The Committee for National Security
Chapter 7 – CIA Man
6 Months after expulsion / June 6th, 1980
Three PM, June 6, 1980
"Who can kill a general in his bed?
Overthrow dictators if they're red?
Fuckin A-Man! CIA man!"
The Fugs,"CIA Man"
George Hebert Walker Bush [United States Government – Central Intelligence Agency Director] Langley, Virginia — Dated June 6, 1980
Who can sometimes be overtly covert, but sometimes covertly overt? The thought pressed itself into George Bush's mind as he leaned against the glass of the bus he rode into, the cold atmosphere of McLean and Langley biting into his right cheek as he seemed to pout. To his left was Tiphereth, who was reading a comic book that Bush had bought from an airport bookstand, and to Tiphereth's left was…
"My my," The icy cold voice of Binah echoed in the row he sat in as she seemed to look over at someone-or something-on the bus. "It's quite a pity that we have souls taking shelter in transport, yet have no aim. Would it not be degrading to the self to know you chart the path of transportation, yet let the mind aimlessly frolick?"
"Creepy as fuck," George Bush muttered under his breath as he watched the atmosphere change from simply being cold and gloomy to rainy and soggy right in front of his eyes. Drizzling rain droplets seemed to smash into the window to no effect. "Great. Just what I need."
"Huh," Tiphereth said as Bush's eyes rolled the moment he saw a sentry post of Virginia Army National Guard soldiers and their Humvee. Christ, he heard of the deployment of VARNG when he stepped out of the airport and into the bus, but.. C'mon. "You never told me there'd be rain."
"I never thought about," He sighed. "I was just used to the west coast being the soggy area for a few days. Never thought VA'd be like this."
"VA?"
"Virginia," Bush said. "We simplify our states into two letters for convenience-" His eyes darted right as he saw a VARNG infantry checkpoint detain a woman, before the sight was swept away by the bus driving to their destination. "Hence, Virginia becomes VA, Alaska becomes AK, and Arkansas becomes AR."
"...I'm still- I'm still confused as to what exactly the United States is, Bush," Tiphereth sighed. "Are states like- This place's Districts?"
"I…" Bush awkwardly turned his head left, sheepishly chuckling and tugging his collar as Tiphereth raised an eyebrow at his direction while Binah simply continued observing homeless people. "I suppose…?"
"Riiiight…" Tiphereth's eyes narrowed as she squinted at Bush. "You're employed at the Eye of this place, am I not wrong?"
"I suppose, once again," Bush shrugged. "Is that, ah, the CIA of your home?"
"More than that," Binah interrupted as Bush fought back the urge to yelp like a scared cat, instead opting to raise an eyebrow, interested. "To compare the Eye and the Central Intelligence Agency is… laughable."
She chuckled as she glanced at a homeless person getting off the bus. "One is a body with no objective but to enforce the rule of the Head, in spite of the Head itself perpetuating the langushing done in the name of rebellion. The other is but an arm of this Head, shackled and gagged by a shifting leadership with petty objectives," She finished. "The CIA will never be on the same nest as the Eye, but in turn, the CIA shall never debase itself to the level of the Eye."
"...I… Okay, thanks, I suppose," Bush said as he nodded, hoping Binah would just go away. "Hell, I'm not just employed, actually- I'm their Director, remember?"
"Mhm," Tiphereth grunted, arms crossed as she closed the comic. "I get that. But what I do not get…" She said. "Is why you choose to associate with people like us? Surely, as the Eye of this… United States of America, you'd have more important matters to attend to. Why must you deal with us?"
"Truth is," Bush answered after he pouted and gave the response a hot minute to cook in his vocal chords. "I wasn't appointed to be an all-seeing tyrant, nor did I ever think I would be one," Bush said, tapping the glass windows of the bus. "I wasn't appointed to be a small-town tyrant, no," He chuckled, smiling a little. "I was appointed after I helped chain up the Central Intelligence Agency."
"...Wait, but why?" She asked. "You- That- That doesn't make sense to me! Why would the Eye chain its own arm?!"
"Public reputation," Bush answered. "Our people were sick of the CIA's… direct involvement with the atrocities done in, say, Indonesia-"
"I… have no idea what an Indonesia is."
"Oh. Right," Bush coughed. "Basically, CIA's history is coated in bad shit. They've intervened in and have committed a lot of atrocities in other countries… Uh…" He scratched his head. "Think of them as just… Other places. Other governments. Kind of like how the United States of America is one country."
