<![CDATA[*******************************************
And Then There Was One - Part 3 of 8 (3/8)
by Kronos
*******************************************
Monday, 4:27 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
He had been pacing in the cramped space for more than half an hour and
it was driving Scully crazy. Along the length of the table, around the
corner, then either a turn and back the way he'd come, or sometimes he'd
complete the entire circuit. There seemed to be no particular reason for
when he chose to do the complete circle, but every time he walked past
her chair there was a swoosh of air that pulled at the papers in front of
her, forcing her to rest her hands on top for a second until the effects of
the whirlwind had passed.
"Mulder, please."
He stopped in his tracks and turned, a questioning look on his face.
"What?"
Scully had to take a deep breath, count to three.
"Could you sit for a while? Or at least stand still?"
He was preparing to answer when the phone rang. Mulder took two
economical steps and jerked the receiver up, brought it to his ear.
"Mulder."
Scully watched his expression, his body language, and determined that all
was well. She tried to confirm this from the cryptic words her partner
spoke for his side of the conversation.
"Yes...." He heaved a relieved sigh. "Okay...... No, only Scully or
me." He looked over to her at this. "Every two hours, that's right......
Yes." And he hung up.
"Scully, that was Officer Handley, one of the four who dropped off AD
Skinner. They're all set. No one followed that they're aware of.
They've set up a check in procedure for every two hours through the
FWPD's office. Also are coordinating with Arlington PD to have regular
drive-bys set up. I've confirmed that only you or I can change the
procedure or authorize contact beyond emergency situations. FWPD will
notify us at least once a day of how Skinner's doing and relay any
messages."
Mulder couldn't help but feel relieved. He'd been convinced that
something would happen when he and Scully weren't there. It wasn't
that he didn't trust the agents and officers who'd been assigned to the
case, it was just that he didn't trust them like he did himself and his
partner. At least now they could focus on other aspects of the case for
awhile.
Mulder put one hand up to the back of his head, feeling again for the
bump. He knew it was too early for it to have disappeared, but he kept
hoping. Because if the bump would go away, maybe the headache
would. He sighed again, feeling a little bit of tension seep out, then
rolled his head, then his shoulders. God, he was tired. And it wasn't
even five, yet.
He looked back at his partner to find her staring at him. What had he
done now?
"What?"
Scully merely smiled at him, said, "I have some more Tylenol. Looks
like you could use it."
Thank God for those idiots who gave him a partner like Scully. They
thought they were being clever, so shrewd. That they would assign him
a scientist who would debunk his work and theories, eventually giving
them the ammunition they needed to shut him down. But what they'd
given him instead was a lifeline. An anchor to reality.
"Yeah, that would be nice."
She stood from the table and stretched slightly, realizing from the
cramped muscles just how long it had been that she'd been working
without moving. Suddenly all that pacing of her partner's looked more
inviting. She rummaged through her doctor's bag and quickly came up
with the right container.
"I know we were planning on having a meeting tonight with the agents
who've been arriving, but maybe we should postpone it -- wait until
everyone's arrived so we only have to go over things once."
She wanted to give him an out, let him get some rest. He understood this
and appreciated her all the more for it. Loved her for worrying about him
in this way.
"No, Scully, we've wasted too much time as it is. Look, now that we
know Skinner's all right for a while, I'd really like to go look at the
plane. Madeleine said she and her team would be there all day. It's a
few hours until we're meeting back here for the briefing so there's time.
Would you like to come?"
Scully considered it and then looked back at the papers spread on the table
in front of her. There was too much to do here to coordinate activities of
the forensics team. She couldn't manage it just now.
"No, I can't. I need to complete this before the briefing tonight. I'll
stay.
Make sure you have the local cell phone with you, though, and keep me
updated."
Mulder nodded, slightly disappointed but understanding that her task in
this investigation would perhaps be the most difficult. It would be up to
Scully and her team to seek out long hidden evidence to not only prove
murder, but hopefully, provide some clue as to the killer's identity.
"Okay, I'm outta here. Oh, Delano's got a couple of his agents working
with the Fort Worth PD on the shooting this morning. He'll be calling
with an update in a while."
He grabbed up his overcoat, moved his right hand to feel for his weapon
out of habit.
"Mulder."
He stopped and turned towards his partner before leaving the room,
eyebrows raised.
"Try to remember to eat something. And .... be careful."
Scully didn't want to sound like a nagging mother, but she was still
worried. She kept thinking of the plane hitting the runway hard, the
gaping hole in it's side. Kept remembering the shattered glass from the
door that morning. This guy might just shift his sights now that Skinner
was safely out of the picture. She saw by her partner's smile that he
understood.
"I will, Scully. See you by eight."
*******************************************
Monday, 5:21 p.m.
Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport
He'd taken the rental car and kept finding his eyes drawn to the back seat
where small stains of black dotted the upholstery. Blood. It reminded
him once again that the guy was still out there somewhere -- hunting
Skinner. Mulder turned his eyes to the road once more, but now swept
them around him, searched the mirrors at the side, the rearview, making
sure no one was following. He seemed to be in the clear.
He took the right turn off and pulled into the airport, choosing the short-
term parking. He made his way quickly to the security office,
recognizing a couple of the faces from the previous evening. Madeleine
Strickland had already cleared the way for him. Had, in fact, left
instructions for him to be brought out immediately when he arrived.
The sight of the plane, taking up most of the far hanger, was staggering.
It threw him back immediately to thoughts of Max Fennig. If this pilot
had been just slightly less experienced, slightly less lucky, there would
have been rows and rows of covered bodies here, also.
The plane sat on props to keep it elevated and level, its shattered landing
gear laying below it on the ground. Approximately halfway down its
length, it had a hole ripped out of the side just below the midplane curve,
with a larger sign of devastation below that corresponding to the torn off
wing. The wing had been retrieved and lay below the propped up plane.
Mulder once again was amazed that so much devastation could occur with
such little loss of life.
He saw the NTSB agents clustered to the right around a table and made
his way towards them.
"Madeleine, hello."
She turned, initially surprised, then smiled warmly.
"Hello, Agent Mulder. My team and I were just reviewing parts of the
retrieved device. It hasn't been easy, as you might imagine. Luckily,
most of the stray pieces from the explosion landed in an empty field."
Mulder wondered briefly if she was including Kirsten and Howard
Engleton as part of the stray pieces. Best not to ask.
"Will we be able to take control of them soon?"
It was standard procedure for the Bureau Labs to handle evidence from
such accidents. Mulder knew they'd get the evidence eventually. He just
wanted it now.
"Yes, I don't see any problem with that. SAC Delano already authorized
me to sign it over to you personally."
Mulder was a bit surprised by this, but also relieved that he wouldn't
have to deal with red tape and bureaucratic hassles. He'd have to thank
Delano for this piece of foresight.
"Do you think one of your agents could show me the plane? It would
help to have the appropriate context."
"Of course. I'll do it myself."
She turned to the man on her right and gave instructions to the team, then
started walking towards the plane.
"I'll take you inside. It's stable. There was remarkably little damage
structurally with the exception of the gear and the wing."
They clambered over and around pieces of detached plane and eventually
came to a set of rough aluminum portable stairs.
The inside of the plane was more shocking than the outside. Stray pieces
of luggage and carry-on items had long since been removed. But the
oxygen masks still hung from the ceiling of the cabin. Overhead
compartment doors were open, with several hanging by one hinge alone.
But what got him most was the smell -- a smell associated with violent
crime scenes for which he was quite familiar. But all magnified here. It
wasn't just one person's fear, sweat, vomit, blood -- it was close to two
hundred's. And it was overwhelming. He felt the sweat start at his
forehead, then trickle down the side of his face, more down his back.
There was no air circulation in the plane, nothing to chase away the smell
of terror.
It took a moment for him to collect himself, then he followed after the
NTSB AIC, shedding his overcoat along the way.
Long before he got to row 18 he saw the devastation. The destruction
wrought by the bomb placed under the floor. The entire row of seats was
missing. The seats of the row in front were angled. It was obvious that
the bolts had given way at the end close to the wall, that the row of seats
had been pulled diagonally as the sudden pressure differential caused a
suction that grabbed hold at 15,000 feet. Mulder tried to imagine the
terror of those sitting in the row, scrambling for handholds, footholds --
anything to keep them from being pulled out into thin air. Failed. It was
beyond imagination.
"Jesus."
It was the only response he could manage.
"I know it looks bad. But like I said, compared to other in-air
explosions, this was mild. In fact, one thing we've wondered is if the
bomber only intended to take out AD Skinner, leaving the rest of the
plane intact. It could be that the damage to the wing spar that impacted
the engines was a fluke. He might not have meant to take down the plane
at all."
