Episode 5 - Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy

Sophia's words far exceeded my expectations. Fabio Verati. The mastermind behind infiltrating a shaman spy into the Advanced Military Magic Research Institute. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And the missing Geoda Bianchi. A figure suspected to be connected to both.

I'd long pegged Fabio Verati as an intel operative embedded in the Magic Tower's delegation—a handler. That made him the primary target of this operation.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Fabio Verati. He's one of our retirees, so hands off."

The National Security Agency was claiming our target as their own man.

To sum up Sophia's argument:

1. Fabio Verati, attached to the Magic Tower delegation, is actually a former agent of Patalia's National Security Agency.

2. He retired a few years ago and is now working as a diplomat for the Magic Tower.

3. Even as a retiree, he holds secrets that could threaten Patalia's security.

Conclusion: If he falls into the hands of Military Intelligence or the Royal Intelligence Department, it could spell major trouble for Patalia.

So.

"Shouldn't we handle it, then?"

Sophia laid out her case again, clear as day.

"I don't know why Military Intelligence and Royal Intelligence are after Fabio, but he's ex-National Security. One of our employees. So whether we kill him or save him, it's on us to take responsibility, right? Colleagues and all."

At that point, I let out a chuckle and played the fool.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Who's Fabio Verati? And why are Military Intelligence and Royal Intelligence coming up here?"

Sophia tilted her head with a deflated look.

"...You don't know?"

I tilted my head right back.

"Why the hell would I?"

The reason I was playing the clueless clown was simple: I had to hide that I was tracking Fabio Verati.

OPSEC is king in an operation. No one could know that me and my Military Intelligence crew were after him—especially not the National Security Agency, who were now butting in to "protect" him.

How they'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sniffed out that we were on his tail didn't matter right now. Jake's report to me had been that "an allied intel agency rejected our info-sharing request." Fabio's from Patalia, so digging into his past meant going through their agencies. Obviously, the formal channels would've tipped them off to who was investigating whom.

Royal Intelligence had probably sweet-talked National Security to steal our op.

Anyway. National Security knew Military Intelligence and Royal Intelligence were digging into Fabio Verati's background. The key was they didn't know I was leading the dig—yet.

So I kept a straight face, thick as steel.

"Alright. So, not sure what this is about, but you're saying we're chasing one of your retirees?"

"...Yeah."

"What'd the guy do? What kinda mess did he make that has two agencies on his ass?"

"Can't say."

Classified, apparently.

"Then I can't help you."

"...What?"

"Look. Military Intelligence and Royal Intelligence are after this Fabio guy, right? And you want me to block it—run it up the chain?"

"Yeah."

"Then I need something to explain. C'mon? You think the chief or the PM jumps because I say so? I'm just a major."

"You're the Hero's buddy."

"So that makes me the Hero?"

"Pretty much."

Officially, I was the defense attaché and the Hero's companion. Plus, an intel guy Sophia already knew. In other words, National Security wanted to smooth this over quietly through back channels instead of formal protests.

That was my read.

Why were they protecting Fabio Verati, though?

"Fine, let's hear the reason. Why are our intel outfits after him? I don't know, so explain."

"The request said military secrets leak."

"What? He's Magic Tower staff."

"Hell if I know. Said he leaked your military secrets. Details weren't in the request, so we're still figuring it out."

Figuring it out, or covering it up? No clue. But National Security knew their retiree had fucked up big-time.

Two possibilities: "We don't know what he did, but it'll be messy if it goes public, so we'll handle it," or "Grab this bastard quick and clean up his mess."

Sound similar, different vibes.

Sophia didn't seem to be holding back on me, at least. She knew he'd screwed up, but not the details or severity.

I stroked my chin and hummed.

"Hmm..."

Nothing solid. Was Royal Intelligence undercutting us? Was National Security burying Fabio's mess? No idea.

One thing was clear: Fabio Verati was the root of all this shit. The source of every damn problem.

"......"

No certainties. Couldn't decide. Needed more intel.

The thought hit, and a smile crept onto my face automatically.

One thing I did know for sure.

"Got it. I'll run it up and see what I can do."

"Thanks."

"But first, lemme get the lay of the land. So..."

Before these assholes could.

"Spill everything you know."

I had to snag Fabio Verati first.

*

At my demand for info, Sophia stepped aside for a quick call with who I assumed was her boss. After a long back-and-forth, she trudged back and shoved a file my way.

"Here."

"What's this?"

"What you asked for."

Sophia thrust her terminal screen in my face. I leaned back, squinted, and the details sank in.

