CoC - Delta Green - Down in the Delta.pdf

(180 KB) Pobierz

Received: from ASX55.COM (10.199.28.51) by ASX55HMPS303.Sorebrek.COM (10.197.152.98) with Microsoft SMTP Server

(TLS) id 14.2.309.2; Mon, 08 Apr 2002 06:26:39 -0500

Received: from asxssl104.Sorebrek.COM (10.197.152.153) by asx7s303.Sorebrek.COM (10.164.14.41) with Microsoft

SMTP Server id 3.3.4.1; Mon, 08 Apr 2002 06:26:36 -0500

Authentication-Results: asxssl104.Sorebrek.COM;

X-SBRSIP: 174.9.22.2

X-SBRS: 5.6

X-HAT: Sender Group None, Policy $ACCEPTED applied.

X-MAIL-FROM: x@socom.mil

X-RCPT-TO: X@Sorebrek.COM

X-LoopCount0: from 199.199.201.4

X-IronPort-Anti-Spam-Filtered: true

X-IronPort-Anti-Spam-Result:

At0BAA+iMFLb2JhbABYA4JDfFLAJYEBCBQJNQeCJwIDgQsBKh05F6BiBI4hgRhJgwyBAAOIf6QOPIE1OQ

X-IronPort-AV: E=Sophos;i="4.90,885,137109";

d="scan'208,217";a="14223"

Received: from vlaw.socom.mil (HELO NVZRJ02-N.private) ([199.199.103.222]) by ausxssl104.Sorebrek.COM with

ESMTP/TLS/AES128-SHA; 08 Apr 2002 06:26:14 -0500

Received: from dagnvzr.socom.mil ([174.234.1.279]) by CASNVZR.socom.mil ([214.1.4.111]) with mapi id

1.127.13218.000; Mon, 08 Apr 2002 07:26:35 -0400

From: "<GRAHAM>"

To: "<ALPHONSE>"

Subject: <Missing Canary>

Thread-Topic: <G>

Thread-Index: Ac6vahe3yR6xNrDk3Xy+jy11pA==

Date: Mon, 08 Apr 2002 11:26:12 +0000

Message-ID: <766C3DHF2hj38ah378hajdbaE0C@dagnvzr-n.socom.mil >

Accept-Language: en-US

Content-Language: en-US

X-MS-Has-Attach:

X-MS-TNEF-Correlator:

x-originating-ip: [111.25.1.245]

Content-Type: multipart/alternative;

Alphonse,

I think we've got a situation developing. One of my canaries just pulled a Judge Crater.

Here's the skinny:

The canary's name is Luther Marks, a history instructor at Loyola University in New Orleans. He's a Jesuit

Father, been around the planet twice and seen some seriously bad shit. And not just the usual genocides and

nazi-style anti-insurgency campaigns you get in those perpetually doomed Third-world toilets. He's seen our

particular brand of seriously bad shit too.

I first used Father Marks as a researcher on a night at the opera in New Orleans six years ago, the Krewe

of Cassilda situation. Without him we would never have gotten Pomeroy locked up at Southeast Louisiana

Hospital in Mandeville. Marks kept an eye on Pomeroy afterwards and warned us during the winter of '99 about

his second attempt to manifest the King. Father Marks is not squeamish about the work we do. He kept watch for

the hospital staff while Agent Charlie and I performed the trans-ocular lobotomy on Pomeroy.

Father Marks has been the perfect New Orleans canary. He's a local and is well versed on all the dirt the local

families, politicians and notables are carrying around with them. Plus he is an excellent researcher. Fluent

in Latin, French, and Spanish, not to mention a half-dozen defunct medieval languages. He has first-rate

contacts with the various departments at Loyola, the Archdiocese, and Tulane University. Without those

contacts in the Archeology Dept. at Tulane, we wouldn't have been able to intervene as quickly as we did when

that "Jade Skirt" thing started drinking blood back in '98. No telling how high the body count could have gone

if he hadn't detected and reported the preternatural elements of the case.

So, short version is that he's sharp, reliable, and doesn't jump at shadows. He's never sent us anything he

didn't thoroughly check out first, so when I get a tip from him I know its solid. He's even sniffed out one or

two of our operations in progress, which I dutifully brushed him off of.

Anyway, the last couple of months something has been making Father Mark nervous. He dropped some hints

the last couple of times we communicated through the dead drop, but wouldn't give me any details. He kept

insisting that he just wasn't ready, that he wanted to be sure before he made a fool of himself.

This morning I went to service the dead drop in Audubon Park and what I found alarmed me. The text

transcribes as follows:

"Graham,

4/6/02

"I know you've told me you cannot answer questions about the Group, [It's what he calls us. I've never shared

anything with him about Delta Green, but he's pretty much figured out we're public sector and that our mission

is geared towards dealing with paranormal threats to public safety and national security that other agencies

aren't equipped to handle.] but perhaps you can ask yourself this question about the Group:

"What's the biggest crisis the Group is capable of handling? At what point are events simply beyond your

peoples' means to control? That may seem like an odd question, but it's one that has been occupying my every

waking thought for the last weeks.

"I'm afraid that the secret I've stumbled onto may be too big, too deep, and too old. I can't say much here,

except that it has to do with New Orleans politics and corruption. And when I say corruption, I'm not talking

about the usual bribes and kickbacks. I'm talking about the stink of the rotting dead.

"It's a singularly loathsome secret, my old friend. A secret that may be the underlying foundation of this

festering, over-built swamp we call a city.

"Maybe it was planned this way from the beginning? All the way back to 1718, when Nouvelle-Orleans was

nothing more than a cluster of shanties built by convict labor? Even in those first days, this was a city of

slow death and debauchery. Yellow Fever, sometimes called "Yellow Jack," regularly boiled out of the swamps

to ravage the population. While the last great epidemic was in 1905, for two centuries the plague season from

July to October was the dominating principle of every resident's life. Young or old, rich or poor, everyone

bowed before Yellow Jack. The outbreaks between 1850 and 1855 were the worst, with something like ten percent

of the city's population dying every year. Of course, at the same time, New Orleans was at the pinnacle of its

power, wealth and influence as the most important port in the nation.

"At first I thought that there was a connection between the city's economic success and the plagues, as if

the plague victims were sacrifices to some hungry god to ensure a successful harvest. But now I think the

cadavers themselves are really the fuel for some terrible engine.

"Before I can tell you what I think is going on, I need proof. Otherwise I'm just another conspiracy theorist

crank. New Orleans has had more than its fair share of those, and I don't care to be lumped in with the likes of

Jim Garrison. Even so, I couldn't take the chance that something could happen to me before our next scheduled

dead drop. Maybe this is just high drama. I can't seem to differentiate between paranoia and prudence.

"If anything happens to me before my next dead drop, I urge you to look hard at the circumstances, no matter

what they may appear to be or who may presents the facts to you. I'm on to something and I feel as if they are

also on to me."

"L.M."

The drop was dated two days ago. Or at least the letter was. I have no clue when he dropped his letter off,

but having read it I immediately called him. He isn't a paranoid. He isn't prone to fearful ranting. To get

something like that from him means that he's into something he needs help getting out of immediately.

Plik z chomika:

gladzio666

CoC - Delta Green - Down in the Delta.pdf

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: