Emily read the report silently, turning pages one after another, the rustle of paperwork the only sound in her office. On the other side of the desk Armsmaster waited patiently, Renick sitting near him also without a word. Standing looking out the window over the bay Miss Militia seemed pensive.
Eventually reaching the end of the document, the Director closed it, put it in front of her, and stared at it for a few seconds, before raising her eyes to the man across from her. "I see," she said rather more calmly than she truly wanted to, as she was deliberately suppressing her first instinct to demand more answers. The last few weeks of working more closely with the Tinker had driven home that he was at least as dedicated to doing his job well as she was, but in a very different way. Despite her own deep-rooted feelings about Parahumans in general, she'd found she had developed a lot of respect for the man, and to be honest the rest of them too.
Chambers turning up and casting aspersions on the whole ENE grouping had certainly pushed her that way as well, as she had genuinely felt outraged about the insult he'd managed to inflict not only on her and her direct command but the Protectorate and its own commander, who had throughout the entire Hess debacle and further into this whole Coil fuckup supported her without complaint and with a hell of a lot of expertise.
She wasn't going to welcome any random Parahuman she met with open arms, she still had her biases and was more than self-aware enough to realize that and why they existed, but these ones were hers. And no one fucked with what was hers. Oddly enough she was pretty sure that Armsmaster in his own… unique… way felt the same in the other direction.
So, no, she wasn't going to fly off the handle and explode, even if it would make her feel momentarily better. She was going to take a leaf out of his book and calmly gather all the information she could so she could make an informed decision.
Then work out who got an earful.
Assuming that was even possible, of course, since it was extremely evident that whoever their mysterious black group really was, they were very very good and likely so sneaky that the chances of ever getting anyone in the government to admit to their mere existence was something of a pipe-dream. Still, she'd continue to ask around just in case, mostly because while she didn't have much doubt that those people and her people were working to the same end, the way they were doing it was irritating and she didn't like not knowing things that affected her job.
Even with that though she could admire the professionalism and the sheer effectiveness of what they'd managed to do without leaving a trace of how. It was almost terrifying in its sheer sneakiness. Very fitting for some sort of deep cover black ops team, really.
"I can't work out if this makes me feel happier or not," she went on after mulling the situation over for another half minute or so, tapping the folder. "If between you and Dragon this is all you can find, it strongly suggests whoever is behind this has immense resources, and a hell of a lot of practice in working behind the scenes."
Armsmaster nodded. "That was our conclusion, Director. Our putative secret organization clearly contains, or has access to, a remarkably adept Tinker, probably a team of Thinkers, as well as a vast array of technical expertise on multiple subjects most likely built up over many years. Even without knowing the precise mechanism behind the method used to remove the hidden base and replace it with suitable infill, the level of ability required to calculate how to do it safely is enormous. Definitely not the work of a neophyte Parahuman, or even a small group of them. Whoever did this has experience, practical experience, in some very complex specialties."
"And an awful lot of funding, I'd assume," Renick commented, causing Armsmaster to look at him and nod.
"Undoubtedly. Based on known teleportation systems, building something completely unique capable of doing what the evidence suggests was done would be a hideously costly exercise even leaving aside maintenance and the power required to run it. And, of course, the amount of resources tied up in ensuring no one spoke about it. I've checked as much as I can and there is nothing I can trace that even hints at the existence of this group. Not even in rumors on PHO. The Cauldron Conspiracy has more evidence, and we know full well that is merely urban legend perpetrated by teenagers with too much time on their hands. Much like JFK being murdered by the Simurgh, or Elvis faking his death to live as the super hero Chubster."
Shaking his head while wearing a very small smile for a moment, Armsmaster sighed faintly. "There are far too many credulous people around, and most of them appear addicted to the internet. But even with that being the case, I can't find a single reference to whoever is behind recent events. Nor can Dragon and she is much better at such tasks than I am. The sheer effort required to suppress everything connected to something of this nature is so large it hints at a significant organization with vast resources and probably decades of experience in counter-intelligence work. My best guess is an offshoot of the NSA, but even that seems rather low probability for a number of reasons."
Emily nodded slowly. "I've made discreet inquiries of my own," she replied after a moment. "Pulled in a few favors from years back, called old friends in various organizations, even a couple outside the US. Everyone basically told me they had no idea at all what I was talking about." She tapped her finger again a few times. "Which in the case of one or two of them makes me immediately think they do know something but can't, or won't, tell me. The blank expressions were a little too blank, if that makes any sense."
The Tinker looked thoughtful. "I believe I do, Director. Interesting. It does tend to support my hypothesis."
