Across the ocean, the White House.
Twilight shrouded the power center of this superpower.
On the top floor of a building that looked somewhat old, warm light illuminated an office.
Files upon files were stacked on the desk. Intelligence from all over the world had been sorted and was ready for the room's occupant to process.
This was power.
The Secretary of State flipped through the reports submitted by his subordinates, quickly considering their veracity and how much they might be padded.
To think that subordinates wouldn't deceive him just because of his high position was nothing but an illusion common among those in power.Usually, only those completely ignorant of politics harbored such illusions, believing that merely occupying a certain seat equated to true control.
