-Tripoli, Libya-
-Minutes later-
The pair reached the outskirts of the sand-colored city and a bunch of run-down brick buildings cracked from the heat of the sun and the chipping of the wind. The two remained mostly quiet during the journey there, and were now on foot again, alone. Abdul lead Hojo into his home, an unusually Spartan house. It did, though, to Hojo’s amazement, have a shortwave radio transmitter.
Originally, Hojo had highly doubted the man’s words and had planned to kill him, use his house, and leave before morning with whatever cash the man carried. However, it seemed that he may have been on the level after all. While certainly the safest thing to do for his own safety, it was also a very evil thing to do, and Hojo wanted to avoid resorting to such measures to save his own life until he had no other options.
“I will try to contact Washington.” Abdul announced, gesturing to the shortwave. “This may take a while, so if you wish to get cleaned up, I have a small bathroom in the next room. It’s probably not what you’re used to, you’ll have to heat the water yourself.”
Hojo nodded.
“Thank you, friend.” He said, vanishing to find the bathroom and wrestling with whether he would have to kill this man or not. As he left, he heard Abdul saying ‘Bah. Bah. Bah. Bah. Bah. Der. Der. Der. Der…’ into the radio in an effort to contact whoever he was going to contact. He was indeed a trained spy. Hojo felt glad that he hadn’t mugged the man right there in the alley he had pulled him into when they first encountered one another.
That feeling, though, vanished, ten minutes later, when Hojo was finally in a warm bath, and heavy footsteps filled the house, with Italians entering the Bathroom and aiming their submachine guns at the naked and defenseless Hojo with Abdul standing in the shadows of the hallway behind them, looking regretful but guilty. He had turned Hojo in. FUCK! Why hadn’t he just KILLED the sonofabitch?! Fucking conscience…
As Hojo was led away, dripping and naked, one of the officers stayed behind and said something in clumsy Arabic.
“And the money?” Abdul asked.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get paid. You did well! This man is wanted for espionage, over a dozen counts of murder, and who knows what else!” Answered the Italian man, before leaving. Soon after, a younger man appeared and counted out the bounty. Meanwhile, in the back of the car, flanked by Italian officers, Hojo quickly slipped the glass capsule into his mouth, sweating profusely as the officers lunged to foil his suicide attempt. As he bit down, the glass crunching painfully between his teeth, he tasted the intense flavor of the cyanide and heard a loud ringing in his ears even before he swallowed. For a moment, his felt as though in an awful dream, unable to wake but with a strong urge to and an overall sense of terror and frustration. Then the ringing in his ears faded, and he knew nothing anymore. He was dead.
-An hour later-
Abdul began signaling Washington again when he was sure it was safe to, and got a response much more quickly this time.
“It’s done. I’ve turned him into the authorities as you ordered. I’ve received what amounts to about two hundred American Dollars”
“Good. I realize it must have been hard to do that, but you did well. Hojo Kitta was a rogue agent, and was operating well outside of accepted protocol. He killed ten people! And those are just the ones we knew about! Besides, with the bounty money, you’ll be able to fund your operations even better. Good luck, Agent Whirlwind.”
Abdul felt a terrible queasiness in his gut, mixed with the intense guilt of what he had done, but merely said “Yes sir. Any word on when my operation begins?”
“None yet, you’ll be the first of the field agents to know, Whirlwind. But it will be very soon.”
(Money has been funnelled slowly into several agents in Italian occupied Libya, and the sleeping agents will soon be awoken to launch their deadly mission. Even Hojo was sacrificed as a dark offering towards the success of this mission, although, that was just corporate efficiency, since he had become a liability to the Americans anyway...)
(Hmm. That was the wrong picture. I thought I had one which said I succeeded in funding partisans in Tripoli.. Guess I messed up. Oh well.)