All is well here. My efforts these past few days have been spent on attempting to place legal pressure on the Department of Homeland Security to release Jeffrey from his detention, and I believe I may be making some headway, though only time will tell. It is my opinion that the incoming regime change in the Presidency has made them more hesitant to invoke powers they may soon no longer possess.
I also decided that while my experiments to determine whether or not my caretaker Garrett is in fact the Magician have come to naught, there is yet another man with a "G" name here in Milwaukee- Detective Gary Ward- whom I at the very least wished to look in the eye to determine if any information could be gleaned from mere contact.
Under the pretence of desiring to discuss pertinent details of the Walentowicz murder, I invited Detective Ward to my home and offered him some tea while we discussed the case. While the investigation has been taken out of his hands by the Federal Bureau of Investigation, it was obvious that the grisly nature of the killing had affected him deeply, and it appeared to me that he wanted to talk about it just to unburden himself of the awful memories.
Detective Ward reminded me a little of poor Agent Pierce, a dogged investigator, world-weary and in over his head. Is he the Magician in disguise? After spending the better part of an hour conversing with the man, I must confess that I still have no idea. I have invited him back tomorrow night just for tea. If he is the Magician, he can kill me at any time anyway, it seems. If he is not, then I will enjoy the pleasure of his company, resigned to whatever fate has in store.
Showing posts with label agent. Show all posts
Showing posts with label agent. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Cynthia: Erro
Joshua, your recent post describing your encounter on Wardang Island evoked memories from an earlier confrontation. When I was assaulted by one of the Smiling men the night of Agent Pierce's demise, I had at the time identified my assailant as a black man. The room was darkened and the circumstances did not easily permit a close inspection of the attacker, but in retrospect I believe that the "Smiler" that invaded my sanctum was not in fact African-American, but was instead of Aboriginal descent.
I had assumed that it was Mr. Hollis that sent his minion to murder me, but now it appears that it was Mr. Crayton. At one time I had at least subconsciously considered all of those who had dealt with the Magician as cut from the same cloth, but the fact is that they have all proven themselves to be quite distinct from one another. I can think of no practical use for the knowledge, but wished to put down the correction immediately for the sake of completeness.
I had assumed that it was Mr. Hollis that sent his minion to murder me, but now it appears that it was Mr. Crayton. At one time I had at least subconsciously considered all of those who had dealt with the Magician as cut from the same cloth, but the fact is that they have all proven themselves to be quite distinct from one another. I can think of no practical use for the knowledge, but wished to put down the correction immediately for the sake of completeness.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Cynthia: Incursus
Under normal circumstances upon reading the previous post, I would recommend that our collective energy be focused on deciphering every clue and parcel of information contained within it, but tonight there was an incident at the house. Just before midnight as I was in the process of powering down my computer in preparation for a fitful night's slumber a terrible crash came from downstairs.
I yelled for Jeffrey and Agent Pierce, whom I thankfully had requested stay as my guest while he was in Milwaukee. True to their characters, Agent Pierce began to run toward the grand staircase to the lower level to face whatever danger approached while Jeffrey sprinted to my side to ascertain my condition. Within moments Agent Pierce was backing up into my room, pointing his gun at a dark figure proceeding toward us through the doorway. Agent Pierce identified himself as a federal officer, warned the assailant that he would open fire if he did not cease his advance, then when his words went unheeded he shot the man in the stomach.
Shockingly, the intruder seemed unaffected by the injury and lunged forward. Once in the light I could see that he was black, with untamed hair and a wide, white smile. He reached out with both hands, grasped the sides of Agent Pierce's head and turned it completely around with a sickening crack until his stunned face stared at me over his back, his neck broken, eyes wide open in instant death.
As Agent Pierce's corpse slumped to the carpet, I could see the murderer's dark eyes search the room and lock in on me. His smile never wavered as he slowly stepped up to the foot of my bed and placed a hand between my unfeeling feet, beginning to crawl up the mattress towards me. Jeffrey remained at my side until I said as calmly as I could, "Jeffrey, go now. It is alright. I refuse to die knowing that I have your death on my conscience as well." He hesitated, and again I insisted. "You are relieved, Jeffrey. Thank you." The dark, smiling man crawled up the bed over my body, his grinning face now crossing over my waist, his hand on my sternum.
