Mr. MacIntosh - 

My name is Martin DuQuense, and I am a licensed private investigator in San Francisco, employed by the firm of Armitage Investigations Inc.

In the course of making inquiries with regards to a case, I came across an account of your experiences with the Keeping Promises organization. As your experiences with said organization may have bearing on the case in question, I am writing you with the hopes that you would consider discussing your experiences with me.

Should you feel comfortable with this, you may reply to this message, or contact me through my company's offices at (415)989-2458 Ext. 5674, at your convenience.

I look forward to the opportunity to converse with you on this subject.

 Martin DuQuense
www.ai-inc.com

From: Russ_MacIntosh@bbros.com
Sent: October 14, 1997 10:43AM
To: <md@ai-inc.com>
Subject: RE: Request for information

Mr. DuQuense,

I'd be more than happy to tell you about my experience with Keeping Promises. While I still admire and try to live up to the organization's spiritual goals, I found that once I let the men in my prayer circle know about my paranormal powers, the situation turned ugly, and I could no longer trust KP. Since puberty, I've been able to dream-walk -- that is, I'm able to travel out of my body and observe people and places while I'm asleep.

At first, I'd been relieved to share my burden with others, and thought I'd found support. I'd felt cursed by God with this ability to dream-walk, and wanted to know why. However, what I got was the farthest thing from support possible. I was told, several days after I'd made my revelation, that I would need to come to the KP Headquarters in Southern California for a period of spiritual cleansing. I thought this was a little strange, but I complied. I was also somewhat honored.

Once there, however, I found the situation to be bizarre. While I'd expected prayer and counseling, instead I found interrogation and pressure to be "cleansed." I didn't like the way the word "cleansed" was said around me, and I became even more suspicious. When I realized I hadn't dream-walked since I'd gotten there, I began to fear I was being drugged with something that inhibited my power. My suspicions proved correct -- and when I dream-walked, I found that the KP headquarters housed something even more sinister. I overheard a conversation with the founder of KP and one of his aides which led me to believe that they wished not to save me, but to take samples of me and ultimately kill me. I got the hell out of there the only way I could, and it had a lot more to do with my time in the Marines than it did with dream-walking.

I know that the public thinks I'm bonkers, Mr. DuQuense. I have no proof, and I've been horribly discredited. I knew when I took on the organization that this would happen, and I had hoped it would help my credibility -- KP is a group with a very positive public image, as you know. As it stands, I'll be lucky to finish graduate school, and my wife has left me. I don't mean to sound so bitter, but the organization I thought had saved my life a year ago has destroyed it.

 Thank you so much for your sincere interest --

 Russ MacIntosh.

 Martin blinks several times after he finishes reading the message, and then very slowly sets his mug of tea down on the cup warmer next to his computer. Selecting the "Print" button with his mouse, he stands up and waits for the message to run through the buffer and finish printing, his thoughts darting back and forth over points in the letter. Well, that would explain part of what's going on, he admits to himself. Of course he could be a nutcase too - can't jump to any conclusions here. Still....

The printer beeps, signaling the message is through printing, and Martin scoops it up as he steps into the hall, narrowly missing a collision with a file-laden Tran as he does so. "Whoops!" Side-stepping out of her way, he offers, "Do you need a hand with those?"

"Oh, I got it," she says, wiping some hair from her nose. She's been growing her hair out, and today it's white with green tips, matching the green wool suit she's wearing. Quite conservative for Tran, actually --and to top it off, she seems, well, she seems happy. "Did’ja need anything?" she asks. Then she peers at him closely. "No, you look happy. What happened?"

With a half grin, Martin shakes his head and says, "Charlie always called it my 'gotcha smirk' back on the Force." He holds up the printed e-mail slip so Tran can read it, "I just got this from a guy who might have given me the crack I was looking for to poke my crowbar into on this virus-thing."

"I heard about this guy in the news," Tran says, handing it back after reading it. "No one believes him -- KP is denying that he ever belonged, and everyone says it's an attempt to discredit the organization -- and you know how much a media darling they are now. Hmmm," she says, nibbling on a green fingernail. "Makes me wonder, though. Have you thought about, well, maybe joining up and seeing if you can't find out for yourself?"

"Actually," Martin replies thoughtfully, "I hadn't gotten that far. I was planning on checking with David and seeing if I could fly back East, or fly him here, and talk with this guy in person. It'd give me a chance to make a call on his sincerity, and maybe ask a few more questions. It's a thought though...."

"Interesting idea," she says thoughtfully. "How about I go with you when you go -- I'm pretty good at judging the sincerity of people." She smiles, showing pointy canines.

