Free Web NovelI explained my plan to the two of them in considerable detail. I did not rush through it. I laid out the structure, the sequence, the expected reactions, and the legal pressure points.
“If this goes as planned,” Wilson said after listening to everything, “it might be enough to pull out one of The New York Times’ main pillars.”
Plame followed in a measured tone.
“It would at the very least put a crack in the Times’ solid wall of credibility.”
“That’s right,” I said. “The court will likely issue an order demanding the disclosure of the source. But Judith Miller will endure to the end. She won’t speak. She can’t. There are people involved whose names can never surface.”
“What do you mean by that...?”
Both of them had stiffened. I looked at them and lifted one eyebrow slightly. They were not naïve.
“Senior officials at the White House are involved. You must have already sensed that much.”
They exchanged a look, then nodded slowly.
“There are two of them. Deputy Chief of Staff Karl Rove. And Vice President’s Chief of Staff Lewis Libby. This is not speculation. It is certain.”
Wilson’s eyes widened to their limit.
“D-do you have evidence?”
“Nothing I can present publicly. No documents I can lay on a table in court. But I am certain they are involved.”
In any case, time would reveal it.
Very few people could access the identity of a covert CIA operative. Even within the CIA, only a small handful knew. That meant that within the White House, the number of individuals who could possibly know was even smaller.
These were operatives dispatched into hostile regions, risking their lives for the United States. The information regarding covert agents was treated as highly classified not only as a matter of protocol, but out of principle. Their identities were concealed to protect them from retaliation and to respect the risks they bore.
And yet, suddenly, Valerie Plame’s identity had been exposed.
“Federal law prohibits the disclosure of a covert intelligence officer’s identity. Violations are considered serious felonies,” I said evenly. “Isn’t that strange? Mr. Wilson, did you know that Ms. Plame was a covert operative?”
Wilson shook his head without hesitation.
“We are husband and wife, but I truly had no idea.”
“But people won’t believe that.”
He did not argue. He let out a long breath instead. That was answer enough.
“This all began when you published your op-ed in The New York Times.”
The justification for the Iraq War had been Iraq’s alleged purchase of large quantities of uranium from Africa.
But the CIA had assessed that information as unreliable.
“And only days later, Robert Novak publicly revealed that Valerie Plame was a covert CIA operative.”
Wilson’s expression tightened.
“I was shocked. That was the first time I raised my voice at her. The first time we truly fought over something.”
For a brief moment, the two of them looked at each other and shared a faint, almost sorrowful smile.
“Whether you shared secrets between husband and wife is not the core issue,” I continued. “What matters is whether the public believes you did. That is precisely why her identity was exposed.”
The problem between a husband and wife might be personal. But the public saw only what was visible. And that made it a matter of credibility.
“You are both members of the Democratic Party, correct?”
They nodded.
Wilson immediately leaned forward, his voice rising, almost as if he were spitting blood to defend himself.
“But before I am a Democrat, I am an American citizen. I did not fabricate anything. I did not invent facts.”
“I know,” I said calmly. “Hussein did not purchase uranium. He did not possess large stockpiles of biological or chemical weapons. I asked him myself.”
“...You met Hussein in person?”
Wilson’s voice was strained.
Instead of answering directly, I simply shrugged.
“Mr. Wilson, I know your claims are true. But look at the current atmosphere. Is it really a climate where truth can simply assert itself as truth?”
He frowned and shifted his gaze toward his wife. freēwēbnovel.com
“The discussion about uranium has already faded from public interest,” I continued. “Instead, the headlines are filled with questions about Ms. Plame. Did she disclose classified information to her husband? Who leaked her identity to journalists? That is what people are talking about now.”
“That’s correct,” Plame said quietly.
“This is exactly what the leakers wanted. If you cannot deny the message, attack the messenger.”
Dick Cheney and the neoconservatives had obvious priorities.
Better to damage the credibility of individuals than allow the justification for the Iraq War to collapse entirely.
The two of them exchanged a look again and nodded.
Plame spoke first this time.
“Let’s assume everything you’ve said is accurate. I’ll speak frankly. I’ve been removed from all my duties inside the CIA. I’m under internal investigation for allegedly disclosing classified information to my husband.”
She did not conceal her situation. She laid it out plainly.
“I worked as a covert operative for years. I reviewed countless classified documents. I carried out operations.”
Even I did not know the full scope of what she had done. Extracting internal CIA operational details was close to impossible.
“Do you think there were no operations that crossed legal boundaries?” she asked.
I did not answer. There was no need to.
A covert CIA operative did not operate in a world of clean legality.
“I cannot speak about any of it,” she continued. “If I do, I jeopardize myself. And my husband. Honestly, what we want is to settle this at a reasonable point. To contain it.”
I understood what they wanted.
But events like this rarely stopped where those involved wished them to stop. The matter had already moved beyond their control.
“Even if you want to end it at a reasonable point... will it truly end there?”
“What do you mean?” Wilson asked sharply.
“I intend to escalate this matter whether or not you take my hand.”
His face twisted.
“What exactly are you saying?”
I smiled slowly.
“I am not the one who needs you. You are the ones who need me.”
Wilson opened his mouth, ready to protest. I raised two fingers before he could speak.
“You have two options.”
I folded down one finger.
“You refuse my offer. You stay quiet. You attempt to weather it. And you are crushed.”
Then I folded down the second.
“You accept my help. You fight to the end. I cannot promise victory. But you will not be fighting alone.”
They stared at me as if I had presented something outrageous.
