"An inefficient method of communication could be fatal at a time like this. I really didn't know whether it was a problem with this particular team or with the FBI as a whole."
Hirotsugu Morofushi's assessment of James and the others' so-called pre-battle meeting was razor-sharp.
"Anyone who didn't know better would think they were English." Tangze expressed it in an extremely Kyoto fashion.
With a group of teammates like that specifically handling operations against the Organization, it was no wonder Shuichi Akai had struggled for so long.
Could they abandon modern communication devices to ensure information security and return to the communication methods of World War I dispatch runners? Of course they could. In fact, under many special circumstances, such tactics could produce remarkable results.
But right now, they had no idea what the Organization intended to do or what direction its operation would take. In other words, what they had to face today was not some airtight defensive assignment, but a situation that required flexibility and responding to every move as it came.
Unless they were confident that every local FBI supervisor was as intelligent and versatile as Shuichi Akai, the moment something major happened, they would only be left scrambling around, wasting time on information delivery. Worse, frequent back-and-forth communication could easily expose the core of their entire strategic deployment.
"Especially since this person in charge isn't the type willing to delegate authority or trust his subordinates enough." Hirotsugu Morofushi watched the red dots on the screen spread apart and could not help shaking his head. "What was his name again? James Black?"
"I think so. I heard Shuichi Akai call him that."
"He really does sound English."
It was a famous spy joke. Both he and Tangze were mocking how England's intelligence agencies sometimes pursued so-called