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Joseph Blair Hamilton

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[07 Jun 2003|01:15pm]
Narrowing down to Craven Street.

C-04 : Late [03 Jun 2003|09:58pm]
A. will not be pleased to know we won't make it at the 10am inspection. Then again, he knows his boy better than I do. I only follow orders. Will give me time to sleep.

Something has been nagging at me for days now and I still could not put a finger on it, so to speak. And the coming training is making me anxious. Surprisingly. Never happened before. I must be rusty indeed.

Alternative Ulster [03 Jun 2003|07:48pm]
Idle time. This is why I dislike leaving the office so early.

Brian's still concerned about the Colombian involvement in the T branch. All this time. He must've seen something of concern, it's highly uncharacteristic of him to be so suspicious of this matter. McGuinness takes refuge in his blind eye sometimes, he says. Never did understand what he meant by this, the man seems so sure of himself. I reminded Brian I wasn't in Derry any longer. I wasn't a generalist either and narcotics is handled by another group. I know, was all he said. Damn the man. He's also concerned about rumours from splinter groups. More violence. Asking when will it all end would be futile now, won't it?

Operational success rate has gone down the past months. I'm beginning to feel like a salesman - more warrants, loyal subjects, we must not disappoint Sir Thomas. Times like these when I wish I listened to Rachel and took her offer. Hence I welcome this mission, despite the mere decorative role I play. Anything to get out of London if only for a day. I even welcome those two weeks in Norfolk, holed up as I will be with agents whom I expect would challenge my authority at any respect. Perhaps I should ask them if they're interested in fishing.

Four Days [03 Jun 2003|06:34pm]
Eps. should arrive by 10.00pm tonight or we will most likely not make it for the midnight flight to Basel. On second thought, that suits me fine. A few more hours in my own bed would be marvelous. We could catch the 5.00am flight, acquire five more hours of prep time before riding off to the Rhine port. Much better. Unless this chap has another way of doing things, which suits me fine, too. Simply want this mission accomplished in any way possible.

Edward called, the boys missed ye, he says. I wish I did as well. My head throbbed like a diseased artery last time we got together. Thirteen bottles of beer on the wall. I'm too starched for this shit.

Strain #2 [02 Jun 2003|07:34am]
The time constraints, the mission in between missions, the flying from one place to another in less than a day, Sir Thomas' droning, Rachel's corner shop gossip, Brian's insistence on my visiting Derry once again, Adam's insistence on my visiting him anytime before Christmas, T branch and the rest of goddamned EU, endless paperwork, the coming training.

I am exhausted. But I miss it. The blood rush in my head... I miss it.

Strain [31 May 2003|06:48am]
"Nothing is more seductive for a man
Than his freedom of conscience
But nothing is a greater cause of suffering."

: Fyodor Dostoevsky


A thinking man's preoccupation is chaos, I was told. Chaos in all shapes and sizes. Helpless indignance sublimated into pub gossip. Anger channeled into collective demonstration on the streets. Loneliness into an underground band and a house party. Grief into late night bingeing. Ennui and tedium propels one to action. How many of the world's greatest things were wrought by boredom.

I do not know the definition of this word. It is nothing more to me than an excuse not to suffer when we should. Human beings should feel pain once in a while. It is therapeutic. It cleanses one of impurities. It sharpens the senses and widens horizons. I cannot think of any other way to live.

Water [29 May 2003|11:20pm]
A soak in the tub with a book works wonders. A swim would do better but I'll settle for this. Anything is better than work at this hour. I'm putting off so many matters.

0FG7658000-88990K Secured Scrambled // Mail Wire B657 [27 May 2003|11:40am]
[draft : revise and send ASAP]

Dear Brian,
I hope Rob taught you how to send mail using the new secured system. Some incompetent fool from the Surveillance Centre has been messing around with the MI5 network and had surprisingly succeeded in getting even through my channels. I am not certain how much of it was accidental (or if he is as unaware as I think him to be) but please ask your man to continue monitouring said person.

Updating from last correspondence, I received word from A and had been oriented by B on current activities. Had been reinstated and am preparing for a two-week TC. Refused misn code HX491 - had to accompany Sir Thomas on a trip I had spoken to you about. Good news by the way. Received word that the box has been cleared for shipment, they expect payment by the end of the month. Norton says to tell you he won't accept cheques this time. I have no idea what he meant but from the grin on his face, I assume you will both find it quite hilarious.

