Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
Fire alarms are great to initiate an attack, but the devil is in the details.
They definitely serve to flush out the people quickly. Military facilities, hospitals and elementary schools don't only have evacuation plans that look great on paper, they also regularly train them. With high schools it depends on the district. Where it's likely that a bunch of concerned parents regularly points out insufficient alarm practice to the school board, kids and teachers know the drill. Big companies also tend to put a lot of emphasis on the proper execution of fire alert procedures. Law suits are so damn costly…
In all those cases a fire alarm is only useful if you're planning an open attack, from an elevated observation point, for example with a long distance rifle, a scope and maybe a bit of strategically placed C4 explosives.
When you're aiming for a concealed attack setting off the fire alarm only makes sense in environments that don't have or don't practice regular alert procedures. In those contexts a sudden alarm most certainly guarantees the outbreak of massive chaos. It's only natural: Fire represents one of men's most primal fears. It speaks directly to the lizard part of the brain, invalidates social norms and brings out the cavemen strategies.
Unless there's a strong, very well-established hierarchy and/or chain of command, such as in military facilities, hospitals etc. etc. people start running to and fro either looking to protect themselves or desperately trying to save what's most dear to their heart. That can be loved ones such as spouses or children, but also material assets – money, laptops, sports trophies. Nothing reveals the state of a relationship better than a sudden emergency. If a wife finds her husband waiting outside, unscathed, no traces of soot on his white shirt while she got lost in a maze of corridors and only barely managed to get away, he better have a damn good explanation…
Anyway, when chaos breaks out, it is fantastically easy to sneak in, get past any kind of safety arrangements and mingle with the fleeing people. Nobody pays attention and in addition to that it's completely in accordance with the situation that persons bump into each other, stumble, fall… Before anyone realizes that somebody got murdered the perpetrator is already over the hills and far away.
So Chance and the others definitely knew what to look out for: Someone moving in the wrong direction, into the building instead of towards the exit, someone with a worried face but calm hands (this is one of the things that separates the pros from the amateurs – most assassins manage to fake emotions well when it comes to the face, but forget the rest of the body) or someone with eyes looking for a person instead of trying to find an exit. If someone with searching eyes but without calling for anybody roams the corridors, it's definitely time to bring the big guns in.
Chance couldn't wait.
But unfortunately, someone cheered too soon…
The fire alarm was false, so far, so good, but unfortunately not caused by the threat…
A law student, smoking in the restroom and foolishly trying to hide it by breathing into a plastic bottle.
Yeah, a real genius. But definitely the right amount of impertinence to go places in his future profession.
A promising trial lawyer in the making…
"Why can't they do this in their own facilities?", Marybeth Tucker exploded. "The university built them a complete high rise because every idiot wants to become a lawyer and foolish parents pay astronomical fees because they think one day their former rug rat will compensate them with a mansion and a heated outdoor pool!"
Chance watched her rant with utter fascination. This was the first time Marybeth had shown any real emotion at all.
"The linguistics department is crammed into ONE corridor with three little rooms. We were told to be GRATEFUL, can you believe that? And to add insult to injury, those big shot wannabes come HERE whenever they're up to some idiocy. For heaven's sake, these cockroaches will never do a day of useful work in their lives!"
In contrast to the linguists' contribution to world peace, feeding the hungry and sealing the hole in the ozone layer…, Chance thought but decided it was wiser not to say it out loud. There was something about her furious outbreak that made him wonder, but he couldn't quite pinpoint it.
"Why did you become a linguist?", he asked her as they trudged back to Marybeth's office. He expected a lengthy, pathetic explanation regarding the fundamental role of language in the world, but instead she remained silent almost till they crossed the threshold to her room again.
"I don't know", she finally said. "My parents wanted me to become something special. That is all they ever said. They never made demands, never tried to push me into a certain direction. See, my parents were both musicians, mom played the piano and dad was an opera singer, but they didn't make me learn even a single instrument. All their musician friends… when they had kids they influenced them to do something with music. Some of the kids hated it, some loved it, but they all got a chance to find out if they were any good in that field. I was just left alone and when I realized I WANTED to do something with music and learned to play the piano it was too late for a professional career, I should have started at a much younger age. You can never catch up on what you've missed out when you're young. The experiences you make as a child… they stay with you forever."
Chance thought of Ash and for a moment it felt to him as if the floor was slipping underneath his feet.
"Maybe in the end I became a linguist because in a nutshell words are sounds, too. I specify in researching possibilities of creating a global language, intuitively understood by everyone. Music is such a global language, but it's not detailed enough to transport differentiated messages – I'm trying to find a "word" equivalent of music… if you will I became the literature version of a musician…the closest I could find to become like my parents, I guess…"
She paused and looked out of the window, from a safe distance in case of a sniper, just like Chance had told her.
"Either you become exactly like your parents or the complete opposite. There's no middle-ground." Marybeth sat down and resumed working on her essay.
Chance sat down, too. He was no man for worship, but at that moment in Marybeth Tucker's office he prayed to everyone willing to listen that his son did not become like him.