Fifteen kilometers away, a tall, well-trained graying man, probably in his early fifties, wearing a blue security uniform, overlooks the pitch-black schoolyard. A dog crouches devotedly at his feet. The contrast with the man fuming with anger standing opposite him couldn’t be more dramatic. Dressed in pajamas, a morning robe, and house slippers, he looks nothing like the history teacher he is during the day. His signature implacable brown suit and black tie are noticeably absent. The few strands of hair, normally vigorously combed over his skull to camouflage the bald spot on top, are defenseless prey to the wind.
One thing is unaffected by this loss of decorum: the sharp, commanding tone of his voice.
"How's this even possible?" he scoffs condescendingly. "How could this happen right under your nose? A student who sets off the alarm and gets away? How do you think this looks... commander?" The commander looks straight ahead into the distance, lips pressed together. "I will tell you how this looks. I see a group of amateurs too incompetent to catch a teenager."
His eyes wander to the group of six confused-looking men and women and their dogs, while his mind starts to wander. What did happen? he asks himself. From here, the school looked normal, as if nothing had transpired at all, and he would have considered it a false alarm if he hadn't seen the footprints next to the hedge, precisely where a small, out-of-use door was found unlocked.
The small puddle of vomit they found in one of the corridors was even more worrisome. There was no doubt in his mind that someone had entered the school. It wouldn't be the first time that a desperate or reckless student tried to break into school to steal an upcoming test or to win a bet. But those students were invariably caught before they were good and well inside. Now, however, no one was caught, and worse, it had not been one student inside but at least four, judging by the footsteps.
This would have been serious enough in itself, but what made him nauseous to the core was the fact that the four pairs of footsteps hadn't fled away from the patrol, that was about to catch them, but towards it. They had passed three men and three dogs without being noticed, let alone caught. How?
Up until now, their surveillance system had been watertight, and although he had called the commander an amateur only minutes ago, he knew full well that he was one of the best trained (and paid) professionals in the country, or any country. He and his team were the kind that toppled complete governments without anyone knowing of it.
He sighs. Sometimes he regretted his decision not to install security cameras, but the risks had been too great. Footage could be stolen, systems could be hacked, and it would be devastating if outsiders were to learn what happened inside this school, especially at night.
He sighs again. He just can't think his way out of this mess. He knows what he has to do. The procedure is crystal clear, but, clear or not, he doesn't look forward to the full frontal confrontation with the principal. Something inside his chest protests. How was this even his fault? He had been the one protesting when the principal decided to allow the daughter of that invalid father and traitor-mother to join his school. She should have been taken care of 15 years ago. He had told his superiors this time and time again. Especially after that farm burned down, she was an accident waiting to happen. It had fallen on deaf ears, but then he shakes off his rebellious thoughts. He knows his place. Discipline is the only thing that will save them.
He tries to force the wild flying strands of hair back over the top of his head and barks his last order at the commander. "Before the buzzer of the first lesson, I want a complete report about this disaster on my desk. Or is that too much to ask?" Without waiting for an answer, he turns and walks away. Only when he's out of earshot does the commander – who hasn't moved an inch all this time – relax and release a low, hardly audible growl, while his eyes light up in the dark of the night.