As the year was drawing to a close, William White was incredibly busy. Suddenly hearing Tanner's report made him furious.
"How long has it been, Tanner?"
"At most three days. We've identified the specific person. Should we follow the clues or just dismantle it directly?"
"It's just a bunch of small players; what's the point of tracking them down?"
"It's not the same, sir. This equipment is very advanced, unlike that of our commercial competitors."
"Okay. Clean up the other places too. I'm headed back to Texas."
"Yes, master."
Over the years, William White had encountered this situation many times. He was also quite certain that conversations at his place were not safe. However, it was indeed a bizarre circumstance to have someone plotting against him in his own home.
Tapping was rather extreme. In plain terms, these things that couldn't be used as evidence were all beneath contempt.
Furthermore, he doubted that anyone could approve such an action. Despite his issues with the Justice Department, everyone else was still playing within the system. If someone dared to approve such an operation, it would mean they were looking for a fight to the end.
...
Holding the little bundle in his arms, William White was extremely pleased. Describing a child as a delicate work of art was sometimes quite fitting.
Once he got home, his gloom vanished completely. He looked utterly content, as if all was right in the world with a woman by his side.
"I'll run your bath."
"Thanks, I appreciate it." Among the many women around him, none catered to him quite like Suzuki. Sometimes, talent just came naturally; you didn't even need to try to learn it.
...
William White left, but his mansion in Los Angeles wasn't quiet. A cat-and-mouse game officially began.
The big boss in Washington D.C., who had plans to celebrate Christmas, had to call his aides for a meeting. Clearly, someone was once again in hot water.
"Can anyone tell me who approved this operation? Justice Secretary, what about you?"
"There's nothing to say. This is a blatant disregard for the law, and I will absolutely not sign off on it."
"Well, this makes it easy; the blame falls on the FBI. I really want to know one thing -- are we still living in Hoover's era? Can the law in this country even restrain these idiots anymore?"
This time, the big boss was truly angry. That kid wasn't someone to be trifled with. If he didn't have a reasonable explanation, that guy would make headlines tomorrow.
Everyone in the room knew it was over for the head of the FBI. If you had any sense, you'd resign immediately. If you didn't want to end up in prison, it was best not to try and explain anything.
...
"Dad, is it all over now? Has he changed his tune?"
"Ha, what do you think? Do you know that if Hoover hadn't died in office, the FBI wouldn't even be under Washington D.C.'s control?"
"You've got to be kidding me. After all these years, it's still like this?"
"Ha, it's a tradition. Do you know what tradition means? In fact, everyone who sits in that position wants to be the next Hoover; it's always been that way."
Bush Jr. fell silent. This was the first time he'd heard such thinking. It was obvious that William White was well aware of this, which is why he had not taken overly drastic measures.
...
In fact, he was thinking too much. Since he couldn't find the puppet master, why should William White complicate matters for a scapegoat?
And as for those carrying out the orders?
Well, too bad for them.
"William, how did you figure it out?"
"Please, those scraps? Their so-called high-tech is just toys from our lab."
"Don't be ridiculous. That model is said to be the latest."
"Nonsense. If you had given me the order, I could get it for half price."
"You think you can fool around with that order? No wonder people are eyeing you."
"I'm done talking. I have to put the kid to sleep; that's the end of this discussion."
Understated?
His subordinates clearly didn't think so. The heightened security measures spoke volumes.
But in the end, it was probably futile. Such things were nearly impossible to avoid in the States. The FBI might still be reasonable, but the CIA had even less scruples. That so-called PRISM program was just a guise for listening in on the whole world.
However, all this was public information. Who knew how many covert methods were in play?
Alright, the U.S. claims there's none.
Ha, if you really believed that, you'd fit the archetype of a naive fool. William White certainly didn't buy it.
The methods that could be discovered were fundamentally low-level, like the Watergate scandal. William White didn't believe Nixon had orchestrated it. Maybe he was just another scapegoat, or perhaps it was simply part of someone else's scheme.
It was clear: while getting something installed might be easy, getting it removed? Did they think it would just disappear on its own?
Once discovered, the situation would certainly look like it did now. William White was genuinely eager to know who that fool was.
His reason was simple; such foolish people were becoming increasingly rare, and he wanted to know how they managed to survive.
...
"Sir, the maritime satellite phone can be installed; it's just a bit oversized."
"Go ahead, some things shouldn't be made known to outsiders. Speaking of maritime, how's my yacht coming along?"
"It will be completed early next year; they're finishing the tests."
"Let's install another phone system in the conference room."
William White had high expectations for this massive yacht. However, dealing with it was quite a hassle; a so-called yacht weighing over ten thousand tons was utterly ridiculous.
After multiple modifications, the cost of this super yacht had exceeded 150 million. Onlookers were curious if this yacht could even fly, given its staggering price.
"Filson, I heard Washington D.C. wants to buy a new plane?"
"That was rejected, supposedly due to too much of a budget deficit."
"Ha, Boeing must be very disappointed. Tell them I'm interested in buying one." Filson shook his head with a wry smile; this was no mere purchase; it felt like a practical joke.
He was overthinking it. The modified 747-200 was still a very reliable choice, even if it cost up to 200 million dollars.
As for his current plane, William White still felt uneasy. Hadn't that model just crashed? And now he was getting the same type again?
Planes from this era truly had their issues. William White had developed a phobia due to that experience. Although he wasn't a frequent flier, safety was still a priority.
However, one thing he couldn't figure out was how that model accommodated so many people. Surely, people weren't exaggerating the passenger capacity?
Afterward, airlines did indeed change things up. Generally, it was about three hundred seats. He hadn't heard of anyone fitting over five hundred into a single flight.
...
William White's calm demeanor did not dispel the clouds of anxiety over Washington D.C. This big boss was genuinely furious. What the hell do you all think I am? Every time it's like I'm left in the dark, and this is simply too much.
The boss was very upset, and the consequences would surely be severe.
At the year's end, sudden personnel changes sent shockwaves through Washington D.C. Nobody knew what this suddenly furious old man planned to do.
*****
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