"That it does." She sighed a little. "It also means we're probably at a complete dead end at this point. I expected as much if I'm honest but I was curious to see if you managed to find something. Thank you for trying, and thank Dragon for me for providing the equipment."
"I will do so," he replied with a smile. "Her scanning drone system will undoubtedly prove useful for the task it was designed for, search and rescue, and this was if nothing else a good practical test of the system. We've identified several areas to improve on in the last week due to this usage, and she now believes that it will be ready for mass production within three months."
"That's something, at least," Emily agreed. "Keep me updated on how that goes, and we'll arrange to acquire the system when it's ready."
"Of course."
Miss Militia turned back from the window and began to say something, but just as she got the first syllable out, Emily's phone rang. Holding up a finger as she glanced at the display, she said, "This may be relevant," then picked up the receiver. The voice was one she hadn't heard for some time, but it was well known to her. "Hello, Simon," she said to a man she'd had quite a few interesting experiences with years ago. She listened impassively to what he told her, which only took a few minutes.
"I see," she finally said, pondering his information. "Very interesting indeed. Thank you. And you'll send me the data? Excellent. I hope your inquiry goes well. I believe I know the man you're referring to and I can be fairly certain he's never going to be a problem again. We've got him in our cells right now, thanks to a mutual acquaintance. Don't worry, he'll be paying for his crimes for a long, long time. I'll make sure you get the relevant information in return." Nodding as he wished her a good day, she put the receiver back into the cradle in complete silence, the faint click echoing through the room, then looked up at her companions as she leaned back in the chair.
"Have any of you heard of the United National Intervention Operator Network?" she queried after a moment or two.
Armsmaster studied her, glanced at Renick who shrugged and Miss Militia who shook her head. "No, Director, I have not," he replied slowly. "Is there some context to the question?"
Emily waved at her phone. "An old friend. Army, based out of Boston. Apparently some weeks ago they got an email with details of a remarkably large number of weapons from handguns to anti-tank missiles, all of which turned out to have been stolen. Most of them from various National Guard armories on the East Coast, although some came from as far afield as Denver, and it included a handful of very modern hardware the Canadian military was extremely pleased to get back." She watched them exchange glances.
"The interesting part, or one of the most interesting parts, is that whoever sent the email knew exactly who to send it to, and had all the right security codes to ensure it ended up being seen by the person most suited to investigating the thefts. That's information that according to Simon is certainly not public, and in fact would be quite hard to get even if you had the clearance unless you knew an awful lot about how the internal structure of the Army intelligence departments worked. He's quite curious to find out who is behind it and how they knew all that, which doesn't surprise me. He's also made a lot of inquiries and has come up completely empty, just like we did. That, oddly enough, also doesn't surprise me."
She paused for breath, looking at each of them in turn. "I think I can pretty much guarantee we know where Calvert's armory ended up, and where he got it from in the first place," she went on after a few seconds. Armsmaster was listening carefully and visibly thinking hard as were the other two. "Which has caused a lot of people in the military to be asked some extremely hard questions, many of them finding themselves in a situation they're not going to get out of for ten to twenty years. And apparently just about every open case the Army had on missing weapons has been cleared up in one step. Thomas was a very naughty boy and seems to have put a lot of time into corrupting half the state's military supply sergeants along with all the other shit we knew he's done."
"Everything that man touched seems to need investigating," Miss Militia noted with a scowl.
"Damn right. He was a one-man crime wave on a scale I can't believe even now," Emily growled. "We're going to be cleaning up after him for years. Us, the Protectorate, the Army now, the FBI, the city administration, the Governor's office… He had his fingers into everything and I very much doubt we've found all of it yet." She pointed at the phone. "As that just proved. But even leaving that aspect out of it, there were a couple of interesting things Simon said. One is how the weapons were returned."
"Let me guess," Renick cut in, almost smiling. "In old shipping containers that were in places they couldn't be put without some sort of Parahuman power?"
Emily smirked evilly, finding this funnier than it should have been. Because it was now happening to someone else, probably. "Got it in one. Big shipping container, completely anonymous, sitting bang in the middle of an alleyway there's no way it could possibly have been put in normally unless someone lowered it down from a cargo helicopter. Which they could prove hadn't happened."
"Or if it was teleported into place," Armsmaster added, looking unwillingly impressed. "Efficient use of their technology."
"They know what they're doing all right," she sighed. "More evidence that they're experts in their field. Anyway, when they unlocked the thing, it was stacked floor to ceiling with enough military hardware to fight the Viet Cong all over again. Millions of dollars worth of guns, rocket launchers, grenades, and god alone knows what else. Thank fuck none of that ended up on the street. It would be a goddamn war zone out there right now if it had. So we can thank our friends for that too."