Finally Jeffrey backed away from my bedside and made a wide circuit toward the bedroom door. "Tell Joshua everything. Tell him... just tell him-" I could say no more as the smiling man's hands slowly closed around my neck and squeezed, his legs straddling my paralyzed torso. I saw stars and the edges of my vision turned black, the sensation of pressure in my head pounding like a hammer. Finally the darkness around the edges of my sight closed in until I could only peer through what appeared to me to be a tiny pinhole, the last thing I imagined I would ever see being my murderer's nightmarish smile.
I heard a pop which I assumed was a blood vessel or some vital part of my anatomy snapping, but then the iron grip on my neck abated and I felt the agony of a fresh breath rattle through my damaged windpipe. The blood rushed back to my head and everything I saw was tinged with red, which I assumed was a side-effect of the near death experience until Jeffrey ran up and began pawing at my face with a towel. The smiling man lay upon me, a golf ball sized hole in his forehead and his blood and brains splattered on my face and the wall behind me.
Knowing Jeffrey's pacifist leanings I confess I half-expected him to come apart after committing such an act of violence, but to his credit he looked more annoyed than anything else as he rolled the body off the bed and wiped me clear of debris, finally dialing 911 only once he was satisfied that I was made sufficiently comfortable.
After firing he had dropped Agent Pierce's gun back down by his body, and for a moment I debated whether he should wipe it down, but in the final analysis all Jeffrey had really done was shoot an intruder who was attempting to murder me, hardly a punishable offense.
The police have come and gone now, taking with them the body of poor Agent Pierce. It is a sad thing that the rest of you never had the opportunity to meet him in the flesh, as he was an intelligent, capable and free-thinking man who-while he admittedly used questionable tactics-was legitimately devoted to seeking justice. Frankly and personally, he and I struck up an extremely warm friendship these past few days, and his sudden, shocking loss is deeply appalling to me on a number of levels.
We have lost two of our number in as many days (no matter what one thought of the demise of Mister Tate, he was ostensibly working on our behalf) and while in the past when we have been laid low by our enemy I have taken it upon myself to exercise my will to bolster our spirits, now I profess that I cannot find the strength. If I had not pressed my desire for justice-or perhaps vengeance-would all these people still be alive today? Would not my son be safe in his home, free of the calumny that now dogs him? In my quest for the truth, have I only visited more violence and evil upon the world?
As I ponder these horrid questions, the practical needs of the moment press down upon me. I had put off hiring security as I was loathe to bring anyone else into a position of danger and also because I doubted that our enemy would see a paralyzed old woman as worth taking the time and effort to kill, but it appears I must take action to protect myself. Jeffrey sweetly volunteered to have me moved to his personal apartment, but he also conceded that his pet beagle's constant barking and face-licking would not assist in easing my mind. First thing in the morning I will hire a professional whose sole function is to protect this house and those dwelling within.
Upon waking we can discuss the many items of interest brought to light in the previous post. I feel we have been granted an astonishing glimpse into the world of our enemy, and imagine we will be dissecting the information it contains for quite some time.
And before I forget, Taras' comments on the conquerors of Kiev spurred me to once again scrutinize the pages of history and find another discrepancy. The book reports that the Roman Empire fell in 476 A.D., and this is incorrect. It met its demise in 477 A.D. I imagine that there are insufficient records available for Doctor Tanaka to perform a thorough accounting of the date's veracity, but once again it is not a number I would ever fail to remember.
I yelled for Jeffrey and Agent Pierce, whom I thankfully had requested stay as my guest while he was in Milwaukee. True to their characters, Agent Pierce began to run toward the grand staircase to the lower level to face whatever danger approached while Jeffrey sprinted to my side to ascertain my condition. Within moments Agent Pierce was backing up into my room, pointing his gun at a dark figure proceeding toward us through the doorway. Agent Pierce identified himself as a federal officer, warned the assailant that he would open fire if he did not cease his advance, then when his words went unheeded he shot the man in the stomach.
Shockingly, the intruder seemed unaffected by the injury and lunged forward. Once in the light I could see that he was black, with untamed hair and a wide, white smile. He reached out with both hands, grasped the sides of Agent Pierce's head and turned it completely around with a sickening crack until his stunned face stared at me over his back, his neck broken, eyes wide open in instant death.