Mulder thought about it carefully, tried to review what he knew about the
previous bombings as well as the murder of the eight agents. She could
be right. The original bombings never resulted in more than two deaths at
any time, usually only one, although the bombs were almost always
placed in laboratory or high usage areas. Was it a fluke that more people
weren't killed then or was it intentional?
"Could you show me where the bomb was placed? From below?"
Mulder could see through the floor, see the compartment underneath. He
needed to know what was down there -- how the bomb was placed and
why under the floor instead of directly by the seat.
"Sure, let's go back the way we came. We can get access from the side
of the aircraft."
The underbody appeared to be somehow less affected, despite the
destruction caused by the violently disengaged wing. Mulder's
psychologist brain told him this was due to the depersonalization possible
when no reminders of the people impacted were present.
Madeleine gestured towards debris on the floor, saying, "We're still
cataloging. Haven't gotten to the smaller pieces yet. Careful where you
step."
She brought him as close as was possible to the actual location where the
bomb had been placed, then gestured up to the ceiling. The passenger
cabin was clearly visible from this view.
"You can see that he knew exactly where your man would be sitting.
There would have been no doubt that it would take out the entire row of
seats. The bolts went immediately -- weren't designed with those types
of loadings in mind. Like I told you before, though, he might not have
planned on the loss of the engines or the wing. Although you can see
from the other side that the location of the spar fastening to the body is
obvious, it probably seemed to be far enough away from the directional
blast that he thought he was in the clear. He didn't take into account the
transference of dynamic loading in that instance from the skin and
latitudinal members to the spar. It acted like a sledge hammer pounding
on the bolts -- not from the top but the side. So several were sheared off
then and there. As far as the engines are concerned, he ended up taking
out several of the fuel lines, effectively cutting off power to the two inner
engines on either side."
She shook her head again as she looked around the inside of the
underbody. "Why the whole thing didn't blow then and there is a
mystery. Boeing sure can build them right."
Mulder wasn't completely sure he'd caught all the explanation but did
understand one thing -- their bomber was either unaware of the
engineering ramifications of the placement of his bomb, or he was
completely aware and just didn't care about taking out two hundred
people in an effort to get just one.
He looked around the underbody, trying to identify all possible means of
entry.
"Who has access to this part of the plane prior to flight?"
"Unfortunately, it's a long roster. The mechanics, the luggage handlers,
the food suppliers, .... the list goes on. Also, on this flight they were
carrying some commercial packages, so the loaders would have also had
access. It's always difficult to narrow the field to a manageable number
of suspects to investigate based on possible access alone. That's why
motivation is so important. It gives us some insight so we can narrow the
possibilities."
Mulder was frustrated. He'd hoped there would be some reasonable
number of suspects at the Las Vegas end whom they could haul in for
questioning immediately. It now sounded as if this would not be a
practical approach. He turned to the woman and nodded, gesturing to the
entryway.
"I think I'll head back to the Bureau. Any evidence that can be released
now, I'll take with me."
"Of course, I can arrange it."
Mulder took a last look around, glanced once more up through the hole
into the passenger compartment. He felt terrible for the little girl and her
father, but couldn't help the relief that flooded him once again at the fact
that Skinner had survived.
His thoughts then turned to his partner and he realized he wanted to get
back to the Bureau and bounce some ideas off her.
*******************************************
Monday, 7:46 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Scully felt the swoosh of air at her back before she processed the click of
the latch or heard the rustling signifying someone's entrance into the
room. She generally hated sitting with her back to the door, but she just
hadn't managed to find the energy to move since she'd spread out her
files earlier in the day. She didn't have to see behind her, though, to
know that her partner had returned. She smiled when his voice
confirmed her guess.
"Hey, Scully, what's up?"
She turned in the chair then to face him, swiveled her body to the right,
then leaned her head back to look up at him. He had a box in his arms
that he set on the table carefully, sliding it towards the middle. She took
in his appearance as well as mood and surmised that he had about had it
for the day. She wished again that they'd decided to postpone the
briefing scheduled for that night. She was long past exhausted herself
and at least she had had a decent nights sleep and hadn't been shot just the
day before.
"Not much. Nothing from the hotel this morning. I don't think we'll
learn much there. We've had nine agents check in so far. I sent them off
to the hotel down the street to check in -- where by the way, we also have
rooms -- and told them to be back here at eight. I expect the rest of them
to arrive sometime later tonight. AD Skinner really moved mountains to
get them here so fast."
Her partner nodded, pulled out the chair next to her and flopped into it,
head dropping to hang over the seat back awkwardly. It looked
incredibly uncomfortable to Scully. It must have worked for him,
though, because he closed his eyes and seemed to drift off.
"Mulder, we still have two team members to assign before the meeting.
Do you have any thoughts on where we should put Liu or Khalak?"
Mulder stirred, opened his eyes and swiveled his head towards her.
"Yeah, after seeing the plane and talking with Madeleine some more, I
definitely want an extra person on that team. Let's put Khalak on it. He
has the investigative background for it. How about if we put Liu on the
original bombings? As I recall, she has a technical background that might
help."
Scully nodded, murmured, "Mechanical Engineering degree from
University of Florida" and continued jotting notes on the pad in front of
her. She turned her head towards her partner then and summarized.
"So by my count that makes four agents investigating the plane bombing,
five on the original bombing case, and the other four on the agent's
murders, with our two forensics people being assigned to the murder case
and the original bombing case."
He had his eyes closed again, but she could tell he was paying attention,
listening and absorbing her words.
"That's right, but several of them will be working across teams. We'll
develop a matrix of dependencies. We need to make sure nothing slips
through the cracks just because the right people aren't talking to each
other."
She could hear the exhaustion dragging at his words. Hell, she wasn't
much better. Suddenly, the thought of coffee took root. Took root and
blossomed into a full-fledged obsession.
"Mulder, we have seven or so minutes. Let's go get some coffee."
He laughed out loud, recognizing words spoken by an addicted caffeine
junky. But it sounded pretty good to him, too. Mulder forced his eyes
open and dragged himself out of the chair. Scully was already standing,
hand on the door, ready to search out the black sludge they were passing
off as coffee here.
"Come on, Mulder. I know you're not really that old and tired."
He grinned at her, cited a line from one of his favorite movies in an odd
Bogartly fashion, "It ain't the age, sweetheart, it's the mileage."
Her laughter filled the room and suddenly Mulder found that the night
ahead didn't seem quite so dark and foreboding.
*******************************************
Monday, 8:03 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Conference Room
The larger conference room down the hall from their command center
held eleven of their thirteen agents, Mulder, Scully, and SAC Delano.
The remaining two agents were due into the airport later that night.
Mulder deferred to Delano, gesturing for the older man to begin the
briefing. The various agents had formed smaller groups of two to four
and stood scattered around the room, speaking to one another softly.
Delano walked to the head of the conference room where the AV
equipment sat and turned to take in those in the room. His commanding
presence was enough to let everyone know it was time to get started. A
moment later, agents had located seats and quieted.
"I appreciate that you must be curious as to why you've been assigned
here on such short notice. I recognize it is an unusual procedure, but the
circumstances are also unusual and warranted fast action."
The agents were riveted by Delano's words, recognized that they were on
the verge of being let in on something big. Most had already confirmed
with others in the room their connection to either Mulder or Scully, so
were now waiting to here what these two had gotten involved in that was
so big as to require an AD of the Bureau to pull strings to have them
reassigned on such short notice.
"My name is Harry Delano and I am the SAC here. However, I am not
running this case. Agents Mulder and Scully are. I will leave them to
explain the details and will say only that I am here to facilitate and
expedite your requests. This case is important to me for personal reasons
as well as professional. One of my men was murdered because of it and
a good friend is presently at risk. If I can help in any way, I'll do it."
He stepped back then and gestured to Mulder and Scully to take over.
Mulder walked to the same spot Delano had stood, put his coffee on the
edge of a slide projector stand, and crossed arms in front of him. He
took a moment to reflect and order his thoughts before starting.
"The situation is this. Assistant Director Skinner is presently the target of
a killer who has already murdered eight agents over the past four years."
Mulder paused a moment to allow the men and women seated in the room
to absorb this new information.
"The men who were murdered, as well as AD Skinner, worked together
on a bombing case in 1976. We are certain there is a connection to that
case. Additionally, you might have heard about the little incident last
night involving a plane from Las Vegas."
Mulder could see the eyes darting back and forth across the room.
Evidently several of the agents had already made that connection.
"AD Skinner was on that flight and was the intended target."
The murmurings were louder at this news and Mulder again gave them a
moment to take in the fact that one of their own was a target. And not just
one of their own, but an AD.