I am fine, thank you. The deliberate intention to bore myself to death has been much satisfying. I take long lunches now, I am grateful for your advise. Adam says hello and he is still smarting from that year-old chess match. You would have thought old men accept defeat a bit more gracefully by now but I constantly forget that you are a bunch of bitter losers. He is quite alright, still rosy as ever.

Pay me a visit one of these days. I sorely need your presence. My love to Eda and the children.


J.B.H.

Attention: Nigel [27 May 2003|10:14am]
Just because we're in the business of intercepting communications doesn't mean you have to intercept my communication. Gillian informed me (quite irritatedly) that personal mail from her boyfriend had recently been routed to Manningham. I request that you stop experimenting with that program of yours. It has not been approved because it is not working properly.

I am also aware that you are eavesdropping on my system. And update your goddamn site.

[20 May 2003|12:09pm]
Gillian,

I've had it. Take my calls. I'm going out for lunch. See you tomorrow.

B.

Another Schedule [13 May 2003|11:51am]
10:30am : brunch with Patrick of Internal Affairs (with the funny tie)
12:00nn : lunch with Home Sec, Cafe des Amis
1:45pm : meet Rachel
3:30pm : review of T Branch and counter terrorist bull with Steven
6:45pm : head home to dress
7:30pm : cocktail party, von Durstberg residence
11:00pm : Third Watch, A&E (in absence of human stress reliever)

Manningham's brain functions in strange ways, says he. I agree none too enthusiastically.

Rachel is of the opinion that I am due for a holiday. When was the last time you took that vacation leave, she asked. I don't know, I said. Then you should soon, she said. I can't, I said. You don't want to, she said. I want to, I said. Spent the next few minutes tossing such quips back and forth. Let's take one together, she finally said. I told her of my return to the fold. She hates being the bull in the china shop but apparently, she didn't take it too well (just as is with most all my misgvings on most anything). Said something about kicking the circle god in the shin. She really wants that vacation, or else, I could kiss my informant's ass goodbye. I hate it when she does that. Hell. She isn't a Guardian reporter for nothing.

Ten more minutes and it's off to the Covent. I crave something spicy.

Boredom can be creative... [11 May 2003|02:35pm]
[ mood | rather amused ]

Nigel is at it again. His Highness the Deputy Direc should give this bloke something to do other than take long lunches.

Nostalgia [28 Apr 2003|04:43pm]
One does not question the Circle. You just do as you are told. Then again, it might be merely my own sublimation. The need to look up to something bigger than myself. Or it could be Brian's brainwashing. He is rather effective in that sense. Thus, the silent acquiescence to coming back.

Perhaps I always knew I would. Come back. Pretending the fold doesn't exist is like denying the use of your thumb. And for Gamma, that's understating it. Every molecule in his being is the Circle's, the kind of mindless loyalty that forces even a year-old sedentary body to walk in harm's way for the sake of protecting the shadows. I have no bloody idea where that came from but it is a rather distasteful way of seeing it.

Gamma... he doesn't feel like me. Hasn't been for quite a while. More akin to an exoshell that moves and thinks on its own accord. When I slide my hand into cold metal and cock it, the sound seems so far away. Like an action movie gone interactive.

I regret nothing. Not the missions. Not the danger... not even the loss. Last night's dream was less violent than the other night's. Just me and Aleks sitting under a tree and chattering away. How we used to in peacetime. Jumbled impressions mostly, of conversations held before. And something said that disturbs me until now.

Would I, Aleks? Would I have done the same thing if I had been in Manchester, if I had not met Ivanka or the MI6, if I had not gone hiding in Belfast? If I had not met Brian. If you had not been there to stop me. These hands. These goddamn hands. Covered in the blood of someone I barely knew other than heresay. Anger management. What crock.

It's a nasty life, this organization. And tonight, I shall meet a new manufacturer. Alpha suspects the bug probes they supply us are bugged themselves. It's almost hilarious. Perhaps I should fancy the new recruits have a look at them. A good enough test to prove their worth. I have been told they're a peculiar batch, much more unpredictable and cocky than the last. God forbid I babysit a group of teenagers.

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