The Angel of Chicago

Part Twelve: Agreement

by

Rodford Edmiston

"We've pulling back from our efforts," said General Conyers, sourly. "Delaying the schedule. They've learned about the repository, but only from documents more than thirty years old. They have no idea what we're doing now, and we must do what we can to reduce the chance of them finding out."

"Why are we acting afraid of these people?" said Major Grimes, angrily. "We have half the nation convinced the empowered and their supporters are dangerous and the rest are on the fence! We need to advance our plans, not pull back!"

"We still don't have enough support in the House," said Simon Dundee, sourly. "Even the Senate isn't looking all that secure."

"All the more reason to start Project Flit right now!"

"The weather's wrong for maximum effect," said Dr. Morton.

"Less effect is better than none! If they shut us down..."

"Not physically possible," said Conyers, confidently. "That building is a fortress. Even if the empowered got in, we could start the countdown. Once that's triggered, there's no way to stop it."

"How do you know they haven't already infiltrated that facility?" said Grimes.

"Now you're just being paranoid. We've checked the integrity and it's solid. Besides, they still think the plan is to use the incinerator. How can they act against something they don't even know exists? Which is why we're pulling back and staying quiet. So they don't find out."

* * *

"That's the problem, isn't it?" said Sam, as he and Melody talked in her office during an afternoon break. "We don't know what they're currently up to. Could be anything."

"There don't seem to be any empowered who can operate like the mystics of folklore and just magically know the unknowable," said Melody, waving her hands. She sighed. "Even those who do have mental powers need something to focus on. So far none have come forward with any additional information connected to the few solid clues we have. Though there have been plenty of fake 'psychics' with important news."

"There aren't that many of empowered mentallists, actually," said Sam. "Also, I understand they try to stay away from mundane problems. Too much emotional turmoil from the thousands or millions who have an interest in the matter."

"The feds are saying they won't investigate; that all the evidence we have is just hearsay, and old hearsay at that. So, it's up to the Fourth Estate and friends to try and figure out whether this is even still a viable threat."

"Well, just bringing things like this out into the light tends to solve the problem," said Sam, though he didn't sound as reassured as he likely meant to. "Bureaucrats backtrack, people are fired or transferred, evidence is destroyed, just in case... If nothing else, we probably bought ourselves some time."

"Now I'm remembering something Aaron said to me," said Melody, quietly. "'Politics perceives facts and reason as flaws and acts to suppress them.'"

* * *

Blackpool was taking chances. He knew that not only had general security in federal facilities been improved in recent weeks, but the places he was thought most likely to be invading were among those now most stringently protected. Unfortunately for Blackpool's efforts, those analysts were right in their evaluation of his targets, at least partially. That increased security was why he had taken so long to get to this particular target. He'd hoped he wouldn't have to.

So far, he'd gotten away with his searches, despite a few more close calls. They stepped up their security; he became more cautious.

However, there were only so many places which might have further information. Worse, even he didn't know about all of them. Or exactly what those places he did know about might actually have.

One thing he had discovered provided little new insight but was a confirmation of his suspicions. The mercenaries who had attacked Haven - and the sniper who had nearly killed Blackpool - were part of a group which frequently performed dirty work for some parts of the US government. None of the prisoners were talking, even to Aaron. Blackpool wanted to get a telepath in to interrogate them, but they were scarce and there were multiple legal restrictions on their use.

Currently, Blackpool was surveying what he figured was the worst place for him to try and penetrate: The illegal chemical storage facility. Officially it didn't even exist. Blackpool had still managed to learn where it was. He made sure that all of his pertinent discoveries from the past few days were properly distributed, then began his operation.

Blackpool watched the compound for three days, using a small telescope from a nearby peak. For a while he thought me might be able to sneak in on one of the trucks or staff cars. However, he noted that at both of the gates there was some sort of large, metallic plate installed flush with the pavement. Probably a scale. Most likely, if the weight of the vehicle differed by more than could be accounted for by fuel consumption from a previous weighing at departure, it would be more thoroughly searched. Even more thoroughly than the current stringent examinations.

No, it appeared that the only way in was through proper authorization or brute force. He'd have to turn his attention elsewhere.

* * *

Melody was only mildly surprised when Federal Deputy Marshals arrived at her office and arrested her.

"What's the charge?" she said, as they cuffed her.

"Espionage."

She actually laughed out loud at that.

"You're kidding. That's the best they could come up with?"

As they led her towards the elevators she saw that other Marshals were gathering papers. Some people protested; others didn't. She was the only one being arrested.

Don't they realize one of the first things we did was make more copies? she wondered. She sighed. I'm probably going to be a figurehead in some show trial. I'm glad we have very good lawyers.

