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CIA SAFEHOUSE E9, “DIE LANDEBAHN”
𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋𑁋
Russell Adler, CIA
52.5200 N, 13.4050 E, West Berlin
February 23, 1981
The dark sedan came to a stop underneath a canopy of a growing copse, gravel crunching underneath the wheels. Headlights cut through the night, illuminating the steel roll up door of an abandoned garage in the middle of the woods. Out in the far outskirts of West Berlin. From where the city lights irradiated in the far horizon, a singular beacon that beckoned and called like a lightbulb to nocturnal insects. It was the only guiding star in the moonless night, light pollution had snuffed out the stars above long ago. Leaving the night cold and lonely.
The rumbling engine ceased and the headlights cut out as the car ignition was turned off. Only then did a singular floodlight above the rolling door seem bright, having been overpowered by the car headlights to notice. It emitted a white light like that of a flashlight, soft but not too dim against an all-consuming night such as this. Eating away at the edges of the glow of the light. Like hands clasping around a candle flame, trying to smother it out. But inside the sedan, the night’s consumption was less apparent. As were the looming shadows of trees that surrounded the car.
In the driver’s seat was the gleam of a singular ember, bright like a burning coal. With it, the acrid stench of burning tobacco. Reminiscent of woodsmoke, but less natural and cleansing. And all the more heavy and lingering, filling all the cracks and crevices. Even with the window cracked open, the pungent smoke still stayed and nestled inside the car. Fresh new smoke curled out of the marred mouth of the driver and the cigarette burned even brighter with the exhale. It reflected in the dark lenses of aviators perched on a Roman nose, illuminating the complex network of a scar along the cheek. Shaded eyes flicked to the passenger seat where the sounds of a crinkling manila envelope and the rustle of a plastic bag were coming from.
“Again.”
Without hesitation, the plastic bag was pulled open to the plastic vials inside. Unlabeled now on purpose for the task at hand. Cradling the vials in your palm, you set them all in your lap. Lifting your legs up to keep them from rolling off and onto the car mat below. You picked up one of them and inspected it for any indication or clue you could pick up on. When you found nothing of the sort, you unscrewed the cap and brought it closer to your face then inhaled the scent inside. It was severely diluted, more than previous samples. And by the shallow crease that appeared between your brows, you realized this. It seemed distinguishing the scent was going to prove a definite challenge. Not to mention the secondhand smoke was making it far more difficult than needed as a pollutant for your sinuses. But you didn’t complain nor did Adler really care that smoking during this little exercise would be more inhibiting to your attempt.
Nevertheless, you tried. Taking more inhalations, both deep and shallow, as you tousled around your brain to put a face to the diluted scent. Adler watched diligently. Observant to any and every slight reaction or movement that would cause concern or his intervention. But you were focused, persistent. Unraveling the fractional notes of the scent given to you:
Vetiver and sandalwood with an undercurrent of ground cinnamon – a beta. And something in your head clicked.
“Sims.”
Adler nodded at your answer, satisfied. “Right. Next one.”
You handed him the closed vial, grabbed another from your lap and did the same as you did the initial one. Unscrewed the cap and inhaled the adulterated scent, trying to pinpoint the next team member it belonged to. This one smelt of beeswax. And gunpowder, like a fresh smoking gun. With an undertone of black pepper. Another beta.
“Lazar.”
Adler nodded again, left arm leaning outside the open car window as he flicked the ash from his cigarette. Then you grabbed the next: lavender, lignin and bergamot oil.
“Park.”
Then the second to last: blackcurrant, resin and oud with a subtle yet sharp spiciness in it, like a pinch of smoked paprika. Strong and overwhelming despite the dilution. Undoubtedly the musk of an alpha.
“Woods.”
And finally, last but not least. Though you deduced whose scent it was, you brought it up to your nose anyways. It was refreshing, almost fumigating. Unlike the previous scents, especially Wood’s, this one was far more mellow and far less invasive. A much needed reprieve for your olfaction.
Petrichor, patchouli and sea salt.
“Mason.”
“Good.”
