to assault directly because of the civilian casualties."
I could see the strategic logic, but it didn’t make me feel any better about the situation. "Alright and what’s the bad news?"
"Two problems," Anthony said, his tone becoming more serious. "First, we don’t know which specific members of the staff or faculty are involved. Could be teachers, administrators, maintenance workers, security guards. Quite possibly anyone with legitimate access to the building. The school has about forty full-time employees, and we can’t narrow it down without more intelligence."
"And the second problem?"
"Getting access to their personnel information. Now, don’t get me wrong with our influence and the severity of this case, we can absolutely get what we need through official channels. The FBI, RCMP, local police, school district administration, they’ll all cooperate fully without hesitation."
I could hear the ’but’ coming before he said it.
"But if we start making official inquiries, requesting background checks, asking to interview staff members, word is going to get around. In a small institution , that kind of attention doesn’t stay secret. If our targets realize they’re under investigation, they’ll either disappear completely or accelerate whatever timeline they’re working on."
The tactical dilemma was clear. We needed information to identify the threats, but getting that information would likely alert them to our investigation. It was was a frustrating situation no doubt about it.
"However," Anthony continued, and I could hear a note of pride creeping into his voice, "we’ve managed to place two operatives inside the school as faculty members. One as a substitute gym teacher, another as a temporary administrative assistant. Both have solid cover stories and the credentials to support their positions."
"How did you manage that so quickly?" I asked, genuinely impressed by the speed of the operation.
"We keep a stable of operatives with teaching credentials and educational backgrounds specifically for situations ," he explained. "Schools are common targets for intelligence operations. They have a lot of access to community networks, regular interaction with families from all socioeconomic levels, natural cover for surveillance activities."
It made sense, though the idea that Anthony maintained a secret army of teacher-spies was somehow both reassuring and unsettling.
"The important thing for you," Anthony continued, "is that all known staff members are now under discrete surveillance. We’ve got eyes on everyone coming and going from the school, plus the two operatives inside monitoring internal activities. You should be safe to leave the apartment now."
The words were barely out of his mouth before Camille was moving toward the door, grabbing her purse and jacket with the eager energy of someone who’d been cooped up too long.
"Finally," she said, pausing long enough to plant a quick kiss on my cheek. "I’ll be back in a few hours with fabric that doesn’t make me want to scream."
Alexis was right behind her, gathering her medical bag and the list of supplies she’d been compiling.
"I should be back by evening," she said, also giving me a brief kiss on the cheek before heading toward the door. "We can continue our experiments soon."
Within moments, both of them were gone, leaving me alone with Evelyn and Anthony’s voice coming through the phone speaker. The apartment suddenly felt much quieter and larger.
"So what’s the plan for identifying the specific threats?" I asked, settling back into my chair.
"That’s where things get complicated," Anthony admitted. "We can’t get the personnel information we need without arousing suspicion, and we can’t make any direct moves against the school without knowing who we’re targeting. We’re in a holding pattern until we can develop more intelligence."
"What about their motivation?" I pressed. "Any idea why they’re targeting me specifically?"
"Nothing concrete yet. The professional nature of the operation suggests this isn’t personal. In my experience, they’re not acting out of individual grievance or revenge. Someone hired them, but we can’t determine who or why without more information about the team itself."
I could hear Anthony shifting position, probably settling in for a longer conversation.
"Which brings me to what I think needs to happen next," he continued. "We need someone on the inside to help our operatives. Someone to act as bait, draw the targets out of hiding so we can identify them. And someone to create distractions that give our people more room to operate without being detected."
Beside me, Evelyn suddenly went very still. Her Psychological Insight had clearly picked up on something in Anthony’s tone or word choice that I’d missed likely since hers was 3 levels higher than mine. When I glanced at her, I could see tension building in her shoulders.
My own Psychological Insight kicked in a moment later, analyzing the subtext of what Anthony had just said. Someone on the inside. Someone to act as bait. Someone to create distractions.
He wasn’t talking about sending in another operative.
"You want me to go undercover at the school," I said, the realization hitting me like a cold splash of water.
"It’s the most efficient solution," Anthony said without hesitation. "You’re the target they’re after, so your presence will force them to make moves they might otherwise avoid. Our operatives can monitor their reactions, identify behavioral changes, track communication patterns. Plus, having you there gives them natural cover for their own activities. They can justify increased security awareness and surveillance as protecting an important visiting speaker or consultant."
The logic was sound, but that didn’t make the prospect any less dangerous. Walking into a building where trained assassins were waiting for me seemed like exactly the kind of reckless decision that had gotten me into trouble with Sienna just hours earlier.
"Is it safe?" I asked, though I suspected I already knew the answer.
"Safer than you might think," Anthony replied. "The two operatives inside can provide immediate support if anything goes wrong. The assassins won’t risk exposure by making a move unless they can guarantee a clean escape, and with our surveillance network, that’s not going to be possible. Plus, we’ll have additional operatives positioned around the school perimeter, disguised as parents, delivery drivers, maintenance workers. Quite literally anyone who might naturally be in the area."
I could hear the careful confidence in his voice.
"The school environment actually works in our favor," he continued. "Public space, lots of witnesses, established security protocols that we can supplement without arousing suspicion. They’ll have to be extremely careful about any moves they make, which gives us more time to identify and neutralize them."
It sounded reasonable when he laid it out like that. But I’d learned from experience that operations that sounded reasonable in planning could go sideways very quickly once they were in motion.
I looked over at Evelyn, who was listening to the conversation with the focused intensity she brought to anything involving potential danger to our group. She seemed on the edge as if trying to weigh the pros and cons of the situation.
After a long moment, she sighed and nodded slightly.
"I can tell he believes it’s manageable," she said quietly. "His stress levels are elevated but within normal ranges for operational planning. He’s not hiding major concerns or downplaying significant risks. Not that he ever would."
That was as close to an endorsement as I was likely to get from someone whose job was to worry about worst-case scenarios.
"What kind of cover would I have?" I asked Anthony.
"Guest lecturer, most likely. Someone brought in to speak to students about career development, leadership, overcoming challenges. The kind of motivational presentation that schools love to schedule. It gives you legitimate reasons to be on campus, interact with staff, move around the building, ask questions about operations and procedures. You’d be there for around a week."
The more I thought about it, the more the plan made sense. It would allow me to be proactive rather than sitting in the apartment waiting for the next assassination attempt. It would give our operatives the support they needed to gather intelligence. And it would force our enemies to either reveal themselves or abandon their current position entirely.
"How soon would this need to happen?" I asked.
"As soon as possible. Every day we delay gives them more time to plan their next move or relocate to a different staging area. If we’re going to use this opportunity, we need to act while they’re still in position."
I looked at Evelyn again, seeking confirmation of what I’d already decided. She met my gaze and held it for several seconds, her enhanced perception reading things in my expression that would be invisible to normal observation.
"I’ll inform the other girls about what’s happening," she said finally, her voice carrying the resigned tone of someone who’d accepted an inevitable but unwelcome development.
That was all the confirmation I needed.
"I’ll do it," I said into the phone.
"Excellent," Anthony replied, and I could hear him already shifting into operational planning mode. "I’ll have a detailed briefing packet prepared within the hour. We’ll go over your cover story, emergency protocols, communication procedures, and extraction options. This is going to work, boss."
I hoped he was right.