"He was also attacked this morning in a hotel outside of Fort Worth. The
AD is safe, for now. But it is our job to identify who this killer is and
whether he was responsible for the original bombings in the 70's. And,
of course, catch him before he strikes again."
His eyes swept the room. He was pleased at the obvious concern and
attention showing on the faces in front of him.
"I'm ASAC on this and Agent Scully is my second in command. You've
been chosen because either Agent Scully or myself know you
personally."
He remembered the agent Delano had appointed and quickly added,
"....or SAC Delano does."
"Security on this is maximal. No discussions with press, with family or
friends, not even with colleagues. You are not to speak to anyone --
anyone -- off this team unless you are cleared by me or Scully."
He paused and looked at each agent, attempting to enforce by will alone
his intentions.
"We have two more people coming in later tonight, but in the meantime,
Agent Scully and I will be giving you your assignments and briefing the
teams. Agent Scully?"
Scully glanced again at the pad to refresh her memory of the assignments.
She'd been staring at them for most of the afternoon, but still needed the
reassurance. It was times like these that she envied her partner his eidetic
memory.
"Team 1 will focus on the plane bombing from last night as well as the
shooting this morning. Agents Dowd, Khalak, Mayne, and Wenner will
be working this team. You will report and interface directly with Agent
Mulder. Team 2 will work the original bombing case and is comprised of
Agents Liu, Mander, McCulley, Rabideau, and Smith. Agent Mander
will act as team leader. Team 3 will investigate the deaths of the eight
men who served with AD Skinner on the original bombing case. Agents
Knight, Lewis, Lin and Shalin will report directly to me. We've
compiled initial summaries to get you started this evening. Agent Mander
will meet with ASAC Mulder and myself tonight to lay out our strategy
for each team. We will reconvene here tomorrow morning promptly at
7:30 a.m., at which time individual assignments will be made."
Scully reviewed her notes once again to ensure she hadn't left anything
out, then turned to her partner to signal she was finished. He had been
standing with his left arm wrapped around his chest, his right elbow
propped on top. His right hand pulled at his chin, occasionally running
past his left jaw. Scully could see the slight bruise from this morning and
guessed that it was still painful.
He glanced up after the moment's silence, realizing he was on once again.
He dropped his arms, placed hands on hips, causing his suit jacket to
flare out behind him, then faced the room once more.
"Read over the summaries before tomorrow, but get a good night's sleep.
It'll probably be the last one you're likely to get in the next few days."
He nodded in dismissal and turned back to Scully. She looked tired and
he regretted that they still had to meet with Jake Mander tonight. He
wanted nothing more than to climb into bed himself.
He sensed movement to his left and turned to find Jake there. Mulder
smiled and reached out his hand to the older man.
"Hi Jake. Sorry to take you away from Elizabeth."
The two men shook and Mander responded, "That's okay, Mulder.
Sounds like you have your hands full on this one."
Mulder turned to include his partner in the conversation.
"Agent Dana Scully, this is Agent Jake Mander. We go way back. Jake
was in the VCS for quite a while. Left just before I did."
Scully smiled at the man and shook the offered hand.
"Does this mean I can finally hear about your early days of fame from
someone who actually knows the truth, Mulder?"
Mander laughed and slapped Mulder on the arm playfully, then
responded, "Agent Scully, I have stories about this boy that would give
you night terrors. Actually, I have enough blackmail material to keep me
in new cars for the next twenty years."
Mulder was saved from responding by the arrival of SAC Delano. He
wiped the sarcastic smirk from his face, sent the snide remark to the
nether regions, and turned serious in a heartbeat.
"Sir."
"Mulder, Scully, be sure you let me know if I can help in any way. I'm
heading back to my office for a while and I'll be here early tomorrow.
I'll try to make myself as available as possible. Also, please do me a
favor and keep me informed. Especially about how Walt's doing."
Scully responded for both of them.
"Yes, sir, we will. And thank you for all your help."
*******************************************
Monday, 9:52 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
The headache was back with a vengeance and all of a sudden it was
accompanied by a sharp pain in his stomach. Mulder recalled Scully's
words of wisdom earlier and wished he'd taken heed. He'd forgotten to
eat and now it was heading towards 10 p.m. His headache was probably
partly due to lack of food. He looked across the table to his partner and
wondered if she had eaten tonight. What was he thinking? This was
logical, eminently responsible and completely capable Scully. He
wondered briefly if he should even bring it up, then decided what the
hell.
"Hey, Scully."
She glanced up from the files spread in front of her and Mander,
distractedly, one eyebrow raised.
"Did you have any dinner?"
He tried to read the quick changes in expression that crossed her features
and failed utterly. She seemed to be wrestling with something, whether
irritation or some other emotion he wasn't sure.
"Scully?"
She sighed heavily then and looked chagrined.
"Actually, I haven't and I'm absolutely starved. After giving you a hard
time earlier, I wasn't about to bring it up."
He laughed then and noticed Jake watching the interaction. The man
entered the conversation then for the first time.
"Look, why don't you two head out? There's no need for you to be here.
I'm playing catch up with these files. I'll finish up and meet you here
fifteen minutes early tomorrow so we can do some last minute
coordination."
It was too inviting an offer to pass up. Mulder looked to his partner to be
sure she wasn't objecting, then stood quickly.
"Great. Thanks, Jake. We'll see you at 7:15 here tomorrow. Here's the
keys to the evidence cabinet and the room. Lock it all up when you're
done."
Mulder had already put on his jacket, stuffed papers and computer in his
briefcase, and was now reaching for his overcoat. Scully decided the
man must really be hungry. She'd seen him grimace when he stood and
decided to make sure she checked him out before he turned in. The arm
could be giving him trouble, or it might still be the head. She turned to
the man still sitting at the table and touched him lightly on the arm,
saying, "Thanks. We'll see you tomorrow."
"No problem."
Mulder had the door open for her, stood against it, in fact, waiting for her
to exit the room before him. She smiled at him as she passed and asked,
"This half hour, too?"
He looked confused for a moment, then smiled finally as he remembered
the comment he'd made to her in the airport the day before about being a
gentlemen for this half hour. Trust Scully to have just the right barb for
the occasion.
"Nah, Scully. I'm just so tired I need the door to keep me standing
upright."
He received a dig in the ribs for the remark, but felt it well worth it. The
lighthearted banter had been hard to come by over the past few months.
*******************************************
They decided to take the car since they weren't really sure how far they'd
have to drive to find someplace open so late. If all else failed, there was a
McDonald's down the road. Scully prayed all else wouldn't fail.
Mulder had his left hand out to grab the driver's door handle, and held the
key loosely in his right. An inch from the handle he froze, called out to
his partner, "Stay back, Scully!"
It sat boldly on the driver's seat, with a note attached. He couldn't read
the note from his angle, but he didn't really feel like hanging around long
enough to try.
"Scully, run!"
He turned as quickly as he could and sprinted a good five to six car
lengths away. He started angling to the right then to meet up with his
partner. He saw clearly that the color had drained from her face as they
came back together. She was breathing hard, chest heaving, mouth open
slightly. He realized he was in the same condition. A drop of sweat
made its way down the center of his back, sending a chill up his spine.
They had to get farther away in case the bomb was on a timer or remote
control.
"Come on, Scully, let's head to the exit at least and call it in to Delano and
to SWAT. They can get a bomb retrieval unit out."
She nodded and preceded him to the doorway, watched as he took out the
cellular and made the call. Both briefcases lay on the ground by their
feet. Scully leaned against the wall, watching the car carefully, as if
waiting for it to blow up in front of their eyes.
Mulder finished his call and joined her, leaned his head back to rest
against the concrete block of the parking garage. His stomach growled
then, loudly and for an extended period, reminding him once again and
quite soundly that the needs of the body and the needs of the psyche were
two very different things. His embarrassment was arrested suddenly
when an almost matching growl, but somehow more dainty, joined in.
When they arrived, the SWAT team couldn't understand why in the
world the two FBI agents were grinning. They wrote it off as hysteria.
*******************************************
Thirty-eight minutes later, Captain Harold Sawner yelled over to them.
"Agents Mulder and Scully. You're clear to come over now."
In his hand he held a piece of paper loosely by the corner. As Mulder and
Scully approached, he held it up so they could both read it. It looked
handwritten at first glance, but it quickly became obvious that the writing
was too symmetrical, too even. It had been printed out on a laser printer
and was written in a script font. It was unsigned.
Hope you liked my little joke.
Don't worry, I don't care about you.
You know who I want.
But don't get in my way.
Mulder took a deep breath, tried to figure out what it meant, tried to
discern the ramifications. He turned to the Chief, eyebrows raised,
hoping the man could clarify at least the joke part.
