Check out more than 65+ chapters right now! đ„
đ patreon.com/cw/Mr_UmU
https://www.patreon.com/Mr_UmU
_______
Chapter 150: Not So New Newcomer
From early morning, tension saturated the FBI office, anxiety and unease thick enough to choke on.
The agitated mood stemmed from confusion and panic over the unknown.
Agents didn't understand the technology required to send a person into space and orbit the Earth. They didn't know how far America's Mercury program lagged behind.
Like most people, they only knew America was behind.
How far behind?
That, they didn't know either.
But they'd imagine the worst.
One side sent a person into orbit. The other sent a chimpanzee on a suborbital hop.
One was circling the planet. The other was preparing for basic ballistic tests.
Sounded like they weren't just a step or two behind, they were miles back.
What were the consequences of falling behind?
The continuous wars since the turn of the century explained everything.
Hard not to feel it viscerally, like war would break out tomorrow and defeat would follow the day after.
Suddenly, the space race escalated from geopolitical competition to existential mission.
Losing the space race felt like the sky falling, the end of days approaching.
Immense pressure weighed on every agent, leaving them tense and anxious.
Worse, as FBI personnel, they couldn't even discuss it.
The office felt like a powder keg. Everyone frowned in silence, as if Director Hoover stood watch at the door.
In fact, no one was watching them at all.
From the moment they'd heard the news through various channels, walked into the Department of Justice Building, and waited until nowâ
Agents hoped for action.
Every agent thought the same thing.
They were the FBI.
With an event this significant, there had to be something.
However, they received the same treatment as Theodore and Bernie, seemingly forgotten since early morning.
No one canceled leave. No one ordered standby status. No one declared an emergency state.
Everything was identical to last week, the week before, and countless ordinary workdays.
They were supposed to continue doing what they always did.
But agents seemed to have forgotten everything simultaneously.
Facing familiar work, they were completely out of sorts, their minds filled with images of Soviets in space and America falling behind.
Combined with the headquarters' lack of reaction, it created the illusion that the news was fake.
But the overwhelming media coverage, the furrowed brows of colleagues, and the oppressive atmosphere were real.
Compared to this eerie calm, they would've preferred turbulence.
The calm was terrifying.
Investigation Department Supervisor Rosen appeared at the entrance of the bullpen.
Agents seemed to find their backbone, all eyes turning toward him. Many stood.
Supervisor Rosen had just returned from the Director's office. His gaze swept over the agents. "Why are you all looking at me?"
His voice was steady, tone unchanged. "Are cases not to be solved? Murderers not to be caught? Is it a holiday?"
This familiar scolding brought slight relief.
Supervisor Rosen stood like a homeroom teacher supervising a study hall, his gaze patrolling back and forth.
The suppression and agitation in the office rapidly dissolved under Rosen's death-ray stare.
Rosen nodded with satisfaction, his gaze quickly sweeping the bullpen before locking onto Agent Lombardi.
He pointed. "Vincent R. Lombardi."
Lombardi looked up, then stood.
Rosen gestured toward his office, wanting to hear Lombardi's case progress report.
Lombardi fumbled, and with help from Baldy, Curly, and a few others, he gathered the documents in his hands.
He hurried into the supervisor's office.
Rosen waved him forward and handed him two files. "Go to archives for their complete records, then begin surveillance."
Lombardi was confused for a moment, then quickly understood. He picked up the documents and acknowledged the order.
He was already skilled in surveillance work and immediately grasped Rosen's intention.
Rosen was satisfied with his performance, gave him a couple of instructions, and waved him off to call the next agent.
Lombardi was just the beginning.
One senior agent after another was called by name, entering the supervisor's office with determined expressions.
Minutes later, they emerged with serious faces, some silently gathering their investigation teams for conference room meetings, others heading to archives like Lombardi.
Fear of the unknown quickly dissipated. The agitation hanging over the office rapidly disintegrated.
Agents began nervously preparing for their reports.
Basement level one. New office.
Bernie was fully awake.
He washed his face, checked the time, then asked upon returning, "Are we just going to stay here and do nothing?"
Theodore shifted his gaze from his notebook to Bernie, confusion evident.
He was organizing his thoughts, preparing to write the article he'd conceived in Rosen's office for the FBI internal publication.
From early morning until now, he'd read three psychology journals and magazines, structured his article, and organized cases in his notes.
He'd done plenty.
Theodore pointed to Bernie's desk, then his own. "I'm not the one who hasn't done anything."
Bernie looked at Theodore's desk, covered in magazines, many open with annotations.
Then he looked at his own desk. His notebook sat in the front right corner.
That was it.
After a brief silence, Bernie changed the subject. "How far behind are we?"
He pointed upward, gesturing with both hands. "Didn't we send a chimpanzee up in January?"
Bernie had fought in World War II.
His understanding and perception of that country differed somewhat from media propaganda and most Americans' views.
But that was useless now.
Reality was that the Cold War had erupted, and the two countries were adversaries.
The Soviet Union had successfully sent a person into space, orbited the Earth, and returned safely.
In Bernie's view, if they could make a person orbit the Earth and land at a designated spot, they could do the same with anything.
Thinking with his military mindsetâif conflict between the two countries escalated, the other side clearly wouldn't be sending over Christmas trees.
This worry had plagued him since Theodore informed him of the news.
Theodore wasn't an aerospace technical expert. He didn't understand specific technical details.
But from a layman's superficial understanding, the gap between the two was indeed significant.
One sent a person to orbit Earth and return intact. The other sent a chimpanzee up and down.
He shook his head, indicating he also didn't know the specific gap.
Bernie sighed, began muttering, and finally went to the training room to practice shooting.
Continuous gunfire echoed throughout the basement.
