Psychic Company: Case 02 - Seraph Pt.4
"If it were an inside job, what would that mean?" Iyer asked.
"Officially, the cover story was some sort of rogue cyclone that caused an ammunitions factory to explode—never mind that there was no ammunitions factory there in the first place and that cyclones don't normally go that far inland," Jules said as he looked over the news report.
Emily rested her forehead down on her desk feeling utterly defeated. "I'm a failure," she groaned into her desk.
"It's not even a good cover story," Jules scoffed.
Oliver watched her from his desk beside her with a worried scowl. He spared a glance at his brother—who shrugged—and pushed himself to his feat. He grabbed his keys and his coat and then draped Emily's coat around her. "Let's go," he said.
Emily slipped on her jacket as she rose from her chair. "Huh? Where?"
To his brother, Oliver said, "We're done for today. You want anything from the Spaghetti Factory?"
"Just get whatever," Jules said.
"Okay." Oliver took Emily's hand, said, "Let's go," and pulled her out of the office. They walked down to the Spaghetti Factory in silence. They grabbed a booth, shook off their coats, and sat in even more silence.
A server came over to give them bread and as Emily glared down at the warm, soft bread something made her think of the seraph. She blinked rapidly as tears rolled down her cheeks.
Oliver panicked. He didn't know how to comfort her. He knew she was upset over how the last mission ended but what could he do? "Um, you okay?" was all he could muster out even though she very clearly was not okay.
She sniffled and said, "Yeah."
He wasn't sure if she was lying for his sake or her own. "Do you want to talk about something else not work related?"
She nodded.
"Okay. Um. How are you and your dad getting on?"
She sniffled again, sipped some water, and said, "We're okay. Still not in a good place, but we argue less at least."
"That's good."
She looked out the window, watching people plod through the the wet sidewalks of gastown. "For my entire life, I've taken care of my family. By the time the Company came into my life I was already at the end of my rope. Honestly, I don't know what I would have done otherwise."
Oliver paused for a moment as he realised something. "I'm sorry for pushing you to make amends with him. He's abusive—I saw it first hand—and yet I said you should make up with him. It's just that... he's still your father. If not a close family bond, you two can be friends, right?"
"I really didn't want to hear it from you at the time," she laughed. "But I don't think you're wrong. You have a different outlook and I think that gave me some much needed perspective—that and almost dying in Turkey."
They laughed, then grew silent. Oliver's brows creased. "My brother and I only have each other. I don't have many memories with the rest of my family, but I would do anything to get them back."
Emily shifted in her seat. "You never mentioned anyone except your mom before."
"They were supernatural researchers. My mother sacrificed them to the cult as her joining fee." He gripped his hands together. "She just... let them go."
"I'm sorry," Emily blurted out.
Oliver took a deep breath. "It's okay. You would have learned—should have learned about it eventually. Better from me than reading it in some article in the future—or from Jules."
"Even though she did that, you still wish you could have reconnected with your mom?"
"Yes." Oliver looked down at the table. "In the end, she was the one who gave birth to me, you know? I owe it to her to at least try to understand her."
Willoughby sat at his desk in his secure home office. He opened his laptop and joined a vidcall meeting with Montrose, the CAMUS head admin, General Alexandre Love, the admin for Northern Europe, and Clemente Santiago, the Southern Europe head admin. They greeted each other and chatted like old friends until the admin from Mumbai joined the call. Bodie Iyer had a few scratches healing across his forehead and his arm was still in a cast, but it was otherwise impossible to discern that he was in critical condition just over two months ago. He looked good. The other admins knew him to be a gentle, quiet man deserving of his extraordinary abilities and it made them relieved to see him smile again.
"How are you doing, Bodie?" General Love asked.
"I am better than before. Thank you."
"Take it easy, Iyer," Santiago said.
Iyer dipped his head and, "I will. Thank you."
"Let's get down to business. I want you all to know that I've selected you four specifically because I trust you. I want to make you all aware that the topic of discussion for today is highly sensitive in nature," Montrose announced and pulled up a photo of Emily. "This is the courier who delivered the package containing the four freed supernaturals. Willoughby, you're sure she wasn't involved in the attack on Office 8?"
"I've vetted her whereabouts at the time of the attack as well as the two months leading up to it. She's clear."
"Iyer, do you recognize her?"
"I don't."
"Thank you for confirming. I'm clearing Field Captain Emily Lehr from all suspicion. For now," Montrose said. "However, it is concerning that we are still unaware of their origin and intention. The freeing of these supernatural beings has been attributed directly to the interaction between her and Agent Johnavin Jones. Be that as it may, I have conducted a thorough inspection of the package, and my findings indicate that there was a device present which had been primed for activation. It was evident that the device would have caused damage to the containment jars regardless." Montrose pulled up a photo of the package, dissected. "Since talking with Willoughby a month and a half ago, I've tasked a few trusted subordinates to look into the delivery, starting with the post office that received it. My agents managed to get a physical description of the person who dropped off the package, as well as some security footage, but it was a dead end."
"Did they not find the person who sent the package?" General Love asked.
"They did," Montrose assured, smiling, "but the individual had their mindstate altered."
"A mind control technique?" Willoughby asked and Montrose nodded.
"The individual lost a week's worth of time while under the influence."
Santiago scoffed at him. "Knowing you, you were very thorough in your investigation. What else do you have?"
Montrose almost grimaced. "Unfortunately, nothing concrete. My agents scoured all the footage around the individual's residence to try and track their movements, but it was impossible. For that entire week, they were a ghost. It's likely multiple people were involved."
"Mind control and technical manipulation are powerful abilities but at least they are well documented. I trust you already pulled our records?" General Love said.
Montrose nodded, his expression grave. "I gave my agents access to both our entire agent roster as well as our registered moles list but there were no suspicious persons. Whoever these people are, they're undocumented."
Everyone went silent as the seriousness of the situation seeped into their hearts.
"Undocumented means it's an outside attack, right?" Iyer ventured. Despite his age being within the same range of the other admins, he was rather naïve in his beliefs.
"It could also mean an inside attack," Willoughby said.
"Here we go," Santiago said. "I trust your abilities, Willoughby, but every time you mention something being an inside job all I think about is your father."
"We can discuss that privately," Willoughby said.
"If it were an inside job, what would that mean?" Iyer asked.
"At least one the perpetrators would have to be an admin," Santiago said.
"Someone good with tech could bypass the authorization and then scrub the logs, too," General Love said. "Santiago, could you ask Ana Castro to use her network to—"
"General, I don't appreciate you ordering me around like one of your men," Santiago said.
General Love looked surprised. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"Deixa para lá. You had the right idea, even if I don't like how you said it. I'll text Ana and forward whatever she finds to the group."
"If it's an inside job," Willoughby began nervously, "what are we going to do?"
"Root them out, of course," Montrose said with a grin.