Chapter 728 – Operation Garden Pruning
There is no glory in spy-craft. It is something Malam understands, it is something I understand and seemingly, it is something no one else understands. There is no creature more wretched than the spy, many talk of lawyers as being able to argue for a murderer, but every spies lies to their own partners, their parents and their children. Worse yet, they feel good about their sociopathy.
And yet a spy is not an assassin or a murderer. At least there, some of the totality in itself is worth the respect. A spy is merely a snivelling snake with eyes too bright for missing out details, a nose too sensitive to the truth and ears large enough that anything in the general vicinity is caught. A spy is an ambitious coward. A rule-breaker that needs permission to break the rules. A spy cannot have any morality, else they would not have gone into this profession in the first place, and yet every spy I have ever met will talk about the great cause they are defending.
It sounds like I hate spycraft. I do not, every criticism I have just laid at their feet applies to me as well. The only difference is that I am more charismatic in every facet of my life, although that may be only Divine paranoia that whispers to me I always have an audience.
Any who try to claim that the profession does not require skill, or that it is easy, is twice the fool compare to the spy who mistakenly claims they are a good person.
- Excerpt from “Introduction to Spycraft”, written by Goddess Helenna, of Love. Dated to the Great War.
Helenna looked spun on her chair, her gaze met the gaze of the massive statue of herself. The marble statue was a brilliant touch, she had thought up of it during a moment of what could only be described as madness, but it was the local landmark. The statue actually surpassed the height of the donut around it, every civilian walking by could come to a stop and see Helenna watching over the Ring that watched over the Empire. It was masterful design. Frankly, she couldn’t believe good of a job she had done.
Helenna spun back around and looked down at her desks. Not only that, in her own building, she could finally organise things as she saw fit. There was no need to spend an hour on unpacking and two more on packing up all her documents. And there was no need to call through the phone anymore either. When orders were needed to be given out, she would just recall a team to her office.
Helenna poured herself some more celebratory wine. She picked up the report from Team Lavender.
-
IBI Agent Beau, third member of Team Lavender, slowly walked towards the Café Marine. A mascot of a crimson-haired pirate was next to the golden letters. It was a small place in Orburg, entirely out of the way, there was no reason for the Imperial Bureau of Intelligence to even be here. The local Doschian governor was honest, there was a military port in the city. Anywhere Imperial soldiers went, petty crime simply disappeared. The closest that Orburg came to tragedy was two months ago, when a drunk teenager had fallen into one of the canals of red brick. The news didn’t even report the boy as ‘almost drowning’ because immediately a pair of sailors had dived in after him.
Agent Beau slicked his hair back and saw Agent Sera leave the Café Marine with a cup of coffee in her hand. A plain coat over a dark grey suit, with a white shirt and a skirt, she was eye-catching and forgettable. Anyone who looked at her saw a secretary for a middling company and nothing else. Sera had been following two creatures that were thought to be succubi. Their papers didn’t match up and they took odd and erratic routes through the city.
Team Lavender had not risked stalking them with only one agent. There would be a rotation until someone found an opening to plant a bug on them. This time, Agent Beau had come in with a plan. He wore a suit similar to Sera’s, although that was because they had gone to the same tailor to prepare. And he swaggered into the café with all the confidence he imagined SIS agents naturally possessed.
The girl working behind the counter shot him a dirty look immediately. That meant the play was working. He wasn’t here to be likable. Agent. “One coffee sweetheart. Black.”
The girl looked at him for a moment. “Regular or large?”
“Large.” Beau answered, he turned around and leaned with his back on the counter to see the clientele. The café was largely empty, he spotted the two marks immediately. They had to be succubi, women that beautiful simply did not exist. Where they even using make-up or not? Both with black hair, although one had it cut to the shoulders and the other had hers tied back in a low tail. Stylish too. Maybe she would fit in where they in Rancais but in Doschia? No chance. That was too much style for this country.
“Your coffee Sir.” The girl said. Beau pulled out his wallet, theatrically retrieved a bill that could pay for the coffee four times over, and then dropped it in the counter.
“Keep the change.” He said, took the coffee and strolled to the two women that were suspected to be succubi. “I’d be amiss if I didn’t introduce myself to two such beautiful ladies as yourselves.” Beau sipped his coffee. He had to physically stop himself from flinching. The two maybe-succubi looked at each other, then at him. One of them chuckled. The other rolled her eyes in an unimpressed manner. Both of them were as the images had said, in travelling clothes. Buttoned shirts and small backpacks next to them.
“We’re busy.” The one with the longer hair said. The girl from the other side of the table ate a forkful of cake to stop herself from laughing.
“As am I.” Beau said. “Where’s your accent from? It can’t be Orburg.”
“Rancais.” The grumpier of the two replied.
“Sir.” The short girl from behind the counter suddenly appeared. “Please leave the other guests alone.”
“Of course, of course.” Beau said with a mocking bow. “I was just introducing myself.” He pulled out his wallet from the inside coat of his jacket. Thenf rom it, a business card. Special make, of metal, with a dozen different receivers within it. It had come in the post today, straight from the Donut. “If you need someone to show your around or a place to stay…” He let the insinuation hang in the air. He wasn’t an IBI spy after all, he was a lecherous business man here. Too young to have such money, and too wasteful with it. From the gazes of the three women¸ two from the table, one from his side, he could tell that the cover had succeeded.
Beau nodded, picked up his coffee, and swaggered out of the café.
By the time he returned to the IBI safe-van a street away. All four members of Team Lavender were there, listening through the speaker built into the business card that one of the succubi had stuffed into her pocket.
