Confiscated from interrogation subject Daryl St. Jacques, 8/30/01, Boston, MA, USA. Subject was a photojournalist and suspected Sleeper agent.

August 26, 2001

11:00 am
Kim called today. Sleeper business. Same little white-girl librarian voice. “We’re meeting at my house at 8.” I don’t know whether to bring a bottle of wine or a shotgun.

9:00 pm
What a freakshow. Nick was there again. I’ve met him once before. No – I THINK I’ve met him once before. Starting right now, everything I know about him – and about the sleepers – goes into this book. Hell, everything I know about ME goes in here.

Two other guys there. Scott – looks like a hood and acts like one too. Sports fan. Says he’s “lucky”. From his jokes with Nick, it sounds like he gets off on taking risks, making bets. Shit, if he likes living dangerously so much, he should try some of his little white-boy hustles over in Roxbury.

The other guy, Gene, is a serious freak. Dressed up in a paramedic uniform. Says he “makes people hurt”. The others seemed a little nervous around him, but no one said anything. I guess you can’t be too picky in this Sleeper business.

Several people have disappeared in Boston recently, and Nick is worried that the disappearances are related to something occult. Three of the four men who have disappeared have had presidential surnames — Lynn Sheridan (formerly Lynn Nixon), Lamar Carter, and Daniel Reagan — and the fourth, Terry Fisher, is John Kerry’s cousin. Nick says he saved Sheridan – he’s going to check on him tonight. And I’m going to check on Lamar Carter.

August 27, 2001

12:30 am
Lamar’s father, Reverend Carter, wasn’t much help. He seemed pretty spent after his sermon. But I have an appointment to meet him back here at Mt Zion at 8am tomorrow.

The church service brought back a lot of things for me, most of them bad. All that poverty, all that ignorance, and nothing for it but Glory and Halleluiah. The death and the Resurrection – people need to hear that when their kids are getting shot in the streets. I left all that behind me here in Roxbury – I didn’t think it would affect me anymore. But as soon as I was standing there in front of the preacher, it was all, “Yes sir” and “No sir” and “Thank you kindly, sir”. Shit. Sometimes I fucking hate Roxbury.

9:15 am
Nothing great from the Rev. Lamar was close to his brother, who died on Feb 18 in a car accident. I’ll check with the rest of the team about the significance of the brother and the date of his death… the 18th is Presidents’ Day or something, and the dead brother reminds me of the Kennedys. Right now, I’m going to follow up with some friends of Lamar’s.

Listen to me. “The team”. Objectivity, Daryl. It’s all that’s standing between you and Them.

7pm
Sloppy. We could have been caught by the body at the reservoir. I can see it: young black male apprehended near the brutally murdered body of John Kerry’s cousin. I could have been Boston’s first lynching in a century. If I play tonight right, though, I may be in a much better position to help the Sleepers – all I need to do is to scoop the murder when Nick reports it.

I’m glad I was in the Globe’s newsroom when the call came in about the murders outside of Merchant Ventures. Otherwise, it would have just been Trevor there on the crime beat.

It sounds like the dead guys in t-shirts outside of Merchant Ventures may be the same ones who killed Fisher, if we’re to believe Nick’s “vision” – and why not? After all, we wouldn’t’ve even found the body if not for Gene’s magical investigation. And speaking of magic, I’m more worried about the guy who ripped those thugs apart – I haven’t developed my film yet, but the image of that cleanly gutted carcass won’t get out of my mind. It seemed to have had the same effect on some of the witnesses, especially Jim Baldwin – Trevor liked my description of the vomit dripping down Baldwin’s face. Baldwin mentioned that the mystery slasher looked like Tony Perkins in Psycho – maybe he gets his powers from channeling Norman Bates, like those “avatars” Kim talked about. I’ll have to ask her if that’s how it works.

August 28, 2001

12:30am
Got the story, and we scooped the Herald completely. Who knew being an occult investigator would be so good for my career? With any luck, I’ll be on par with Trevor soon.

8:10am
Heading down to Quincy. Another kid has disappeared: David Clinton. Is this guy going after kids?

7pm
Looks like this is it. We’re waiting at Walden Pond, hiding in the bushes until O’Shannon and his boys show up. Celtic Cross. Nick says that they’re mixed up with demons. Please, God, let them pass over me. And if I do have one of them inside me, please let them get it out, even if it means killing me. I don’t want to die. But I would rather die than be host to that kind of evil. Keep my family safe, Lord, and I will do what I can to serve you. I’ll talk to Father Inari. He said he could help. I’ll talk to him if I survive tonight.

August 29, 2001

11am
I’m beginning to feel more comfortable around the severed head of Nick Falcone. This is a strange, strange world you’ve dropped me into, Lord.

Notes in margins

clinton popular in school
mom died 9mo ago-cancer-december 2
remarried 1 mo ago

on date, got back, never came into house

strong guy-baseball
(got pic from dad – junior yr)
scar on forehead

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9am-funeral for fisher
southie-holloway funeral home

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gunther traded food of life for kerry with stalker