Page 73 of Lessons in Power

Armed guards at every exit.

There were over thirty cameras in the main building, giving me eyes on most of the rooms.

Including this one.

I couldn’t see myself on-screen. That was good, given that whoever was sitting up in the Hardwicke security offices right now was probably seeing the exact same thing.

If Emilia were here, she might be able to tell me how to knock some of these cameras out.

But Emilia had given herself up to save me. Why? I didn’t have time to let that question plague me.

You’re a fixer, I told myself.You don’t ask why. You take what you’re given, and you find a way.

I went through the security cameras a second time and took stock of where the gaps in the coverage were.No cameras in the bathrooms. No camera in the security center itself.

I tried not to dwell on the footage of the classrooms, of the students trapped inside. They lay on their stomachs, hands secured behind their backs.

I tried not to wonder what had happened to the teachers.

By now the Secret Service would have realized there was a problem. People would come for us.

And do what?a voice whispered in the back of my head. There were too many terrorists and too many lives at stake. Too many high-value targets.

Anna Hayden’s father is the acting president of one of the most powerful countries on Earth. The moment it had become clear that President Nolan was incapacitated, Anna’s father had taken those reins.

They shot the president. They killed John Thomas.

What if taking over Hardwicke had been the goal all along? What if Senza Nome had attacked the presidentso thatthe vice president would be sworn into office, so that the person in power had a child at this school?

They killed John Thomas. The same day the president was shot, they killed John Thomas.After that, Hardwicke had reason to bring in extra security, and justification for the additional security officers to be heavily armed.

Not just Hardwicke, I thought. Hardwickedidn’t do this.I swallowed.The headmaster did.The headmaster was the one who would have made the call. The headmaster was the one who would have chosen the men to bring in.

A Hardwicke student is killed.I went through it, step by step.The headmaster has an excuse to hire additional security, to see them heavily armed.

The president is shot.I forced myself to go further, to take this line of thought to completion.Once the president is shot, the vice president is imbued with the power of the presidency.

And the vice president’s daughter went to Hardwicke.

They want something. Anna is the leverage.Then again, they’d said high-value targets, plural.There are other students here who they can use for leverage, too.

HardwickewasWashington.

I had to do something. Find a way to short out the cameras? Cut the power and the lights?

I forced myself to pull up one of the classroom feeds, forced myself to look at my classmates, lying facedown on the floor.

If I cut the power, one of them is going to try something stupid.

If I cut the power, those guards are going to shoot.

I couldn’t risk that happening. I was an unarmed teenager trapped in a building with dozens of armed terrorists. There were snipers on the roof. Soon the terrorists would realize I was missing. Soon they’d be looking for me. The only thing I could do, the only thing I could eventryto do, was establish a line of communication with the outside world and tell them what I knew about the terrorists’ operation—where they were keeping the other students, how heavily the terrorists were armed, how many men they had, the fact that Dr. Clark was involved.

Information is power.My paternal grandfather’s words stuck in my mind.You can never know ahead of time which pieces will be worth the most.

The more information the police—the FBI—whoeverwas in charge of this operation had, the better our chances of making it out of this alive. I had to find a way of getting a message out.How?

My cell phone still wasn’t working.They must be scrambling the signal somehow. But they have a way of calling out. They must.