Friday, October 13, 2006


Belarus is charming. I'm stationed in a squalid little hostel that stinks of urine and something dead not far away. The walls are paper-thin. Luckily, I'm not acutally in residence much. I'm here under the guies of getting medical treatments and my papers say I'm from Homyel, a custodian in a children's center. All I'm waiting for is the green light to pull our scientist. I've got my bag of pots and paints to dress him and his papers arrive tonight by courier. His old employer is hot to find him and we are racing the clock. The company has a very big interest in this man's handlers. Fear and rumors say they are working on small nukes and dirty bombs for the market. They are supposed to have access to materials that have been missing for quite some time. "Boris" is also connected and related to top officials in the former Union.

Wil is still working on a plan B for Generva. She is proving hard to connect with. Someone got close to her and now she's scared and recanting everything she said. She won't see us, is never alone, and speaks only through her JAG counsil.

We are putting a team in place in a Kurd stronghold, looking for an Iranian-born insurgent that will be used as the mule for his boss. Pressure on this one is mounting daily. I made a few modifications on scarecrow to allow for delay in delivery to the target, who is banging missus mule on the side. This one will be tricky. The exposure will be third-generation and may take a while, not knowing the mating habits of the mule and his wife. If they are no longer having any kind of sex, this is a waste of time, cause there's not a direct way to infect the wife, who is living in an encampment inside Iran. We're about 40% sure he'll be heading home for a while during the holy month. He makes an annual pilgrimage to his parens' grave near some mosq.

I think I have a handle on Lily. If I can take her, I will. Probably get shot.

What the hell am I dong now?

I’m being sent to South America when I get back home. I'm to help complete an exercise for the military attaché there. There are links to terror that need investigating by myself, Donner, Marg and Wil. This is the result of some electronic snooping that turned up implied relationships with an allied associate that appears to have strayed. Inpro is conducting a recent background check on who this person has been meeting with, where they’ve been going and by whom they may be getting paid above and beyond our salary. The new protocol that we just used will be used again, but with a slight twist: we are taking a clean-up crew with us. One small catch: this person has family and friends there.

Swan didn’t go well. The physiological, emotional and psychological issues associated with these deeper emotions are so amazingly complex, and I imagine we are years away from understanding how to manipulate them in any controlled fashion. We managed to create a psychotic episode that lasted 13 hours. We ended up giving the guy encephalitis to mask the research.

My physical therapy continues. Despite my having pulled a muscle during combat training a couple days ago I plod on. I am determined to recover some of the loss of use in my arm and shoulder. It is improving but is still far from good. I nearly laid my bike down yesterday when the muscle finally fatigued out and I couldn’t hold the clutch. I’d like to contact Stephen about swapping the Speed triple for the Suzuki. It has a softer clutch.

I’m beating around the bush to avoid facing what I know could change everything. I’ve been using microcameras around the lab and projects sector. I want a record of what I’m doing every day. I still can’t shake the feeling that I’m being manipulated via chemical controls. So now I’m checking the data that I’ve recorded. I’m looking for anything that I don’t remember or seems out of the ordinary for my behavior, as I perceive it. I know there have been times that I feel the ‘drone’ bug has been used. Lost time. Lost time on numerous occasions. I fear what this could mean. I can’t find anything in the burn. I wouldn’t expect to. I built these bugs not to show up.

“Why?” I ask myself that a lot. Because they think I’ll balk at some assignment? Because they don’t want me to remember? Because they need a scapegoat? God, there are so many possibilities. There is also the chance that I’m growing paranoid. That the stress of the recent years has taken over and I’m going insane.

There are days that I wake up feeling like I’ve been dreaming huge segments of time; seeing it all through a haze of some kind. This haze seems so thick at times I wonder if I am remembering actual events or imagined ones. The haze resides with me always. It sits right behind my eyes. I can feel it there. See it there, like a huge, solid wall of grey that prevents me from seeing everything clearly. It seems to actually push back when I challenge the barrier.

My mind feels caged and I can’t stop pushing against the bars, trying to see just a little farther each time I stand at the blackness and push. I feel drained from these experiences, as if my conscious mind wishes to go to sleep and forget about all the pain and death and knowledge that rests beyond the grey. But for the small voice urging me on, I would much rather let it all go. Do what the grey tells me; forget about the doubts and unanswered questions. Forget about the guilt of what I have done. Forget about what I am doing, and about to do.What


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