Thirteen: Red Right Arm.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States.

July 26th, 2015.

Apostle William Harper unfolded the Sunday edition of the New York Times . He set aside the crossword on the mahogany side table and skimmed over the headlines. The Sakhalin standoff…they're still doing that? What a waste. Oh, they've opened another restaurant on Sixth—I should visit next time I'm down in Manhattan. Used to be a Greek place, I think. He took a sip of his coffee, frowned, and added another two spoons of sugar. Kiel always made fun of my sweet tooth. His taste buds croaked in the second millennium though, so what does he know? He took another sip of the coffee and smiled appreciatively. A breeze blew in through the gilded French windows, rustling the snowy white curtains. He set the cup down on a filigree coaster. That reminds me, the Monet's up on auction next week. Would fill that gap above the stairs nicely.

Someone knocked on the door. Harper put the paper down and went to answer it, pulling on a terry-cloth robe. A short, round man with a beard but no mustache and a lanky woman chewing on an unlit cigarette stood in the hall outside his penthouse. Both wore overalls and carried tool kits.

"Mr. Harper?" The woman asked.

"That's me. You're the plumbers?"

"Yup. We're here to install the new garbage disposal."

The SEELE Apostle stepped back into his apartment, gesturing for them to enter. "How long will this take?"

The man shrugged. "Twenty, thirty minutes, maybe? We're quick."

The two plumbers walked into the kitchen. William reclined onto the sofa, picking up the crossword. "Nine letters, an isolated mountain."

"Monadnock," called the man from the kitchen.

"Thanks." He put it in.

"Eight letters, an uncommonly dense, refractory metal—that's 'Tungsten.' "

Harper wrote in the word and took a sip of coffee.

"Seven letters, a group of ancient Jewish assassins…" The plumber started to drill; the noise filled the apartment.

"You're thinking of 'Sicarii.' " He looked up…down the barrel of a machine pistol. The woman's grin was as cold as ice.

"Wh—"

"Kyrie Eleison!"

Harper leaped half from the couch and was cut down in a hail of lead. The last thing he saw was a spent shell singeing the Persian carpet.

NERV HQ, Tokyo-3 Special Administrative District, Japan.

July 28th, 2015.

Misato stopped before Benedikt's private office and knocked.

"Door's open."

She stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. The large, wood-paneled room was lined with shelves crammed to capacity; rolled posters, faded maps, an assortment of animal skulls and jarred organs, mineral exhibits, exotic pressed flowers, and thousands of books.

"Over here, Captain." Misato followed the voice to a little nook. Benedikt sat in a small armchair, hand resting on a large standing globe. A painting hung on the wall; an armored horseman, robes and steed both inky black. A wolf's head hung from his saddle.

"My ancestor," Benedikt said as a means of introduction. "Grigori Yakovlyevich Lavrentiy, an oprichnik and the founder of my family."

"A…what?"

"You've heard of the KGB, right?"

She nodded.

"The Oprichnina were the first secret police in Russia, a group of religious fanatics hired by the Tsar to repress his rivals. Lorenz is just the worst of the bastards in my family tree.."

What does that have to do with anything?

"There's a point to this anecdote. First, I'm going to retell some HERZ history. I want you to understand why I do what I do, so you'll understand why my answer is what it will be."

Misato nodded slowly. Benedikt moved a stack of books off a chair. She sat down, and Benedikt cleared his throat.

"It began in 1933. After the Reich rose to power, a group of Lutheran clergy saw the writing on the wall. Passive measures at first; they forged identity papers, spread propaganda leaflets. The Society of the Lamb was formally established after the invasion of France, with the mission of overthrowing the Nazi regime. The culmination of the effort, necessarily, would have been the assassination of Adolf Hitler. They made several attempts, all failed; the last one became known as the 20 July Plot, part of Operation Valkyrie."

"I've heard this story," Misato said. "The plot only failed because one of Hitler's men moved the briefcase behind the table leg. When the bomb went off he was killed, but Hitler survived."

Benedikt smiled bitterly. "It was a noble effort. As it was, the recriminations nearly wiped out the Society. About three-quarters of the members were put to death and the remainder fled the country. On Christmas Day, 1945, the survivors gathered in Mandatory Palestine. They voted to dissolve the Society of the Lamb and form HERZ." He leaned forward. "Our mission, Captain, is two words: 'never again.' We will not stand by while SEELE plots to destroy the human race. Whatever we have to do, whoever we have to kill."

Misato laughed. " 'Our cause is absolutely righteous, so we can do whatever we want.' I wonder where I've heard that before?"

"If you've read—"

"I read the report you gave me. If SEELE is planning on causing a Third Impact, what makes you think they can even be stopped? They can try as many times as they want, but if we fail once it's the end."

"Easier than you might think, Captain." Benedikt paused for a second, gathering his thoughts. "There are, as far as we are aware, three ways to begin an Impact event, all by combining some form of two essences: let us call them 'A' and 'L.' The Angels are of type 'A,' while humans are of type 'L.' The Evangelions are a neutered type 'A', while the very Geofront in which we stand is of type 'L.' Does that make sense?"

