7:00 pm

I lost another informant today. He contacted me last night to pass on the encryption algorithm for Lempkin’s data files. He also gave me the combination for the safe, but told me I would have to make alternative arrangements to retrieve the data disks that contain the files. He said he would be lucky to make it through the night. Then he hung up without giving me any indication of where he was or any method to contact him. This morning, his body turned up on his mother’s doorstep.

Months ago, I told myself that I would accept the possibility that people would die in this ongoing war of ours. But after losing Peter and Nathan, I found that very difficult to do. If this had happened even a couple of days ago, I would have been kicking myself, putting the full weight of this man’s death on myself. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I hate the fact that he is dead, but I understand that he took responsibility for what he was doing. I did not lead him into danger. He came to me. If he was in Lempkin’s inner circle, he must have been involved with organized crime for years. I don’t know why he chose to come forward now, whether it was an organizational power struggle or a change of heart. He never told me, and now I’ll never know. But at least I have the opportunity to use his information to prevent a possible disaster. It amazes me sometimes, but it also encourages me that there are still people out there who are willing to risk everything for what is right.

Max has definitely become one of those people. She has risked a lot for me this year. She has helped me immensely in my work, and even more importantly, she has helped me to survive the darkness in my life. I paged her a few minutes ago to ask for her help once again. Retrieving the disks from Lempkin’s safe is a job that is right up her alley. But more than her help with this job, I look forward to the humor that she will bring with her. I could use some of that humor tonight.

Today has shown me that the world is still in turmoil, but it has also reinforced the importance of my mission. I have a purpose in life and I have the strength to accomplish it. I also know that I have good people in my life that I can rely on to help me. Together, we can be a powerful influence for good. The Logan Cale Brigade, Max called us a few months ago. It still makes me smile when I think of that. I realize that we will continue to live in a war zone for the foreseeable future, but now I know how to nurture a measure of peace in my own life.

The Measure of a Life

A measure of strength

A measure of endurance

A measure of understanding

A measure of humor

A measure of peace

8:00 pm

So much for a measure of peace!

How does she do it? How does she manage to turn my life inside out and upside down every time she appears? I know she has extensive stealth training, but this is ridiculous. She appears out of nowhere, absolutely silent. Even when I’m expecting her, she can surprise me. I don’t know what scared me more tonight; the fact that she came out of nowhere or the words that came out of her mouth.

"I didn’t know you wrote poetry," she said in amusement. Then in the blink of an eye, she yanked this book out of my hands and started flipping through it.

"It’s not poetry," I blurted out. Well, it’s not all poetry.

Luckily, Max was feeling extremely compassionate today. I only had to ask once and she returned the book. If she had actually read some of what I had written in here, I might as well have dug a hole, thrown myself in and pulled the dirt over me. I would never have been able to look at her again.

"You paged me?" She asked, instantly getting back to business.

"Yeah…" I stalled. For a moment I couldn’t remember what I had paged her about. Pierpont Lempkin? Right.

So we talked about Pierpont Lempkin and the ‘box job’ that needed to be done. Well, I tried to talk about Lempkin. Max seemed much more interested in the arrival of Cindy’s new girlfriend, or her former girlfriend, whatever she is. I am always amazed at Max’s sense of priorities. I was talking about nuclear warheads and Max was checking out her nail polish (nail polish?) and pondering why guys are so fascinated by lesbian relationships. She didn’t even look at me. But of course, being the genetically enhanced girl that she is, she can multitask and parallel process like there's no tomorrow. She got right back on topic without missing a beat. I think I did a reasonable job relaying the task at hand, although I have to say I was amused at Max’s description of Cindy’s amazing, reappearing, kissing girlfriend. Not that I found the subject so fascinating, but I did enjoy the delivery. The truth is it wasn’t the subject or the delivery that I was interested in, it was the messenger. I could listen to Max talk about anything.

Then all of a sudden, we were talking about something else, the not unrelated matter of water heaters to be exact. I can’t believe Max asked me for permission to walk off with some of Lempkin’s cash, though I do love her leaps of logic. "Stealing from a thief really isn’t like stealing at all," she said. How was I supposed to respond to that? 'Of course not! Replacing a damaged water heater is such a deserving cause for any stray cash that you may find.' I didn’t go quite that far, but neither did I ask her not to do it. The idea didn’t bother me as much as I thought it might. She has certainly managed to alter my perception of things.

My perception of a lot of things has changed lately, especially my ability to enjoy life. More and more I find myself tapping into Max’s sense of fun. I remember giving her a hard time about that last week, just because she wanted to kick back and enjoy a few carefree days eating S’mores in the fresh country air. Now I think that maybe she has it right. I told Max tonight that we could be out of tomorrows if we don’t stop Lempkin, and that was the truth. I understood it intellectually, but it didn’t stop me from enjoying my few minutes with her. What’s life without some joys in it?

I’m trying to focus on my work, I really am, but I can’t multitask the way Max does. I’d rather spend tonight thinking about her and writing about her. I’m surprised that she didn’t mention my book again after I set it aside. She didn’t even look at it. I hadn’t thought about showing her my poetry before, but now I think maybe I should. I’ve certainly written enough about her.

What am I saying? I must be crazy to even consider doing that. Still, I wonder what she would think about it.

Nail polish? Very nice.