* * *

Finally! thought Blackpool, as he found something which gave him hope for a new source of information.

Interestingly, the break came from a magazine article about documents donated to a Presidential library a few years earlier. He had been chasing down some of the names mentioned in the old documents in which he had first found mention of the chemical repository. One in particular had lead to a dead man. A dead man who had been closely involved with both a past president and the chemical repository. All Blackpool had to do was locate where the donated papers had been stored.

Two days later, he was in yet another dusty storeroom full of forgotten documents.

Ironically, the deceased had been involved in a project to destroy the chemicals. To clean up the mess before the violation became public knowledge. Unfortunately, only a few drums had been incinerated before a problem had been discovered. Blackpool didn't know what he might find in those papers. Maybe there would be diagrams of the place he could use for access.

He found the relevant set of boxes, and in them the folder he wanted. He put the box back and left as quietly as he had arrived.

* * *

Melody was in jail for nearly a week before finally being arraigned. She'd had a few visits from members of the law firm the paper kept on retainer; interestingly, they seemed hopeful.

In court she was shackled hand and foot, still in prison garb. The prosecution - several federal government attorneys - presented their case. It sounded pretty damning, though she noted they gave few details or hard facts. Then the chief of Melody's defense team stood.

"Your Honor, leaving aside for a moment the duty of the press to uncover illegal activities, no matter whom that inconveniences, we object to the evidence presented by the prosecution."

"The evidence is solid, Your Honor!" shouted one of the prosecutors.

"Young man," said the judge, peering over his glasses at him, "if this were a regular trial I'd hold you in contempt for that outburst. Hold you tongue and wait your turn!"

"Yes, Your Honor," said the man, not in any way chastened.

Melody's lawyer went on to list the problems with the evidence, not least of which was its age.

"Moreover, the federal government has said, more than once, that these documents are either fakes, created to embarrass the United Sta..."

"All the more reason to jail her for spreading such lies!"

"This is your last warning," said the judge.

"*Ahem* That they are either fakes or just hearsay, and old hearsay at that. However, not only have researchers found corroboration from other - non-secure - sources for much of this information, but many others at other journalistic institutions have also spoken of them. None of those men and women have been arrested. The fact that my client has speaks of singling her out for harassment. To make an example of her as a deterrent to others."

He looked expectantly at the prosecution, but they all stayed wisely quiet. He put down the notes he held and turned back to the judge.

"Accordingly, we move these charges be dismissed and my client released."

The prosecution took their turn next, primarily reiterating their opening accusations. Then the defense rebutted. This went on for over an hour before the judge called a halt.

"It is clear to me that this is a case of someone uncovering information embarrassing to some members of the current administration," said the judge. "Given the age of the evidence, the way it was presented, the fact that some of it has been corroborated by non-secure sources and the general clumsiness of the prosecution I am not only dismissing the charges, I'm doing so with prejudice. This is not a country where the government can be allowed to bully a free press."

He brought his gavel down smartly, then immediately rose and exited. More than just the youngest member of the prosecution shouted in protest, but he ignored them.

"Well, that's a relief," said Melody. "I don't suppose you can take me to get my belongings?"

"Young lady," said the chief attorney on her team, beaming, "it would be my pleasure."

* * *

Blackpool sat in his cheap motel room and considered what he had learned. He still wasn't sure he believed it. The documents had been writing only - no illustrations - but what they revealed was most illuminating. As well as disturbing.

The man who had collected them had been put in charge of destroying the chemicals, yes. However, he had decided that at the very least a major upgrade of the incinerator needed to be made. More likely, an entirely new method of disposal would be required. He had considered several suggestions as to how to accomplish the task. One idiot (the deceased man's description) had suggested just letting the chemicals leak out through the exhaust vents, to be dispersed on the wind to safe levels. A follow-up had shown that doing this slowly enough not to poison people, livestock or wildlife would take a nearly a century.

Several other methods were mentioned, some absurd and some potentially workable. However, there was one which was downright frightening.

Someone had suggested putting a low-yield, very clean nuclear device in the lowest level of the complex, then evacuating and detonating. Not only would this violate multiple international treaties the US was signatory to - keeping in mind that the author had actually been put in charge of removing such a violation - but studies showed that anything potent enough to ensure destruction of all the chemicals would be in the megatonne range. In fact, further examination of the idea revealed that a nuke which would crack the repository wide open would barely affect most of of the chemicals. The result would be a mixture of still active, toxic material dumped into the environment as a fine aerosol, which could be carried on the wind over a huge swath of North America. Some of the chemicals would still be in dangerously potent doses still by the time the cloud reached the Atlantic.

Blackpool was chilled. He now knew with certainty what those behind the plot intended. He just wished he could see how to stop them. He also still didn't know why they would even consider doing this!