As Agent Pierce's corpse slumped to the carpet, I could see the murderer's dark eyes search the room and lock in on me. His smile never wavered as he slowly stepped up to the foot of my bed and placed a hand between my unfeeling feet, beginning to crawl up the mattress towards me. Jeffrey remained at my side until I said as calmly as I could, "Jeffrey, go now. It is alright. I refuse to die knowing that I have your death on my conscience as well." He hesitated, and again I insisted. "You are relieved, Jeffrey. Thank you." The dark, smiling man crawled up the bed over my body, his grinning face now crossing over my waist, his hand on my sternum.
Finally Jeffrey backed away from my bedside and made a wide circuit toward the bedroom door. "Tell Joshua everything. Tell him... just tell him-" I could say no more as the smiling man's hands slowly closed around my neck and squeezed, his legs straddling my paralyzed torso. I saw stars and the edges of my vision turned black, the sensation of pressure in my head pounding like a hammer. Finally the darkness around the edges of my sight closed in until I could only peer through what appeared to me to be a tiny pinhole, the last thing I imagined I would ever see being my murderer's nightmarish smile.
I heard a pop which I assumed was a blood vessel or some vital part of my anatomy snapping, but then the iron grip on my neck abated and I felt the agony of a fresh breath rattle through my damaged windpipe. The blood rushed back to my head and everything I saw was tinged with red, which I assumed was a side-effect of the near death experience until Jeffrey ran up and began pawing at my face with a towel. The smiling man lay upon me, a golf ball sized hole in his forehead and his blood and brains splattered on my face and the wall behind me.
Knowing Jeffrey's pacifist leanings I confess I half-expected him to come apart after committing such an act of violence, but to his credit he looked more annoyed than anything else as he rolled the body off the bed and wiped me clear of debris, finally dialing 911 only once he was satisfied that I was made sufficiently comfortable.
After firing he had dropped Agent Pierce's gun back down by his body, and for a moment I debated whether he should wipe it down, but in the final analysis all Jeffrey had really done was shoot an intruder who was attempting to murder me, hardly a punishable offense.
The police have come and gone now, taking with them the body of poor Agent Pierce. It is a sad thing that the rest of you never had the opportunity to meet him in the flesh, as he was an intelligent, capable and free-thinking man who-while he admittedly used questionable tactics-was legitimately devoted to seeking justice. Frankly and personally, he and I struck up an extremely warm friendship these past few days, and his sudden, shocking loss is deeply appalling to me on a number of levels.
We have lost two of our number in as many days (no matter what one thought of the demise of Mister Tate, he was ostensibly working on our behalf) and while in the past when we have been laid low by our enemy I have taken it upon myself to exercise my will to bolster our spirits, now I profess that I cannot find the strength. If I had not pressed my desire for justice-or perhaps vengeance-would all these people still be alive today? Would not my son be safe in his home, free of the calumny that now dogs him? In my quest for the truth, have I only visited more violence and evil upon the world?
As I ponder these horrid questions, the practical needs of the moment press down upon me. I had put off hiring security as I was loathe to bring anyone else into a position of danger and also because I doubted that our enemy would see a paralyzed old woman as worth taking the time and effort to kill, but it appears I must take action to protect myself. Jeffrey sweetly volunteered to have me moved to his personal apartment, but he also conceded that his pet beagle's constant barking and face-licking would not assist in easing my mind. First thing in the morning I will hire a professional whose sole function is to protect this house and those dwelling within.
Upon waking we can discuss the many items of interest brought to light in the previous post. I feel we have been granted an astonishing glimpse into the world of our enemy, and imagine we will be dissecting the information it contains for quite some time.
And before I forget, Taras' comments on the conquerors of Kiev spurred me to once again scrutinize the pages of history and find another discrepancy. The book reports that the Roman Empire fell in 476 A.D., and this is incorrect. It met its demise in 477 A.D. I imagine that there are insufficient records available for Doctor Tanaka to perform a thorough accounting of the date's veracity, but once again it is not a number I would ever fail to remember.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Mary: Run That By Again?
Just so I understand:
-You are an agent for Homeland Security but you're going under a false name here?
-You tapped someones phone in Japan?
