Episode 5 - Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy
Magic Tower Abbas Representative Office building. On the fifth floor was the Defense Attaché Office. From the outside, it looked no different from the other floors' offices, but the security was airtight. Not even the other staff, let alone the puffed-up representatives from the Foreign Ministry, could waltz in. Only a select few with clearance were allowed entry—Military Intelligence Agency personnel and the like. And here, in this very room, were some of those cleared individuals.
"Pippin. Reports all done here."
"Yeah, thanks."
Pippin, assistant information management officer in the Defense Attaché Office and head of the Intelligence Analysis Team in Military Intelligence Agency's 73rd Project Unit, took the documents from the civilian staffer. She set them down and automatically grabbed a pen, signing her name in the signature box on the cover. Then, it hit her—this all felt so damn awkward.
"……."
She was supposed to be an analyst. But before she knew it, she'd become something like an analysis officer. Sure, the promotion wasn't bad, but it still felt like wearing clothes that didn't fit.
"Anyway, I looked into it, but there's nothing on the Talent Development Institute in the official records. Looks like we'll need to hand it off to another department or— …Pippin?"
"……."
"…Pippin?"
"…Huh? Oh, yeah. What's up?"
"You okay? You look sick."
Snapping out of it at her colleague's voice, Pippin realized she'd been spacing out. The pen was still in her hand.
"Sorry. Got lost in thought. Where were you at?"
"You don't look good. Why don't you head home early?"
"Nah, I'm fine."
Looks like both she and Jake needed time to adjust to these suddenly dumped-on duties. And in Pippin's mind, out of everyone she knew, only one person could handle this kind of workload without batting an eye.
Knock. Knock.
"Come in."
"Hey, everyone working hard."
"C-Captain?"
That one was the guy who'd just walked in.
"Yeah. Where's Pippin?"
Episode 5 - Journalist, Diplomat, Soldier, Spy
"Right here."
"Ah, thanks."
I visited the Defense Attaché Office on the fifth floor of the representative office building. Technically, as the defense attaché myself, it wasn't really a "visit," but since I wasn't actually handling any defense attaché duties, the term felt fitting enough.
"Drinking that instant coffee mix here in the Tower too, huh."
"It's made by the Tower, after all."
"Right, yeah."
Pippin handed me a paper cup and sat in her chair. Her desk was buried in papers, and I sipped the coffee while flipping through them.
"All this Magic Tower rep office stuff?"
"Yes. Still hunting for Talent Development Institute docs. Not much public info out there."
OSINT wasn't turning up anything. So either the institute was small-time with little known info, or the Tower was clamping down on it. Probably both.
"Take your time. Hey, why's this coffee so damn sweet?"
"The team's got a sweet tooth…."
"Lay off the sugar. Rot your teeth."
"Just leave 'em under the bed, and the tooth fairies'll take 'em."
It sounded like some fairy tale about tooth fairies swapping old teeth for new ones, but in a world where fairies actually existed, it was pretty reasonable. Of course, these weren't the nice ones—they were the thieving little shits that swiped your new teeth while you slept.
Anyway.
"Pippin. One favor."
"What kind…?"
"Dig up some info for me. Publicly available stuff."
Pippin's Intelligence Analysis Team handled analysis and open-source intelligence collection—OSINT. Press releases. Journals. Papers. Dailies. Promo materials. Parliamentary audits. Official training docs. Whatever I needed was probably in there. She was the perfect pick.
"Go ahead."
"Gather info on robberies and robbery-homicides—or similar crimes—centered on local police and Justice Ministry. Types, methods, MOs, victims, perps, locations…."
I muttered while scanning the Fabio Verati intel pinned to the board covering one wall. One hand flipping notes, the other nursing coffee—Pippin, watching from behind, finally spoke up.
"Why that kinda info? You caught up in something dangerous?"
"Nah."
I turned to her.
"I'm gonna do it."
*
The moment I said I'd kidnap Fabio Verati's youngest daughter, I got an explosive reaction.
—'You out of your mind?'
"Why not?"
—'Kidnap a kid? Right in the heart of the Tower?'
Proposing to snatch a 17-year-old minor was shocking even to me. But it was the only play I could see right now. I convinced Clevins with solid reasoning.