"And the name you mentioned?" he asked curiously.
"Was on the only thing in the container other than the stolen weapons," she explained. "A single standard and untraceable business card, with that name on it. On the back was printed 'Best Regards.' No other evidence, no fingerprints, DNA, no traces of anything on any of it. Totally clean. It's been confusing the hell out of them for weeks." Emily chuckled for a second, then felt annoyed with herself for doing so. "I have no idea who these bastards are but fuck me they're good. And apparently have a sense of humor. I don't know if that makes it better or worse."
"We knew that from the note on the door they left us," Renick said, smiling slightly. "And you have to admit it was a thoughtful present."
"Best one I had in years," she agreed happily. "But we have a name now. For all the good that does. It's certainly not one I've ever come across in the past, and it implies quite a few things."
"It does, yes," Armsmaster nodded, looking pensive. "One of them being that the organization may be larger than we initially thought. A 'network' suggests multiple departments, or cells, or something of that nature. 'Intervention Operator' is an intriguing term too. Intervening in what? Using what authority?"
"'National' strongly implies it's a Federal agency, which is what we've assumed anyway," Miss Militia said as she sat down for the first time. "So presumably the authority granted to it by the US Government, although it doesn't look likely that we're going to find out exactly what that covers. Not with how classified they have to be."
"They certainly intervened in Coil's shit," Renick pointed out with a grin. "Did it really well too."
"True enough." Emily leaned forward again and put her arms on the desk. "My own guess is that they're something independent of other agencies, set up as a last resort method to stop serious threats to the country. Possibly a long time ago, perhaps Cold War vintage or something similar. Back after the war and well into the late fifties, even early seventies in some cases, there were all sorts of fucking weird things happening in the intelligence services. Just think of the CIA and MK-Ultra. God alone knows how many resources went into plans for mind control and all sorts of garbage like that. There were dozens of projects for bizarre black ops from every part of our government, and probably every other government too. I know the Soviets had their equivalent, the Brits did as well, and so did the Canadians. And that's just the things that ended up public knowledge. Who knows what was lurking around with better opsec? Or is still lurking around..." She felt rather cold for a moment, thinking about her own words. When you laid it out in the open like that it was more than a little disturbing.
Especially these days when literal mind control was possible…
She found herself desperately hoping there wasn't some current version of MK-Ultra still in existence because it was plausible they could actually do what the CIA had tried. Not a comforting thought at all.
By the looks of it her three companions had similar thoughts going through their minds and weren't too pleased about it. "In any case," she went on after ten seconds or so, "If I'm right, they stepped in when they somehow worked out that Coil was a much bigger threat than anyone else realized, and neutralized him as neatly as anything I've ever seen. We certainly didn't have the faintest idea just how big a problem he'd have ended up being if he hadn't been stopped, even after you found him out, Armsmaster." The Tinker nodded agreement without speaking. "For some reason they picked that moment to go after him. I'd guess they had him under surveillance and when we started taking an interest in the man they decided to finish things."
"Possibly they were monitoring him to trace his contacts, which would explain why they didn't act earlier," Renick suggested. "Once we started looking for him, it was only a matter of time before that wouldn't be possible so they just cleaned up after themselves and handed him to us to deal with. They got everything else they were after. His base is gone, and all his resources, so thoroughly even we can't figure out where it actually went. Even if somehow he got away, he's completely boned. Assuming he ever recovers enough not to scream if he sees a chair…"
Emily couldn't help the small smirk that came and went. It was indeed more than slightly amusing to show Calvert a photo of a chair and see him go pale and fall over…
She might have indulged in that a few more times than she should have, but one took one's little pleasures where one could and to be frank the bastard deserved it and more.
"There's a point in your theory that worries me, Director," Miss Militia said quietly, causing them all to look at her. "Or an implication at least. If this… Intervention Operator group… was monitoring Calvert, how did they realize we were looking for him if he didn't? You and Armsmaster went to a lot of trouble to keep the information compartmentalized, and we've cleaned out all his moles, along with the ones from the Empire and the ABB we either found in the process or knew about at the time. We're much more secure than it appears we have been for years. But… somehow they found out what we were doing and got there before us. How did they do that?"
The younger woman looked around at the others. "The only thing that comes to mind is that they're also monitoring us. Someone right here in the ENE is reporting to them, that's one possibility, or somehow they're tapped into our communications even after Armsmaster and Dragon spent many hours digging out vulnerabilities and replacing half the IT infrastructure. Or both, worst case. I can't think of any other way they could be doing it."