"Sounds good to me - I'll never turn down backup," Martin answers. "I'll float it past David when I speak to him." How does she do that? he thinks, I'd wind up sticking my tongue sixty times a day.

"He's back from his hunting trip," she says offhandedly. "And preparing to find a place to mount some ducks in his office."

"Dead birds beat more fertility statues any day," Martin chuckles.

"Well, he seems to be enjoying the great white hunter role," she says frankly. "I think this is the first time in his life he's ever been able to relax and do the things he wants to. He's in there smoking a cigar right now."

Martin makes a face and says, "Bleah. I might wait a minute then, no sense disturbing him while he's relaxing..." Canting his head to one side, he asks, "How're you doing? You're good spirits yourself."

"Not bad, not bad at all," she says, with what almost sounds like a giggle.

The last time I heard someone sound like that was Mother talking about that assistant professor she's seeing, Martin thinks. If I didn't know better... he blinks, Why would I know better? Tran can fall for someone just as quick as anyone else. Let's see, who's she been... oh, of course.... "How's Isaac doing?" he asks casually.

"He's doing quite well," she sighs. "He's been getting used to the nineties better than I'd have thought possible. The visit with his sister upset him some, but he's getting past it. There'd been a lot of talk as to whether or not we'd let anyone know who he really is, or just set up another identify for him, but right now, he's still deciding, and spending all his free time catching up on how much engineering's changed in the last forty or so years. He has his own computer now," she adds, moving towards the wall so that Anna can pass with laptop and coffee in hand. "And AutoCAD, so he's pretty much content. Between the computer, following NASA web sites, and going to Robot Wars, he's been doing well."

"Good," Martin says sincerely. "I hoped he'd be able to make the leap - he struck me as a pretty good guy who got really screwed." A glint dances across his eyes, and he asks, "Ever get him up to speed on watching the Red Shoe Diaries?"

"Err, well, no," she says. Was that a blush? Hard to tell under florescent lighting, but she seems embarrassed. "But he's become a diehard Spice Girls fan."

Chuckling, Martin smiles, "Well, keep trying - if anyone can do it, you're the one," he replies innocently. "As far as the Spice Girls go, it could be worse I suppose. At least he didn't fixate on rap music." 

She rolls her eyes. "That would be too much." She seems about to say something else, but then, behind him, Martin's office phone rings.

"Don't run off," he asks Tran, ducking back into his office. "Something else I wanted to ask you." Snatching the phone on the third ring, he winces as he whacks his shin on the edge of his desk and hops on one foot for a second. "Hel--" he gets out, before getting cut off.

"Look, Martin, this is Mira. I don't have much time. I just had lunch with a reporter named MacGowan -- freelancer, doing an article for the Atlantic about the same thing we are. Edwards was a bust -- he talked a lot and didn't tell me a thing. But I learned from MacGowan that he has an informant in Rubicon, and she says that Annaliese Randolph has been working on some hush-hush project recently. Very secret -- only she and a couple of assistants are allowed in the secure area. And that they've been a lot of suits coming for presentations after hours. AND that his informant recognized one of these suits from her husband's videotape of a Keeping Promises rally as one of the speakers." She sounds rushed and excited.

"Great work partner, that dovetails with something I turned up today," Martin says, his 'gotcha smirk' unconsciously growing wider as Mira speaks. "Did this guy tell you who his source was?"

"He wouldn't give me the name of his informant, but he said that she's part of the computer information systems office there, if that helps. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to leave this case up to you -- MacGowan gave me a tip on something really big, and I'd be a fool not to follow this lead."

"Whoa, slow down Mira," Martin says, scrabbling for a pen and dashing off notes as fast as he can. "Where are you? What kind of lead?" He glances at Tran helplessly, already starting to dread the words he feels are coming. She’s going to go after it all by herself, I know it. "Don't go off without some backup."

"I'll be fine," she says offhandedly. "It's just really big -- I'll have enough to finally break the whole story about my father, once and for all."

"Your father?" Martin repeats, his former fears vanishing in the advance of a much greater set. Oh God, she’s going to go kiting off after this lead without a thought for... "Wait a minute Mira, don't go rushing off into this until I get there. Where are you?" 

"I've got to go," she says more insistently. "Look, tell Armitage I'm sorry, OK? I just can't wait on this."

"No, wait - Stafford," Martin manages to get out before the sound of her good bye and the dial tone registers on his ears. He pulls the phone back from his ear and stares at it for a minute before setting it down on its cradle. "Damn," he says quietly to no one in particular. Wherever you're going, be safe Mira.