"It wasn't really a bomb. Looked damned convincing at first glance,
though. Actually, at second glance, too. But it just had some nice
flashing lights and a countdown pad. You probably didn't even see that.
It was connected to the door handle so that if the door were unlocked, a
countdown clock would start at 1 minute. Not my idea of a joke.... but
someone's evidently."
The man was looking at Mulder closely, waiting for a response, for
clarification. It wasn't forthcoming.
"We need the device logged in and released to us. If you have any doubt,
you can run it through SAC Delano."
The Chief paused and searched both their faces. He must have seen some
quality he trusted because he said, "No, that's all right. We'll log and
release. Get you to sign the forms. You'll be responsible for chain of
evidence. So long as we know where to come for it when we need it."
The man dropped the letter back to the front seat of the car and gestured to
one of his men. He gave instructions to bag and log, then release
whatever was desired to Agent Mulder of the Bureau.
*******************************************
Monday, 11:17 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
The door slammed open, causing the man inside to jump to his feet, hand
on weapon. Mulder laughed and said, "At ease, Jake. It's just us."
Mander looked thoroughly confused and Scully took pity on the man.
"We never got a chance to actually leave. Our bomber left us a little
present in our car. Not an actual bomb, just enough of a facsimile to
scare the shit out of us."
Mulder was amused. Scully rarely cursed and he knew she had to be
pretty upset right now to give in to the urge.
"All we want to do is stash this stuff in the evidence locker until
tomorrow and head out. We still haven't had dinner."
Mulder knew it came out sounding surly but didn't particularly care. If
he was going to be worth anything tomorrow he had to get something in
his stomach and get to bed. Period. And it had to happen soon.
Scully had already grabbed the set of keys from in front of Mander and
was walking towards the makeshift locker they'd created. It was just an
AV stand on wheels, but it had an actual lock on it. Normally they would
have felt secure enough to leave the evidence locked in the room, but with
the possibility of an insider, every bit of extra security was being taken.
Scully opened the cabinet and gestured to Mulder to slide the box in. She
locked it up afterwards and slid the keys down the table to Jake Mander,
once again.
"Come on, Mulder. I think we're going to have to make do with
McDonald's tonight. And we better hurry before they close down, too."
She grabbed his arm and pulled, not even saying good-bye to the agent at
the table this time around. Mulder gave a brief wave and allowed himself
to be dragged along. Actually, Mickey D's sounded pretty darn good to
him.
*******************************************
Twenty-five minutes later they sat in Scully's hotel room, with bags,
wrappers, drinks and food scattered across the table. Mulder had broken
into the mini-bar and pulled out several beers, claiming it was the least
they deserved after having to deal with a psycho bomber with a worse
sense of humor than his own.
He'd thrown a couple of Tylenols into the mix and had a nice buzz going.
Actually, he was feeling pretty good. Relaxed. Comfortable for the first
time in days. He sat in one of the wing backs, slumped low, head
leaning against the back in between sips of his beer. He had his legs
stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He'd changed into
sweats and a T-shirt and he tilted his feet down to dig his toes into the
plush carpet. It felt good to be out of restraining clothes and comfortable.
He used to do this all the time. He used to relax, ages ago. It was a
normal thing to do. He glanced over at his partner, and a slow smile
surfaced at the sight of her still stuffing french fries into her mouth. She
usually hated grease. Scully had changed clothes as well and was
similarly attired. She had sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt on, with the
sleeves cut off. He'd never seen her in anything like it and wondered
what had possessed her.
Mulder was feeling maudlin. It wasn't an emotion he often experienced
and certainly not in the middle of a tense case. But this seemed so
familiar to him. He remembered times like this before. Mulder looked
over at his best friend once again and made a decision.
"Scully, did I ever tell you about when I was married?"
Scully almost choked on her beer, managed to swallow, and then looked
at her partner in amusement. He'd joked with her before about pretty
much everything, but this was new ground for him. The smile slowly
died on her face when she realized that he wasn't smiling at all -- was, in
fact, looking at her with something akin to fear.
"You're kidding?"
Scully didn't know what to think, what to feel. She was flooded with so
many emotions in such a short period that she had to struggle to make
sense of them. Surprise, shock, fear, anger, hurt. She could only think,
over and over, that he had kept this from her. That for five years, during
life and death struggles, he hadn't trusted her enough to tell her
something so momentous. How could he not tell her? How could he
keep it from her?
"You've got to be kidding?!"
She could see him close off, see him withdraw to protect himself, and she
hated herself because she knew it was her fault. Knew that he had trusted
her and she'd betrayed it. She'd let the surprise rule her reactions,
allowed the part of her that was hurt feelings override the part that
recognized her partner's vulnerability. He leaned even farther back in his
chair and turned away from her, body language making it clear that he
had withdrawn from any further discussion. Scully wasn't prepared yet
to allow that to happen.
Right now, she felt as if her foundations had crumpled, disintegrated
under her feet. She had stomped on her best friend's heart, on his trust,
and hurt him deeply. She had to make this right. She had to do it now.
Scully found her breath coming in ragged jerks, tried to control it. Her
voice shook as she finally forced out the one and only word she could
manage.
"Mulder."
She was terrified she'd done irreparable harm to the thing that meant most
to her in the world. Tears filled her eyes at the thought and she had to
grip her hands tightly to keep them from shaking.
"Mulder, please."
He turned towards her then, but his eyes were focused over her shoulder,
his face set. Both his hands were gripped tightly on the beer can and in a
remote corner of her mind, Scully wondered why it hadn't crushed yet.
"Mulder."
It was a pleading whisper, the most she could manage, but it got through
to the man sitting in front of her. He focused on her finally, sat forward
to lean across the table slightly, slowly reached out his left hand to her.
Scully grabbed it in both of hers as if it were a lifeline. And it was.
"Mulder, I'm so sorry. I thought you were kidding. I thought ... I'm so
sorry."
Mulder felt like a shit. He'd made Scully cry. He dropped a bomb -- his
own little bomb -- and expected her to put up defenses with no warning.
How could he be upset at her reaction when he gave her no time to adjust
to the idea? But a part of him had wanted her to immediately understand
and immediately say all the right things. It wasn't fair, it wasn't even
reasonable. But it was human.
Mulder squeezed her hands in his and decided to make it up to her,
somehow.
"No, Scully, you don't need to apologize. I'm the one who should
apologize. I shouldn't have hit you with it like that, out of the blue. I
just ... I just wanted you to know."
Scully held his hand tightly between her own, fingers gripped by his.
She breathed deeply, realized that he had forgiven her, that she hadn't lost
his friendship. That this wouldn't come between them as so much else
had. She was able to think a little more clearly now, to start appreciating
the implications. She knew how Phoebe had hurt him, and now
wondered suddenly if she had been more than just a woman he'd known
intimately once upon a time. Had it been Phoebe Greene or someone
else? Who was this woman who had hurt her partner?
Scully realized what she'd done, then. Unconsciously she had
subscribed all blame to the unknown woman, without even hearing the
story. She wanted to hear it, wanted to know about this part of her
friend's life. Wanted to know how it had shaped him. She squeezed his
hand again.
"Tell me about it ... please."
"What, you want to hear about the sad, pathetic story of my love life?
Nah, Scully, it's pretty boring really. You see, once upon a time, I
thought I was a normal guy who was going to live this normal life, have a
normal marriage and normal kids, in some normal suburb somewhere."
Scully felt her eyebrows raise at the kids part. Were there little Mulders
running around out there somewhere, living in a white house with a
picket fence?
Mulder evidently caught her surprised look, smiled ironically before
clarifying.
"But I never had the chance, Scully. We were married all of five months
when I started in the VCS. It was doomed almost from the start. I don't
blame her, never have. The vows say in sickness and in health. They
don't say anything about serial killers, child molesters, and kidnappers."
Despite his joking manner, Scully saw the pain the memory caused. She
wished she could do something to ease it. But all she could do was be
there for him, as he had been so many times for her. She hoped it would
be enough.
Scully stood, removed her hands from his for a moment and pulled her
chair around the table, sinking into it once again. She then put her arm
around his shoulders, rested her head against his left arm.
"I'm sorry, Mulder."
He knew she was. And it helped.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 7:09 a.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Mulder leaned forward in the chair, head in hands, elbows propped on
knees, and reflected on his miserable life. Actually, it was a pretty good
life when he stayed way the hell away from anything alcoholic. He tried
to remember just how many beers he'd had the previous night. Was it
four, five? More? Why the hell hadn't Scully stopped him? She knew
better than that. *Oh, grow up Mulder. It's not your partner's job to tell
you when to stop drinking.*
He thought his head hurt yesterday, but had a feeling yesterday's
pounding would fade into insignificance compared to today's. It wasn't
that he'd really had that much to drink. It was that he'd had that much to
drink on a still practically empty stomach, with a banged up head, stitched
up arm, and hardly any sleep on top of it. Never a good combination.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up through splayed fingers to
see his partner sitting in front of him. He hadn't even heard her.
