I am a bit concerned that some parts of this are too similar to the previous Masks story. I didn't want this to be all-angel, all the time so for now am focusing on other characters, performing investigations. Don't worry; Malak returns soon, as does the action.

The Angel of Chicago

Part Five: Collusions

by

Rodford Edmiston

Blackpool emerged from shadow into the darkened storeroom. His informant's floorplan had been good enough for him to find the connection he needed. Now to see if the rest of his information was as accurate.

Thanks to his powers, Blackpool didn't need a light source. He quickly found the old filing cabinets he was looking for. They were locked, but that was no impediment. In addition to his powers, he had been well trained.

What a strange road this has been, he mused as he opened the top drawer. All I wanted to do was find out who was behind the coverup of the security problems at the awards show.

While he had uncovered the names of those who had given the orders to stall the investigation, those had all been people who were simply following orders. Then it turned out their bosses were also simply following orders. That trail had soon grown too difficult to follow just now, and Blackpool had put it aside for later. The big break taking him in this new direction had come from a sometime contact in a major metropolitan newspaper who had told him about a coworker's research. Inquiries about one particular phrase from that had sparked the memory of another contact, an ex-military security man who had been disciplined for asking about the same project. Getting from there to this forgotten repository had taken only a few more steps.

The top drawer had nothing of interest to Blackpool. The second did, and he put two of the bound folders he found in there aside after a brief examination. The two bottom drawers held nothing but dust.

A quick look around just to see if he could find anything else interesting revealed only old files about supplies and personnel transfers long past any importance. Things which were still around simply because no-one had needed the space they occupied.

Satisfied, Blackpool relocked the first cabinet, gathered his finds and again stepped into shadow.

* * *

"Melody, that's two more good columns," said Gadding, summing up in a meeting between her and others working on the awards show attack and its derivatives. "The readers are really eating those up. With all the hints about corruption in the federal government the past few years they want this sort of thing. Keep going on that. The rest of you can relax for a while, go back to your regular focus but help Melody when she needs it. This thing is too big to cover it all any time soon."

He straightened.

"I think that's it for today."

"He didn't say much about the pressure we're getting to drop your columns," said Sam, in a low voice, as he and Melody walked out.

"I heard they had to add an extra clerk in the mail room just to handle the letters," said Melody.

"Actually, all your mail is sent to that shed out back, where they used to keep the lawn mowers before the owners decided to hire a service. There's two people who go out there once a day and carefully check your mail for bombs or poison. They then open the envelopes and packages and decide what to do with the contents."

"I really hope you're joking," said Melody, with a tentative smile.

"Sorry," said Sam. He grinned. "On the bright side, overall readership is up twelve percent."

"So who is making all the threats? And have they actually found bombs in mail to me?!"

"A couple of fake ones, only," said Sam. "Things meant to scare you. No poison. Just lots of mail for and against, about evenly balanced."

He grinned.

"Even if some of those sending stuff aren't."

* * *

Being able to commute to work through shadows came in very handy. Blackpool was authorized to work in all fifty states and the US territories. He lived in an affordable place in a nice neighborhood, not far from where he had grown up, making sure to get a long-term lease. Only the large apartment wasn't quite as large as it had been when he moved in.
One of the first things John Adams Parker had done after getting his apartment was to close off part of it in a very inobvious way. This concealed and secure room was small, but it had plumbing and electricity and outside ventilation. It also contained the tools he used as Blackpool, including a compact darkroom.

He had been stunned by what the documents he had "liberated" from that storeroom revealed. The US - in violation of several international treaties going back to 1948, most of which it was a signatory to - was researching and manufacturing chemical weapons. Actually, there had been several programs during those decades. With some changes of administration programs were cancelled, only to be reinstated or new programs begun with the next change. Each time a program was cancelled any stockpiles of chemical weapons from these secret, illegal projects were shipped to a hidden base in the northern Rockies to be incinerated. However, even those behind the illegal programs were apparently unaware that most of the tanks, cans, casks and canisters were actually stockpiled. On those rare occasions when the discrepancy was noted the explanation was that more money was needed to upgrade the incinerators to do the job safely. By now there was a considerable amount of this material, deep underground.

Questions of who (many people, over decades) and how had been answered. What remained a mystery was why this had been done at all, and especially why it was still being done. Presumably, each group had its reasons. However, the beliefs of the different groups responsible for the production of these chemicals were so diverse that some of them were often figuratively at each others' throats! Yet they all had what they felt was a good reason to illegally manufacture dangerous chemicals. The only clue as to why was that some empowered activations were associated with each.

There's enough stuff there to kill hundreds of thousands of people, while activating maybe a dozen.

Some of the chemicals had been developed as weapons. Others for industrial use. A few were laboratory curiosities. The only thing they had in common was that one or more person was thought to have been empowered by exposure to them. Bizarrely, for some of the chemicals there was no actual confirmation they had activated anyone; just suspicion or maybe wishful thinking. Yet they had still been produced, then stored, rather than destroyed.

