After killing that man, only Natasha and Coulson remained in the manor.
The place was far from the city center. Even with the two earlier explosions, no one was likely to come. The two of them continued searching the manor without worry.
They turned over every file and searched every corner with one goal in mind—finding anything that could reveal the enemy's identity.
"Coulson, anything on your side?" Natasha asked, rubbing her sore lower back after bending over for too long.
"Nothing yet! They were extremely cautious. They didn't leave behind anything useful!"
Since Natasha outranked Coulson, she assigned him the dirtiest and hardest work. While she searched the rooms themselves, Coulson was stuck examining the corpses—essentially conducting field autopsies.
Because many of the enemies had grenades on them, several bodies were blown beyond recognition. Some were reduced to pieces. Performing an autopsy on bodies like these was anything but easy—blood everywhere, and extremely difficult to work with.
Normally, before an autopsy, the body should at least be reconstructed and cleaned so the examiner can identify marks beneath the skin.
Many people have tattoos—some symbolizing identity such as numbers or emblems, others meaning something special.Any of these could help identify them.
But these bodies had no markings, no tattoos, nothing. It was as if they were completely blank—impossible to trace.
"Where's their communicator? Did you check what's inside?"
A communicator usually contains important information—like encrypted phone numbers.
"After some digging, I did find a number. But it's triple-encrypted. You can only dial it through a specific contact point, and we only get one chance. I don't dare call it recklessly."
"I see."
Natasha frowned, sinking into thought.
This organization's structure was too tight, too well-hidden. That alone was a red flag.
Any organization that goes to such lengths to hide its existence definitely has a purpose—and it's not something as petty as robbing convenience stores.
"Should we notify HQ? Have them send specialists with proper equipment to search the place? Just the two of us won't cut it. The manor's too big. Without specialized tools, we'll never trace the owner of that number."
Coulson offered his suggestion while Natasha remained deep in thought.
"Not yet."
Unexpectedly, Natasha rejected Coulson's proposal. She had no intention of involving S.H.I.E.L.D. at this stage.
"Why not?" he asked.
"Of course I'll tell you."
Natasha had spent enough time with Coulson to trust him. And he had proven himself worthy of that trust.
After a brief silence, she continued, "Turn off your earpiece. Let's talk face to face."
If her suspicion was correct, then things were far more complicated—and communication devices could no longer be trusted.
"All right."
They switched off their earpieces and met in another room of the manor.
"I suspect there's a traitor inside S.H.I.E.L.D."
The words hit like a thunderbolt.
"What?" Coulson's expression immediately turned serious. He looked at Natasha warily, "Are you sure? This isn't something to joke about!"
"Of course I know. But if it's true, everything suddenly makes sense."
"Except for the Director, we kept this mission completely confidential from everyone. You aren't suggesting the Director is the traitor, are you? That's absurd!"
"I don't suspect the Director. As Director, he holds full authority. If he were a traitor, he'd never assign this mission to us. He'd choose someone else and avoid unnecessary complications. No, the ones I suspect are the people under him."
"You mean… the rest of S.H.I.E.L.D. is listening in on us?"
If it wasn't the Director, then there was only one explanation: someone in the agency had tapped into their communications and intercepted all their intel.
But even then, highly trained agents operating undercover shouldn't be so easily monitored.
"If there are multiple traitors within S.H.I.E.L.D., and they're covering for each other… that's a different story."
"Hsss…"
Coulson drew in a sharp breath. If that were true… then the situation was far worse than either of them imagined.
"Don't panic. This is just my guess. The actual situation might not be like this at all. If it were, S.H.I.E.L.D. would basically be a sieve. That's a bit far-fetched."
Natasha added quickly.
She had no idea her suspicion was correct. S.H.I.E.L.D. really had become a sieve—half the organization infiltrated by their enemies. Just like she said: the darkest place is always right beneath the candle.
Who would believe that a top intelligence agency could be infiltrated so thoroughly?
Even Natasha didn't fully believe her own theory, which was why she downplayed it at the end.
Agents lived and worked together for years. Top agents like Natasha had an unmatched sense for danger and deception. How could she accept that so many traitors sat beside her daily without her noticing?
A sudden suspicion wasn't enough to overturn years of trust and instinct.
"So what should we do next?"
Even though Natasha called it speculation, Coulson couldn't shake the unease. This wasn't something he could ignore.
"We find someone."
"Who?"
"Lu Yi."
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