-You're prepared to believe all the crazy stuff that's in this archive, and will even go so far as to send someone to Russia on an offhand reference from a crazy person that killed themselves literally moments after they wrote it?
Not that I'm complaining about you joining up with us on this, but these things spring to mind.
-You are an agent for Homeland Security but you're going under a false name here?
-You tapped someones phone in Japan?
-You're prepared to believe all the crazy stuff that's in this archive, and will even go so far as to send someone to Russia on an offhand reference from a crazy person that killed themselves literally moments after they wrote it?
Not that I'm complaining about you joining up with us on this, but these things spring to mind.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Yoshida: 13
I said I'm busy.
I believe I remember you. You're the agent who failed so utterly to find my father's killer. I'm pleased you finally at least found some worthy adversaries: a crippled old woman and her nursemaid.
Don't bother me again.
I believe I remember you. You're the agent who failed so utterly to find my father's killer. I'm pleased you finally at least found some worthy adversaries: a crippled old woman and her nursemaid.
Don't bother me again.
Pierce: Stay put
I'll be at Cynthia's house waiting. If that package doesn't arrive by morning all Hell is going to come down on you two. Stay where you are.
Yoshida, I'm not using the same name in this, but I'm the agent you spoke to a year or so ago regarding the virus. I'm glad you seemed to have nothing to do with its creation as you said, but you are still culpable for not turning in Mr. Howland and Miss Stroud when you had the chance. You had better hope that box arrives in the morning as your government would not hesitate to extradite you.
Yoshida, I'm not using the same name in this, but I'm the agent you spoke to a year or so ago regarding the virus. I'm glad you seemed to have nothing to do with its creation as you said, but you are still culpable for not turning in Mr. Howland and Miss Stroud when you had the chance. You had better hope that box arrives in the morning as your government would not hesitate to extradite you.
Pierce: Cease And Desist
Joshua Howland and Mary Stroud, you have one chance and one chance only. Proceed immediately to an office supply store and purchase a large shredding machine. Shred every single page in Doctor Yoshida's file box and ship the destroyed remains to Cynthia's house care of Agent Pierce. There will be no negotiations or bargaining.
Cynthia may be under the impression that her life cannot get any worse, but as I think we all know, she's mistaken. Life in a mansion and life in a penitentiary serving time as an accessory could not be more different, even in her condition.
Do the right thing and do it now. You will be found and you will be caught, and in the meantime Cynthia and even Jeff will be put under arrest if I don't get those shredded files by tomorrow morning.
Cynthia may be under the impression that her life cannot get any worse, but as I think we all know, she's mistaken. Life in a mansion and life in a penitentiary serving time as an accessory could not be more different, even in her condition.
Do the right thing and do it now. You will be found and you will be caught, and in the meantime Cynthia and even Jeff will be put under arrest if I don't get those shredded files by tomorrow morning.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Mary: Fugitives
October 31, 2008: We're on the road and so far everything is going fine. We've got temps in the high sixties and it's a clear, sunny, Dallas morning, which feels quite odd on Halloween being from Wisconsin. My every childhood memory of Trick or Treating is either being dressed as a ladybug (for the extra, fuzzy stuffing) or as a frostbitten Princess.
Seeing as how the entire past week has been one long Halloween nightmare, I'm hoping we catch a break on the actual day itself.
(below: pumpkin. Josh is driving, but he still found time to make me search for and include this photo. My "education" in classic movie bad guys continues despite my complete apathy.)
JOSH: This is the Death Star. You know Darth Vader?
ME: I work, I'm not a nun. I know who he is.
JOSH: Well, did you know that Star Wars was based on-
ME: Don't care.
JOSH: -A foreign film-
ME: Not interested.
JOSH: -Called "The Hidden Fortress"? It's-
ME: (Pretends to be asleep))
I'd like to post more on the specifics of our journey, but I'll wait until we get word on whether or not the agent from Homeland Security will play ball. I'm doubtful, but my skepticism is tempered by my faith in Mrs. Howland's judgment.
Seeing as how the entire past week has been one long Halloween nightmare, I'm hoping we catch a break on the actual day itself.
(below: pumpkin. Josh is driving, but he still found time to make me search for and include this photo. My "education" in classic movie bad guys continues despite my complete apathy.)
JOSH: This is the Death Star. You know Darth Vader?ME: I work, I'm not a nun. I know who he is.
