“It sounds like he’s having a hard time,” the girl in the captain’s seat mused.
The control room was the brain of the de Danaan. It was about the size of a lecture hall; from within, the submarine was monitored and orders were doled out.
“I think it will be a good experience for him,” Major Kalinin said from his place beside her.
The girl was holding the report recently submitted by Melissa Mao. It ran down, in purely businesslike terms, the details of Sagara Sousuke’s hectic day. “A good... experience?” she asked. “Even though ‘His firearms were confiscated,’ he was ‘assaulted by the protectee and several civilians,’ and he ‘returned to the safe house in a state of significant impairment’?”
“All within the allowable range, Colonel.”
The girl whom Kalinin referred to as “Colonel” looked no older than her mid-teens. She had large gray eyes and carefully braided ash-blonde hair that hung over her left shoulder. Rather than a uniform, she wore a simple pale brown skirt-suit that was just a bit too large on her—the cuffs partly obscured her hands. Nevertheless, she had a “colonel” rank insignia gleaming on her collar. Normally, someone of her position would also have a ribbon bar displaying her accomplishments, but on her there was none to be seen.
This was Teletha Testarossa—and though only a select few knew how she had acquired the title, she was the captain of the Tuatha de Danaan.
“Well, I suppose it’s all right...” she responded at length. “Mao-san and Weber-san are with him. And Sagara-san is at the top of his class at dealing with trouble if any occurs.” Teletha Testarossa—Tessa for short—gazed at the large screen that made up the control room’s front wall. The date and time (in both Japan Standard and Greenwich) were displayed at the edge of the screen. “So, Major. How long do you think we’ll need to keep them in Tokyo?”
“A few weeks, Colonel. Until we can cut the problem off at the root.” Despite the girl’s youth, Kalinin answered her with complete sincerity.
Tessa turned her eyes to the nautical map on the screen. “Then it will be up to us here. If all goes smoothly, Chidori Kaname will no longer need protection.”
“Yes, ma’am. And not just Chidori. All potential Whispered will be safe.”
“For now, you mean.”
“Indeed. Regrettably.” Major Kalinin saluted Tessa, then took his leave.
✦ ✦ ✦
A bridge spanned a frozen river. There was no traffic there—only two vehicles stopped nearby. The freezing silence of a Russian night hung heavy over the scene.
Three men stood at the center of the bridge. One was an East Asian man dressed in an Italian coat. Two were Russians in KGB officers’ uniforms; they bore ranks of colonel and captain.
“I feel a chill,” the East Asian man whispered. He had mousse-slicked hair that he was constantly adjusting. There was a large vertical scar on his forehead—put there by a knife, or perhaps even a bullet. It conjured the image of a third eye, tightly shut.
“You’re the one who chose to meet here. Don’t complain,” said the colonel with the copious jawline.
“That’s not what I meant. I meant your foolish conduct sends chills up my spine.”
“What was that?” The captain—a large, burly man—tried to step forward, but the colonel held him back.
The East Asian man laughed. “That’s right. You know better than that, don’t you, Colonel?”
The colonel snorted. “We’re not here to talk about our mistakes. Our test Whispered was stolen, and there’s a good chance that the candidate list was stolen as well. We can’t continue our research without a test subject...” The colonel’s voice seethed with irritation. He’d been conducting his research without notifying the party leaders; if his failure were made known, he’d be sent to an internment camp for sure. “So now I will ask you, Gauron: have you identified who’s behind it?”
“I’d say so. Have a look.” The East Asian man, Gauron, handed a photograph to the colonel. “I ran one of the photos you gave me through an image processor. I think you’ll find the result extremely interesting.”
It was a faint outline of an arm slave, taken from behind. The image was blurry thanks to the ECS, which caused it to partially blend in with the background. It was running up the side of a mountain with a VIP transport backpack on. It looked slender and nimble, with proportions that were close to a human’s.
The colonel’s brow furrowed. “What’s this? I’ve never seen this model before.”
“That’s a Mithril AS. It’s... probably too much for you lot to handle,” Gauron said with amusement.
“Mithril?”
“A secret mercenary squad with weaponry about ten years beyond that of the rest of the world. They hire only the best, and they’re highly elusive. You haven’t heard the rumors?”
“Only the name.”
Mithril: a special forces team that worked in the shadows of international disputes. They’d strike the strongholds of armed guerrillas, destroy narcotics factories... One minute they were wiping out a terrorist training camp, the next they were blocking a black market nuclear weapons trade. To serve as firefighters for regional strife, independent of superpowers like the USA and the USSR—that was the nature of Mithril.
“Why would that band of do-gooders care about my plans?” the colonel asked with a slightly persecuted air.
“Because they’re dangerous,” Gauron told him. “Your success could upset the power balance of the entire world.”
“Will this make it harder to capture another one?” For their plan to succeed, they needed that girl—that “Whispered.” With their sample stolen away, they would now need to find another candidate.
“I can get you one. Now, kidnapping is harder than killing, and it’s going to require a lot of effort...”
The colonel glared at Gauron. “Fishing for a better fee?”
“I am a businessman, after all. Not a Communist.”
“Don’t make me laugh, you yellow ape!” the captain, silent up until now, suddenly roared. “We have countless other operators we could hire. Be grateful to the colonel for his generosity in choosing you!”
“But I am. He’s a valued customer.”
“Oh, please. You Chinese are all untrustworthy.”
Gauron hummed skeptically. “I’m not Chinese.”
“You’re close enough. But a drop into the coal mines of Ural will blacken that grinning yellow face of yours! You snobbish little—”
“Ah, you’re getting on my nerves...” Gauron pulled an automatic pistol from his coat. The motion was so casual that the two Russians barely noticed. It looked like he was just pulling out a cell phone—but it was, in fact, a gun. The red dot from a laser sight fixed itself on the captain’s forehead, and then—
The gunshot echoed over the midnight riverside. Brain matter, blood and bits of skull splattered across the snow. The captain’s body fell limply to the ground—absent the top half of its head.
“That’s better. Now, let’s see... I think we were discussing a kidnapping.” He watched the speechless colonel sidelong as he put his gun away. Then he began rooting through his files as if nothing had even happened. “Here we are... What’s the matter, Colonel?”
“Th-That was my subordinate. How could you...”
“You mean that musclebound accessory you keep around to make threats? You really should have left him at home; you look foolish enough already.” As expected, he didn’t seem to feel any guilt about the murder... but he didn’t seem to take any pleasure or pride in it, either. He had the air of a man hassled for smoking in a non-smoking area. “Now, let’s talk business.”
The colonel said nothing.
Gauron pulled out a few documents. There were about fifteen packs in all, each with a photo attached. Boys and girls, all in their late teens, a variety of nationalities and races.
“Now, who to abduct? Just kidding, I’ve already decided... It’s this girl. Cute, isn’t she?” Gauron showed the file and photo to the colonel. At the top were the words “Chidori Kaname.”
Chidori Kaname—That was the name of this terrorist’s next victim.