Misato nodded slowly. There's something you aren't telling me.

Benedikt continued. "The three forms of impact are as such: if an Angel descends into Terminal Dogma, it will evolve into a divine form and end the world. If an Angel were to somehow consume an intact Evangelion and assimilate the pilot's soul, it would evolve into a divine form and end the world. If an Evangelion successfully consumed an Angel and absorbed its S2 Engine, in time it would undergo Divine Evolution and—"

"End the world, right." Misato narrowed her eyes. "So if the Angels are of type 'A' and we're of type 'L,' could SEELE start Third Impact by feeding people to an Angel?"

Benedikt shook his head. "Not exactly. For some reason, Angel type 'A' and human type 'L' do not correspond. We're not sure why. We can imagine a type 'L' which can directly combine with the Angels, a 'Progenitor L.' We call it 'Lilith,' after the Angel forefather, 'Adam.' " He shrugged. "We've never found any evidence for Lilith—no matter what the Adamite cults say—so it's a moot point. Anyway, there are many Type 'A' beings in existence, but as far as we are aware there is only one Type 'L' they can join with—the Geofront. The Angels will run their course, and then we can remove any chance of Impact by destroying the Evangelions. As long as Tokyo-3 holds, there will be no Third Impact."

"So that's why there are so many defenses around Tokyo-3. If an Angel gets in, we die."

"No, that's why there is a Tokyo-3. Before Second Impact, Hakone was just a resort town. GEHIRN built this entire city in three years."

Misato coughed. "Anyway, sir, about Major Powell?"

"You want me to sideline him, right?"

"Yes. He has no concept of restraint—"

"Everything he does," Benedikt interrupted, "was on my orders. I instructed Powell to pry a confession out of Ikari at any cost. The solitary confinement was my idea, although it doesn't appear to have worked."

"You were the one who did that? Why? You're destroying morale—"

"As opposed to what, letting the Third Child run off with a death cult? We don't have a choice, Captain. He doesn't get a choice."

"He's fourteen—"

"He'll die like the rest of us if we lose this city. Every man, woman, and child has to contribute to the war effort."

Misato bit back an insult. Easy for you to say, sitting pretty in your bunker.

Benedikt sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Look, Katsuragi-san. I don't enjoy abusing the pilot. but please think of the greater picture. None of us, including Ikari, have a future if he doesn't pilot. The longer this childish tantrum goes on, the more danger we are all in."

"He wouldn't be throwing a 'tantrum' if you'd treat him like a human being. Leaving him in Powell's hands is the best way to make sure he never forgives us. Three days in solitary has made him thirty times more dangerous to OPSEC."

"Ayanami is not a suitable pilot for Unit-01, so we'll have to release him. I'll have Ikari released into your custody. He may not leave your apartment without written permission from Major Powell, except for regular school—"

"Powell? That isn't acceptable, sir. Not after last week. I can manage his safety."

Benedikt scowled. "You caused this mess by leaving that file out. No, Section 2 will handle this. Powell is my oprichnik—when you speak to him you are speaking to my right hand. Bring any issues you have to me."

"But…" Misato stopped herself. He's made up his mind. "One more thing."

"Yes?"

"Don't put a tracker anklet on Shinji. He'll be even less compliant if penned in."

"How do you suggest we keep him from joining back up with SEELE?"

"Keep a watch on the exterior with Section-2. Other than home and school, Shinji has nowhere else to go. Keep Lorenz from contacting him, and eventually he'll think SEELE has abandoned him. We can work on getting his trust back from there."

Benedikt sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I'll give you one more chance, then. If Ikari escapes again, he'll be under house arrest for the rest of the war."

Misato stood and saluted. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

"Dismissed, Captain."

Ninth Ward, Tokyo-3 Special Administrative District, Japan.

July 28th, 2015.

Shinji stepped into the apartment, flicking the lights on. The inside was an utter disaster, ten times as much trash as before strewn across the floor and heaped high on the table. Misato shut the door behind them, immediately making a beeline for the fridge.

Shinji frowned. "Was Dr. Akagi here earlier?"

Misato nodded, taking a gulp of beer. "Yeah, Ritsuko slept over last night. Why?"

"It stinks of cigarettes."

"Does it? I didn't notice."

Shinji gingerly stepped around a pile of styrofoam takeout containers. How does one person make this much trash in five days? Behind him, he heard the lock click. That's right, I can't go outside anymore. Shinji pulled open the balcony door and stepped out. The skyline of Tokyo-3 glimmered against the dim twilight, a warm breeze rustling the trees below. He looked down and regretted it; two men in black suits leaned against a black car, gazing steadily up at him. Shinji scanned the scenery and picked out at least ten agents loitering below. One had even pulled up a lawn chair, holding a pair of opera glasses lazily in one gloved hand. Shinji leaned against the railing, watching the dusk-lit clouds bruise purple. The first stars twinkled against the darkening sky.