"I… I still don't exactly understand, but I feel that I understand," Tiphereth slowly drawled, eyebrow raised. "Go ahead."
"Right. When I was elected to the Senate in '64, I was one of the Senators to write the Central Intelligence Reform Act of '67, known to the public as the CIA-kill-bill," He said. "The act mandated that CIA would have to declassify some of its defunct operations after a period of time, ten years to be exact," He idly looked at his watch. "It also cut funding for two… morally reprehensible programs."
"An inquiry, if you would allow so," Binah added. "As this CIA is but a cleaner mirror of the Eye, to what standard were these undertakings considered, in your statement," She said as she drank some tea from a thermos she bought. "'Morally reprehensible'?"
"Right, so," Bush raised his fingers as he looked at Binah, sheepishly hoping she didn't notice the fear she managed to strike into him. "The first thing we cut funding for was MK-ULTRA, which was not a regular program-" Before he could say anything, he breathed in. "It was a program to research into methods of controlling the minds of individual humans. Essentially, we were trying to mind-control people."
"I…" Tiphereth began, mouth agape.
"Unsurprising," Binah said as she sipped her tea once again. "In fact, I am surprised they have not tried it here," She chuckled. "Though, if you are contemplating reactivation... perhaps Big Bird might be of use to you, Director."
"Uhhh… Noted," Bush said, nodding all the while. Now this creepy lady was offering him the secrets to mind-control? Fuck. He did not need this on his platform right now. He moved on rapidly, hoping to just get this introduction over with.
"Now, the other program we gut funding from was this little thing called, uh, MK-NAOMI. This one was, uh, more mundane," He shrugged. "'Twas just a program made to analyze how we could modify biological agents to instantly kill someone," He chuckled. "Of course, that's probably the most normal thing where you come from."
"You are not incorrect." Binah said.
"...I hate that you're right." Tiphereth huffed. "I can at least be surprised to hear mind-control being an experimented-upon subject. But building lethal biological weapons?" A sigh escaped from her lips as she shook her head, eyes closed in disappointment. "Nothing but a Tuesday for most Wings."
"Mhm," Bush nodded as he looked at his watch. "Oh, hey. We'll be there in about ten minutes," He said as he looked to the people sitting to his left. "Yo. Get the rest of the Librarians up." He said, Binah nodding and Tiphereth pouting.
The airport bus that usually took people to the nearby hotel just twelve minutes away from the Central Intelligence Agency's headquarters was conveniently enough capable of carrying luggage with it. Mostly on the sides, but to Bush all that mattered was it carrying luggage at all. It helped that it was, well, always routed to go to this specific hotel.
In hindsight, consulting the brochures about it before they exited the airport ensured that he wouldn't have to personally haul them around.
That'd be a really awkward conversation with every witness who had to witness Binah's peculiar fashion.
In a flash, the bus had stopped at the hotel that it was always routed to take arrivals from the airport to. Glancing to the left, the glowing of the bus stop could be clearly visible even from the rightwards seat that Bush had placed himself against.
Binah stood up first, walking with the smug ambience of a titanic individual as she approached Roland, Angela, and Chesed, who had stayed in the right-row just a seat away from Bush and his companions.
Following her was Tiphereth, who walked forward instead, to get Netzach, Hokma, and Gebura out of their seats. They had taken the left-row of the seat just in front of George Bush, just a seat rearward from where a homeless man had rode.
"Oh, is it time?" Bush heard Hod say as she rose up from the seat just in front of Bush- the right-row in front of him.
"It is," Malkuth said, standing up from her spot, just right of Yesod and the left of Hod. "Let's get going."
"It is intriguing to see how the roads in this location of Virginia are far more orderly in contrast to the misshapen and confusing roads of the City," Yesod added as he began to move to the side door, exiting the vehicle. "Truly, it stimulates the need to ask: Why are the City's roads designed so inefficiently?"
Bush paid no mind to any more of Yesod's speaking as he rose from his seat, grunting and his eyes making an almost exasperated expression- Bush's eyes rapidly began to shift into widening however as he lost his balance on his right foot and slipped as he rose out of his seat, planting his face directly into the seat right in front of him, tasting its alcohol-coated leather in its full, disgusting, unfiltered taste.
"Ow," Bush muttered into the leather-coated foam seat as he pushed himself back up to get out of his seat, trying to rebalance himself even as his sprained ankle kept pressing into his nerves, causing him to wince and close his limbs as he balanced himself up, before hobbling on one leg to the side door. "Just my luck…"
He looked around, just barely catching Netzach being the last of the Librarians to leave.