"Hey there. You don't look so good, partner."
Mulder dropped his hands from in front of his face, made an attempt to sit
a bit straighter. He noticed finally that Scully had something in her
hands, was holding them out to him. He focused slowly, fighting off the
cobwebs keeping him fuzzy. Aaaaahhhhhh. Aspirin in one hand, coffee
in the other. Could there be a more divine vision?
"You are an angel from heaven above, Scully. I will never again doubt
this fact."
Mulder downed the aspirin in one swallow and choked a huge sip of
coffee down after them. Closed his eyes briefly, then took another big
sip. He looked his partner in the eye and said, with all the certitude he
could muster, "Heaven, Scully."
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before."
She leaned in closer and put one hand on his knee.
"Seriously, how do you feel?"
"I'm fine. Stupid, but fine."
Scully smiled and stood, reassured that he'd survive for a while at least.
"We have a couple minutes before Jake's due in. I'm going to make sure
our other two agents arrived all right. I'll be back soon."
He watched her head out of the room and considered what he'd done last
night. Not the drinking, but the talking. What the hell had possessed
him? He wasn't big on sharing, not even with friends. But then, this
wasn't just a friend. This was Scully. This was his best friend. And
she'd let him drink himself into a stupor even though she knew how
important this case was. And she'd poured him into bed after he'd done
it. And she'd come into his room and woken him up a couple minutes
before the alarm this morning so it wouldn't surprise him. And she
brought him aspirin and coffee. And she was truly concerned about him.
He decided he didn't regret telling her. Not a bit.
Mulder stood and took another big sip of the coffee she'd brought him,
then stared down into the still swirling liquid. Coffee and Scully and a
case to be solved. Life was certainly worth the effort sometimes.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 8:54 a.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Mulder felt good about the teams. He'd quickly set his people to
individual tasks, as had Jake and Scully. They'd taken over three other
rooms in the building as headquarters for each team, but had decided to
retain the conference room they were presently in as the primary
command center. He glanced down at his watch, wondering when the
call would come. Wondering where his reports were. A knock at the
door caused him to swivel to the left, call out, "Come."
A young agent came in, tentatively.
"Excuse me, sir. SAC Delano asked me to bring this to you."
Mulder hardly noticed the sir. He reached out his left hand for the report,
then nodded distractedly at the agent in dismissal. He scanned it quickly
and grimaced at the news. The cell phone was already out, Scully's new
number being punched in with an angry finger. He didn't wait for her to
acknowledge. As soon as he heard the connection, the indrawn breath,
Mulder said, "The video cam was off line for two hours, Scully. No
record. Security called in the malfunction at 7:04 p.m. Wasn't repaired
until a little after 9."
He heard her take a deep breath, let it out slowly.
"Well, Mulder, I think this just supports the idea that this guy is with the
Bureau. He had to have access somehow. Has security figured out what
caused the malfunction?"
"No, they just assumed it was a run-of-the-mill mechanical problem. I'll
have our labs check into it, but I doubt we'll get any more."
Frustrated silence reined for a good five seconds.
"Okay, Scully. I'll talk to you later."
He heard her soft good-bye, then turned off the phone, stuffed it into his
pocket.
He glanced around the room and over to the corner, willing the phone
there to ring. As he glanced at his watch once more, it finally responded
to his wish. Mulder practically launched himself across the room to pick
up the receiver.
"Mulder."
"Agent Mulder, hello. How are you?"
He had expected a report from the safehouse, but certainly hadn't
expected his boss to call.
"Sir ... I'm fine, thank you. How are things there?"
He was still trying to overcome the surprise at hearing Skinner's voice
and now felt foolish with the inane conversation.
"Boring."
It was said abruptly, impatiently, and Mulder almost laughed at the
thought of his boss stuck with nothing to do but watch daytime
television. The next words wiped the grin off his face, though.
"I heard about the bomb scare last night. How are you and Agent
Scully?"
Mulder was confused. How could Skinner have heard about it? There
was supposed to be no contact between the safe house and anyone else
except the few police officers who'd been cleared to check-in every two
hours.
"She's fine, sir, but how did you hear?"
Mulder realized it had come out demanding, strident. He heard Skinner's
frustration at the tone.
"Agent Mulder, give me some credit."
Mulder felt appropriately chastised and knew that his face burned with
embarrassment. Skinner certainly had the gift.
"Sorry, sir."
"Look, Mulder. I think you and Scully need to be more careful. You
should have a couple agents assigned to you for security."
Mulder didn't need to think about the suggestion for long.
"Sir, he's not interested in us. He wants you. He made that pretty clear
last night."
"Agent Mulder, since when did you start trusting murderers?"
Damn, the man did it to him again. But this time, he was right.
"Mulder, don't trust this man. Don't trust anything about him. He's
killed at least eight.... make that eleven people that we know of. He
might also be responsible for the fourteen deaths from the seventies.
Don't think he won't come after you or Scully if it's in his best interest to
do so."
The silence lasted for a heavy four seconds before Mulder responded.
"Yes, sir. You're right. We'll be careful."
"Okay, Mulder. I'll check in tomorrow. Remember."
And then he was gone and Mulder heard only the dial tone, buzzing
loudly in his ear. He hung up the receiver finally and considered his and
Scully's position. Was there anything they should be doing differently?
Could they do more to protect themselves? He shook his head and
looked back at the pile of files on the table. Time to touch base with his
partner in person.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 9:43 a.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Mulder, Scully, and Jake Mander stood in the room, surveying the wall
space. Mulder and Jake had gone through the procedure of setting up
command centers more times than either cared to remember. This case
was unusual in that there were so many diverse streams of investigation
to keep track of. The room was approximately 15 ft. x 25 ft, with a door
one third the way along one of the 25 foot lengths.
Mulder took a step back and gestured to the long uninterrupted space of
the side wall. "Jake, I think we can lay out the eight original bombing
cases here. Let's divide it up by case, not victim."
He turned to the other long wall, with the door and looked at his partner.
"You'll have to make do with this, Scully. Wrap it around at that end if
you need to." He gestured off to the wall to the right.
"I'll take this end. The plane bombing will require the least space. Let's
get it set up and then draw up our dependency matrix. We should be
done in time for the initial reports at eleven."
The two other agents merely nodded and started pulling out appropriate
evidence, files, photos, and reports. Both Mander and Scully had maps
to hang. Mander's had pinpoints of all the original bombings from the
seventies. Scully had locations of each agent's home as well as location
of murder. They conferred briefly and decided to cross-reference with
different colored pins and placed a single map at the far end of the room.
It was interesting to see this way. There certainly seemed to be no
correlation between locations of the recent murders and the previous
bombings. The only exception was the last agent's death in Dallas and a
bombing at the University of Texas at Arlington late in 1976 -- the last
bombing. UT Arlington was right around the corner. Red, black, and
green pins were scattered across the map except for this one location,
where all three fought for dominance. Scully couldn't help but wonder if
this was more than coincidence.
Mulder had joined her and now stood with arms crossed, expression
intent.
"I want to go there. UTA. This afternoon."
Scully looked at her partner searchingly, wondering what he hoped to
accomplish. She turned back to the map and felt a small shiver. She
decided then that she wanted to go, too. Gaze never leaving the map, she
said, "After lunch." She sensed, rather than saw, her partner nod. Both
turned back to their respective tasks without another word.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 11:02 a.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Nine of the agents, plus Mulder and Scully were meeting around the
conference table in the command center. Mulder had decided that they
could squeeze everyone in since they were four agents short at this
meeting. He knocked on the table lightly, quickly gaining everyone's
attention.
"You've had a couple hours at least to absorb the critical issues pertaining
to your own investigation. Now I want to have reports from each team
so that we can be sure to have proper coordination. Remember that it is
quite likely that the same person is responsible for each of these crimes.
If that is true, then it's even more important that we all talk with each
other. Let's start with my team. I have Agents Mayne and Khalak in Las
Vegas. They're reviewing all security cam video from the airport and
surrounding areas. Interviewing employees and others who had access to
the plane at that end."
Mulder glanced up and around the table, taking in the engaged
expressions. Everyone was with him. Everyone paying attention. And
there wasn't one look of disdain. Of course. These people were hand
picked by Scully and himself. He could trust them to give their all on this
case, as on any other. It was reassuring. He took a deep breath and
continued.