As far as he could tell, no current elected official even knew about the depository. It was managed by a consortium composed of members from all branches of the US armed forces plus appointed civil servants.

He wanted to talk this over with D'arsonval, but the man was at some conference. After thinking about this for two days, Blackpool decided to take only one action on this matter before speaking with his superior. He made microfilm copies of documents, plus a set of prints of the most damning pages. The latter went into his personal safe deposit box. The negatives stayed in the fire safe in his hidden room. The originals were returned to their drawer. He couldn't think of a safer place for them.

* * *

"Well, that came through quick," said Melody, when she came across a #10 envelope in her office mail.

Sam happened to be visiting when the delivery was made. He leaned in a bit and peered as Melody opened the envelope.

"Is that your approval to visit Haven?"

"Yeah. For a week. They'll put me up in a guest cottage, all expenses paid. Though I have to sign several waivers and acknowledgements and mail them back for final approval."

"I'm not surprised," said Sam.

"Guess I better start packing and checking plane schedules."

"Remember, the closest airport is actually in Indiana."

"Oh; right. Glad you reminded me."

* * *

The last part of her trip was made by station wagon, driven by one of the non-empowered staff at Haven. A man name Joe Blank. Melody had read about him; he had legally changed his name after some personal tragedy. A tragedy which Malak had helped him learn to live with.

"You've been here, what? Five years?"

"Five and a bit," said the calmly cheerful man. "Sometimes it seems longer. Most of the time it seems like a lot less."

They drove through fields, mostly of corn, standing tall as harvest neared. Melody shivered. She was a city girl; all this open space and green unnerved her. She was very glad she had - after considerable soul searching - decided to obey the rule against bringing alcohol. She could already feel that quiet urge, whispering to her.

They passed through the stone gates which were purely decorative; just masonry work on each side of the road. Then on into the town proper. Soon the wagon stopped at a nice little cabin.

"Here we are!" said Joe, opening his door. "I'll help you with your luggage. There'll be some folks by in a bit to formally welcome you, so you might want to put off unpacking until that's through."

"Thanks," said Melody.

She looked around as she walked to the rear of the car, where Joe had opened the rear door and was removing her suitcases. The place looked more like a middle-aged suburb, rather than an isolated town.

"Where does the water come from? How do you handle sewage?"

"Wells, and a waste processing plant," said Joe, as he slammed the rear door and reached for the largest two suitcases on the ground. "The cleaned water goes out into a pond, and is used to irrigate crops. The solids make fertilizer."

He carried the suitcases onto the porch, then put then down to pull a key out of his shirt pocket and unlock the door. He then handed the key on its labelled chain to Melody.

"Here you go."

"I thought you didn't need locks in this town?" said Melody, half joking.

"Mostly not. We do have some people who occasionally yield to temptation. Also, occasionally someone comes here from a nearby town to see what they can grab. The main reason is to make people feel comfortable. Especially our guests from crime-ridden big cities."

That last was said with a grin.

They carried Melody's belongings inside and set them in the bedroom.

"Well, I see some folks walking this way," said Joe, looking out a window. "I better get the car and get gone. I have to run some other chores before supper."

"Thank you," said Melody, walking back onto the front porch with the tall, lean man.

She shaded her eyes from the Sun with her hand, saw who was approaching, and was stunned. They were all strangers, except for one. That one was Arielle. Who smiled and waved.

The leader of the group was the Mayor, one Theresa Brinkley. She gave a short speech formally welcoming Melody, then introduced several others.

"I believe you already know Arielle," she finished.

"Uhm, yes," said Melody a bit flustered as the tall woman shook her hand, still grinning.

Later, Melody couldn't remember much of the next few minutes. Somehow, she and Arielle wound up alone in the guest cottage. Melody thought she had made it through the welcoming ceremony with acceptable grace.

"I had to do a lot of quick bargaining to be in town and part of the welcoming committee when I heard you were coming here."

"I'm... glad to see you again," said Melody, cautiously. "I... Why..."

"It's just... I like you."

There was more going on here than just two people who had hooked up for a night getting back together. Melody wasn't sure what it was, but decided that finding out could be very interesting.

* * *

"This is intolerable!" snapped General Conyers. "She ignored all the warnings and threats, and now she's in Haven! She'll tell them everything she knows! Damn it! Naturally, she works for one of the papers we don't control!"

"She doesn't know anything," said Simon Dundee, confidently. "We stopped Blackpool's investigation. As well as all other avenues. There's no evidence left they can get their hands on. Cleanup was total."

"Just how did those two connect, anyway?" said JB McAnelley.

"We can find out when we interrogate them," said Conyers, flatly. "We'll soon have Blackpool. I have a plan in the works to grab Gundersen. Once they're confined we can find out what they know at our leisure."