Without delay, Adler grabbed the last vial, putting it with the rest in a biohazard bag. One to be disposed of properly later. There was a moment of tension, of readiness. As you sat patiently in the passenger seat, waiting for Adler. He took a final long drag of his cigarette, letting it curl around his words of ‘Let’s go’ before tossing the filter paper out the window.
Adler got out of the driver’s side and you got out of the passenger’s. Following as he led you towards the rolling steel door in front of you both. Adler could feel your uncertainty. How wound up you were inside like a loaded spring. It was apparent in the way you cautiously analyzed your surroundings, taking in each and every little detail you could. The whisper of the wind, the crunch of the gravel underneath your boots, the swaying of the trees, the city lights in the distance. As if there could be an ambush at any moment.
Adler eased his pace, turning towards you as he strolled on. “Bell. Welcome to West Berlin.”
Flicking open his lighter, Adler ignited another cigarette, fresh from his carton. Taking in the first drag, he blew the smoke up to the night sky. You audibly slowed as you saw a figure in front of the building. Until you recognized the figure in the floodlight – Agent Park. Now leaned against the steel rolling door. A leather duffle bag at her feet.
“We’ve got a job to do.”
The agent’s fist pounded on the rolling door at her back and it immediately began to roll up and open.
“Park.” Adler lifted the cigarette at her in greeting.
“Adler.” Park greeted him back. She picked up her duffle bag at her feet then looked behind her, at you. Nodding as she said. “Bell.”
The three of you walked inside the building that served as a safehouse; a base of command of sorts. You looked around. Towards what could be considered an armory, a makeshift gym, a giant evidence board and a metal table in the middle. Another man walked by – Lazar. With an empty shoulder holster. His own duffle bag in hand that he dropped near a workbench littered with diagrams, blueprints, boxes full of files, a frequency radio and a tape machine in the corner. Sims walked up, sat with one hip on top of the metal table, head canted to the side to look at Adler standing on the other side of the table.
“Let’s get started.”
Adler wasted no time. Found that there was no need for introductions or explanations. The exercise in the car functioned as the ‘scenting’ that traditionally occurred with the introduction of a new pack member. The exchange of each other’s scent, the familiarization of it, for the assimilation of the newly joined to all in the pack. Such traditions were more for show than anything, just to reaffirm pack bonds. But it was wholly unnecessary. Like you, the rest of his team had your scent given to them – excluding both Park and himself. To acquaint themselves with you and categorize your scent as a fellow teammate. It was a work around that didn’t eat away at their limited time to find an elusive Soviet organization. But it served its purpose as a replacement for it in a sense.
The whole team needed to wear a scent control system for their scent glands anyways; a job regulation and a preventive measure in covert ops. It came in the form of a government issued ozonic salve that dampened and blocked their scent. The salve was odorless and waxy to the touch, relatively water and sweat proof. The effectiveness lasted a good while before wearing off over time. Even you were required to wear it. Adler had you apply it before arriving here. He didn’t want you to distract or be distracted which usually came with the territory of having an omega in the mix. Especially a new one.
The debrief was kept short and simple. A goal was set and a potential lead was being investigated by Park and referenced with resources from MI6. But Adler was more concerned with your adjustment. Especially with the mention of Fracture Jaw and going down memory lane of time in Vietnam. The whole ordeal was another exercise. To test whether or not all that brainwashing worked as intended. That you were stable and manageable enough to be out in the field. Even though the whole thing was a quick fix. The narrative was held together by nothing but staples, tape and glue. He just hoped that you didn’t read between the lines, see the plot holes, and the conflicting timeline. Then, it was only a matter of time before you would see everything for what it was — a façade.
Adler had directed you to the evidence board after the debriefing. But curiosity got the better of you it seemed. But it was only natural he supposed, he had done the same when he first came to this neck of the woods. Adler watched you walk around your new place of conduct, analyzing and surveying. Particularly as Lazar brought Park’s duffel bag to the back room and brought her another box of files to her workstation. You eyed the wall of weapons that served as the armory and the lockers aside filled with clothes for a quick change or a disguise. Afterwards, talked to Agent Azoulay. Then you watched quietly from the sidelines as Sims coached Lazar at the punching bag.