Thank god Archer opted to take a taxi back to Langley instead. Otherwise he'd have him dead.
In fact...
If anyone brought this up, he'd have to shoot them in the head immediately.
None of this could be public.
Ever.
Binah [United States Government – (Illegally-hired) Central Intelligence Agency Agent] Langley, Virginia — Dated June 6, 1980
Bush's stumbling as he exited the bus kept replaying in the head of Binah as she followed the enigmatic and pathetic 'Director' to the hotel check-in section on the front desk. She chuckled as she continued marching on, replaying the Director's pathetic attempts at projecting an image of authority. Oh, how she knew that he was but a sad little creature. In his eyes, Binah could see nothing but a weak figure.
Now, normally, she would have considered someone like Director George Bush to be nothing more than a bug to destroy without a second thought.
Yet, something drew Binah to respecting him rather than tearing him down as a whelp.
And only through staring him down as he talked about his service in the Eye did she realize he was… Akin to Roland, as odd as it was to say.
A fire burning in his eyes was something that only she could see in them. They both were fueled by vengeance. But against whom, she wondered, was Bush vengeful?
In fact- to call Bush a contradiction is not erroneous, and is in fact objective. But to simply call him just pathetic—yet not eliminating the fact that he is pathetic at all—is erroneous. To an absurd degree, in fact.
Perhaps she would have to give him more time, though. What use is that fire burning in his eyes if he has no outlet to unleash it against, after all?
As it once was in the Library, so it shall repeat with George Bush.
"Oh shiiit…" She heard someone mutter as she stopped near the check-in front desk, just standing at the very last of the line. Amusingly, it seems like the inhabitants of this District—yes, damn Bush's request, she sees it as nothing more than a more semantic version of a District—had no sense of fashion.
An unspoken sneer was all she could communicate. Perhaps she should lecture the people of this District on proper fashion.
"Woah," A voice cut in, amazed. She didn't even have to turn around to know it was talking about her. Amusing. These people were predictable. "Think she's burning in that choice?"
"I think she looks hot indeed-"
"That's not what I meant, jackass."
"You know what I mean…"
Another voice joined the previous one, only to be rebuked after his tongue made the mistake of letting his carnal impulses do the talking instead of any rational lobes of the brain. It was almost hilarious.
But it was not the time to show amusement. She had no time to pay attention to the two. She simply shut out their bickering until their voices had gone quieter and quieter. It seems that thankfully they had made themselves absent.
Very good.
She glanced to the side, staring into what appeared to be a corner for drinks, noting that the establishment that the Director chose felt very run-down. It was on the high end of something in the backstreets, that was certain. But it was still on the lower-end of Nest establishments.
The crumbling walls, the chipping paint, and dull color palette sold it to her even further. She focused on what seemed to be of interest around her moreso than anything else. A small round ball of blue and green caught her eye, before she shifted it to a portrait to the left of it.
What met her were the eyes of someone who had the arrogance of a Nest aristocrat, with the monologuing capabilities of an Arbiter. Her eyes drifted from the portrait to the plaque underneath it, interested in who was on it.
The name "J. William Fulbright" stared back at her.
"Hi," George Bush cut into her thoughts as he began speaking to the cashier, an awkward chuckle escaping him. Binah shook her head and smirked. Oh, how naive it would be to just dismiss George Bush as a simple pathetic cat. She wished she could do it, but, perhaps it would be more fun seeing how he operates. "I'd like to order a check-in at this, uh, establishment," He glanced his head back to his companions. "For eleven people."
"Alright, sir… Give me a moment…" The Hotel clerk said as she turned around- to which Binah saw rows and rows of keys with numbers engraved on them. The height must have corresponded to the floors of the building, and likewise, two number suffixes indicated separate rooms.
Her observations trailed the clerk as she started scaling through the rows.
The rows had extended up to the fifth floor. And that was where she noticed that almost all the keys on the fourth and below had been taken. All of them.
Must have had a torrent of guests coming in, Binah mused. There would be no other reason for such a thing.
Yet her eyes drifted to the floors below the fourth… And found them a mix of empty and taken. It was only the fourth row that had been all booked.
...Why was that so?
Her thoughts were interrupted abruptly by the sounds of keys. "Let's see…" The hotel clerk said as she reached for a key from the 5th floor row, before she turned around to look at George Bush. "Deluxe or normal?"
"Deluxe, please."