"Vegas was the source of that flight so we know the bomb had to have
been planted there. They'll be working with Agents Dowd and Wenner
here at this end to eliminate suspects from our present list of 423
authorized individuals who conceivably had access. We anticipate that
list will be brought to zero. We don't believe our bomber is an employee,
or even made use of an employee to gain access. We believe he obtained
access some other way. Agents Dowd and Wenner are here pursuing
these options. We've sent all pertinent evidence to our labs and should be
getting initial reports this afternoon. My team is also keeping track of the
investigation into yesterday's shooting and the bomb scare last night."
Grimaces were seen around the table. All had heard about the fake bomb
placed in Mulder and Scully's car in the Bureau's own parking garage.
Such a violation of their own turf rankled.
"We've already sent the evidence into the labs. The FWPD are handling
the shooting and I'm going to leave it that way. I'll be interfacing with
them personally, but I don't expect we'll learn much. There were no
witnesses, the vehicle was found abandoned five miles away. It had been
stolen the previous day. No obvious evidence, no prints, it had been
wiped clean. It was vacuumed -- will be tested for DNA evidence, which
obviously won't help us find him. As far as the car bomb, the camera
was off so there's no video. Again, evidence has been collected that
might help us convict when it comes to it, but won't help us with
identification."
Mulder glanced up and around the table to take in expressions and
responses. "Any questions or comments? Are we missing anything
obvious?"
He saw a hand down the table and recognized Sarah Liu. "Yes, Agent
Liu."
"Sir, with regards to the plane bombing, if it isn't an employee or
someone who was on the authorized access list, then ...." Her voice
faltered for a moment before continuing. "....are you proposing the
bomber was someone who would have access through other legal means
or are you proposing that he gained access illegally?"
Mulder knew Sarah from several cases over the years and appreciated her
sharp wit and even sharper intellect. He knew she'd already put the
pieces together and was merely asking out of formality. Asking to make
sure everyone else appreciated what she'd already registered. He looked
down the table towards her fondly, remembering the many times she'd
come up with the missing piece of the puzzle in the past.
"We're not ruling out either possibility ..... although legal access seems
to be the more promising possibility."
A few eyebrows raised around the table, but no one spoke. Good, now
they understood why there was to be no discussion of this case outside
this group.
"Anything else?"
Mulder paused for a few seconds, then decided to switch the order of the
reports.
"Let's hear from Team 3 now. Agent Scully, could you give us an
update of the more recent murders?"
Scully wasn't thrown for a second, despite the change. She stood and
walked to the wall -- her wall -- and stopped at one end where the first
agent's death was on display. Photos, reports, and other pertinent
evidence was taped and tacked to the wall. She began summarizing the
mode of death for each of the eight agents, describing broadly the tasks
her team were implementing to re-investigate the previously identified
accidents and otherwise 'normal' deaths.
"We've gotten clearance to exhume four of the bodies, including
Hendricks, who was the last victim. One of my people, Agent Alex
Knight, is a pathologist as well and is presently with the coroner's office
here in Dallas making these arrangements. Agent Knight and I will re-
perform any autopsies that are possible. My people will be interviewing
family members, colleagues, and appropriate law enforcement officers
who handled the deaths over the next several days. We are trying to carry
out many of these interviews by phone, but it's clear that several of the
sites will need to be visited in person."
Mulder nodded as she finished and looked around the room. He saw
confusion on several faces and wondered at it.
"Questions?"
There was a rustling to his left and he glanced that way, saw that Maureen
McCulley, the local agent had her hand raised. She was clearly the
youngest of the agents on the team -- no more than twenty-seven or so at
the most. She seemed uncomfortable, even a bit awed by being thrust
onto a case of this magnitude.
"Yes."
The woman directed her query to Scully.
"Agent Scully, you said that the first victim quite likely died due to
administration of a drug that induced heart failure, the second and sixth
from an execution style murder with a weapon generally associated with
law enforcement rather than criminals, the fourth died from a broken
neck, quite possibly administered prior to being thrown off a cliff, then
another broken neck ..."
She paused and shook her head, looking again as if she were confused.
"Agent Scully, it seems that these methods would require the murderer to
have access to the victim. These victims were all trained agents. It's as if
they allowed the murderer to get close enough to kill them."
Scully smiled slightly, kindly.
"That's correct, Agent McCulley."
"But .... that would mean ...."
She wandered to a stop, looked around the table and found only serious
expressions, none of them cruel or unfeeling. She swallowed in
understanding, finally putting the earlier words of Sarah Liu into place.
These men and women all assumed it was an FBI agent. They all thought
it. She could tell from their expressions. She looked back to ASAC
Mulder and revised her own conclusions. Mulder didn't think it -- he
knew it. He smiled to her, then turned to the rest of the table.
"Anything else for Team 3?" Silence.
"All right, Agent Mander, could you fill us in on Team 2 activities?"
Jake Mander stood as Scully had and approached the opposite wall. He
gestured towards the left end.
"The first bombing took place in late 1974 at MIT in a Materials
Laboratory. Actually, an Advanced Materials Lab. It was an
undergraduate teaching lab, but a graduate student and a faculty member
were killed. No one else was in the lab at the time. The device was set
with a trigger attached to a composite lay-up vacuum chamber. Door
opened and boom. Since it was in the vacuum chamber, though, the
explosion was directed and localized, so there was no real damage
beyond the chamber itself and the two victims."
Jake paused and looked at the black and white photos on the wall, clearly
showing the devastation those lives were subjected to in the fraction of a
second before their deaths.
"This and the next three bombings were originally attributed to the
Unabomber. It wasn't until the fourth bombing that they figured out it
was someone else."
Jake then continued down the line, providing details on each of the
bombings.
"The second occurred at Cal Tech in an instrumentation teaching
laboratory. This time it was a graduate student who was killed. A
teaching assistant for the lab class. He turned on a computer being used
for data acquisition for an experiment that he'd been preparing and
triggered the device."
Jake paused and looked up from his notes, then glanced over at the
photos on the wall.
"He lived for two days."
No one needed to hear the details. They understood implicitly the quality
of that life for those agonizing days.
"The third was an aerospace structures laboratory at Stanford. This one
took out a professor and an undergraduate student immediately. The
device was triggered when the teacher and student tried testing a wing
box structure in a load testing device. Unfortunately, there were other
students there at the time. Three others were seriously wounded, but did
survive. One lost an arm."
Jake continued down the wall, giving the gruesome details on each of the
bombings and the victims created in their destructive path.
"This last one occurred at the University of Texas at Arlington. The state
decided to invest heavily in its Engineering schools and had just poured a
few million dollars into UTA's program. The bomber hit a brand new
computer lab. A CFD laboratory -- Computational Fluid Dynamics."
Jake paused and glanced at the agents around the room, seeing several
shake their heads. He understood how they felt. Science and math had
certainly never been his strong suit. Investigating these engineering
related bombings was an eye-opener.
"Anyway, a faculty member was killed in this one when he turned on the
teaching monitor up in front of the class. This blast was also directional
and took out the teacher alone. But it happened in front of twenty-four
undergraduate students."
Mulder heard a muttered "Fucking psycho" off to his right. His thoughts
exactly. He searched the expressions of those around the table, then
looked back to Jake. Nodded for him to continue.
"As I mentioned before, it took awhile for the Bureau to realize these
weren't attributable to the Unabomber. You have to remember that the
national databases and internet capabilities were more limited at that time,
so it's understandable. Once discovered, though, the Bureau assigned a
team in early 1976. You know the men on the team. They've all been
murdered with the exception of AD Skinner. The team investigated this
case for eight months and arrested a thirty-two year old demolitions
expert who worked for a construction company here in Dallas. He'd
been in a Mechanical Engineering program in his twenties and failed a
couple courses, was on probation, ended up failing out of school and
being drafted for Vietnam. He was wounded there and sent back home.
He fit the profile the team had developed, had motivation, had access to
supplies, he certainly had the knowledge. But he claimed he was
innocent throughout the trial. He still does."
Jake cleared his throat and considered whether he wanted to finish the
thought off. He glanced over at Mulder and Scully, saw them both nod.
"In fact, he claimed at the time that he'd been set up as a fall guy. That
evidence was manufactured by the team."
It had the affect he knew it would. He saw agents sit up in their seats just
a little straighter. Saw eyes darting around the room, heard the rustlings
of legs being uncrossed. He looked to Mulder again and saw his raised
finger. He nodded almost in relief.
As Mulder spoke, all eyes were drawn to him immediately.
"AD Skinner has personally requested that we investigate the possibility
that evidence was mishandled or manufactured in the original bombing
case. It is part of our job to discover whether an innocent man has been
in jail for twenty years. It is also part of our job to find the real
bomber if
there was a mistake made then."