Helenna finished the report from Team Lavender and moved onto Team Thistle. Easily the best part of having her own organisation was the fact she could name each operation however she wanted. Nex the Report from Team Thistle.
Agent Lifon looked gripped the handlebars of his dirtbike harder as the as the machine roared and raced through the grassy field. Agent Nu was sat behind him, a camera over his arm. Lifon’s bright blue bike raced ahead of Agent Malcolm’s bright red one, and the pair of them raced through the private land of a location that was considered a succubus hideout. The morning air, not even a half-hour, after dawn, was cold. Frost had frozen the ground.
Well, no one on Team Thistle could prove it, but this location had too many deliveries arrive to it for how many people were officially registered at the household. And a simple scouting session with binoculars had revealed there to be far too large a gaggle of women in the area to be anything but a cult. So they had to get close enough to use infrared to actually count the number of people in the farm house.
It was an idiotic plan. Just the worst. Malcolm’s motorbike roared as Lifon accelerated to go straight past the townhouse. On the rear of the blue motorcycle, Nu waved and held the camera pointed towards the Malcolm. Already, Lifon saw movement from behind the curtains. He put his head down, accelerated, went past the house and…
CRASH!
The camera needed a few moments to calibrate. And it needed to get close. And so, Team Thistle needed an excuse. “WAIT!” Nu called out, although that was playing acting. Lifon immediately swerved his bike around, made a circle and turned back around to return to where Malcolm lay on the grass. He was lying on the, the red motorcycle a few metres away from him. The large farmhouse close by.
Lifon parked his bike and screamed at Nu. “MOVE! PUT THE FUCKING CAMERA DOWN AND HELP!” Nu scowled and placed the camera on the ground, facing the house. He clicked a few buttons on them so that the machine could work automatically, and ran up to Malcom’s side so that he could pretend to be worried for his friend.
A moment later, the front door opened and all three men flinched when they realised they were face to face with a woman so beautiful she had to be a demon. She wore a morning gown, her hair messy, a cup of coffee steaming in her hands. “What are you doing?” She asked.
“We…” Lifon began as Malcolm moaned and forced himself into a sitting position.
“We were making a video. I tried to do a wheelie.”
“Are you hurt? I can ring the ambulance.” The woman asked.
“I just need a minute.”
“Take your time then. I’ll let you off this time. Don’t trespass here again, I do own a gun.” She finished, turned and closed the door on them. Lifon’s eyes went to the camera Nu had laid on the ground. It was pointed straight at the huge house, and once the machine finished its automatic calibrations for the ambient temperature, then a left-right sweep of the structure would be enough to confirm the exact number of inhabitants.
Helenna finished the report from Team Thistle and went onto Team Chrysanthemum.
“Oh?” Agent Paula leaned back against her desk, a cigarette in her mouth as she flicked through the different printed sheets. When she heard about the finishing of the Donut, she had thought all these sorts of jobs would be done from there. But no, someone had to retrieve the papers, someone had to read the papers and someone had to return the papers eventually too. There was no point making a cross continent trip when they had so many different clinics to read through. “I’ve found something.”
“Have you?” Agent Cheen asked without even looking up from his series of reports. Agents Maya and Kollin were out getting more energy drinks and cigarettes to make this job at least slightly more bearable. Paula double-checked the report again. A Doctor’s note that had been printed off. “Have you seen Doctor…” She narrowed her eyes at the handwriting. How was it that the man could make a pictogram when all he had to do was fill in his name in a box? “Fuck. What does that say?” Paula passed the paper to Cheen who took it as if he had just awoken, refilled with energy.
“That says…” The man ran a hand through his brown hair and shrugged. “I don’t fucking know but I know who it is.” He brought out another paper and showed it off to Paula. That was the same illegible signature.
“Well the Doctor here made a note.” Paula was glad that this information had been typed up and not handwritten. That would have been a cypher no one in the IBI could crack. “On a certain Missus Green.”
“Generic name.” Cheen replied.
“Very.” Paula said. “But this Missus’ Green supposedly was registered for a meeting. She…” Paula scanned through the inane information and found the important bit. “Here, I’ll read what it says: Since her arrival in Miraselicz, I have invited Miss Green for a local blood test several times. She has turned me down each and every time. Next time she visits the clinic, give her some pressure. She is from Allia, I’d rather know pre-emptively if we have to start stocking on gonorrhoea or syphilis medication.” Paula chuckled as she finished. “And you were complaining to me that this country is unfriendly to newcomers.”
“That’s friendly?” Cheen asked.
“The doctor has a heart of gold, he’s just looking out for her!” Paula laughed to herself. Even though she couldn’t read his name, she felt some sort of spiritual connection with this doctor. She too had been raised in a Lubskan village, and she knew what they thought of outsiders. “And besides, if he didn’t dislike her, we wouldn’t know she refuses blood tests.” Paula found the name of the patient again. “Nicola Green. Very generic.” She said.
“Very.” Cheen asked, he was grabbing his laptop. The IBI’s internal population database was already open on it. “You want to bet on whether miss Nicola Green has a birth certificate?”
“Only if I can say she doesn’t.” Paula said.
“Well that’s a shame, because I would have bet the same.” Cheen replied, his eyes on the monitor. They had found six succubi now, and four of them had been sniffed out through this tell. They could not do blood tests without exposing the fact their cellular structure was different to humanity’s, and no amount of shapeshifting could fix that. “Oh look.” Cheen said. “Do you know how many Miss Nicola Greens there are in Lubska?”
Paula shrugged. “No idea.”
“Precisely zero.” Cheen made a wolfish grin. They had found another one.