Then I added lightly, as though remembering something.
“Ah. There is one more option. You bow your heads. You yield. You compromise. In that case, perhaps things will be resolved at a moderate line. But I would not recommend that route.”
I let my gaze harden slightly.
“I have no intention of letting it end that way.”
I had presented them with options.
But in truth, I already knew what they would choose.
In my previous life, they had fought to the end.
Just as expected, Plame composed herself and spoke evenly.
“You claim to be offering us choices. But you’re clearly structuring this so that we can only take your hand.”
“Isn’t that obvious?”
If they joined me, the process would move more efficiently.
But even if they refused, the outcome would not change. It would only take longer.
I met her eyes directly and erased the faint smile from my face.
“I am no saint.”
I did not hide behind a mask. I did not pretend moral superiority. The shift in atmosphere was immediate. Both of them blinked.
“I am not a philanthropist either. If something does not benefit me, I do not care what becomes of you.”
Wilson and Plame swallowed.
There were many theoretical paths.
But in reality, only one remained open to them.
* * *
When George Soros entered the room, Han Kyungyeong stood with a bright smile.
“Welcome, Mr. Soros.”
“Drop the familiarity.”
Soros slapped away the hand Han had extended. His tone was sharp.
“If that’s what you prefer,” Han replied lightly.
Han sat first. Soros followed, stiff-backed.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“No. Let’s speak of business.”
He did not attempt to conceal his irritation.
The more irritated Soros appeared, the broader Han Kyungyeong’s smile became.
“What is this? Did you call me here to mock me? To declare your victory?”
“For something as small as this?” Han said smoothly. “Dow Jones is merely the beginning. You and the patrons behind you can no longer coexist with us.”
“What are you implying? That you intend to go to the end? Your confidence borders on arrogance.”
Han shook his head.
“This is not about confidence. It’s about whether something must be done. We extended our hand first. You were the one who took it. And then you struck us from behind. That is not proper conduct.”
Soros did not respond.
“You initiated this fight. We realized that everything that happened in China was orchestrated by those standing behind you.”
Han spoke without hesitation, even as Soros’s expression darkened.
“The situation in China made no sense otherwise. Unless someone deliberately engineered it.”
He continued watching Soros’s micro-expressions as he spoke.
“This time we are certain. There is someone behind you.”
“Behind me?” Soros scoffed. “Your imagination runs wild.”
“Does it?”
Han’s tone shifted, becoming sharp as a blade.
“Someone like you could not have executed such maneuvers alone. A man whose prime has already passed — would he dare step into such a game by himself?”
At the word “passed,” Soros’s teeth showed.
“James! You dare mock me?”
“Mock you?” Han let out a short, unmistakable scoff. “I am stating reality.”
“Reality? You think losing the Dow Jones acquisition battle will bring me down?”
Soros slammed his palm against the table. His jaw tightened as he glared.
“Do you know who I am? This is nothing. Not even a scratch.”
“The godfather of hedge funds? The evil savior? Or perhaps a man whose career would have ended without our assistance?”
When Soros’s name had reached its peak, it was during the shorting of the British pound.
Alongside his partner Stanley Druckenmiller and his followers, he had mobilized enormous capital to attack sterling.
Britain, stung by pride, raised interest rates into double digits to defend its currency.
It failed.
The British government surrendered.
From that moment on, whenever Soros invested somewhere, Wall Street fund managers swarmed like moths to flame.
In 1993, mere rumors that he was aggressively buying shares of an American mining company caused fund managers worldwide to rush in, sending global gold prices soaring.
There had even been a time when a single comment from him caused Japan’s Nikkei index to spike.
“This is why life is interesting,” Han said calmly. “We were the ones who brought you down. And we were the ones who threw you a lifeline.”
Soros’s influence had shattered during the Asian financial crisis.
After that, Dream High had reaped most of the profits from structures he had built.
From that turning point onward, Soros suffered devastating losses during the Capital crisis and the dot-com bubble collapse. His long-time partner Stanley Druckenmiller eventually left the fund.
It had been Dream High that extended a hand when Soros was on the verge of ✧ NоvеIight ✧ (Original source) ruin.
To shake the yen and force Japan’s surrender, they had used Soros and Wall Street.
He had been used.
But he had also profited enormously — enough to recover his dot-com losses in a single sweep.
“Even animals do not bite the hand that feeds them,” Han said quietly. “But you attempted to bite us. Which suggests that there is a master more frightening than we are, does it not?”
Soros trembled with humiliation. Han met his eyes and slowly curved his lips upward.
“So stop pretending. Must I truly say aloud who stands behind you? Because if I do, this becomes genuine catastrophe.”
The secret organization Baltiche.
They never stepped into the spotlight.
“Soros. We do not want total war. In a game of chicken, it is obvious who suffers more. You, more than anyone, understand how much we sacrificed to force Japan’s capitulation.”
“Do I look like someone’s subordinate?” Soros’s voice shook.
“Does that matter now?” Han replied lightly. “There is no proof. But proof is not always necessary. It depends on how people think. If you deny it, then we proceed to the end. Starting tomorrow, every media outlet owned by News Corporation will circulate that organization’s name.”
Soros narrowed his eyes.
“Then we will circulate Charlie’s name.”
It was the same tactic — pressure through exposure.
Han had anticipated it. He simply shrugged.
“That is acceptable. One man — Charlie — versus that organization. Once both surface, who stands to lose more...”
Han let the sentence trail off, a devilish smile resting on his face.