Mulder glanced at Scully, seeking confirmation that he'd gotten the right
message across. That AD Skinner was in no way responsible for
anything that might have gone wrong twenty-two years ago. That he
wanted to find the bomber just as much or more so as those sitting in the
room now. She nodded and smiled slightly at him.
"Agent Mander, will you tell us what approach your team is taking in re-
investigating these original bombings?"
Jake picked up the pad of paper on which he'd written his notes, and
glanced over it quickly.
"My people will be speaking with Jose Alvarez as well as with those who
testified in the trial. The DA at the time is now with a private law firm
here in Dallas. The public defender moved to New York years ago, but
we'll be speaking to her by phone today. We're tracking down faculty
and administrators at the schools where these bombings took place.
We've already started phone interviews. We're also trying to locate
witnesses who might not have actually testified. Most of these were just
kids at the time. Undergraduate students. As you might imagine, they're
scattered across the country. We're making progress. We've also
determined that, with the exception of UTA, these schools were all on the
1975 top ten list for engineering schools according to something called
the Gourman Report. We know it's significant, but not why as yet.
We're developing possibilities."
He turned to face the table, again searching out Mulder and Scully.
Mulder pushed back from the table, signaling to Jake that he could sit.
Mulder stood, walked to the head of the room, towards Jake and Scully's
map. His eyes were drawn again to the collection of three pins centered
on the Dallas/Ft. Worth/Arlington. And Alvarez was from Dallas. It had
to be significant.
He turned towards his agents, putting his hands in his pants pockets. He
looked down one side of the table and up the other.
"As you can see, this isn't a trivial case. If we have to bring more agents
in on it, we will. But Scully and I know you. We trust you. AD
Skinner's life is on the line here and it's quite possible that this bomber
will take out civilians and officers alike to get to him. I want to reinforce
once more that you are to speak with no one..... absolutely no one who
has not been cleared through either Agent Scully or myself."
Mulder shifted, pulled hands out of pockets and rested them on his hips,
suit jacket pushed back.
"We'll be meeting again as a team this evening. Twice a day from now
on at 11 a.m. and again at 6 p.m. Other meetings as appropriate. Any
questions?"
Mulder dismissed them with a nod and slight wave, then walked back to
where Scully was seated. He leaned against the table, both arms straight,
hung his head between them momentarily. He tried to remember if he'd
ever worked on or heard of a case this complicated before and couldn't
come up with any. Jesus, it spanned more than two decades, involved
one or multiple suspects, who killed both subtly and blatantly, depending
on the circumstances, who had managed to fool the entire justice system
for more than twenty years. He wasn't sure he was up to this.
Mulder felt a hand on his, opened his eyes and turned to his partner. He
glanced around the room and saw they were alone. Thank God. He
couldn't face anyone just now. He needed the silence to think. Mulder
turned the chair next to him around to face his partner, then sank into it
wearily. Propped his elbows on his knees, put hands up to rub his face,
allowing fingers to circle at his temples. Damn this headache. He opened
his mouth to share his thoughts, but she beat him to it.
"Mulder, I know this seems overwhelming. I feel it, too. But I know
you and I know me. I have faith that we can solve this."
It was all she said. But it was enough. He dropped his hands from his
face and reached out with his right to grab hers for a moment.
"Thanks, Scully."
*******************************************
End Part 3 of 8
*******************************************
And Then There Was One - Part 4 of 8 (4/8)
by Kronos
*******************************************
Tuesday, 1:09 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
"Mulder, I'm really getting sick of this crap. Can't we go and get a salad
somewhere? Or at least something that comes on a plate instead of in
wrappers and bags."
Mulder refused to rise to the bait. He was actually perfectly content with
chicken sandwiches and fries. The iced tea wasn't exactly up to his
standards, but all-in-all, it wasn't really that bad.
"Hurry up and finish, Scully. We gotta move if we're going to UTA. We
have to get there and back for the briefing by six tonight. It's not like we
can miss it, after all. I think people might notice."
He could imagine the irritation flowing his way at being ignored, but
knew she wouldn't really mean it. She knew he heard her. Knew he
was ignoring her just to get under her skin. It was all in jest and it felt
good after so many months of tension. There was no one else in the
world with whom he could interact in this way.
Mulder stood, grabbed an empty bag and pushed empty food wrappers
and packages inside, still not looking at his partner. It dawned on him
finally that she hadn't moved or said a word in the past minute at least.
Suddenly Mulder wasn't so sure about his assumptions. He abruptly
stopped what he was doing and turned towards her, half-filled bag still in
hand.
She sat frozen, mouth parted slightly, staring at her half eaten sandwich
as if it held the answers to life's most difficult questions. Mulder became
even more worried that he'd so misread their relationship -- their ability to
joke with one another. The fragile ease they'd so recently managed to
achieve once again was suddenly at risk due to his stupidity, his
thoughtlessness. He cleared his throat, threw the bag down on the table,
and sank back in his chair.
"Scully?"
She jerked slightly and turned her head towards him. Her words, when
they came, were completely unexpected.
"How the hell does he get around, Mulder?"
Mulder was confused, left behind. Whatever leaps his partner had made
remained a mystery to him. He was still thanking his luck that she wasn't
pissed at his ignoring her. He hadn't yet managed to figure out what she
was talking about.
"What? What do you mean?"
"We know he killed the eight agents, we know he planted the bomb in the
plane in Las Vegas, we know he was here to shoot the hell out of your
hotel room and he was here to plant the bomb in the parking garage last
night."
"Yeah. So?"
"So, if he's with the Bureau, how does he do it? I mean, Mulder, we
can't just take off and fly all over the country without forms and
clearances. Well, that is, we're not supposed to and we always get our
butts chewed out when we do. There's got to be a record, right? If not
official documentation, then at least the guy had to take some leave days
here and there. It would be in the Bureau personnel records. Right?"
Mulder felt stupid. He should have made this connection earlier. It
would be easy enough to start a couple computer searches of the
personnel database. They could have Stacy Alexander start running the
cross-matches. She was one of the Bureau's top computational people in
the DC office. He and Scully had used her many times over the years and
she was completely trustworthy. He knew Skinner could clear it for
them.
"You're absolutely right. Let's get Stacy on it. I'll get the clearances set
up."
Scully was hurriedly eating her lunch now, taking large bites of the
sandwich and hardly even chewing in an effort to finish quickly. Mulder
looked at her curiously.
"What made you think of it, Scully? You were staring at your chicken
sandwich like you'd found the mysteries of the universe there."
She turned and grinned then, obviously proud of stumping her partner.
She took a sip of her soda before speaking.
"It was your comment about getting back before six to make the meeting.
We all have our assignments and if we don't make them, there's a record
of it. You should know that better than anyone, Mulder."
A knock at the door prevented Mulder from responding. With what
Scully could only describe as a good natured snarl, he yelled out, "Come
in."
Both agents were surprised to find SAC Delano at the door and scrambled
to their feet quickly.
"Hello, sir."
The man didn't look pleased. In fact, he appeared quite frustrated, maybe
even perturbed. Mulder stood even straighter, feeling now as if he were
being inspected. This man and Skinner both had the ability to make you
feel like you were a private in their own little army. He hastily cleared his
throat and said, "Can we help you, sir?"
Delano stepped into the room and closed the door, waving both agents to
sit.
"If you don't mind, Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, I'd like an update on
your progress."
Suddenly Mulder felt like a little kid being called to task for not getting
home in time for dinner. Mulder tried to suppress his initial reaction. He
could tell from the SAC's expression that the man wasn't irritated with
them, just irritated in general. But he was still irked. He didn't have to
report to this man. Delano wasn't part of the chain of command in this
case. Mulder reminded himself that Delano had bent over backwards to
open whatever doors necessary so their investigative path would be that
much more smooth. It was the least they could do to keep him informed.
And he was Skinner's friend, after all.
Mulder glanced at his partner, noted the creased forehead, the lightly
squinting eyes. He wasn't the only one irritated at Delano's attitude.
"Of course. We're continuing with the three primary teams assigned last
night. Team 1, my team, is attempting to identify who had access to the
plane in Las Vegas. We are also following the investigation into the car
bomb last night and the shooting at the hotel. Nothing has come up as
yet. We don't really expect it to, either, quite frankly. Team 2 is
attempting to determine whether the right man was convicted for the
original bombings and, more importantly, whether our present murderer
might have been responsible for those murders as well. The team
members are presently focusing their efforts on those who testified at the
trial and eventually on Alvarez himself . They'll begin interviewing
others who had information within the next couple days. As for Team 3,
several of the bodies have been cleared for exhumation and Scully and
one of the other pathologists will be performing autopsies as soon as
they're able. The other team members are tracking down any leads as to
who might have been able to get close enough to these men to kill them
with no one else knowing."
