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@@ -46,15 +46,15 @@ It surprised no one that she majored in history. It was even less surprising tha But it was a chance to reclaim stories. And for Chase it was always about the stories. Without the stories there was no point to history. Only statisticians cared who fought whom where and when. Only hindsight ever found a pattern to history, the truth was that history made no more linear sense than the present. Eliminate the illusions and misconceptions about what history is and eventually you discover the kernel of truth that Chase had always known: it is nothing but stories. Lose track of them and you lose everything. -Chase set down the pink slip of paper pulled up a search window on her laptop. She hesitated, staring at the screen. She had been putting off a web search all day because she didn't want to know, she didn't want to lose the mystery. At the same time she had vague sense of unease about the whole thing. The strange encounter with the prostitute had left her feeling strangely exposed. Anyone could walk into the DPMO and ask for her, but whomever had sent the note did not. Yet whomever had sent her the piece of paper obviously knew who she was. What creeped her out more than a little bit was that this person seemed to not only knew the what DPMO was, but apparently had the free time to followed her around. Or perhaps he had only followed her that day. Perhaps, thought Chase, suddenly feeling little sheepish for being paranoid, perhaps this person had in fact gone looking for her at her office and, discovering that she was playing hooky, had simply been pointed in her direction as she walked out of the building. But then why not approach her directly? And even if it wasn't direct for some reason, why employ an outlandish prostitute to deliver your rather simple message. That of couse assumed the woman who handed her the paper was telling the truth. Chase considered for a moment that perhaps the story of the man was simply a ruse, something along the lines of I have this friend... But that seemed preposterous given the circumstances. +Chase set down the pink slip of paper pulled up a search window on her laptop. She hesitated, staring at the screen. She had been putting off a web search all day because she didn't want to know, she didn't want to lose the mystery. At the same time she had vague sense of unease about the whole thing. The strange encounter with the prostitute had left her feeling strangely exposed. Anyone could walk into the DPMO and ask for her, but whomever had sent the note did not. Yet whomever had sent her the piece of paper obviously knew who she was. What creeped her out more than a little bit was that this person seemed to not only knew the what DPMO was, but apparently had the free time to followed her around. Or perhaps he had only followed her that day. Perhaps, thought Chase, suddenly feeling little sheepish for being paranoid, perhaps this person had in fact gone looking for her at her office and, discovering that she was playing hooky, had simply been pointed in her direction as she walked out of the building. But then why not approach her directly? And even if it wasn't direct for some reason, why employ an outlandish prostitute to deliver your rather simple message. That of couse assumed the woman who handed her the paper was telling the truth. Chase considered for a moment that perhaps the story of the man was simply a ruse, something along the lines of *I have this friend...* But that seemed preposterous given the circumstances. She went through her memory, trying to see the people on the street when they had walked out of the building, when they had been talking on their way to the dinner, was their anyone familiar? Anyone that had been there more than once, anyone that was familiar because they were following her? She simply didn't see the world in those terms so there was nothing. She closed her eyes and went through her morning in her mind as though she might suddenly notice lurking in the shadows someone she had never noticed before. Nothing came. You can't will yourself to notice things that you have already not noticed she thought. Or maybe you could, but she was pretty sure you would need a hypnotist. She sighed and poured another glass of wine. Did it really matter? She was interested in the name, not he reasoning behind whomever gave her the name. If she just wanted the story it didn't matter who give her the name or why. The story was there to be found either way, the why didn't really matter. -She shoved the thoughts from her head and focused on the far more interesting question, what did this person expect Chase to do with the name? After turning it over in her head for a while, she decided she would do whatever she would have done if the name had come from her boss rather than some cloak and dagger obsessed individual. She plugged Lt. Otto Lawrence into the search box and hit return. Two dozen hits blinked up instantly. She narrowed the search by date, wrapping it around the years of the war and found almost nothing, which was odd. There should have been an official notice, something posted in the papers by the family. And of course the old War Department's records were also available online, to say nothing of WWII memoires, the sheer