Man Proposes, Destiny Disposes (Part 2)
Pavel was as exceptionally skilled as he was trustworthy, so he delivered results in no time. Leading the mages of Equinox himself, he cleaned up the remnants of the IRA, staging a perfect scene that could serve as fabricated evidence for the existence of Paramita.
"Yes, good work today. When you get back, make sure to let Delis hear your voice, even if it's just a quick call."
—...Understood. What about you, Miss?
"I'm reviewing the information I received from the Americans. I need to look closely to see if there's anything hidden, or if there's something new we can deduce by combining it with our existing intelligence."
Confidently presenting this fabricated evidence, I submitted an interim report to the Americans. It contained details suggesting it was nearly certain that the remnants of the IRA possessed Paramita. Since even I found the report highly convincing, it would have been incredibly difficult for them to tell truth from fiction. Naturally, I kept in mind the possibility that the Americans might lose their heads upon reading this and take direct action, so I had appended a couple of footnotes to the end of the document.
[Footnote 1] The targets also appear to fully realize the value of Paramita.
[Footnote 2] Should they catch wind of our intentions, there is a high risk they will act out of spite and destroy the artifact first. Therefore, any hasty or premature action must be avoided.
With these footnotes attached, the Americans wouldn't dare make the first move. Seemingly satisfied with the intelligence they received, W handed over another piece of information in return. This was the very "information from the Americans" I had mentioned during my call with Pavel.
The title on the document was "Trojan Horse." In a way, it was a highly suggestive phrase. True to the historical context of a Trojan horse, the contents were a list of communists still operating covertly within the United Kingdom. When I first received the document, I had asked W:
"You don't seem to think I'm a double agent. Is it really alright to just hand this over to me so easily?"
"Of course not. Do you think we wouldn't have looked into just how much your syndicate loathes the Soviet Union?"
"As gloomy and underhanded as rumored, I see. People think of the eagle as a born hunter, but they don't realize it's actually just a scavenger that pecks at rotting carcasses."
One would expect him to get angry at such a jab, but W merely sipped his beer with an air of nonchalance. It almost felt as if he, who normally didn't drink, lost all restraint and drank like a fish whenever he met me. I suspected that his willingness to hand over the "Trojan Horse" list so easily was his way of indirectly outsourcing another job to my syndicate.
A reduction of communists in Britain was naturally good news for the syndicate, but it was also highly beneficial for the US Arcane Security Agency. In short, my organization was acting like a cleaner fish, pulling the rotting teeth of America's greatest ally. Was this a case of doing all the hard work only for someone else to reap the rewards?
We'll see about that, I thought, propping my feet up on my office desk. I swung my legs, letting my shoes slip off and clatter carelessly onto the floor. There was no way I would let others reap the benefits of my syndicate's hard work. If there were socially prominent figures among these "Trojan Horses," I could easily use this information to blackmail them from the shadows.
What bothered me even more, however, was the unsettling suspicion that there was still a communist—or someone colluding with the Soviets—high up in the British establishment. I already killed off all of the Cambridge Five... and under normal circumstances, no one should be able to slip past the syndicate's information network...?
The former was an absolute fact, and the latter was mostly true. Britain's MI6, which handled foreign intelligence, also exchanged information with the Ministry of Magic, and some of those reports flowed directly to me through Delis. In fact, when it came to ordinary, non-mage Soviet spies, the British government dealt with them on their own without the syndicate needing to step in. Therefore, by process of elimination, the theory of a high-ranking mole became all the more credible. Someone whose authority and position shielded them from standard investigations would be able to collude with the Soviets with far less suspicion.
Aside from this, there was other information I had exchanged with Matthew W. Lewis.
"Speaking of which, W, that Vice-Minister of Magic you sigh so much about seems to be planning another interesting stunt."
"An interesting stunt? Don't tell me he's done something else besides that wild orgy a few days ago?"
Oh, so he did that too? The man truly was a jack-of-all-trades when it came to degeneracy. I replied with a hollow chuckle.
"I heard he's hosting a ballroom gala. I take it you haven't heard?"
"Ah, you meant that. It was originally scheduled, yes, but I have absolutely no desire to attend. It's bound to be a mere repeat of the New Year's Eve party."
If there was one target W and I could agree on badmouthing, it was undoubtedly the Vice-Minister of Magic, Benjamin Ashford. W was constantly dragged out to these events under the guise of fostering goodwill between the US and UK magical agencies, and I had absolutely no reason to look upon the man favorably. Of course, as far as Matthew W. Lewis knew, my only grievance was the greasy, lingering gaze Benjamin had given me when I delivered a note to him while dressed as a maid. I sipped my apple juice, as was my habit, and continued.
"It's not just a simple gala this time. Apparently, he claims to have found his 'true love' and is actively courting one of his staff members."
"What on earth..."
"It wasn't intelligence I particularly wanted to know, but somehow it fell into my lap."
If Delis hadn't been involved, it truly would have been information I'd rather not know. Regardless, there was plenty of room to discuss this matter. W asked:
"One could see it as quite a radical move for the Vice-Minister. Isn't he essentially taking a commoner as his wife? I fully expected his partner to be of noble birth."
"Perhaps he just wanted a trophy. From what I've gathered, the woman in question is considered quite an elite."
After all, graduating from Oxford and rising from a Grade 5 to a Grade 3 magical bureaucrat within a mere six months of joining the Ministry made her an elite among elites by anyone's standards.
"Indeed. Hearing her background, it's no wonder he covets her."
