The Book of Aarav – 7.5

Change of Plan

Room B-412, Sub-Level 4, Eisenhower Executive Office Building
1650 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, Washington, D.C

A narrow, windowless room sat four stories below ground, its concrete walls layered with sound-dampening panels and matte-black acoustic tiles. A single strip of cold white light ran across the ceiling, casting long shadows over the steel table bolted to the floor. No documents, no screens—only a secure voice terminal blinking silently in the corner.

Adhrivan sat at one end of the table on a heavy, high-backed chair of reinforced steel, padded just enough to suggest function rather than comfort. Its matte-black frame had no wheels, no swivel, and weighed far too much to move casually—designed to keep whoever sat in it exactly where they were. The armrests were broad, cold to the touch, with a faint texture like brushed metal.

At the other end sat the National Security Advisor, David Bowman—a tall man with a light-coloured suit, seated on a chair of the same formidable design. He slipped his hand inside his jacket, producing a platinum cigarette case from his inner pocket. With a soft click, a thin black cigarette popped out. He placed it between his lips, retrieved a Cartier lighter from his breast pocket, and with another soft, elegant click, a steady, jewel-bright flame flickered to life. He lit the cigarette, took a long drag, and exhaled slowly, smoke curling in the dim light.

Adhrivan sat straight, hands folded in front, unmoving.

“So,” David began in his mild Midwestern accent, taking another drag, “you want to move up the schedule, do you?”

“Yes, sir,” Adhrivan replied, straight and respectful.

“The actions we are about to undertake will change the dynamics of the world,” David continued. “And yet you are confident enough to adjust a plan that’s been in development for three years. Or is it eagerness for the spotlight that drives you to bring the date forward?”

Adhrivan pressed his right foot hard against the floor, releasing the anger coiling inside him. He paused a second before replying. “I find no happiness in glory, sir. But the war is approaching the borders of our allies at an exponential rate, crossing every expectation. NATO airspace violations have increased—from five last month to seven this month. My network reports that resurgent groups scattered across several countries are planning coordinated attacks on our bases. The first attack is expected in six months. Instead of wasting billions of dollars addressing individual problems, this single operation will restore fear in the eyes of the world—and we will be that fear. If we wait another year, it will be too late.”

David took another slow drag, exhaling as his chest rose and fell. He stared at Adhrivan, weighing the words. After a long pause, he finally spoke. “Make this into a report and bring it to me. I’ll discuss it with Mr. Bellmont and see what can be done. Prepare everything according to your plan—but I make no promises.”

“Sure, sir. Thank you for believing in me,” Adhrivan said.

“You may leave now,” David replied, pulling his phone from his pocket and scrolling through messages.

Adhrivan rose, buttoned his jacket, and exited the room. He stepped into the elevator. As the doors closed, a slow, satisfied grin spread across his face.

(To be continued)