"Yes, sir. I’ll submit to a full investigation and a polygraph without objection. I’m certain Agent Melinda will do the same."
Phil Coulson wasn’t surprised in the slightest.
The operation had ended in disaster.
SHIELD agents were dead. Hydra had surfaced. A police commissioner had committed suicide before interrogation.
Anyone with knowledge of the mission would be investigated. That wasn’t punishment. It was protocol.
If an operation went this catastrophically wrong and nobody questioned the commanding agents...
...that usually meant Internal Affairs had skipped straight to arranging your funeral.
After affirming his cooperation, Coulson quietly left the office.
Nick Fury remained alone.
He returned to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the Triskelion, hands clasped behind his back as he replayed the mission from beginning to end.
Eight suspects had vanished before SHIELD struck.
One had anticipated an arrest team so precisely that he’d rigged a lethal grenade trap behind his apartment door.
Coincidence?
Fury almost laughed.
Decades in intelligence had taught him one rule above all others.
Coincidences existed.
Coincidences connected to intelligence operations almost never did.
If something looked orchestrated...
...someone had orchestrated it.
So if it wasn’t chance...
how had Hydra learned about the raid?
Only one answer fit.
There’s a mole.
His lone eye narrowed.
The operation had been assembled with remarkable speed. There simply hadn’t been enough time for information to leak through ordinary channels.
Someone inside SHIELD had warned them.
Who?
Only four people had known the real purpose of the mission.
Himself.
Phil Coulson.
Melinda May.
...and Evenson Richter.
Or rather, as the young man insisted on calling himself...
A Warlock.
Fury dismissed the thought almost immediately.
Evenson made no sense as the leak.
He’d personally killed Hydra operatives, then delivered evidence to SHIELD. Betraying SHIELD afterward only meant making enemies on both sides.
Anyone with average intelligence knew that was a losing strategy.
Hydra would remember he’d murdered their people.
SHIELD would remember he’d betrayed them.
No one survived long after burning both bridges.
No.
If there really was a leak...
It had come from inside.
The problem was proving it.
Reasoning wasn’t evidence.
Evidence required investigations.
Coulson and Melinda were unavoidable. They knew too much.
But what about the tactical teams?
They hadn’t known Hydra was the true objective. Even so, they knew the target was the Dead End Gang. If one of them already belonged to Hydra, connecting the dots wouldn’t have been difficult.
Then came everyone those agents regularly worked with.
And everyone those people trusted.
The circle expanded with alarming speed.
Before long, Fury found himself contemplating the unthinkable.
A department-wide investigation.
Possibly an agency-wide one.
The operational disruption would be severe.
The damage to morale could be even worse.
He slowly closed his eye.
He would do it if necessary.
He desperately hoped it wouldn’t become necessary.
Nick Fury wasn’t the only man having a miserable day.
Alexander Pierce was faring even worse.
The senior SHIELD official carried himself with effortless confidence. His blond hair had faded toward silver with age, and his calm, thoughtful expression projected wisdom to anyone who met him.
Others might have called it cunning.
Officially, Pierce served as Secretary of SHIELD and liaison to the World Security Council, holding Level Ten clearance equal to Fury’s.
Unofficially...
He was Hydra’s highest-ranking leader inside SHIELD.
All day, an inexplicable sense of dread had refused to leave him.
Something was wrong.
He’d even caught himself silently hoping the feeling was nothing more than paranoia.
Then came the knock at his office door.
So much for hope.
"Come in."
The man who entered was Silvet, a bald Indian agent wearing rimless glasses. Officially, he held Level Six clearance.
Unofficially, he was one of Pierce’s most trusted Hydra operatives.
Silvet looked visibly anxious and opened his mouth to speak.
Pierce immediately raised a hand.
"Under what pretext are you here?"
If they were about to discuss Hydra business, they first needed an official reason for the meeting. If anyone asked later, their stories had to match.
Silvet paused.
The brief interruption gave him enough time to regain his composure.
"Sir, I’m here regarding General Ross."
"What about him?"
"He wants SHIELD’s assistance locating the Hulk. He’s requesting support. Should we approve it?"
Pierce nodded approvingly.
"Tell General Ross he’s on his own."
"SHIELD doesn’t clean up the Army’s mistakes."
"And Director Fury shares that opinion."
"Understood, sir."
Silvet answered with perfect professionalism.
Only after the cover story had been established did Pierce motion him closer.
"Now."
He lowered his voice.
"Tell me the real reason you’re here."
"I’m guessing it isn’t good news."
Silvet adjusted his glasses.
"It isn’t."
"Our people operating outside SHIELD have been exposed."
Pierce’s expression twitched.
He’d expected bad news.
Not this bad.
Hydra remained buried for a reason. They were still rebuilding. The organization wasn’t ready to reveal itself to the world.
"Are you certain?"
The question was almost reflexive.
Silvet wasn’t the type to joke at a time like this.
"We didn’t even know those operatives existed before today, so identification wasn’t immediate."
"But we had an embedded agent with the SHIELD assault team."
"He confirmed they were Hydra."
"They’d infiltrated a street gang called the Dead End Gang."
"The entire organization was wiped out in this morning’s raid."
Pierce stared blankly.
"The... Dead End Gang?"
He frowned.
"What’s that?"
Despite possessing Level Ten clearance and speaking regularly with the World Security Council, Alexander Pierce had never once heard the name.
Silvet cleared his throat.
"A small gang in Brooklyn."
"They run protection rackets."
"Drug dealing."
"Nothing significant."
Pierce drummed his fingers against the desk.
"Those damned young bloods."
His voice carried open contempt.
"They spend their elders’ influence like spoiled heirs."
"They weren’t satisfied wasting their lives."
"They had to create problems for the rest of us."
Within Hydra, the "young bloods" referred to the organization’s second generation.
Some were children of senior leaders.
Others had been indoctrinated while still teenagers.
Most weren’t entrusted with meaningful responsibilities. Whether out of caution or simple nepotism, Hydra’s veterans rarely considered them ready.
Left with money, connections, and far too much idle time, many drifted toward crime for entertainment rather than necessity.
Street gangs became expensive hobbies.
Pierce had never thought much of them.
"There are a few with potential," he admitted. "The rest are useless."
"As long as they don’t drag my division into their mess, I couldn’t care less whether they live or die."
Frankly, he couldn’t imagine the son of any competent Hydra leader wasting his time collecting protection money on Brooklyn street corners.
If those families wanted organized crime...
They’d own corporations, not neighborhood gangs.
Silvet hesitated.
"I’m afraid that’s exactly the problem, sir."
Pierce’s eyes narrowed.
"They may already have dragged us into it."
Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!
Use arrow keys (or A / D) to PREV/NEXT chapter