In the older part of the headquarters of the CIA, on the top floor, there is an unassuming door, labeled only with a title and an undecipherable acronym. Behind it, is one of the few offices that actually looks like what people imagine a senior government office to look like. The man seated at the desk uses a different name professionally than he does publicly; his closest friends and family think he works at a small, high-end, commercial real estate firm, and he does have an office and phone there. He finishes reading the contents of an unassuming manila folder, picks it up, and strolls down the hall to an office where a man named Bush made his name in government service during the cold war. The secretaries in the front room look up as he enters, but do not stop him as he knocks on the office door.
"Ma'am?" The woman inside motions him in, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She raises her cup, arching an eyebrow inquisitively, but the man just shakes his head. Satisfied, she sits down on one of the chairs in front of her desk, indicating the other across from her.
"You have the report on the Brockton Bay situation?"
"Just an interim one, ma'am. The situation is more ... complicated than we thought." He pauses. "As you know, we, the FBI, the DEA, the IRS, Secret Service, the Post Office, and Section 5 have all been trying to discover Boss Hebert's illegal activities, as well as his apparent past relations with those known as the Family. As we've been investigating, we've also become aware of investigations by the Israelis, the Russians, the Chinese, and Five Eyes, who all seem to have been attracted by our interest in him.
"We've established than none of us have been able to break his cover. As we reported earlier, he has a connection to the Mob families in New York, but his father was clean for a Teamster, and Hebert himself hasn't even been involved that much - there was apparently a big argument with his great-uncle when his kid was born, and they hadn't even touched base in years. FBI surveillance saw him having dinner with the Don and his wife in private, but nothing of import was discussed, just an apology for losing his temper, and a cookie recipe.
"Since we couldn't break his cover directly, we decided to approach things obliquely, and investigate his known associates. That's when the situation became complex." The man pulls out a number of photographs and places them on the small coffee table between them. The woman picks them up and spreads the pictures apart so she can look at them all. The man reaches down and taps a photo of a man drinking a beer in a run-down bar. "You've already heard about the encounter Smith's people had with him." He taps another picture of a large black man walking along with Daniel Hebert and a young man who is obviously a security guard. "Mr. Hebert knows him as Zevron. He disappeared after a successful mission for Section 5 in Chile about fifteen years ago, and believed dead. The young man is the parahuman known as Grue." Tapping a picture of two mechanics. "The man was involved in the design of the German's BV 206S and the TPz Fuchs. The woman is an unknown transport-specialized parahuman, with an obviously constructed past. We'd think her to be the parahuman Squealer, but she is conclusively - fingerprints, dental, and DNA all match - dead." Tap. "We believe her to be ex-GRU." Tap. "And this one, an ex-SBS that GCHQ lost 5 years ago." He then pulls more pictures out from the folder. "And these, we don't know who they are, but none of their legends match, though some are better than others. In every case, Hebert and each subject were in the same locations just before the subject left their service. Zephron, or Zevron, we're not sure which, for instance, disappeared from Santiago while Hebert was there negotiating for copper. The others all have similar stories."
The man looks up, directly at the woman across from him. "As near as we can determine, Hebert is operating a real-life Village, on the behalf of some unknown third party. Moreover, he's doing a better job than Number Two ever did, as they all come to him willingly, and none of them even try to leave."
The woman closes her eyes and pinches the top of her nose. "And 'Erwin' told Smith to leave Brockton Bay alone, or worse would happen? When did Hebert tell him to do that?"
"As near as we can tell, Hebert didn't. 'Erwin' did it on his own. As did the lizard Metis with the IRS and the Post Office, and Zephron with the DEA, and her with Section 5, and so on. Hell, I got a call from the PRT telling us to not make the lizards angry and to stop investigating Hebert. They're sure the lizards are protecting Hebert. My guys think it's the other way around."
The woman stands up, walks over to her desk, pulls a drawer out, thumps the top of the desk, then pulls the drawer the rest of the way out. She takes out a small unlabeled bottle and an even smaller glass. She pours herself two fingers of the amber liquid from the bottle, then slams the contents into her mouth. She shivers briefly, then softly swears. "Jesu. We are SO fucked. Thank you. Leave the report."
As the man left her office, she spins around in her chair, staring blankly out her window.