You changed between the channels of the radio before it annoyed Adler so much that he flicked it back to the original station. You went towards the fenced off area, staring at the chain lock before walking away. You sparked up a conversation with Park. He pretended to be busy looking over a file, writing down information on a small notepad, but really he was listening in on the conversation.
Yet again, you avoided the evidence board as your conversation with Agent Park ended. Instead, you walked behind it and towards the unfinished Dark Room at the back, disappearing from his line of sight. Adler felt a prickle of uneasiness with your absence. He rounded the table, walking forward. Watched from the side of the evidence board just as you walked back out. His eyes locked to yours. Blood was drained from your face. Adler looked at you for a moment longer before he stepped away and walked back to the table. After a long beat, you did the same and approached him. A blank expression back on your face again.
“Bell. You’re looking a little pale. You up for this?”
Soulless eyes flicked up from where they were glancing down at the loaded pistol on the table, laid on a folder in front of him. Adler expected you to question him about his ‘spying’ on you. But if you didn’t notice or chose not to, you intended to ask about something else. Other questions of your own. But your reply to his question in particular made him unsettled. Your confession of having difficulty remembering Da Nang was what made his eyes sharpen at you from behind his sepia shades. You tensed up underneath his stare, the weight of it making you instinctively look away and shrink down. Acquiescing to the alpha in front of you; Proper etiquette of an omega.
He pressed his lips together, eyes narrowed at you now. “I find that hard to believe.”
“Maybe I just didn’t get enough sleep.”
You tried to reason. With him or yourself, Adler couldn’t tell. But by down playing it and understating its significance, you were already doing the heavy lifting for him.
That was a promising sign.
“Coffee, Bell. If you’re on my team, get to know it.” Adler said, trying to sound heedful. But the harsh bite of his voice couldn’t be concealed as he said. “I need you sharp .”
You were quick to change the topic. Asking him other questions. For more context and understanding, concerning Vietnam, the supposed familiarity of Park, the safehouse and so on. He obliged you.
“Don’t be a stranger.” Adler said as you ended your questions and stepped away. This time going straight to the evidence board.
From the corner of his eye, Adler watched you. As you went through the evidence and details. Stared in prolonged interest at the photo of Perseus in the center of the board. He couldn’t help but wonder if the depicted man was strangely recognizable to you. If you had an inkling in the back of your mind that you knew him, but couldn’t really remember from where. Or rather were you putting a face to the name. To the man that had eluded CIA capture for decades.
He shook those notions away as you followed the red string to the mission in Amsterdam. Stopping just short of the pinned plastic baggie where an extracted bullet was sealed away; the one pulled from your chest. Not that you remembered or anything, half-dead. Bleeding out in the backseat of your hummer. Your fingers ran over it, tracing the curves and edges. Adler narrowed his eyes at the action. Did you recall the pain? The bitterness of betrayal? How you fought against Adler when he pressed his hands against your chest wound, forcing you to live. By the way you quickly let it fall out of your hands, he doubted you did. More innate curiosity than a moment of remembrance.
The mission of Fracture Jaw was next in your sight. In this you were more distinct about, delicate even. Your previous answer swam through Adler’s head as you looked over the calendar of operations for January of ‘68. To the photo of Camp Haskins that served as the setting stage for this memory exercise, then to the photo of the nuke; the plot device in this case. Then your eyes fell on the photo of him and Sims in December of that same year. Days before Christmas Eve and a month before Fracture Jaw. Adler couldn’t help but notice how delicately you touched it, fingertips ghosting over the glossy film.
He found it strange. Perturbing even. What he witnessed made him tense. Memories started to resurface, perforate through his subconscious. He grit his teeth, remembering the taste of blood in his mouth, mire mud caked on sunburnt skin. The desensitization process of young alphas, him amongst them. The torturous training using omega heat pheromones to benumb them against it. Even betas underwent those trainings as nobody was immune to an omega in heat.
Other soldiers referred to it as a siren’s call and it was fitting. The Vietcong were no stranger to underhanded tactics. Using Vietnamese omegas in heat as a distraction during gunfights and even to lure American soldiers out into the jungle. Like female wolves would do. Lured male dogs out in the forest to seemingly play, only to lead them to a pack of waiting wolves. Too many were lost to those tricks. The introduction of those training sessions were more experimental than anything. But proved fruitful. Too fruitful.