"Personnel record, huh?"

Most was blacked out with markers—no juicy bits—but as internal National Security docs, it was gold.

I read it off slowly, aloud.

"National Security Agency, Overseas Counterintelligence, Magic Tower intel officer. Final rank Grade 4 section chief. One spouse. Four kids. Retired nine years ago... No retirement reason?"

The reason field was blank. Not blacked out—pure white empty.

Sophia plopped into her chair.

"No clue why. Bosses, subordinates, colleagues, even Internal Affairs and Audit don't know. He just up and left without a word."

"That make sense? From an intel agency?"

"Said he wanted to relax. What, you gonna grill a guy on his private life?"

I scoffed.

"They tail you for fun, wiretap your ass, drag in rookies to interrogate—and now privacy? Bullshit has limits."

Intel agencies watch their own like hawks. To stop leaks and root out ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠corruption, sure—but it's invasive as hell, worse than civilian surveillance.

"Gambling, affairs, even a side gig—they'd nail you. And no clue on retirement?"

"Ask Internal Affairs."

"Love gone wrong? Secret Magic Tower girlfriend, switched jobs?"

"Nah, clean on that. Money issues, maybe..."

Sophia tapped the family section.

Wife and four kids. Names blacked out.

"Intel pays well, but you're still civil servants. Barely home, unstable life."

"...Switched to a high-paying job for the family?"

"Dunno if diplomats rake it in, but family's spending like they do. Youngest studying at the Magic Tower. We couldn't swing that—can't even get a loan for a house."

"Youngest here? So family's all..."

"In Patalia."

They'd surveilled the family. Obvious.

No shock.

"Money troubles..."

"Savings, insurance guy—till kids squeezed him dry. No gambling or crime."

I tossed out:

"Recruited by the Magic Tower? Lots flip for cash."

"Doesn't look like he sold secrets."

"No betrayal?"

"We think not."

No double agent, per them. Just needed cash, job-hopped.

But Fabio was peddling intel. His lover Geoda Bianchi vanished, and she'd used her ID to slip a shaman spy into the research institute.

If the spy hadn't fucked up comms, we'd never know.

Fabio was a seasoned handler with deep opsec and tradecraft know-how. Found his calling.

Lucky or unlucky? Hard to say.

Not like I hadn't switched jobs myself.

Anyway.

"Checked his Magic Tower gig? If it's key, maybe we can pull strings considering Tower-diplomat ties. He's Tower civil service now."

"Yeah. Talent Development Institute, I think."

"...Talent Development?"

"Y'know, where Tower diplomats hand out scholarships, build talent pools."

"Ah."

Like corps lobbying via foundations.

I snapped out of it, grinned awkwardly.

"Not into Tower stuff, so meh. Anything else?"

"Bits and pieces..."

Sophia showed more, but blacked-out heavy. Slim pickings.

No biggie.

In the dim alley, I sat with Sophia, poring over her screen—her intel, my secure line feeds.

After endless talk, conclusion.

"...Yeah. This'll do."

"Good?"

"Yep."

Sophia pocketed her secure terminal, stretched, yawned.

"Yawwwn... Ugh, beat."

"Manage your retirees better. What a mess."

"Shut it. We'll wrap it clean. Talk nice to your bosses, yeah? No need for allies to brawl and blush."

"Aigoo..."

I stood, checked my comms. Vehicle arrival text: 17 minutes ago.

Pocketed the device, patted Sophia's shoulder.

"Caught heat. Good luck."

"This? Piece of cake. Call if shit hits. Heading out."

"Got it. Here's my contact—go ahead."

"Cool. Catch ya soon."

Sophia flicked her half-smoked mana cig to the ground, told her team:

"Let's roll."

*

Sophia and crew piled into their van. The black SUV purred off down the straight road.

I waved till they vanished from sight.

Long after, I leaned against a glowing streetlamp, staring into the dark.

"......"

Right on cue, my ride slid up—a familiar Bongo van. Heavy tint, protruding antennas, extra mirrors. Blends in, but I knew it.

Window rolled down.

"......"

"...All good?"

The suited agent in shades glanced at the checkered-shirt geek in shotgun, glued to his rugged laptop.

The geek looked up, beaming.

"Nailed it. If it's in their database, cracked by tomorrow."

"Good."

I hopped in. Cargo van crammed with surveillance gear.

Squeezed into the tight seat, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rubbed heavy eyes, muttered.

"Let's go."

The National Security wiretap van peeled from the light into the shadows.