"If another intel outfit jumps in and beats us to the punch, the op's toast. National Security Agency, Imperial military intel, Royal Intelligence—they snatch the spoon before we even sit down."
—'Still, kidnapping's a no-go. This ain't politics or diplomacy.'
It didn't fit Clevins's image—the guy who'd rounded up hundreds of spies—but that's just who he was. If Leoni were my boss, she'd probably greenlight it. Anyway.
Clevins shot it down on moral and ethical grounds. But we were late to the game compared to other agencies, and time was tight—undeniable facts. So the decision went above him.
To the Military Intelligence Director.
—'Saw the report. But mid-level issues aside, don't rush to conclusions. Flesh out a detailed plan first.'
"Understood."
Clevins looked plenty reluctant, but he didn't argue the director's call. Once he made director, this hardball style would probably be off the table. Still, approval granted.
Now my tasks were crystal clear.
"…So yeah, time to gather intel."
—'That's why you're having Pippin look into robberies or whatever?'
"Yep."
Pippin and Jake gave reactions like Clevins's. They weren't thrilled with my plan. Not the most subordinate-like response, but I got it. I'd been the same once. Still a bit iffy now, but living off this spy shit made it routine.
"Jake. Take the team, hit the academy area, dig through trash."
—'Trash?'
"Yeah. No weird crap. Papers mostly, docs especially."
Every organization churns out paper. Corps, state firms, banks, agencies, schools, military, prosecutors, cops, embassies. Tons daily. And the next day, more. No one has space to store it all. Even if they do, they shred and dump periodically. And those papers? Loaded with info.
Mine's in there too.
—'Why…?'
"Parent newsletters, meeting docs, inter-dept memos. Check for student off-campus schedules."
KGB classic on Western embassies. They honey-trapped janitors and grunts, but time's short—we're dumpster diving ourselves.
"Map their outings and routes. Can't plan off just No. 51's path alone, right?"
—'Plan B, got it.'
Jake's HUMINT team mobilized for paper grabs (dumpster diving, really). I killed the comms and headed to the office. More intel needed.
"Hey."
"Who—oh, Attaché sir!"
A cop at a desk jumped up, greeting me warmly.
"You're the rep office liaison, right?"
"Y-Yes. From Foreign Affairs Division."
Foreign affairs police. Handle foreigners, expats, international crimes. Called police attachés. Unlike intel spooks posing as cops, these actually investigate.
"Anyway, what brings you?"
"Got any Magic Tower hot zone docs? Thought you liaised tight with local PD."
"Oh, yeah, we do. But why?"
"Y'know, the devout types."
"Ah, those medical volunteers…?"
"Yep."
"Of course! Saw on the news—they're hitting rough spots."
Turns out the police attaché was a believer. Real or not, "saintess protection" got him pulling files from the safe.
"Trained pre-deployment—you know: no loans, no checkouts, no photos, no copies."
"…Classified?"
"Nah, but not fully ours… Still, long as it doesn't go missing, we can work it out."
"Thanks."
He pocketed my bribe and looked the other way. Illegal, sure, but fellow civil servants.
"Oh, right."
"Yes?"
"Can you check these folks? Similar issue, handle discreetly. Sensitive sitch."
"No problem."
I handed over photos of Fabio Verati's youngest daughter's guards. Fooling the faithful? Easy as pie.
While he made calls, I photocopied everything, tucked it under my arm, and hit the office.
"Docs here."
"…Where'd you get all this?"
"Police attaché. Saw some robbery stuff midway."
"I'll reference it. Thanks."
The analysis team dug in. Gov-to-gov diplomatic docs—top quality and volume. Saved time, cross-verified too.
After that, I pounded pavement: Special Ops, Tech Intel, Counterintel, Defense Attaché, Tower Rep Office, Tower PD, Inquisition, etc. Diplomat badge and Hero's buddy status? No one stopped me. Inquisition's Rebecca—my old sparring partner—anyway.
Compiled it all, slammed into the ops plan, shipped to Military Intelligence.
That evening.
—'Approved.'
The director's greenlight dropped.
"Thank you, Colonel."
—'Yeah. Water under the bridge—wrap it clean. Careful.'
The state greenlit crime. Kidnapping okayed.