"Alright," She said as she turned around again, grabbing a trio of keys from the fifth floor row. The numbers were 522, 523, and 524. Deluxe rooms, apparently. "How many nights?"
"Four nights, please," Bush said. Hmph. He technically had authority over them, not that Binah would ever say that aloud as a former Arbiter. "Thank you."
"Alright, sir, that will be…" The hotel clerk looked down at the keys, then to the cash register. "About $543.42, please."
"Thanks," Bush said as he opened up his wallet, before glancing to the Librarians- First looking at Roland and Angela. "You guys want anything else?"
"No."
"Nah."
"I need not additional complementaries."
"I'm fine as-is."
"Ah, I'll deal with it on my own~!"
Binah interjected, opting to tap her right arm as she crossed both of her arms. "Further accessories are not needed."
"Alright, that's that," Bush said as he handed the money- Not Ahn, unsurprisingly. Though a part of her expected a part of the City to spill over, perhaps that was just her projecting her own experiences into Virginia.
To spend tens of thousands of years aping a human appearance in a metal shell was one thing, but to experience something so dull and so human- a baffling thing for her to experience- It almost felt jarring.
Yet, her lips curled into disinterest as her eyes once again peered the rest of the area.
She made a note to take attention of both local currency and the local customs. Perhaps they could save her in a pinch.
...Though how one would obtain the local currency was a lingering thought in the back of her mind. Perhaps she could ask later.
"Hey- that guy looks like… That guy from… The…"
"The what?"
"The, uh, Republican convention- Actually, hell- There's two of 'em. Check that out."
"Holy shit- You're right. Is that George Bush?"
"Yeah. The hell's he doing with another one of him?"
Two new voices interjected as Binah turned around, pleasantly surprised to see two figures standing across the lobby that seemed to keep their eyes on the Librarians. One of them wearing a red hat with an elephant with stars, the other a blue hat with a donkey. Both of them were dressed in rather casual and loose clothing.
A raised eyebrow and a dull, disinterested stare was all that met them.
Visitors were not needed as of this time.
One of them reactively stepped back when Binah intensified her stare-down.
"Uh- I think we should get going-" The red-hat one said as Binah furrowed her brows, lips curling down to synchronize to display unhappiness. The other one with the blue hat looked at his partner confusedly, before turning his eyes to Binah- who immediately snapped to stare him down.
"I- Uh- Yeah-" The other one vocalized. "Nevermind what I asked-" He said as he turned his head around, awkwardly shuffling.
They were… bafflingly unfitting people for such an establishment like this, being well-kept in a hotel that was nearing the status of worn-down.
Though perhaps she had no right to pester about inability to mesh with the environment, considering the colors of the Librarians- One of the people here did mention how he thought she was hot underneath the faux-clothing she wore. Perhaps he was indeed talking about temperature rather than lust.
No such senses could be felt by her, for obvious reasons. But perhaps a proper fashion sense would be needed should she and the rest of the Librarians desire the permission to roam around as they please. Courtesy of the Director, of course.
But perhaps that should be reserved for the aftermath of this current situation.
"Alright," Chesed said as Bush turned around. "I assume that's all," He said, drinking coffee one more time. "Bush," He said, preferring to address him by his… less formal title when in an establishment like this. She sneered. Perhaps Gebura had beaten some sense into him. "What now?"
"Right, follow me," Bush said as he turned to the right, hands in his pockets as the rest of the Librarians began to walk forward, luggage trailing behind them- Binah bringing a large black bag of tea with the three birds inside of them. They arrived at a lobby, with two doors to their left. "These're the elevators to the fifth floor," Bush said, before clicking his tongue and sighing. "Unfortunately. Only way to go up's if we go in separate groups."
"Thing's got a weight limit, yeah?" Roland said as he turned around to Bush, who nodded in response.
"Yeppers. Only six per elevator," Bush said. "Not that it's a problem for us-" He said as he pressed one of the buttons. "I'll go first. Who wants to come with me?" He asked.
Raising their hands were Roland, Angela, Chesed, Netzach, and Gebura. They were to go with Director Bush then.
Bush nodded. "Right," He said as he looked at his watch. "Elevator's going to arrive in a bit, so-" He was interrupted when the ding sounded and the elevator had arrived. Clicking his tongue again, he chuckled. "Well ain't that awfully convenient, hahaha… Ha." Bush said as he gave an awkward guffaw.
Binah could only smirk underneath her thermos as Bush chuckled a second time, even more awkward and stilted than the last. Pathetic indeed.
