Harold sighed as he grabbed the ledge and swung himself over the compound wall. He had to leave Detective Rizzo behind because he would attract too much attention. Stealth wasn’t exactly his forte.
Harold consulted his map and checked the time, then headed off to the nearest guard tower. The security system was supposedly in that tower, but he didn’t know how much stock to put into it.
He quietly scaled the side farthest from the compound and peeked in through the open window. He stopped to wonder what it was with these men and leaving windows open in the winter, before he dropped inside. He knocked the single guard out with a chop to the back of his neck, and walked over to the security system. For such a crazy group, they sure did have a low level of security.
Harold typed in a series of commands and watched as the system stuttered and blanked for a second before coming back on. The system would now show what it had shown on the previous day, only the time and date would say it was today. Since the guards’ schedule was exactly the same every day, there wouldn’t be any problem. There was only the matter of disabling the motion alarms in the inner compound. Harold looked around and saw a small, inconspicuous computer sitting in the corner.
He turned on the screen and smiled. He entered a string of code that would disable the alarms for a specific amount of time at the set time. He should be able to get in, get Professor Brint, and get out without being detected.
Professor Brint wearily followed his student down the corridors, stopping when told, and going when told. They heard a commotion up ahead, and Harold was about to shove him in a closet when they heard Detective Rizzo call out.
“Hey, I called in the goon squad! Hope you don’t mind.”
Though the professor didn’t recognize the voice, Harold assured him that Detective Rizzo was a friend.
When the FBI came into view hauling a couple unconscious and unwilling men behind them, the professor sighed in relief.
* * * * *
Professor John Brint was being held in a room next to that of his student Harold Reems’. They had been debriefed on the incident at the compound, and they both had been given tests.
Looking at the test results, Agent Kunningam frowned. Either the teacher and the student’s test results had been mixed up, or they had been looking at the wrong guy when they thought the professor was who they needed.
The rebel party had grabbed the wrong man, and he found that hilarious. All of that work for nothing. Though, he thought, if they hadn’t grabbed the man, they never would have discovered the boy.