"I can," Armsmaster said with a set to his mouth which suggested he wasn't happy. "Their Thinker group may indeed contain a particularly effective precog, or some other Parahuman with a power set that allows them to discover our actions from a distance. It's very rare but such powers have been documented. They always have severe limitations but within those they're unnervingly efficient. We already know they clearly have Thinker support to a level even Watchdog would envy but perhaps we're still underestimating them…"
"Jesus," Mike said after a second of appalled staring. "That's not going to let me sleep any better."
"I may be wrong, of course," the Tinker added with a small shrug. "Hannah's theories are more likely, as annoying as they are to contemplate. But considering just how much effort we've put into sanitizing the staff and the infrastructure, if there still is some sort of double agent working for us under deep cover, it's extremely deep cover. All I can say is that I am not such an agent, although obviously I can't prove that beyond all doubt."
"So what you're saying is in theory any of us... could be one of them?" Renick queried with a worried expression.
"That is the problem, yes," Armsmaster sighed. "How do we prove we're not to each other's complete satisfaction? I personally feel it extremely unlikely that anyone in this room is a double agent, but with rare exceptions I couldn't honestly say it's impossible that among the entire ENE PRT and Protectorate staff there isn't someone working for the Network. Considering just how deep their reach clearly is… I can't completely dismiss the idea."
They all looked at each other for some time. "How on earth do we find out whether that's the case or not?" Renick finally asked, sounding annoyed and worried at the same time. "Especially if we've already gone through and vetted everyone. What's left to do?"
Armsmaster shrugged. "A very detailed background check of literally everyone is probably the only method that might work. Oddly enough I suspect Assault is the least likely person to be involved if anyone actually is since we know a lot more about him than about almost everyone else due to his past. But even there it might be a case of refuge in audacity, of course. Probably not, and this sort of thinking can easily leave you so paranoid you see what isn't there, which is not helpful, but considering the sheer talent of the people behind this I cannot rule it out entirely. It's just very low probability."
"Is there any real point in even trying to find out who may be working for the Network?" Miss Militia looked around at them. "They're on our side anyway, and so far have been more effective than we are. Putting in weeks of work on the off chance we find something that may not be there to find, and if it is, is so well disguised we might not even recognize it anyway, may end up being counterproductive."
"I doubt they're on any side but their own, and it's merely that our goals currently overlap," Emily replied after thinking the comment over. "We can't guarantee that will always be true. Intelligence agencies tend not to be your friend even if you work for the same final boss, in my experience. And I'd prefer to know I can trust the people I work with, not find myself wondering at a critical moment if they're working for some hidden agenda that might bite me in the ass unexpectedly."
The other woman nodded slowly. "I see your point, Director."
"On the other hand I don't think we need to make it our top task right now. It will be difficult no matter how we do it, and we do have other work that's more time-critical to be getting on with. Armsmaster, if you can spare some time to come up with some plausible method to check out key personnel, that would probably be a good idea. But don't dump too many hours into it. These people are beyond good and are not going to be easy to find, that much I can be sure of. Assuming they even exist. We might be missing something obvious, or something so bizarre we can't even recognize it. I'll put some thought into it as well."
Armsmaster signified his agreement with a small nod. "Understood, Director. For what its worth I agree with your summation."
She turned to look at Renick. "Mike, when you get some free time, draw up a list of people here that would be in a position to pass on any information that could have told the Network what we were doing. Hardly anyone was aware of Coil to begin with, so start there, but we also need to consider staff who might have been able to overhear something, see a screen, anything like that. Again, don't spend days on it, right now it's not worth wasting the time chasing something that may not be there, but give it some thought. Miss Militia, the same goes for you. We can compare our notes next week and possibly something will stand out." Sighing, she leaned her chair back and shook her head.
"I somewhat doubt it will, but we might get lucky."
"Every time you think you've fixed one problem another one flares up, right, Emily?" Renick noted with mild amusement. She fixed him with a glare, which only made the amusement slightly more obvious. Waving a hand at him, she snorted.
"Go away, all of you. I've got work to do I can do, and so do you."
"Director." Armsmaster inclined his head to her, stood up, and left, Miss Militia accompanying him after a brief look back at Emily, their eyes meeting for a moment of understanding. Renick also stood, retrieving the folder on her desk and leafing through it before putting it down again.
"Never a normal moment around here, is there?" he asked almost cheerfully, before giving her an ironic salute and leaving as well. Alone, Emily retrieved the folder, glared at it, then shoved it into the secure drawer and tried to forget about mysterious government agencies that knew way too much and did things that confused the experts.
She wasn't successful, of course, but she tried.