But there was a dangerous side to him, a venomous deception coupled with a vengeful fire burning in his heart.
Perhaps, she thought, it would only need a spark to be lit.
And only then could Bush see his full potential.
Bush stared back at the rest of the Librarians, who gave him blank stares- Excluding Binah who simply chose to hide her smirk underneath her thermos. Seeing no way out of this, he opted to continue. "Well, uh," He was met with awkward silence that was only interrupted by Tiphereth coughing. "Let's… Let's… Uh," He said, stepping into the elevator. "Let's just go." He said as Roland followed him, soon joined by Angela.
Then the rest of the first group shuffled in as Bush leaned to the door. "Fifth floor, meet us there," He said. "We'll be by rooms 522, 523, and 524. Catch you there." As he finished, the doors of the elevator had closed and the elevator began making its way up.
The rest- All of them looked at each other. "So- Who goes next?" Tiphereth asked as she looked around. "We're not going to make it in time if all of you keep-"
"Step aside, child," Binah interrupted, striding forward to press the button that would call for the elevator. A comically easy task. "As for who shall go first, I simply elect the first person to raise the point."
"W-What?!" Tiphereth responded.
"Well," Hod said, an awkward chuckle not dissimilar to George Bush escaping her lips. Perhaps pathetic creatures learn a thing or two from each other after all. "Binah's Binah. Just go with it, Tiph."
"But- I-"
"It would be improper to keep the Director and Angela waiting," Yesod interjected as he gave a hefty sigh. "Simply proceed with the directive."
"Mmmrgh… Fine," Tiphereth grumbled as though she were a grumpy child. A snort. Binah could never escape the memories of her as she was in her humanity. A cowering, whimpering child who had been unfortunate on that day. How times had changed. "But don't think I'm happy about this!" She yelled.
Immediately, the elevator came and went. Tiphereth immediately stepped into the elevator, followed by Binah, Hod, Yesod, and Malkuth. The doors closed as Malkuth shuffled into the cramped, metallic area.
"I suppose I should expect mundanities from this America rather than anything of the Wings or the Head," She interjected as she sipped from her tea thermos again. "But where are my manners? The Director's machinations are but a mystery to us all."
"You've been really… Uh, creepywith Bush, Binah," Hod asked, causing Binah to glance at her. "Why is that so?" Binah smiled in response. Oh, how she knew he was an oddity.
"Tell me, Michelle," Binah said as the rest of the Librarians' eyes raised in alarm when Binah spoke the names they had chose to discard, with Hod the most shocked as Binah continued while she faced the elevator walls. "Have you not suspected anything unusual when you first met Roland?"
"I- I mean…" She said. "Roland… He always seemed to be so… So helpful and reliable-! I didn't- uh-"
Binah chuckled. "And I assume you were among the many to witness the transformation of that man into the vengeful being who Angela had brought back to sanity?"
"…" A silence came from Hod, who simply sighed and shook her head. "Yes… I… Roland… I never knew that he… He could…"
"One must always remember the tale of the Farmer and the Viper, Michelle," Binah said as she drank from the thermos again. "It is not your burden. No man was as talented at hiding something as he was," Binah sighed. "But I knew. There was always a dagger hidden under his sleeve." She said as she closed the thermos.
"Yeah… I remember when Tiphereth had chewed you out for that one…" Hod said. "Actually- Tiph, your thoughts?"
"And I'll still do it-! You almost got us all killed, Binah!" Tiphereth interjected in the middle of the elevator. "Why didn't you get him when you had the chance?!"
A sigh escaped Binah's mouth. "To interfere in the warpath of a being like him would mean preventing him from facing the root cause of his misery," Binah said, tone grating as though she were resisting the urge to grind down her teeth in anger. "Why must I stop the advance of a man who cannot muster the strength to raise a weapon against his former friend?"
"I…" Tiphereth spoke. "I- Still! You put us at major risk by letting Roland slip by!"
"Young one," Tiphereth grunted as Binah brought out the insulting name for her. "If I interfered, neither of us would be alive, for what that's worth," Binah clicked her tongue. "I will not waste time any longer. Had I killed Roland, then Angela would have disposed of us, and none of us would have won anything out of it."
"…I… I suppose. But still."
"Hmph," Binah said, before looking at Hod. "As for Young Michelle's inquiry…" Binah sighed. "There exists a statement somewhere in The City. That all great events can appear twice. There exists a popular addition to that adage: 'The first time as a tragedy. The second time as a farce.'" She said as the elevator approached the fifth floor.
