“How to deal with the incident at the hospital last night... Assassin should be setting to work assassinating Galvarosso around now, too...”
Such matters occupied Faldeus’ thoughts when a secret communication arrived on his personal channel. It was not from inside Snowfield. It was from the special bureau in Washington — the “true masterminds” — who were backing him up.
“...Faldeus here. What is it, General?”
“...Have you seen the news?”
The solemn voice of the man he had called “General” prompted Faldeus to turn his attention to the local news that had just ran. Nothing, however, stuck out to him as particularly important, so he checked the national programs. There, he saw the news that a powerful candidate in the upcoming presidential election had died of natural causes.
“Oh... And they said he had this election in the bag, too. Talk about bad luck. Still, I don’t believe this directly concerns your section, General.”
“...You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not just him. Thirty-five financial bigwigs, big-time mass media personalities, and even leaders of major lobbies died suddenly, of accidents or natural causes, yesterday afternoon alone. Every one of them had a fat pipeline to the White House.”
“...”
“Autopsies concluded beyond a shadow of doubt that the deaths were accidents or natural causes. That’s what has some people thinking that this coincidence must have something to do with magecraft. Given the timing, it’s only natural to suspect a connection to your ritual,” the general informed Faldeus in a tone that said those doubts had not been assuaged. He sighed deeply, then abandoned his businesslike manner.
“I haven’t reported to the president yet. If you figure out any connection to the ritual in Snowfield, contact me ASAP.”
Faldeus thought about that day, which was later to go down in books on urban legends as “America’s Cursed Day.” Then, as the result of independently looking up the times and places those thirty-five people had died on the net and connecting them on a map... he determined that they were centered on Galvarosso Scladio’s headquarters and linked in order of proximity to it. It was almost as if an angel of death had set out from Scladio’s headquarters and walked around killing targets in the order that it found them.
Faldeus was not big enough to look at this and say, “Hassan-I Sabbah can’t be involved” with certainty. He was also not shameless enough to pretend not to have seen it.

Fate/Strange Fake: Volume 4, Bridge