He heard the door slide open behind him.

"Shinji-kun?"

Shinji didn't reply. He heard Misato move closer and turned away.

"I'm sorry, okay? I didn't want any of this to happen."

Shinji felt a pang of guilt, quickly drowned by anger.

"I told him to go easier on you," she continued, the words tumbling over each other. "I tried to stop Powell, but they didn't l—"

"You killed him." Misato stopped mid-sentence. Shinji clenched his fists. "He didn't do anything. He was just trying to help me…and you still killed him."

"Shinji…"

Shinji ducked under her arm and into the hall, slamming the balcony door behind him. He covered the distance to his room in a few long strides and shut the door.

He sat in the dark for a while, listening to the crickets chirp outside his window. Shinji finally got up and flipped on the light. The room was just as he had left it, save for a light coat of dust. Shinji looked in the closet—his backpack had been returned. I left this at the train station—Lorenz-san told me to ditch it. How did she find it? He unzipped the top. All of his schoolwork was inside, along with a new folder labeled, 'missed work.'

That's right, I had class... He opened the packet and laid the contents on the table. The grammar test, an essay on the Great Pacific War, and two geometry worksheets…what should I do first? Shinji peeked at the first worksheet. "Given triangle ABC, draw a triangle A'B'C' translated six units to the right and two units down…" I know how to do this. He picked up his pencil and sketched the answer. "Draw a triangle A''B''C'' by reflecting triangle ABC over the line Y=X." So I start by switching the coordinates of the vertices…

NERV HQ, Tokyo-3 Special Administrative District, Japan.

July 29th, 2015.

Misato grabbed the still-hot report from the office printer. She walked back to her office, glancing over the pages. Finally, some good news. She pulled the door open and sighed. "Ritsuko, please use an ashtray. You're going to start a fire. And get out of my chair." Ritsuko vacated the office chair, instead perching on the corner of the desk.

Misato sank into her chair with a groan, dropping the pages down on the wooden surface.

"We've finally processed the Ocotillo shipment," she said aloud.

Ritsuko peered at the cover. "Good work. Did Ise give you more trouble?"

"About six days of torture, but the UN Inspector approved the transfer. We've gone from 'armory completely empty' to 'armory two days from empty.' "

"Progress, then?"

"Better than before. I've sent the Security Council a belated summer gift list. A full restock of our SAM arsenal, three dozen thermobaric warheads, and some of those new Merkava tanks, to start with."

Ritsuko laughed. "That's ambitious. Be grateful the JSSDF even let the last shipment through customs."

Misato grinned. "I aim to please. That would be a lot easier if I had a satellite. Damn it, I should have asked the UN for a satellite."

"Do you really want to put a satellite anywhere near Section 6?"

"Good point, Ise would probably lose it in a week. I guess space is pretty big…hold on one minute, please, I've got a message."

Ritsuko hopped off her desk, ashing the cigarette in the cat-shaped tray—an entirely self-serving present on Ritsuko's part.

Misato read the email quickly, trying with all her might to keep her poker face. She read it once again and hit delete.

"Anything interesting?" Ritsuko asked.

Misato shrugged, feigning disinterest. "Section 6 found some old 81mm rounds, wanted a technician to take a look. I can leave it to Makoto."

Ritsuko took a final pull on her cigarette, then stubbed it out. "Typical NERV. I get a hundred emails a day about what my subordinates are doing—I don't even open them anymore. If it's really important they can come talk to me." She clapped Misato on the shoulder. "I'll see you after work, then? Margaritas at Fuugetsu."

Misato forced a smile. "You're on, if I get to leave the office today."

The door shut behind Ritsuko. Misato clicked on the trash icon, retrieving the email from Section 2.

'Captain Katsuragi Misato,

First General Directorate suspects Section 7 compromised by Adamite agents. Share no classified material with Captain Akagi or associates until investigation completed. Submit computer logs to 2GnDir weekly and restrict access to superuser accounts. RE: Mr. X; additional four files downloaded from MAGI system. Akagi did not access or contact terminal at this time. 1GnDir believes mole has infiltrated critical NERV systems on behalf of unknown employer. Intercepted message attached.

Maj. Henry Powell, NERV.

Head of Security.

And ye shall know the truth… '

So counterintelligence finally figured Ritsuko out. Took them long enough. Misato clicked on the attachment. The time stamped transmission was written in English: "Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age: and he made him a coat of many colors." Misato leaned back in her chair. A coat of many colors…so we have a turncoat, then. But who's our Joseph and Israel? And which way has his coat turned? Misato saved the email, placing the file into a folder labeled "X-kun."

First, we need to find our mole and make him sing. The rest of the pieces will fall into place after that.

Notes:

PREVIEW:
Yo, Ryoji here with your preview. The arrival of the Fifth Angel! The Third Child faces a new calamity with a new ally. Tokyo-3 ablaze, and the greatest threat to the Geofront yet. Next time on Herz und Seele, Chapter Fourteen: A Bolt from the Blue. Don't worry, there'll be plenty of fanservice!