To prevent the US Arcane Security Agency from taking any unwanted interest in Delis, I preemptively steered the conversation.
"I did a bit of digging myself to see if there was anything we missed... but she's just an ordinary person, aside from being a mage. Her circumstances are just a bit tragic."
"And you know his track record, W. He probably wants a submissive woman who will obey her husband without a word of complaint. It's honestly pathetic to watch."
"Whatever his true intentions, the narrative looks quite good to the public. The Ministry of Magic taking in a woman who lost her father to communist terrorism."
That was the gist of the conversation we had during our regular negotiation session, two weeks before the gala. Since we had exchanged what amounted to interim reports, we agreed to postpone tracing Paramita until after the event hosted and managed by the Vice-Minister of Magic. I had argued that poking around Ireland and dealing with the IRA remnants on our own might needlessly provoke the British Ministry of Magic, and W had readily agreed.
It wouldn't do to look like we were stirring up trouble right before a major event. For the remaining time, I decided to kill time by interrogating the reds listed in the "Trojan Horse" document one by one. Of course, I also continuously devised plans for Delis in the meantime.
Bang! Another communist met their end in a dark London alleyway. Before I took Delis in, this particular red had infiltrated Scotland Yard—the Metropolitan Police Service where the only daughter of the Bloomfeld family had been serving as a sort of consultant.
Before the victim's soul could disperse, I swiftly threw Paramita, embedding it deep into the communist's corpse. The Buddhist relic absorbed the blood on its own, temporarily anchoring the soul that was on the verge of scattering. Twisting the blade, I carved out a small, cube-shaped portion of the flesh. Naturally, this witch's special-grade human flesh cube steak contained the intact soul of a whole human being, bound tightly by the power of Paramita.
I dropped the flesh cube into a jar of formalin I had brought along. It was a convenient method to keep the soul fresh for about half a day without having to transport the entire corpse.
Time marched on as everyone in the syndicate worked diligently in their respective roles. I had laid out all my plans. I had identified every possible turning point where the situation could shift rapidly and prepared contingency plans for my contingency plans. Yet, every single one of them felt somewhat lacking and unpolished. Though I had devised numerous strategies, they all remained incomplete, missing that final, decisive piece of the puzzle.
Among them, the plan I favored most was, of course, swallowing the Ministry of Magic whole. By killing both Lord Dunhaven and his heir at the same time, we would lay the groundwork to turn Britain entirely into a playground for myself and the syndicate.
But whether it was easy or not, I was prepared. Had anything I or the syndicate achieved so far ever been easy? Risking the fate of the entire organization? The current and future heads of the Ministry of Magic, along with the formidable mages surrounding them, would be no easy targets? So what?
I had simply done everything within my power to prepare in the time given to me. And instead of leaving the rest to fate, I would orchestrate every detail until the very end to secure the best possible outcome, just as I always had. When everything could be seized solely through human strength without relying on the whims of heaven, why on earth would I wait for destiny's command?
The current situation was no different. To prepare for any contingency, I had made arrangements so that the syndicate's mages could storm Lord Dunhaven's manor—the venue of the gala—at a moment's notice. Thanks to Delis taking a risk to handle the administrative paperwork, we were able to disguise the mages of Equinox as Ministry personnel. Some of my subordinates, like Pavel, were disguised as bodyguards, while the rest were ready to breach the ballroom directly via helicopters if things went south. In the event of an emergency, amidst the chaotic flood of urgent radio transmissions, my men would be the first to arrive.
We have nothing to lose but our chains, and all of Britain to win. Once today passes, only a single witch will haunt this land.
As fate would have it, the day of the gala was February 14th. Perhaps the Vice-Minister fancied himself a true romantic, as he had specifically chosen St. Valentine's Day. Just as I had done before, I changed into a maid uniform in the restroom and met up with Pavel.
"You are as eye-catching as ever," Pavel remarked.
At his critique, I grabbed the hem of my skirt with both hands and spun around. "Really? I don't think I stand out that much."
"Setting the outfit aside, I meant your face, Miss."
Ah, so that was what he meant. I chuckled softly and replied, "Ah, I suppose so. Still, I'll try my best to keep a low profile today."
"To ensure you don't miss the opportunity when it presents itself?"
"Exactly. Besides, from your perspective, shouldn't today's star attraction be far more eye-catching than me?"
I giggled, pointing toward Delis, who was walking through the center of the ballroom in the distance. The syndicate's head of intelligence was wearing a dress similar to the one I had worn before. Pavel scratched his head and replied, "Ahem, well, the mission comes first. No matter what sudden crisis arises, I am fully prepared to handle it."
"As you should be. Though I doubt you would ever forget your priorities."
"Of course not. Just give the word, Miss."
Pavel was probably just as tense as I was. Especially since the depth of his affection for Delis was on a completely different level than mine. So, after teasing him a bit to help ease his nerves, I slipped into the ballroom. Naturally balancing a tray of cocktail glasses, I approached W and whispered softly in his ear.
"W, I've received intelligence that some sort of terrorist attack is planned here today. I came to warn you. I'd hate to see a 'friend' die a meaningless death in a place like this."
Instead of showing any sign of being glad to see me, Matthew W. Lewis simply stared back in utter bewilderment. "What on earth do you mean by..."
"If you don't want to hear it, fine. I'm leaving. You can die alone for all I care."
Of course, I wasn't actually going anywhere. If I wanted to orchestrate the backstage of this theater seamlessly, the fewer people who knew about the machinery underneath, the better. I needed to usher my prospective witness out of the way beforehand.