JOSH: Well, did you know that Star Wars was based on-
ME: Don't care.
JOSH: -A foreign film-
ME: Not interested.
JOSH: -Called "The Hidden Fortress"? It's-
ME: (Pretends to be asleep))
I'd like to post more on the specifics of our journey, but I'll wait until we get word on whether or not the agent from Homeland Security will play ball. I'm doubtful, but my skepticism is tempered by my faith in Mrs. Howland's judgment.
Cynthia: Lacesso
The agent from Homeland Security refuses to relent, rightly suspecting me of remaining in contact with Joshua. I have yet another interview with him early tomorrow morning. The questions he is asking and the direction his interrogation is probing leads me to believe that his focus is on the elder Doctor Yoshida's research on the human Calicivirus project. I am pondering allowing him access to this archive as it clearly places the blame for the creation of the virus on three dead men: Yoshida, Leonard and my husband. If the agent believes even part of this record, he might be a very valuable ally with the potential to clear our names. It would be a considerable gamble, but the upside is too significant to ignore. At worst he will simply arrest me on the spot, and this holds no great threat to me as I am already a prisoner of my own body.
Should the agent be inclined to disagree with our assertion of innocence, the two of you should do your best to remain hidden. First thing in the morning check out of the hotel and continue traveling westward. Do not post your location, merely continue your march without leaving a paper trail. Use the identification blanks to forge a new identity for Miss Stroud and purchase a new vehicle paying cash.
I do not know how much of Leonard's post was true and how much was a fabrication of his own mind, but having experienced a good deal of doubt concerning my own mental stability of late, I am of the inclination to take most of what he wrote as at least partially credible. He believed that it was important to recover the murder weapon- the Magician's knife- and it is my opinion that that should be our paramount priority. Whether he was correct or not in his assumptions, the acquisition of evidence in the murder of Mrs. Walentowicz is still a valid goal.
I find myself struggling with placing my innermost thoughts and feelings down in this journal, but as Joshua has reminded me in the past, I cannot ask you to do something I am unwilling to do myself. I shall endeavor to rise above my reticence and communicate what are, for me, subjects I would not under normal circumstances broach in any company.
To wit: if Leonard asked my husband Scott to fund Yoshida's Calicivirus project without informing him what it was he was becoming an accessory to, I will never forgive him for it. While it seems obvious that Leonard had been driven insane in the very last moments of his life, the project went on over the course of years, and he had every chance to amend his decision. He was wise to take the coward's way out, for I would have spent the rest of my own life making every effort to punish him for the loss of my husband. I truly believe that if Scott had not been enmeshed in this filthy business via Leonard/Leopold then he would still be alive today. For this, I will always despise him.
Should the agent be inclined to disagree with our assertion of innocence, the two of you should do your best to remain hidden. First thing in the morning check out of the hotel and continue traveling westward. Do not post your location, merely continue your march without leaving a paper trail. Use the identification blanks to forge a new identity for Miss Stroud and purchase a new vehicle paying cash.
I do not know how much of Leonard's post was true and how much was a fabrication of his own mind, but having experienced a good deal of doubt concerning my own mental stability of late, I am of the inclination to take most of what he wrote as at least partially credible. He believed that it was important to recover the murder weapon- the Magician's knife- and it is my opinion that that should be our paramount priority. Whether he was correct or not in his assumptions, the acquisition of evidence in the murder of Mrs. Walentowicz is still a valid goal.
I find myself struggling with placing my innermost thoughts and feelings down in this journal, but as Joshua has reminded me in the past, I cannot ask you to do something I am unwilling to do myself. I shall endeavor to rise above my reticence and communicate what are, for me, subjects I would not under normal circumstances broach in any company.
To wit: if Leonard asked my husband Scott to fund Yoshida's Calicivirus project without informing him what it was he was becoming an accessory to, I will never forgive him for it. While it seems obvious that Leonard had been driven insane in the very last moments of his life, the project went on over the course of years, and he had every chance to amend his decision. He was wise to take the coward's way out, for I would have spent the rest of my own life making every effort to punish him for the loss of my husband. I truly believe that if Scott had not been enmeshed in this filthy business via Leonard/Leopold then he would still be alive today. For this, I will always despise him.
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