"That is how I see Roland and Bush," Binah said, a chuckle escaping her. "Though you may not see it immediately." She said just as the elevator dinged, signifying its arrival to the fifth floor, as the rest of the Librarians shifted out. Malkuth and Hod glanced at each other, while Yesod continued writing down on his notepad. Tiphereth had opted to scan the area around them as the rest shuffled out.
And Binah herself joined the rest in walking to the rooms that they were to stay at.
Perhaps it would be a more interesting perogative to observe the Director's actions, now that she thought about it. Has the Director, like Roland, believed that his happiness was stolen by his job in the Eye?
Or is he fueled by aimless vengeance, seeking to lash out against a world where he can never reconcile his feelings with reality?
"Oh, hey!" The stiff yet almost perfect tone of welcome exuded by Director George Bush interrupted Binah's thoughts as he peeked out of Room 522. "Glad to see y'all." He said, a warm smile on his face. "Welcome to America," Bush said. "The one place where everything's mostly normal."
As he wore the smile on his face, he looked back into the room. "Now, uh, I can't be with y'all because I got to report in for work responsibilities- So for now, y'all are going to be staying here until I manage to get us settled," He said, chuckling as he looked down. "So, I'll-"
"It would be prudent to assume that we would be divided into groups per room," Binah practically interrupted. "My estimates point us at four per room," Binah said, putting her thermos down and crossing her arms as the rest of the Librarians got settled with their luggage. "Am I incorrect, Director Bush?"
"No, actually-" The fear in his tone gave Binah a smile as he raised both of his hands up to his face, meekly trying to protect himself. "You're absolutely right, a hundred percent right even!" He said. "Yeah, uh- Room 522's occupied by Angela, Roland, Hokma, and Netzach. Chesed and Gebura have taken the first two slots slot in the other room- So that leaves us with two more slots!"
"I'll be going to 523 then," Hod said. "I do need to take some rest after carrying the luggage!"
"Likewise, I'll be going with her," Malkuth opened up. "I need a nap."
"Righto, uh," Bush looked at the keys to room 524, which were in his hand, before looking at Binah. She furrowed her brows in response, causing him to flinch in response, and for his facial expression to reel in surprise. "Jeez, you scared me! Don't look at me like that!"
"It would be privy to your well-being that you surrender the keys to Room 524 over to me at this instant," Binah said with a smile as she approached the shivering Director. "I will-"
"Take it!" Bush said as he immediately handed the keys over to Binah, who looked down as he meekly had them hanging, smiling as she took them with one hand. "Jesus, Binah-"
"Do you believe in forces above your knowledge?" Binah asked as she leaned over to Bush. "Your tone suggests that you fear me more than you fear the darkness looming over this… home of yours."
"What-"
"Director," Binah turned her head to face the Director down as he tried to back to the doorway. "Do you think that I am more deserving of your fear, or have you been blind to threats that threaten your home?"
"I- H-Huh?" Bush seemed to stammer as the rest of the Librarians seemed to observe the 'conversation' between the Arbiter and the Director, though Binah was appreciative that this establishment had been fairly unoccupied, precluding witnesses. "B-Binah… What the hell- You're scaring me-" He said weakly, before Binah grabbed his shoulders, giving him a smile.
"Director," She said. "It would be wise to look in front of you rather than affixing your eyes over your shoulder," She let go of Bush's shoulders, turned to the left, and walked away towards room 524. She put the keys into the door, before taking one last glance at the Director. "Worry not, Director. I trust in your abilities, even if you may see otherwise." She said as she opened the door and settled in.
Tiphereth and Yesod followed, carrying their luggage into the room as well.
When Binah saw the window view of the room, she cupped her chin and stared outside longingly.
Perhaps there was more to this world than she realized, after all.
And now her duty was to enforce the order of it.
She chuckled. Despite managing to lose her career as an Arbiter, it seemed that whatever fate there was—be it predetermined or out of choice—had decided that she would fit back into the role of Arbiter.
If one was going to replace her, they should have at least had the audacity to kill the Arbiter thoroughly.
"Binah," Tiphereth's asking interrupted her thoughts as she settled down on the bed, staring at the contemplating form of Binah. "What the hell did you just pull with the Director back there?"
"It would not be in our interests to alienate the Director," Yesod interjected in favor of Tiphereth. "So I must inquire, what was the intention of what you were doing to the Director?"
Binah sighed deeply and shook her head. "I have complete faith in the Director's ability," A half-lie, of course. He was a pathetic whelp and she knew that. But, once again, she saw a familiarity in his eyes. "But I wish to remind him that there are more threats to this world than I."