volume of which generally meant that almost everyone had been mentioned at some point. In every case Chase had worked so far there had always been an MIA notice or a KIA notice somewhere on the web. She expanded the search to pull in a few years after the war, since she realized that the MIA notice in Lt. Lawrence's file didn't actually have a date. Perhaps Lt. Lawrence had survived World War II and disappeared later in Korea or Vietnam. She added in enough time to cover everything up through the first Gulf War and found a few hits on Lawrence, including a Lawrence foundation, but most of it seemed unrelated. She finished her glass of wine and sat down on the sofa. +She shoved the thoughts from her head and focused on the far more interesting question, what did this person expect Chase to do with the name? After turning it over in her head for a while, she decided she would do whatever she would have done if the name had come from her boss rather than some cloak and dagger obsessed individual. She plugged Lt. Otto Lawrence into the search box and hit return. Two dozen hits blinked up instantly. She narrowed the search by date, wrapping it around the years of the war and found almost nothing, which was odd. There should have been an official notice, something posted in the papers by the family. And of course the old War Department's records were also available online, to say nothing of WWII memoires, the sheer volume of which generally meant that almost everyone had been mentioned at some point. In every case Chase had worked so far there had always been an MIA notice or a KIA notice somewhere on the web. She expanded the search to pull in a few years after the war, since she realized that the MIA notice in Lt. Lawrence's file didn't actually have a date. Perhaps Lt. Lawrence had survived World War II and disappeared later in Korea or Vietnam. She added in enough time to cover everything up through the first Gulf War and found a few hits on Lawrence, including a Lawrence Foundation, but most of it seemed unrelated. She finished her glass of wine and sat down on the sofa. -With little to add to her notes on Lt. Reese Lawrence her mind swung back around to the question of who wanted her to find him. She tried to distract herself. She logged into her news stream, checked the latest weather, and replied to a message from her mother and wondered absently if whomever was, apparently, stalking her--the word made her glance up suddenly and look around the room as if an ax murderer might have suddenly slipped in--was also watching her public news feed. Her profile listed her job for all the world to see and she wasn't shy about posting questions when she needed outside help. If whomever it was knew enough about the DPMO to ask for her they must have also known that she didn't have the rank to charge off on her own whim, pursuing whatever she wanted. Her bosses, on the other hand, had that luxury, so why not ask them? Unless of course there was something about this Lt. Otto Lawrence or something about the nature of his disappearance that the mystery man didn't want revealed to higher ups. So, if the person wanted to know about Lt. Lawrence, but didn't want the military to know about him then why not go to an outsider? +With little to add to her notes on Lt. Reese Lawrence her mind swung back around to the question of who wanted her to find him. She tried to distract herself. She logged into her news stream, checked the latest weather, and replied to a message from her mother and wondered absently if whomever it was that was, apparently, stalking her--the word made her glance up suddenly and look around the room as if an ax murderer might have suddenly slipped in--was also watching her public news feed. Her profile listed her job for all the world to see and she wasn't shy about posting questions when she needed outside help. If whomever it was knew enough about the DPMO to ask for her they must have also known that she didn't have the rank to charge off on her own whim, pursuing whatever she wanted. Her bosses, on the other hand, had that luxury, so why not ask them? Unless of course there was something about this Lt. Otto Lawrence or something about the nature of his disappearance that the mystery man didn't want revealed to higher ups. So, if the person wanted to know about Lt. Lawrence, but didn't want the military to know about him then why not go to an outsider? She dug around the web, looking for freelancers that specialized in veteran affairs. The sort of investigators rich families used when they wanted to solve something quietly. Something off the books. There were a few, but judging by the client lists they were allowed to divulge most would have no trouble accessing the same records Chase could, and probably a lot more. No real reason to not use an outsider. But this person had not. This person was trying to use Chase Kovele. When she phrased it in those terms the whole affair suddenly sounded entirely crazy. Why in the world would anyone want Chase specifically? Chase wrote why at the bottom of an already full sheet of questions and notes about Lt. Lawrence. She drew a box around the question and stared at it while she listened to the rain lashing against the house. The wind was rattling the window boards, but so far everything had held just fine. |