"David?" Martin asks from his employer's office doorway, "You have a minute?"

The smell of cigar smoke reaches Martin's nostrils before he even sees the ducks mounted on the wall.

"Martin, come in," Armitage says, stubbing the cigar out in a brass antique ashtray. "How is the investigation going?" The owner of AI Inc looks relaxed, though despite his casual clothing, he still retains some of his military bearing.

"Well," Martin starts, a bit uncomfortably, "it was pretty slow for the first few days, but Mira and I both ran across pieces of unrelated information that corroborate each other today - I think we're onto something solid." Moving into the room, he glances at the door for a moment, then looks back at David. "Do you mind?" he asks, indicating the door.

Armitage sits up straighter in his chair, and shakes his head. "No, not at all. Is everything all right? You don't look like a man who's broken a case." 

Carefully closing the door, Martin moves over and takes a seat opposite David, shaking his head, "Don't feel too much like one either." He sighs, and rubs at his temples for a moment. "Let me go through this by the numbers, it won't make it any easier, but I won't have to explain it twice that way."

Taking a deep breath, he starts, "Our checking didn't turn up much of anything unusual for a corporation like Rubicon - until we got to the part of their finances where their research grants are listed. They had a couple from the government for what we're guessing is Cyberline research - no big surprise there - and only a few from outside corporations: one from Gablespace, and a standout grant of almost two million from the Keeping Promises organization."

"Interesting," Armitage says, raising one eyebrow.  "For what?" 

Martin shrugs, "The stated reason is buried in Keeping Promises' financial disclosure records - we've got somebody requesting them now to dig around and find it. But," his mouth twists as if tasting something sour, "I think I've got a pretty good idea what it is without looking at whatever bogus reason they listed to the IRS." Leaning forward, he hands the printed e-mail message to David across the desk.

The older man's eyebrows raise as he reads the printout. "This is worth checking out in person," he says. "I'm a little skeptical that he's so forthcoming with the story, but then, if he's not been getting any attention, he might just be overeager." He pauses. "Err, whenever you do meet with this guy, why don't you take Tran along? She's an exceptional judge of character."

"I think that's probably a good idea. "Martin agrees. "It's always good to have more than one person at an interview like this, particularly when there's a chance that the subject might be deluding themselves."

"This reminds me of something else," Armitage says a few moments later. "Didn't really think much of it at the time -- it may or may not mean anything. But about a month after my father died, I was approached by a prominent businessman on the East Coast -- name of Edgar Garrison. He is, by the way, one of Keeping Promises' biggest supporters, and often one of their speakers at the rallies, or whatever they call them. At any rate, he was very insistent that he purchase an item -- a very old Spanish amulet -- that he claimed my father had promised to sell him. Well, the amulet had been given to him by a friend after the First World War, and he had, in turn, given it to my mother as an engagement gift. She returned it, later," he adds. "But of course he'd never have promised it to anyone else, and when Garrison became unpleasant about the situation, I informed him of that. Then he said something I found odd, and at the time I just assumed meant Keeping Promises. He said, 'It makes little difference whether you sell me the amulet or not, Armitage. Rapture will change all of that.'

"Now, at the time I just thought it was that much more fundamentalist crap," he says candidly. "I showed him the door and never heard another word. But I heard something else -- I had dinner with Daniel Johnson, the Golden Avenger, last week, and he told me that PRIMUS has been investigating a string of attacks on abortion and family planning clinics in the South. A group calling itself Rapture has been claiming all the glory -- and PRIMUS was called in because there have been reports of paranormal powers exhibited by the masked attackers. Now, with what you're saying, I'm wondering if there isn't another connection, too."

Martin frowns, "I think I can add a bit more to that - I might not have given MacIntosh as much credit as I am if Mira hadn't phoned in a tip she got from a reporter for the Atlantic about Keeping Promises executives having some connection to a project out at Rubicon. Something about Dr. Annaliese Randolph working on a closed-door project that the reporter's contact recognized a visitor to - the contact claimed that they'd recognized the man as the speaker from a Keeping Promises rally her husband had on videotape."

"That is interesting," Armitage says.  "Very interesting, as a matter of fact." His steely eyes narrow as he becomes lost in some thought. "After interviewing this chap, what do you propose then? I know Dr. Emori wants to see whoever at Rubicon brought to justice, but I'm starting to think this is more complex than we'd initially thought. Should we have Mira's alter ego expose it?"