As quick as it came affront, Adler was quick to dismiss it all from his head and fortify his composure.
When you became well acquainted with all the information regarding the mission, Adler launched the memory exercise. Gathering the team as you, him, and Sims prepared to recall and retell what happened in Fracture Jaw aloud to Park. Breaking it down piece by piece, sparing no details. Perhaps, all three of you did in fact miss something significant.
“Alright Bell, we’re going back to Vietnam. First time Perseus pinged our radar.” He began.
Adler led the narrative, weaving background information to the prelude at Camp Haskins. Immersing you in your own head, making way for the injected memories to kick in and solidify your — his — personal account of the mission. You struggled at first, needed to be guided and reminded by Adler. And the reassurance of Sims. But soon, you nodded along to their retelling. To the Soviet activity in Da Nang. To the tip off that all three of you followed to a hidden cache of intel. You were the one who found that dossier. Confirmed that there was Russian activity in Vietnam. Defended the nuclear asset along with Adler and Sims, stopping it from getting into the hands of the Vietcong.
With the memory exercise working as intended. You remembered finding the encrypted intel in Vietnam as anticipated. Now you were hunched over your work desk, meticulously going through the dossier and decrypting its coded contents. You had been at it for hours with little to no breaks in between. Even when Lazar brought back some late night grub for the team. Focused solely on the task. Adler was satisfied by your dedication, letting you work in peace. Not letting anyone, not even Park, disturb you. A sudden clink against your desk made you flinch. You lifted your head up and looked at the hot mug next to your forearm. Then glanced up at Adler who placed it there.
“Just a little pick-me-up to keep you going.” Adler answered the questioning look you gave him. “Trust me. You’re gonna need it, kid.”
The steaming mug of fresh dark brew filled your nose, a comforting aroma that softened the tension in your shoulders. An inscrutable look passed over your features, too fleeting for him to grasp. But from his observation you looked pleased, seemingly preening at his action. Adler shifted as you nodded your thanks, stretching a bit as he walked away. But Adler felt your eyes on him as he went back to the center table. Staring as he took a sip of his own fresh coffee. A coffee ring stain on an old, unimportant folder. As if catching yourself, you turned back around and continued where you left off, sipping on your mug occasionally as you worked. But even with multiple cups of coffee through the night, you and the team’s momentum waned as exhaustion began to grow. Making even breathing and blinking more tedious and energy consuming.
Park led Adler into the backroom for a private discussion, files in hand. Sims went to check on supplies in the basement as he was finishing up the inventory check, while Lazar kept his eye on you. Organizing the armory and doing gun maintenance meanwhile. Adler lit himself a fresh cigarette and leaned against the desk as Park closed the blinds and locked the door. Park pulled out her cigarette case, grabbing her own cigarette. Menthol based. Adler handed her his lighter and she was quick to light it. They took a deep drag, letting the nicotine dissolve away the stress and exhaustion. Then both blew it away with the exhalation of smoke.
“I went over some negatives in the Dark Room. Most were not important but I did uncover some false negatives. It will be helpful when Bell finishes decrypting the dossier. Which shouldn’t take much longer from what progress Bell had made. From there, I’ll be able to connect the dots and procure a lead.”
“Seems like we’re off to a good start.”
Park nodded. “Let’s hope it remains that way.”
She looked aside, thoughtfully. Through the gap in the blinds where a tiny sliver of your figure could be seen, hunched over, working at it still. “Bell seems to be adjusting well.”
Adler hummed in agreement. “Better than I expected.”
“It helps that Woods and Mason are still busy in Kiev. Too much too soon can be detrimental. But their arrival shouldn’t be a problem for Bell, if all goes well and both men act accordingly.”
Adler noticed her veiled concern. “Worried about Woods?”
“I’m concerned about his… temperament. He can be too much to handle at times. Blunt, brazen and impulsive – not unusual for an alpha. Bell is inquisitive, yes. But is mostly reserved. With Woods’s dislike for omegas it can cause problems.”