"...Even if you actively stalked him back at the airport?"
"Not a word, young one," Binah chuckled. "Not a word."
Franz K. / "Wespe" [Deutsches Reich - Reichsnachrichtendienst Netzwerkspezialisten] Langley, Virginia — Dated June 6, 1980
The hotel stairways refused to calm the anxiety that had built up in his body as he approached the door to the fourth floor of the hotel, having managed to obtain a janitorial uniform for infiltration. He had hoped that his intel was simply incorrect. Yet a part of him suspected it was not.
That was the thought process of Franz, or Wespe. An agent for the Reich Intelligence Service of the German Reich. He looked back down from the hotel maintenance stairs, as if anxiously expecting the comforting presence of another staff member. Yet there were none.
He set the janitor cart to stop in front of the door as he made his way to the right of the door, where the handle was. Laying flat against the wall, he grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, before giving the door a push inside.
Nothing had met him, which worried him. Wespe peeked into the fourth floor from the doorway, only to find nothing worth waiting for him there. That was extremely strange.
He went back to the behind of the janitorial cart, and began to push it inside, cursing as he half-expected any presence.
Only to get nothing as a result.
"Adler," Wespe said as he pushed the janitor cart while putting his finger up to the earpiece. Clad in a hotel cleaning staff uniform that proudly displayed its symbol on his right breastpocket, brows furrowing as he approached the fourth floor. "Sie hatten Recht. Hier oben gibt es kein anderes Reinigungspersonal."
"Scheiße," Came the voice of Adler, known as Agent Emil, who had been the one to scout out this mission. Adler's voice grew irritated and anxious as Wespe confirmed his intel source's damning hypothesis. "Ich dachte, ich würde verarscht, als Blue Cap sagte, dass es kein Reinigungspersonal in die vierte Etage hinein oder aus ihr heraus geschafft hatte."
"Sagen Sie Blue Cap, dass es ihm leid tun wird, wenn ich ihn erwische," Wespe shoved the cart into a cleaning closet as he rapidly unzipped his cleaning uniform top, unveiling a long-sleeved sweater. Out of his pocket, Wespe's hands gripped tightly on his P1SD, pulling the slide back. "Bitte beachten Sie. Ich habe auf das Szenario „möglicher Kontakt" umgestellt. Meine Waffe ist bereit."
"Verstanden, Wespe," Adler's voice came over the radio. "Blue Cap sagt, dass sich das Zimmer des KGB-Agenten in Zimmer 442 befindet. Gehen Sie so schnell Sie können dorthin."
"Verstanden, Adler," Wespe said as he crouched and immediately checked the rooms he was at. He was at room rows 430-439. Perfect.
His hands tightened on the pistol as he walked slowly, gun ready for any possible contact with enemy forces. He had always been described as twitchy in the shooting ranges, so he always wondered- Was that true of him at all?
No, he shook his head. Otherwise, he'd be unfit for service. But he's had ten years in the RND to prove his fitness in the service. And no alleged twitchiness was going to get in the way of his career.
His musings were cut short when he heard footsteps from a room to his right- Room 438. Immediately, he turned left and grabbed the doorknob to Room 439, expecting to be locked-
His eyes widened in surprise when Room 439 opened just so easily, wasting no time as he slid into the door to hide from whoever was coming out of Room 438. Silently, the room door closed and he leaned against the door, crouching and pistol at the ready.
He mumbled a prayer to God almighty above as he waited for something to happen. A knock at the door. Shouting. A kick to the door. Anything. He expected to be met with suspicion.
Yet nothing came out of the door.
Curious, Wespe holstered his pistol and pressed his ear against the door, hoping to catch a listen to whatever was going outside the door.
"-When they go off, they're gonna show the world."
"I don't know, man. What if the bankers-"
Wespe cursed as the two voices moved out of earshot. Fucking Americans. He was tempted to follow them, but that would mean he'd potentially expose himself and compromise this mission.
Though he never got who exactly they were. In fact, he never got any word- They weren't cleaning staff for sure. But they weren't likely KGB, because they were American. So who the hell were they?
Putting his fingers to his earpiece as he stood up and slowly opened the door, he called for Adler. "Adler, Ich möchte, dass Sie Blue Cap fragen, wer im vierten Stock wohnt. Denn es gibt kein Reinigungspersonal und der KGB ist in Langley zu wenig präsent. Senden Sie mir alle neuen Informationen."
