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05 October 2007 @ 07:27 pm
Oof. Well, I got back to Leuven a couple of days ago, and pretty much fell straight into bed with a nasty cold. I've been staying with one of the postdocs in the department here, and it's kind of dull lying on my back in her spare room all day, because most of her books are in Spanish and I can't read them.

So I went trawling around on YouTube and ran across a silly student film whose creators were asking for remixes. I thought it was cute and moved on ... and then as I was about to nod off I remembered that Song Fight had done a throwdown using the title Ninja Gang. That was how I'd stumbled across the Frontalittle Squad, and, well ...

... yeah, I like nerdcore. So?

Look. That was a good five hours where I didn't have to think about anything else. The questions don't even leave me alone in my dreams. I know they're not going to until I find Lam again, and I know I'm just making myself feel guilty for wanting a little peace and quiet. But I can't help it.

I'm going back to our flat tonight; all that's really left is a hacking cough, and Bronchodine can take care of that. I hope I find something. Anything at all.
Current Mood: numbnumb
01 October 2007 @ 07:02 pm
I don't think there's much more I can do here in Vienna, but I'll be in touch soon.
30 September 2007 @ 12:25 am
I've kind of been avoiding the computer for the last couple of days, but there's a lot of stuff in my paper journal that I've been meaning to transcribe. I'm still alive, though, even if it doesn't exactly feel like it sometimes.
Current Location: Vienna
Current Mood: depresseddepressed
21 September 2007 @ 03:01 pm
I typed this up in emacs while I was on the plane, so I hope the line-wraps are all right. I'm sniping wireless from an access point that must be a block away from this cafe, so the connexion is terrible, and my train to Zurich leaves in less than an hour. And I'm not even sure where to begin.

At the beginning, I guess. I'm not sure what I'm heading into, and that scares me, but I'm going to go against my nature and create some kind of public record, just in case I'm not around to update later.

So here are the high points: I'm in Geneva. I'm looking for my husband. He was supposed to fly here on Thursday morning and take a train to Zurich, to meet with a chemist he'd been talking to over email (from what I can tell, by the name of Spencer Gilman). So far I've managed to learn from his airline that he did board his plane, from our online bank account information that he spent $69.12 on something in the Geneva train station -- that's about 81 CHF, and that checks out with what the station agent quoted me for the ticket I just bought -- and from his hotel in Zurich that he never checked in.

It's a boggler of a place to start, that's for certain. But it's not really the beginning.

If you're reading this, you may already know that not so long ago, a young woman received just the sort of advice I mentioned above -- creating a public record -- from a fellow who went by the name of Mr. Zipp. Apparently she didn't go quite public enough, and she was last seen being dragged, lifeless, into a trailer.

Not too long after my husband and I learned about her story, we also learned about another girl who was being stalked and who's still missing.

It's a sick world out there, people. Bad things happen, and people die.

I'm not afraid of death. I haven't come as personally close to it as some people I know have; the closest was when my two-day-old daughter died, and the doctors wouldn't even let us see the body, wouldn't let us hold her one last time. But I'm not afraid of it, and I'm willing to play human shield if that's what it takes. It's why I went into the military, and I wish I'd gotten to do more before I left. I'd rather help teach people to stand on their own and take care of themselves -- teach a man to fish, and all that -- but not everyone can learn fast enough. So I suppose that's what people like me are for. And then there's my husband; if he's gone ahead of me into the dark, then all that remains is for me to follow him, and take whoever brought him there along for the ride.

But right now I'm retracing his steps. I first got worried yesterday afternoon around three, because he'd said he expected to be in Zurich well before his check-in time and would call me from the station. He never did. By nine PM I was well and truly panicking, as all I had was his hotel information -- nothing about who he was supposed to go meet.

Come to find out, the name Spencer Gilman is apparently rather well known to a group of people we've been working with on IRC, investigating the murder I mentioned above. Apparently he's not in Zurich at all (or might have been for a while, but isn't now). So I'm wondering who that email was really from.

I quickly googled for my husband's handle and noticed a peculiarly inquisitive response. I recognised that handle; this "Luminous" person had been asking my husband some rather pointed questions about his background, in that same IRC channel. The "Location: Facility J" thing bothers me, too. If that's the same Facility J in New Jersey that my husband had dealings with back when he was working for the DIA, there's going to be hell to pay. That chapter of our lives is over. There is life after government work, particularly when you're a librarian married to a chemist, damn it all. I'm not getting dragged back in and neither is he.

In any case, I called "Luminous" out, over IRC. I was rather surprised at the speed with which it turned into a rapid-fire interrogation session -- with me in the hot seat. Luminous is a pro, there's no doubt about that -- and the irony of her accusing me of hiding some sort of purported intelligence-world connexions, while making remarkably adept use of PSYOP-style interrogation and misdirection techniques, was certainly not lost on me. She's got talent, I'll give her that much. But it was frustrating, and ultimately fruitless, indeed harmful; I lost valuable time I could have spent preparing. I won't let myself be hindered like that again.

In any case, we continue to distribute our efforts. My husband's godson Lorne will be travelling to Nacogdoches soon, attempting to track down some loose ends in the Maddison Atkins mystery. Meanwhile, I have other work to do. I feel bad for having given up on the puzzle I was trying to solve, but I'll come back to it later once my husband is safe and sound.

I can't go into too much more detail here, but the right people can figure out what I'm saying if they listen closely:

Damn it all. I talk too much. Train's coming. Time to go. Uploading this now.

I just hope he's had an accident and is in the hospital, or something like that. The alternatives are unthinkable.