“I’ll handle it.” Is all Adler said, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray in the corner of the desk.
“I’m sure you will. You’re the pack alpha after all.”
Adler peered at her as she feigned an innocuous smile. The curling of dark lips so reminiscent of a viper that he awaited for that split second lunge and venomous bite that came soon after.
“Speaking of which,” She went on, “Those accommodations we agreed on require your participation.”
“In what way?”
Park caught onto the slight way he tensed up.
Adler was Bell’s handler. But only in a way to keep the omega on a short leash and remain manageable and cooperative. Nothing more than that.
“Bell will seek your direction instinctively. Not only because of the implanted memories, but being the pack alpha. With the memory exercise successful, the main thing I am monitoring for now is nesting behavior from Bell.”
Adler scowled, lips pressed tight.
“It won’t happen right away, but hopefully in the coming week as Bell acclimates. As you know, it’s an omega’s safe space. If Bell doesn’t heed to that natural urge to build a nest then it could be a symptom of the beginning stages of distress.”
“And where is my participation needed, Park?”
“While doing inventory, Sims found a box full of extra blankets and sheets. I also had Lazar clean out the downstairs storage room yesterday before we arrived and put one of the field beds inside. It’s decently sized and it will make Bell feel more secure.” Park puffed on her cigarette, the crisp aroma of menthol mixing with the acrid smoke of his own. “It’ll be better that it was you that shows the room to Bell.”
Park grabbed a box from the floor. Situated to the side where the medical supplies were at. She placed an armful of sheets and blankets onto the office chair. “Take these with you and offer them to Bell.”
Adler eyed Park, sparing no glance to the neatly folded blankets next to him.
“Nesting material.” She explained.
Park didn’t say anything more than that. With that, the meeting was adjourned. Park left the office and soon so did Adler. The late night soon turned to the early hours of dawn. The team, exhausted, was already headed to their assigned rooms for some much needed shut eye. It was only him and Bell in the main area now. With the armful full of blankets and sheets, he led you past the armory and down the small steps to the storage area.
“This is where you’ll be staying, Bell.”
Adler leaned against the wall. Gesturing with the jut of his chin for you to open the metal door when you glanced at him in uncertainty. You did so reluctantly. Peering inside to see that it was mostly empty and decently sized. Save for a metal shelving rack, along the same wall as the door, and a few boxes and crates still on the shelves. There was a field folding bed pushed against the wall. Covered with a thin white sheet and single pillow, a thermal blanket folded at the edge of the mattress. Another door led to the cellar where the old boilers were, but it had been welded shut years ago for safety reasons and security concerns.
Adler stayed in the doorway, watching as you looked around the storage room turned bedroom.
“Bell.”
You turned around, looking towards the man quizzingly.
“Here.”
You walked up to him, grabbing the armful of extra blankets and sheets he proffered out. You glanced at the stuff in your arms, over the various different coverings that were all neutral-colored.
“Get some sleep, kid.”
Is all Adler said.
You looked like you wanted to say something but you only nodded, saying a soft goodnight. He gave you a curt nod in return, leaving you alone with the click of the door behind him. Adler climbed up the few steps, letting out a deep sigh and rubbing at his eyes, feeling the sting of them. Now he was the only one in the central area. Although the urge to continue working was there, Adler thought it better to at least rest for a bit even if beset with insomnia. His room was through the left hall, adjacent to the fenced off area, and the farthest down. The room he was staying in wasn’t the biggest room compared to the rest. The biggest was the middle room reserved for both Mason and Woods when they came back from business in Ukraine. And across the way was the room Sims and Lazar were sharing.
The room next door to Sims and Lazar was originally for both Park and Bell to share, but now it was just Park in there. It was best for an omega to have their own space she had said. One of those accommodations Agent Park strongly recommended. But he and the rest of the team didn’t put up a fuss, it was only temporary and just for a place to rest their head during downtime. A communal restroom was perpendicular to both of those rooms nearest to the hallway’s threshold. One that looked like it belonged in a locker room. A single toilet, an old porcelain sink with a rusty, barely working tap, and a shower head sticking right out of the wall, pointing to a drain fixed to the bottom of the tile flooring. No curtain, or a glass sliding door for privacy.