"Verstanden, Wespe. Ich werde um zusätzliche Informationen bitten. Ende."
He nodded as he stepped out, continuing to advance toward Room 442, crouched and gun at the ready. Upon his approaching of the aforementioned room's door, Wespe scanned the left and right, eyebrows furrowing and lips curling into a snarl when he wasn't completely assured of his safety yet.
Regardless, it seems that for now, there would be no interference present. He opened the door, gun raised as though he expected a fight. Nothing came to greet him but a darkly lit room with everything overturned-
Wait.
"Adler. Ich kann hier keinen feindlichen Geheimdienst erkennen. Ich wiederhole: Ich sehe hier keinen feindlichen Geheimdienst."
"Können Sie das bestätigen? Sind Sie sicher, dass es keinen feindlichen Geheimdienst gibt?"
"Das kann ich bestätigen. Alles ist umgekippt und beschädigt. Sieht aus, als wäre das schon Wochen vor unserer Ankunft gemacht worden."
"Verdammt noch mal. Wir hatten veraltete Informationen. Prüfen Sie, ob es etwas Nützliches gibt."
Wespe nodded as he looked at the room. This was all they had worked for. Outdated information. Damnit.
Just a week ago, RND cells in the United States were alerted to a possible KGB smuggling ring that had been linked with militant groups in the south. And Wespe was just a Network Specialist. An agent tasked with finding connections in networks like these.
Five days ago, their HUMINT asset known as Blue Cap alerted them to the possible presence of a KGB outpost near the Central Intelligence Agency headquarters in Langley, Virginia. Not wanting to risk the fall of another nation to influence of the ARA, they combed through every intelligence network they had to find out what was going on.
Three days ago, they received word that agents traveling in and out of Langley were compromised, sending them on the chase for a man only known as Asset A, who was most likely turned by the KGB.
And yesterday, they received a lead on potential intel that could have led them to Asset A. This hotel. This room.
And now.
As Wespe rummaged through the tipped-over bed, sofa, and coffee table- He found nothing but disappointment and anger as he saw that it had been thoroughly purged of anything that could potentially compromise Asset A.
Damn it all.
"Ich schwöre, wenn ich nichts finde…" He muttered as he pulled the blanket back on a turned-over bed- Only for his eyes to widen when he found a black suitcase, just perfectly sitting right in between the space between the wall and the tipped bed. "Ach du Scheiße. Adler, ich habe etwas gefunden. Eine Art Aktenkoffer." He said into the radio as he grabbed the suitcase.
"Nun, wir haben eine Aufgabe zu erledigen - sie zu öffnen." Adler said in response, causing Wespe to nod as he set his pistol down to the floor, kneeling as he undid the lock on the suitcase. The papers inside the briefcase would-
"Oh, Scheiße! Adler, es ist eine Kofferbombe!" He shouted as what greeted him turned out to be a crude, yet powerful-looking high-explosive bomb. They were going to erase the evidence by erasing this run-down hotel.
The timer on it said that it only had thirty seconds left until detonation. Wasting no time, Wespe shut down Adler's thoughts in his mind and pulled out his knife, aiming for the sole wire on the crude bomb. Immediately, he cut it.
To his relief, the bomb immediately stopped. "Adler. Die Bombe hat aufgehört zu ticken."
"Wespe, was zum Teufel hast du getan?"
"Ich habe das Bombendraht durchgeschnitten. Es sieht so aus, als wollten sie die Beweise in diesem Hotel vergraben und so viele Amerikaner wie möglich töten."
"Verdammt noch mal. Na ja. Wir haben etwas herausbekommen. Kehren Sie zur Basis zurück."
"Verstanden, Ende." Wespe said as he stood up, approaching the door with his gun on one hand-
He immediately jolted back when the sound of gunfire erupted from outside the door, just on the same floor as them.
His eyes widened as he heard screaming and the gunshots growing louder and faster- Whoever they were, they were using automatic rifles-
Oh no.
These must have been the militants that were supplied by the KGB! These must have been the people that Wespe missed when hiding in the room earlier! Goddamnit!
He frantically crouched behind the door and turned the earpiece back on as the militia's automatic gunfire seemed to be met with equally loud and heavy gunfire, presumably from local law enforcement who got over there first.
All hell seemed to break loose as Wespe realized why the fourth floor had been booked off in Blue Cap's briefing. RND assets nearby needed to be alerted to this.
"Adler! Wir haben ein Problem! Schüsse, abgefeuert aus dem vierten Stock!"