Theodore crumpled two wads of paper, stuffed them in his ears, and continued organizing his article.
At noon, Ms. Gandy came to inform Theodore he'd be having lunch with Director Hoover.
Theodore arrived at the restaurant where he'd previously lunched with Hoover and Tolson. He found them in their usual seats.
Hoover seemed unwilling to have him join, grunting upon seeing him.
Theodore looked at him in confusion, then turned to Tolson.
Tolson pulled a paper bag from his satchel and handed it to Hoover.
Hoover opened the bag, extracted a document, and tossed it to Theodore.
An acquisition contract for a certain third-rate newspaper.
Shortly after Theodore proposed acquiring the paper, Hoover had obtained complete information about it.
He and Tolson had even studied it, trying to understand what was so special about this newspaper that Theodore fixated on it.
The acquisition of Felton Star News had begun then.
Later, due to changes in the international situation, Hoover got busy and the matter was forgotten.
Theodore's phone call early this morning reminded Hoover of it.
However, Hoover didn't intend to give the third-rate newspaper to Theodore; he only informed him that Felton Star News had been acquired.
This was already satisfying for Theodore.
He didn't care about managing it as long as that third-rate rag stopped publishing articles about him fighting aliens, werewolves, witches, demons, or angels.
Hoover didn't ask Theodore how he'd known about the successful Soviet manned space flight earlier than the FBI's professional intelligence network.
He didn't even mention it.
Similarly, he didn't mention he'd already sent people to the Georgetown apartment and turned it upside down.
Hoover saw no problem with this approach.
Theodore had no intention of proactively informing Hoover of his information source. He didn't even think of fabricating a reason.
The two, strangely and tacitly, chose to avoid the topic entirely.
Theodore proactively brought up another matter. "I want someone."
"Billy Hawke. He participated in selection training with me."
The selection training participants from Theodore's cohort were to undergo four weeks of headquarters internship, after which they'd be assigned to various departments and officially become FBI agents.
Today was exactly their last day of internship at headquarters.
Hoover and Tolson exchanged glances. "Anything else?"
Theodore shook his head.
"Only one?!"
Theodore nodded.
Long silence fell over the table.
Hoover was deeply displeased with Theodore's behavior.
It had been the same when he returned from Felton. Same during selection training.
One at a time!
Theodore remained oblivious.
He ordered a large amount of foodâjust like last timeâand ate with relish.
Hoover's eye twitched as he watched.
The moment Theodore set down his utensils, Hoover shooed him away.
Late afternoon, near quitting time, Billy Hawke was brought in by a senior agent Theodore didn't know, but Bernie did.
The senior agent exchanged pleasantries with Bernie and repeatedly praised Billy Hawke.
Billy Hawke stood there like a shy schoolgirl, head slightly bowed.
After the senior agent left, Billy Hawke pushed Bernie aside and, with serious expression, cleared his throat.
"Let me introduce myself."
"I'm Billy Hawke. Navy Marine Corps, Camp Lejeune, North Carolina."
Billy Hawke launched into a long introduction, then chuckled and relaxed after finishing.
Theodore stared at him for a while, confused.
He turned to Bernie, hesitating whether he should also introduce himself in this manner.
Bernie pointed at Theodore. "This is our boss."
Billy Hawke grinned foolishly at Theodore, greeting him oddly. "Boss!!"
Bernie helped Billy Hawke arrange his desk and enthusiastically briefed him on the situation.
"Our team currently only has three of us." He pointed at Theodore, then himself and Billy Hawke. "We report directly to Deputy Director Tolson."
"Deputy Director Tolson is usually very busy, so we generally report to Supervisor Rosen."
He paused. "We're different from other colleagues in the Investigation Department. Our team doesn't focus on a single case type, we take on all types."
At this point, he looked at Theodore.
Billy Hawke also looked over.
Theodore thought for a moment, then stood and pulled over a whiteboard.
"Our investigation methods differ from traditional case investigation. We employ an experimental method not yet widely recognized: criminal personality profiling."
He began explaining from the beginning, just as he'd explained to Bernie previously.
But Billy Hawke wasn't Bernie. He didn't have Bernie's experience solving cases with Theodore. He looked confused from the start.
Billy Hawke wasn't chosen randomly.
Through observations during selection training, Theodore found Billy Hawke's learning ability astonishing.
He was Navy Marine Corps. Before selection training, his experience had nothing to do with case investigation.
He was one of the trainees with the lowest starting point.
It showed initially.
He couldn't understand legal procedure classes. Physical evidence classes seemed like gibberish. He couldn't even extract fingerprints properly.
But he improved rapidly.
Though his legal procedure grades were only average, they were still much higher than a certain trainee who only knew to write "consult Legal Counsel Office."
In the case analysis assessment, Billy Hawke was the third person to leave the examination room.
The extraordinary learning ability he demonstrated was precisely what Theodore valued.
Billy Hawke worked hardâjust like in selection training. He didn't understand, but he'd try to keep up, try to comprehend.
Theodore finished explaining the special identifiers and modus operandi, then asked, "You don't understand, do you?"
Billy Hawke's expression tightened. He instinctively stood, hesitated, then nodded.
His gaze fixed on Theodore, mood determined.
He knew exactly how fortunate he was to be chosen by Theodore.
He didn't want to miss this opportunity.
Theodore nodded, ending his explanation.
He checked the time and called Bernie, time to head home.
Billy Hawke secretly exhaled in relief, pulled out his notebook, copied information from the whiteboard, and prepared to hit the library.
Theodore reminded him, "This investigation method was proposed by me. Currently, only Bernie and I use it."
Billy Hawke's mouth fell open. He turned to look at Bernie.
Bernie nodded in confirmation.
Billy Hawke's mind went blank.
'Can you even do that?'
[End of Chapter]