The hall was silent and dark. Only the sound of his footsteps echoed. Adler kicked off his loafers when he stepped inside to his room at the end of the hallway. Shrugged off his leather jacket and unbuttoned his shirt then unbuckled his pants. More comfortable now, Adler laid onto the field bed with a low groan and a hefty sigh. The metal frame creaked as he settled onto it. Adler stared at the ceiling for a while, before closing his eyes and trying to rest. It took him a while to fall asleep, but the duration didn’t last. Before long, he was wide awake again. Staring up at the ceiling once more, having only gotten a few hours of sleep. But Adler knew that was all he was going to get. There was no need for him to get greedy. Instead of laying awake in bed, he rolled off the mattress and stretched a bit.
Adler grabbed his blue button-up and his pants from the chair he put them on. Grabbed his aviators tucked in the pocket of his jacket and began to dress; tugged on his pants and buttoned his shirt before slipping on his loafers. He went to the restroom then walked out from the hall, beelining straight to the coffee maker. Making a fresh pot of dark roast. With a steaming mug in hand, using the same mug he left on the table, Adler sat down, deciding to go through paperwork and to look over some files Park had given him earlier.
But it wasn’t long before he heard someone getting up. Someone in particular. A door behind him opened, then the whisper of boots up on the steps. Adler didn’t turn around as you quietly walked closer, nearly hovering at his flank. Though Adler didn’t show it, you being at his back and out of his direct line of sight put him on edge.
“Can’t sleep, kid?”
There was a moment of silence.
“No.”
Adler hummed, turning to the next folder of the pile. Then said, “Grab some coffee and finish up decrypting.”
After a beat, wordlessly, Bell shuffled away. Doing as Adler said: grabbing a cup of fresh coffee and sitting down to finish up with the dossier. Then there was silence again as both continued working in tandem. Only the intermittent sound of writing, shuffling paper, or sips of coffee disrupted it. Adler found himself observing you from the corner of his eye occasionally. Discreetly hidden between the reading of files and his sips of coffee, more so with the help of his shades to hide those brief looks. A stray thought came and went, wondering what you ended up doing with all that nesting material. If you used it or threw it somewhere in the corner. If you even thought about making your nest.
Everything was going according to plan, you were doing what was expected of you. For now at least.
Now all they needed to do was monitor you and keep you on the right track. In that, Adler knew remembering Fracture Jaw and triggering those implanted memories would do so. A fabricated bond of camaraderie built in blood, sweat, and tears. But he knew such a hack job would backfire soon. It was only the matter of when. When you would figure it all out. When you would realize you were amongst the enemy. When you would turn on them. It was inevitable, an expectation. All they could do was hope it wouldn’t be so premature or detrimental to the mission. All Adler could do in the meantime was reaffirm their ‘camaraderie’ when needed and keep up the falsities, while also keeping an eye on you. Keep your leash taut in his grip and keep you situated at his heel.
It was his prerogative as it was his responsibility. And as Park had mentioned before, Adler was your handler. And although he hated to admit, your pack alpha as well. Adler reigned in his rumination. Idle hands were the devil's workshop as the saying went. He found himself occupied by his paperwork. Hours went by; the early morning eased into midmorning. Sunlight peered through the hopper and awning windows scattered sparsely in the safehouse. Then came the quick sound of a chair’s wheels rolling against the concrete as you stood up.
With quick steps, you walked up to Adler. Pages of paper in your delicate but deft handwriting in your hands. Adler looked at you briefly, intrigued, not by the solemn look on your face, but by the sudden fire burning in your usually dreary eyes. There came a sudden feeling of displeasure. A disappointment at seeing it still there. It seemed in the end, that fire in your eyes lived yet still. As was that vile desire to snuff it out himself. To break you down more than you already were. He couldn’t help but turn his nose up at you.
“I was able to decipher a list of names.” You said.
Adler hid his thoughts well. Keeping his composure. He grabbed the pages you gave him and looked them over. But one caught his attention on your list of names:
Anton Volkov.