Martin looks thoughtful. "Well, that would solve the immediate difficulty that I see looming with this case. That being thousands of middle-aged Fundamentalists showing up on my doorstep at two in the morning for 'destroying' the organization that 'saved their lives'." He shakes his head. "Like I really need that."

"If this guy McGowan is on the up and up, I'm all for letting him and The Atlantic take the heat. However, I do have a couple of other thoughts running around in the back of my mind." He looks at Armitage for a second. "Did the Avenger happen to mention what kind of metahuman powers these... individuals were manifesting? Energy projection powers, perhaps?"

Armitage nods. "If you don't think Mira will mind, sure, he can handle the story, then. Though he may need to come to us for protection afterwards." 

Martin grimaces. "Somehow I don't think Mira's going to mind too terribly much."

"Giving away a story? I don't know -- reporters can be touchy about those things," Armitage says. "But hopefully she'll see she doesn't want that type of attention. Not really the kind of story the Atlantic would run, though."

Martin pauses at David's last words, "I hadn't thought of that," he says slowly. "Maybe I ought to check this guy out myself - especially considering what else he..." Martin breaks off in mid-sentence and sighs, "Especially considering what else he told Mira," he finishes.

 "What do you mean?" Armitage asks, curious. "Did he know anything else about the case?"

Okay, you knew this was coming - just take a breath, stay calm, and tell David the truth. Everything will be... No, dammit, she's my... she was my partner... at least I owe her something for that.... "He also gave her some kind of tip that related to her father and a cover-up or something," Martin begins slowly. "She... requested that I ask for a Leave of Absence for her to check it out."

"Her father? Hmm," Armitage says, looking thoughtful. "Where did she say she was going?"

Shaking his head, Martin sighs, "She didn't. I barely got that much out of her she was so worked up. I figure to look up Mr. McGowan and have him relate it to me as well - just in case."

"That's a good idea," Armitage says. "I'd like to hear it as well -- I'm more familiar with the particulars surrounding her father's death, and information of that type is rare indeed. Let me know when you do."

"You're at the top of the list," Martin answers. Right behind me.

Martin pauses, and looks at Armitage for a second, as if a thought is just occurring to him, "Changing the subject for a moment David, did the Avenger happen to mention what kind of metahuman powers these... individuals were manifesting? Energy projection powers, perhaps?"

"Yes, actually, that's what he did say," Armitage says slowly, tapping a mechanical pencil against the desk. "I'm sure I could get more details about this, if you liked. Daniel was headed down to assist Silver Avenger Hartigan out in the investigation when we spoke. They aren't talking to reporters right now, but godfathers, maybe."

"What I'd really like to know is why a guy backing an organization that's all for the suppression and elimination of metahumans, however tacitly, is building his own private metahuman army?" Martin thinks for a second, then adds, "The people at Rubicon obviously know how the Cyberline series was created, and they've got access to technology that's certainly good enough to duplicate the process using the deceased metahumans' DNA as a basis to create their own version of the process that endows recipients with energy projection powers of some kind or another. My question is, why are they doing it for less than $2 million?" 

"They may not be," Armitage says. "Or perhaps there are people at Rubicon who believe so much in what they're doing that they don't mind the deficit. It's a wealthy corporation." He shrugs slightly. "There are other possibilities, too -- remember that whole scandal in Chicago this past winter, with part of the PRIMUS personnel in a base being controlled? Maybe there's something like that going on, too. But I don't doubt there are people who'd do the research just because they could, too."  

Nodding, Martin answers, "From what the Doc told us," he winces at the word, Dammit Mira, I’m - I was - your partner. Why wouldn’t you wait and let me help you? then continues, "most of the big names at Rubicon in the bioresearch department are the sort of folks who probably couldn't resist a chance to build their own metahumans as an 'intellectual exercise' or something." 

"That was my impression, as well. I've met a few of them socially, and they're an odd group. Nothing I could put my finger on, exactly, but..." 

Martin leans back in his chair and thinks for a moment, "Okay... So if we mark up as a working hypothesis that the Keeping Promises group is acting as the procurer for Rubicon in this matter, locating metahumans for the research project to create this 'Rapture' group of domestic terrorists, then we still have a couple of gaps to fill in. I'm still drawing a blank on the reason for dumping the bodies in the Bay - why not cremate them and dump the remains in a batch of material being fused in a glass brick for storage at a waste site? Poof!" he gestures with his hands, "No evidence."

"Unless..." he muses, "Unless the Keeping Promises guys are the dumpers, and they're demonstrating some form of contempt for the "Spawns of Satan' by humiliating their remains in this fashion..?

