Ch. 8 - Rerouting....

“Mommy! Mommy!”
The voice of his daughter woke Thorne up from a sleep deeper than he would believe possible.
“It’s okay, baby girl,” he soothed as he picked himself off of the floor by her bed, and reached out. “Mommy is working. But I am here. You can sleep some more.”
The preschooler made a rather non-commital sound, but she burrowed deeper into her bedding. Thorne checked his watch - he slept all of three hours.
Well, that will have to do. He grimaced at the number of notifications he received in the meanwhile. With the whole of Moria in turmoil, it was a wonder he got at least that much. He headed into the kitchen to brew himself a pot of coffee as he opened his laptop. Weta assured him there has been no virtual attacks thus far. Which did not mean established communications channels were safe and secure. Fortunately he has built enough redundancies and alternatives into Section Aleph’s operations, most of his agents should find a way to let him know whatever they need without significant delay. He checked the notifications one by one - thankfully most of them were roger and all clear messages in various online “dead drops”. Mostly there was no way - or need - for him to react to these. He only needed to make note of agents who did not make contact yet.
He frowned over a notification from their private bank account. There was a charge from Thessaloniki. But Maddie was not in Greece - was she? His frown deepened. A part of him knew she would let him know if there was anything amiss. She might be making her way home through some obscure means. He didn’t need to deep dive into stalking her location. But another part of him argued if anyone is likely to go rogue over Swan disappearing it would probably be Lioness. As much as he loved her, he knew her too well to underestimate the length she was capable of going to for those she cared about.
What are you doing, beti?
He briefly contemplated disputing the charge with the bank, but decided it was probably best to not draw undue attention to a rather trivial matter, just in case there was something his partner was trying to keep on the down low. Instead he shut the laptop, filled an oversized travel mug with the fresh coffee, and peeked in at their daughter. She was asleep. He checked the time again, and picked up his phone.
“Thorne? Is anything wrong?” the voice of his sister sounded heavy with sleep and concern.
“Sorry to wake you, D. I’ve been called in to a huge SNAFU at work, and Maddie isn’t back from her business trip yet. Could you…”
“Unless you want to drop her off here, give me half an hour to get there.”
“I’ll bring her to you. You’re a saint.”
He could hear her shaking her head on the other end of the line.
“Bring coffee, will you?” she said and hung up.
He grinned, pouring the rest of the brew into another travel mug.
Thirty minutes later he strode through the door of the Headquarters. Additional magical and non-magical screenings were in place, with two members of Security Team Beta on guard. He nodded to them as everything cleared and they saluted him through. Soldier to soldier, he could only imagine what was going through their minds this morning. After all, his long time comrade was most likely one of the casualties too. But that was a matter for another time. Right now his concern were the living.
“Raven,” the young redhead receptionist called out to him. “Wolf asked to see you as soon as you’d come in.”
“Thank you, Frog,” he responded and headed upstairs. The director called him into his office before he even had time to knock.
“How is Section Aleph, Raven?”
“I’ve not heard from ten of my agents in the field yet,” he responded, mentally checking items off a debriefing list. “Most of them were on a low priority, low risk, short term missions, so I am not especially worried.”
Wolf nodded.
“Undercovers have checked in through alternative means, all clear.”
Another nod.
“I need to establish alternative channels for outgoing communication for most of them. And make sure we have people checking in with high profile assets and sleepers. I hope to have the answers by end of day tomorrow, unless something…”
“Yes, yes, understood,” Wolf didn’t let him finish, always somewhat paranoid of jinxes. Thorne grimaced. There was a time when he swore the SEALs were the most superstitious bunch of weirdos out there. But that was before he got recruited into a magical agency.
“I know you have your plate full,” Wolf continued. “But I would like you to keep an eye on the Security Teams too.”
It was Raven’s turn to nod. He would not have it any other way.
“Splendid. I’ll have Weta update you once we figure out the technical kinks of new official channels. Dismissed.”
Raven marched out of the office and headed to his desk. Couple hours and a mountain of paper later he lifted his travel mug to his mouth only to find it empty. He glared at the latest schematic he was drawing, and pushed himself up.
He wasn’t really surprised to find Mouse in the little kitchenette. She was nursing a mug of coffee in her hands, her eyes darting around the small space, but not really seeing it.
“Rough day,” he said, pouring the rest of the liquid into his travel mug and starting another batch brewing, in a show of proper workplace etiquette and collegiality.
“Yours is probably worse,” she shrugged. He shook his head.
“No alternative protocols in the lab or archive?”
“Plenty. But it’s not dealing with people. Primarily.”
He raised his cup in a “touche” motion.
“Better get back to that,” he sighed and waved goodbye.
Mouse stood in place for one more moment and then swiftly headed into her lab, with only slightly wistful and regretful look towards the plate that usually held baked goods. Today there were none.
Maybe there never will be again.

Eagle rubbed his eyes for a hundredth time in an hour. He didn’t sleep and his tiredness was showing. At least that’s what he told himself. The infirmary has been secured and there won’t be any incoming cases for a while, since everyone was - hopefully - hunkering down, and if there were those that could use his help, there was no way he’d get to them in time anyway. His fist landed on his desk with the last thought. He turned his eyes and thoughts back to the screen. He needed to focus, isolate what could still be used. Even Swan didn’t know everything about Moria. There was a reason there were three directors, after all. However, with her particular gift, she unavoidably knew more than anyone else. Sometimes even things she herself didn’t realize. And so it was paramount to find things she could not have known about. Those will become the cornerstones of new systems.
We will have to lean on other locations. Newcastle. Antalya. Possibly Hawaii? India is unfortunately out. Israel… nobody holds a candle to those guys when it comes to opsec, so let’s try to get in touch with them first.
He fired off a message to Wolf and Owl.
If anyone knows a creative way through to the Israelis, it would be one of these two.
He stopped suddenly, as an idea occurred to him. He stood up and briskly walked through the corridors picking up speed, taking stairs three at a time, until he stood in the old attic space of the tallest building of the Zlatá alley complex.
“Eagle?” an old man stood and shuffled towards him to greet him. “What are you doing here?”
“Pigeon,” the director nodded almost reverently. “Do you happen to have one of your birds trained for Newcastle?”
The old man scratched his grey scruffy beard.
“Nah, I don’t think so. Plumley used to fly to Edinburgh, but since they started using those drone-catching eagles, he’s been almost attacked a few times, poor thing…”
“Who do we have in Edinburgh?” Eagle frowned.
“Lady Henderson, of course,” Pigeon shrugged. “Or, her household, anyway.”
Eagle nodded. Several assets, no agents. But that might be even better for what he intended. And Newcastle was an easy enough drive from Edinburgh.
“Then I have a mission for Plumley. Can you have him ready to carry a letter within the hour?”
“Aye, I can do that,” Pigeon agreed a bit grimly, but without hesitation.
“Thank you.”
Eagle hastened back to his office to prepare a missive for Elk, as well as a cover letter for the Henderson estate. He magically sealed the orders for the Station chief, rolled everything nice and tight for the pigeon carry pouch, and made his way to the attic.
Pigeon and Plumley were already waiting, and the bird was airborne with the message in a blink of an eye.
“Godspeed, Plumley,” the director half-whispered, before he turned away again.
“Can you give me a list of carrier birds and their routes we currently have, Pigeon?” he asked as an afterthought from the door.
“I’ll bring it down to you as soon as I have it down,” the old agent agreed, and shuffled off to one of the corners of the attic, where his desk rested among piles of discarded furniture and other items.