Elsewhere that night, Agent Kobeni Higashiyama crept through the hushed hallways of the PSIA headquarters, disguised in an oversized janitorial jumpsuit and cap. Her heart pounded so loudly in her ears she was sure it would echo off the marble floors. Please don't let anyone notice… she prayed silently. In one gloved hand she clutched a feather duster; in the other, concealed up her sleeve, was a matchbook-sized bugging device.
Ahead lay the door to the 12th-floor executive boardroom – one of the few places they hadn't yet wired, simply because it was so frequently occupied by high-level traitors. But at this late hour, the room was dark and empty. Still, as Kobeni approached, keys jingling on her belt, she nearly jumped out of her skin when a voice rang out behind her: "You there! Cleaning's not scheduled for this floor tonight."
Kobeni froze. Slowly, she turned, forcing a blank, servile expression. A security guard was eyeing her suspiciously, one hand hovering near the holster on his hip.
"O-oh," Kobeni stammered, bowing so quickly her cap nearly fell off. "Sumimasen! The deputy director sp-spilled coffee earlier. They asked me to do a quick clean so it doesn't stain…" She winced internally – she'd blurted out the first excuse that came to mind. Please buy it, please…
The guard frowned, but coffee stains were plausible. "Strange, I didn't hear about that," he muttered, stepping closer. Kobeni's palms went clammy. She could feel sweat trickling down her back. One wrong move and this guard might radio upstairs – and half the mission could collapse.
She bowed again, holding out her duster as if it were proof of her station. "I-I'm new, sir. Just following orders." She added a self-deprecating smile. "Maybe they didn't log it. I'm sorry if I'm not supposed to be here alone." She dared to meet his eyes briefly before dropping hers again.
Something in her meekness disarmed him. He sighed. "Alright, alright. Just be quick. And don't get locked in – the door's auto-secure at midnight." With that, he gave a curt nod and continued down the corridor on his patrol, boots echoing.
Kobeni nearly collapsed from relief. That was too close. Taking a steadying breath, she slipped into the boardroom. The lights were off, but the city's glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows provided enough illumination. She hurried to the long mahogany conference table. With trembling fingers, she tucked the bug device up beneath the lip of the table's edge, pressing the adhesive firmly until a green light blinked once. Connection established.
She dared not linger. On her way out, she noticed something on the sideboard – a framed photo of Director Takeda shaking hands with a foreign general. Kobeni felt a flash of anger. Traitor, she thought, imagining the hidden deals likely represented by that handshake. In a surge of boldness, she plucked the photo frame off the sideboard and sprayed a fine mist of cleaning solution over the glass – a pretext if anyone asked why she was in here. As she wiped it, she covertly attached a tiny magnetized camera to the metal frame stand. Now they'd even have a live feed if traitors met in this room.
Satisfied, Kobeni placed the frame back. When she slipped out into the hallway, the guard was gone. She almost cried with relief as the elevator doors shut behind her. The adrenaline left her legs weak. But she managed a tiny smile of pride. She had done it. Another bug, another stream of truth flowing into their hands. Maybe I'm not so hopeless after all, she thought.
Back in the safehouse van, Aki's voice came through her earpiece, cool and steady: "Good work, Kobeni. We see the feed clear." She exhaled a quiet, shaky laugh and responded, "Heading back now."
Not all operations were so tense. Some were downright devious in their simplicity. Angel, the serene young agent, spent the day monitoring the traitors' communications from a safehouse terminal, fingers gliding over multiple keyboards. At one point he intercepted a flurry of emails between two nervous conspirators discussing a suspected "data breach" in their secure network. Angel smirked and promptly drafted a fake memo from the Cyber Security Department blaming an "outside hacker" for the anomalies – complete with fabricated technical jargon. Misinformation as a weapon. The panicked traitors breathed a collective sigh of relief at the memo and even redoubled their efforts to secure the wrong systems, leaving the team's actual intrusions untouched. To sell the ruse completely, Makima authorized a public scapegoat: a hapless temp employee was "arrested" on suspicion of being the hacker's inside man. News of the arrest was circulated through official channels the very next day. The traitors, thinking the threat was contained, eagerly returned to business as usual behind closed doors – unaware that every whisper was being recorded by concealed ears. (The innocent temp, of course, would be quietly released once this was all over – a regrettable pawn in a greater game.)