"That's a definite possibility," Armitage says. "You really never do know. And it's also possible that the dumpings weren't planned, or were the work of people inside the organization who acted alone. I'm sure you've noticed that there's been nothing else about this in the news recently -- perhaps they've been punished?" He sighs. "Or it could be something less sinister. Maybe there is a connection to the victims that we've been unable to see so far. Have you spoken to the families yet?"

"No -that was coming up next until I found Mr. MacIntosh on the Internet. I suspect I'll, be talking to them either right before, or right after him - depends on when he can do the interview I guess." Martin pauses, "I think I'd like some help there if I can get it - with Mira on Leave I think this is going to stretch me too thin to do solo." He glances over at David, "Is there someone who's not tied down I can steal?"

"Well," Armitage begins. "I don't think this is up Ana Aponte's alley at all -- I don't know if you've met her yet or not. Have you? You'd know if you had." He pauses to let Martin answer. "Tran is a very talented investigator, but she works here on the premise that she doesn't have to investigate unless she wants to. It's a long story, but if she's interested in the case, she'll help out. You may want to ask -- no harm in trying. As for the rest -- well, just about everyone else is tied up at the moment. Anna might be able to lend a hand, but she's got her hands full with a kidnapping investigation. I'm working on bringing a couple of new people on right now, but for the moment we're strapped."

"I'll help," a voice from the doorway says, coolly. Silently Tran pads into the room and sits down. "I checked into this MacGowan fellow while you were in here," she tells Martin. "I know where he lives -- what do you say we drop by tonight, before packing? I'd be interested in hearing what he has to say, myself. Oh, and I called Southwest -- we're out of here on the 7:05 AM flight to meet MacIntosh."

Martin nods, a touch surprised, "Talking to MacGowan as soon as possible sounds good to me Tran. But..." he looks uncomfortable as he continues awkwardly, "Do either of you know where I can find a reliable sitter on this short notice? I'd ordinarily use my Mom, but she's out with some friends at a Cultural Festival in L.A. right now."

"Oh," Armitage responds, leaning forward. "Isn't Dorothy around Alexandra's age? Alex is eleven, and both of my kids are here during their break -- they're in year-round school, and they have three weeks with me. Dorothy would be welcome with us. I'd wager Alex would like the company, as well. I forget how odd that house is for kids without my father.

Martin brightens, "I think that would work out splendidly, I seem to recall that they got along well at the Avenger's barbecue a while back. You're sure it won't be too much trouble?"

"No, of course not." Armitage chuckles. "Of course, I'm volunteering Mrs. Worthington, but I'm sure she won't mind at all, and it will make Alex happy. I'll have the car sent over around eight tonight. Is that enough time to get Dorothy packed, you think?"

"Probably," Martin chuckles. "Unless she tries to pack up the whole house." A bit more seriously, he continues, "She doesn't have any special dietary restrictions, but you might want to pass on that shrimp isn't high on her list of favorite foods at the moment - she spent several days being thoroughly sick after she had a bad batch a little while back."

"Don't worry -- I'm allergic to shrimp myself, and wouldn't think of it."

"Are you two finished?" Tran interrupts, rolling her eyes. "Or would you like to hear about the pin in my knee while you're at it?"

Armitage laughs harder and grins at Tran's implacable facade before continuing. "If you think of anything else, just give my housekeeper a call," he says, scribbling down a number on the back of a business card. She's the one in charge of the house. I wouldn't dream of keeping Tran waiting." 

Martin chuckles as he stands and accepts the card, "You're right - it wouldn't be prudent. And thank you," he adds seriously.

Moving to the door, he nods to David again and follows Tran out into the hall. "I didn't know you had a pin in your knee Tran..." his voice echoes past the closing door. "When did yo... OW!"

 From: Martin DuQuense
Sent: October 14, 1997 1:15PM
To: Russ_MacIntosh@bbros.com
Subject: RE: Request for Information

 Mr. MacIntosh -

 Thank you for taking the time to respond to my inquiry so promptly - I still recall my own experiences in post-graduate work well enough to appreciate how finding the time to do anything other than study and work is.

With regards to your experiences, I believe that there is a good chance that they do indeed have direct bearing on the case I am currently assigned. With that in mind, I would like to ask you if you would feel comfortable agreeing to a personal interview? I would like to bring a single associate with me, and we would be willing to fly out to meet you tomorrow or the day after, depending on your needs. Please respond at your convenience, either to the phone number I sent earlier, or via e-mail.

I look forward to speaking with you in person. 

Martin DuQuense
www.ai-inc.com