CHAPTER 387: THE WRONG TARGET

The silence from Team Alpha stretched on for what felt like an eternity, though I knew it had only been a few minutes since their last transmission. Anthony was cycling through every available communication frequency, his professional composure beginning to show cracks as he realized that experienced federal agents didn’t simply stop responding during routine surveillance operations.

"Team Alpha, this is Command. Respond immediately on any available channel," Anthony said into his communication device, his voice carrying the urgency of someone who understood that lost contact often meant the worst-case scenario had occurred.

Nothing.

I found myself calculating what could of happened while watching Anthony’s increasingly frantic attempts to reestablish contact. If Team Alpha had been discovered and eliminated by the assassination network, it meant that our careful planning had been compromised from the beginning. The conspirators were more aware of our investigation than we had realized, and they had just demonstrated their willingness to kill federal agents to protect their operation.

"Team Beta, maintain your current positions but be ready to extract immediately," Anthony commanded, shifting his focus to protecting the remaining reconnaissance team while we assessed the situation.

"Copy that, Command. We’re maintaining surveillance on our assigned targets, but we’re seeing increased activity and movement that doesn’t fit normal patterns."

The implications were becoming clear with disturbing speed. Our investigation had been detected, and the assassination team was now actively countering our operations. The Event Quest’s "survive" objective was beginning to look prophetic rather than merely cautionary.

Anthony and I looked at each other, both of us understanding that we had reached a critical decision point. We could maintain our safe positions outside the school and try to coordinate a response through the remaining federal agents, or we could take direct action despite the obvious risks.

"We have to go in," I said, the logic of our situation becoming inescapable. "We’ll fail the Event Quest if I don’t survive, but we’re going to fail regardless if everything gets compromised and the assassins escape or eliminate all the federal agents."

Anthony’s expression showed that he had reached the same tactical conclusion. "You’re right. If Team Alpha has been taken out, waiting for backup or trying to coordinate remotely won’t save them or prevent them from succeeding."

We started running toward the school building, abandoning the safety of our external command position for the immediate necessity of direct intervention. Anthony continued trying to raise Team Alpha on his communication device as we moved, but the persistent silence confirmed that something had gone seriously wrong with their surveillance mission.

"Team Alpha, if you can hear this transmission, we are moving to your last known position," Anthony said as we approached the main entrance. "Maintain defensive positions and wait for support."

The hallways of Hudson Heights felt different as we moved through them with tactical purpose rather than investigative curiosity. The federal agents we had seen conducting their systematic evidence gathering were still present, but their activities seemed somehow less relevant now that we understood the immediate danger facing our missing team.

We made our way toward the security office area where Team Alpha had been conducting surveillance on Frank Morrison. The route took us through several corridors that had been thoroughly searched earlier, but now felt potentially hostile as we considered the possibility that the assassination team was actively hunting federal agents.

When we reached the security office, we found Frank conducting what appeared to be routine administrative duties. He was alone, organizing paperwork and monitoring the building’s camera feeds with the careful attention of someone taking his job seriously. There was no sign of Team Alpha or any indication of a confrontation having taken place in this area.

I looked at Frank more carefully, noting Derek’s observation about his apparent injury and unusual movement patterns. He was indeed moving with a slight limp, favoring his left leg in a way that suggested recent injury. But something about the nature of his movement didn’t match what I would expect from someone who had participated in a knife fight with a trained federal operative.

I activated Advanced Copy and focused on getting Alexis’s Biometric Insight skill, feeling the familiar sensation as my enhanced abilities adapted to incorporate new analytical capabilities. The skill got acquired at Level 4, providing me with detailed assessment capabilities that would allow me to interpret Frank’s physical condition with much greater accuracy.

Using my new skill, I examined Frank’s movement patterns, breathing, and subtle physical indicators. The enhanced analysis revealed that his injuries were consistent with blunt trauma and muscle strain rather than the sharp, precise wounds that would result from knife combat. His upper body showed signs of bruising and soreness, but not the specific defensive injuries that someone would sustain while fighting for their life against a blade-wielding attacker.

"Frank," I said, approaching him with carefully neutral body language, "I noticed you seem to be moving carefully today. Are you injured?"

Frank looked up from his paperwork with the mild confusion of someone who hadn’t expected to be asked about his physical condition by visitors. "Oh, yeah, I got banged up pretty good a couple days ago. Nothing too serious, just bruises and a sprained ankle."

"How did it happen?" Anthony asked, his tone carrying professional interest rather than suspicious interrogation.

"There was a college football game at the local stadium, and they hired some of us from the school as additional security," Frank explained, unconsciously rubbing his shoulder as he spoke. "Some drunk guy ran onto the field during halftime, and it triggered this massive crowd surge as people tried to follow him or get away from the chaos. Security eventually got everyone under control, but I got caught in the middle of it and took some pretty good hits from the crowd."

The realization hit both Anthony and me simultaneously, and I could see the same understanding reflected in his expression. Frank’s injuries were completely consistent with crowd control injuries sustained during a public disturbance, not knife wounds from close-quarters combat with a trained operative.

Frank Morrison was not the fourth assassin.

"Frank," Anthony said with renewed urgency, "we need you to retrace your security rounds since about forty minutes ago. Some federal agents went missing while conducting surveillance, and we need to understand their movements."

Frank’s demeanor immediately shifted to professional concern as he realized the serious implications of what Anthony was telling him. "Missing agents? That’s not possible. I haven’t seen any unusual activity, and the building’s security cameras haven’t shown anything out of the ordinary."

"Show us your patrol route," I said, understanding that we needed to reconstruct Team Alpha’s last known movements if we had any hope of finding them before it was too late.

Frank led us through the corridors he had been monitoring, pointing out the various checkpoints and camera positions that comprised his routine security responsibilities. Anthony continued trying to raise Team Alpha on his communication device, but the silence was becoming more ominous with each failed attempt.

As we followed Frank’s patrol route, I found myself recalculating everything we thought we knew about the assassinations. If Frank wasn’t the fourth assassin, then someone else had participated in Damon’s murder, and that person was still unidentified and actively dangerous.

We had been searching for nearly twenty minutes when we heard muffled sounds coming from one of the classrooms ahead of us. The noises didn’t sound like normal teaching activities or administrative business – they were irregular and suggested some kind of struggle or confrontation.

Anthony and I exchanged glances and immediately began moving toward the source of the sounds with the careful approach of people who expected to encounter a dangerous situation. Frank followed behind us, apparently understanding that his security training might be needed to help resolve whatever crisis the federal agents had encountered.

The sounds were coming from a classroom near the end of the corridor, and as we got closer, I could make out what seemed like heavy breathing and occasional sounds of movement that suggested people in physical distress.

Without hesitation, Anthony and I charged through the classroom door, prepared to confront whatever threat had eliminated Team Alpha’s ability to communicate.

The scene inside the classroom was immediately clear and deeply troubling. Team Alpha – both federal agents – were positioned at the far back of the room, looking out of breath and showing signs of minor injuries that suggested they had been in some kind of altercation. They appeared to be alive but were clearly in a defensive position.

Closer to the front of the classroom, I could see their communication equipment, which had been deliberately damaged to explain why they hadn’t been able to respond to our attempts to contact them.

Ms. Patterson was standing near the broken communication device, holding what appeared to be a small blade that she had probably used to disable the equipment. Her presence confirming that they had fought one of the assassins, and that Team Alpha had discovered something that had forced her to take direct action against federal agents.

But what shocked me the most was the identity of the person standing next to Ms. Patterson – the fourth assassin whose identity we had been trying to determine.

"There’s....no way."