Mulder fell silent after his discourse and stared at Delano, not sure
whether the man would be content with such a broad overview. The
SAC seemed chagrined now at his less than friendly attitude, at making
demands on them.
"Look, I'm sorry. Let's just say that being SAC means you can never
escape the red tape. I'm not sure I'm cut out for the bureaucracy. It
sounds as if you're making quite a bit of headway on this. Please let me
know how things are going and whether you need anything from me."
He smiled then and Mulder immediately felt guilty at being brusque with
the man. Oh well, such is life.
"No problem, sir. Actually, if you don't mind, though, Scully and I need
to head out. We're going to UT Arlington to check out the site of the last
bombing in 1976."
Delano nodded and stepped back to the door, opening it quickly.
"No problem. I'll catch up with you later, Agents. Oh, and if you speak
with Walt, tell him I said hello."
*******************************************
Tuesday, 2:24 p.m.
UT Arlington Campus
"Okay, Mulder. We're here. Now what?"
Scully stood next to their new rental car in the visitor's parking lot by the
Administration building. Mulder shut his door, carefully checking to be
sure all locks were engaged. He didn't want a repeat of the previous
evening. He finally looked up and panned his gaze at the buildings
around them. He had a packet of maps in his hands and he tried to place
their present location on one of them to determine where they needed to
head next.
Scully walked around the car to position herself so she could also look at
the map. Pointing one finger, she quickly located the parking lot, then
traced her finger along a street to their right.
"It looks like we can get to the Engineering complex if we follow this
road. I think we want this building here -- at least to start. Wasn't that
the one with the CFD lab?"
"Yeah, it was in 1976. Don't know if things have changed since then.
Let's do it."
They both turned and started walking in the direction Scully had pointed
out. The day was warm and bright and Mulder could feel the sweat
starting already. Fifteen feet into their trek, he began regretting not
leaving his overcoat in the car. He glanced over at his partner and saw
that she seemed completely comfortable. Not a glisten of sweat is sight.
The wind blew lightly, causing a rustling in the bushes to their right. The
few cars permitted on the road drove by slowly to their left, careful of
pedestrians. Kids with backpacks and bicycles were everywhere.
Mulder was lost in reverie, recalling vividly his own undergraduate days
before heading off to Oxford. Days of solitary study in the library,
endless lap swimming, running around the track. No running to -- no
running away. Just running in circles. He was still running in circles.
Would he have played Frisbee, studied under trees, walked with friends -
- would he have done all these things if Samantha hadn't been taken from
him? Or was there something about him that would have prevented his
involvement in such things even if his home life hadn't been so disrupted
by his sister's disappearance? He wondered idly if he had normality in
him anywhere?
"Mulder? Hey, Mulder, are you with me?"
He focused on his partner and realized they'd stopped in front of a five
story brick building. A sign out front proudly proclaimed it to be the
home of the Department of Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering.
Mulder glanced over at his partner to find her brow creased, eyebrows
scrunched, lips pursed -- obviously wondering what was up with him.
He sighed heavily before replying.
"Yeah, Scully. Just thinking about school. The good old days, you
know?"
Scully nodded in understanding. She knew enough about his life after
Samantha disappeared to appreciate that his thoughts probably weren't
particularly happy. Time to change the subject and get his focus back on
the case.
"Well, I think it's safe to assume that we'll be able to track down some of
the people we need here. The Departmental office is listed as being on the
second floor. Why don't we start there?"
Mulder nodded and followed as his partner started for the doors.
Hopefully, some of the professors from the 70's would still be at the
university.
Mulder found the building quite curious. The walls were unpainted
concrete block. The corridors were long with offices and labs on either
side and no windows to let natural light in. Only every other overhead
light was operational, giving the entire place a prison-like feel. They saw
no sign directing them to a particular office, so decided to wander a bit
before heading to the second floor.
During their meanderings, they'd chanced upon several labs filled with
students. In one of these, they overheard a student say, "But it's the
bending stress that will incite the mode of failure, not the torsional
mode." The group of students then launched into what sounded like an
argument, debating pros and cons of ignoring certain 'degrees of
freedom' in their analysis.
Mulder looked over to his partner to see a huge smile on her face. He
couldn't resist laughing out loud. He was suddenly incredibly happy that
he hadn't been blessed (or perhaps it was cursed) with much in the way
of math genes.
"So what do you think, Scully? Is it the bending or the torsion?"
She punched him in the arm lightly, hoping none of the earnest students
had heard his remark. Then it dawned on her that this must have been
what it was like during the original bombings. They'd all taken place in
labs like this one -- often when students were in the lab or preparing to
enter. She didn't want to imagine these students being inflicted with such
a violent act.
They finally headed to the second floor and found the Department Chair's
office at the end of a long, dark hallway. About ten feet from the office,
Mulder leaned towards his partner and whispered, "Is it my imagination,
or is this place really depressing?"
Scully glanced around, leaned towards him and replied softly, "It's not
your imagination."
They presented themselves then to the woman behind the first desk they
found as they entered the suite of offices. Mulder already had his
identification and badge out, ready to display. He saw that Scully was
pulling hers out as well.
"Hello, ma'am. I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder. This is Special Agent
Dana Scully. We'd like to speak to the Department Chair if that's at all
possible."
The woman was completely flustered. She looked to be in her late fifties,
perhaps even early sixties. Mulder saw her try to smile, fail, then try at
least for impassivity. She failed again. He felt the need to reassure this
woman that no one was in trouble.
"Ma'am, we're investigating a bombing that took place here in the late
70's and we're hoping your Department Chair might be able to help us
identify people we can talk with about it."
Suddenly the woman managed her smile and in fact, sat straighter in her
chair.
"Oh, the Alvarez case. I know all about that. I was here then. Well, not
here. I wasn't the Department Chair's secretary, but I was a secretary in
the Department, if you know what I mean."
Mulder nodded, adopted a smile of encouragement.
"I was even here when Jose was a student. What a nice boy he was. Not
one of our brightest, but he was always courteous. And he tried so
hard."
She was actually saying 'Tsk, Tsk", and Mulder had to fight not to laugh.
"Ma'am, I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name."
"Oh! I'm Lorraine Ward."
"Thank you. May I call you Lorraine?"
The woman was now puffed with importance, obviously pleased.
Evidently having an FBI agent refer to her by her first name was the most
excitement she'd experienced in years. Mulder glanced at Scully and saw
she had one hand in front of her mouth, trying to hide the smile.
"Lorraine, do you think we could sit down and talk with you for a few
minutes? We might not even need to bother your Department Chair, after
all. It seems that you probably know just about everything about this
case."
The secretary already had the phone to her ear and was arranging for
someone else to fill in for her for a bit. She had one hand raised in the
air, a finger extended, silently asking for a moment. Mulder and Scully
nodded to her in understanding. And then she was standing and
gesturing towards a conference room off to the left.
"We can go in there. There's nothing scheduled for another hour at least.
Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea?"
Five minutes later they were seated comfortably in the small conference
room, coffee cups firmly in hand. Scully had chosen to sit away from
her partner slightly, sensing the rapport he had already formed with the
secretary. She decided to let the psychologist in him take the lead,
without verbal or visual intrusion from her. Besides, it was always
fascinating to see him work this way. She could almost picture him in
private practice somewhere. Speaking with a soft voice, kindly, caring
but not judging.
"Lorraine, could you tell me what you remember about Jose Alvarez?"
The woman was nodding. She sat back in her seat and tilted her head
back slightly, as if this position would help to jog her memory.
"Jose was such a nice boy. At the time I worked partly for the
Undergraduate Director -- that was Dr. Cartwright then -- so any time the
undergraduate students had a problem with registration or financial aid or
getting into a course -- well, anything really, they'd come to me. Also, if
they wanted to meet with Dr. Cartwright, they'd come to me to schedule
it. Well, anyway, Jose was a transfer student, see. He did his first two
years at a Junior College -- they were called Junior Colleges then and
now we call them Community Colleges but it's all the same thing. So,
where was I?"
Mulder had his mouth open to remind her when she barreled ahead,
hardly pausing for a breath. He glanced quickly down the table to his
partner and again noted her smile. She was obviously enjoying this more
than he was.
"Oh, yes. So Jose transferred here as a Junior but he still had several
classes from the first two years of the program he had to fill in so he was
trying to take those and also take the required classes for the Fall semester
Junior year and it was just too much. In fact, I think he might have also
been working part time in the Machine Shop to help pay his way through.
It was tragic really. He wasn't one of our very best students, but he
would have certainly made it if that first semester hadn't been so
overloaded for him. So after that he couldn't really catch up. I seem to
recall he failed a class, maybe even two. But he was good about it. He
even told me that he probably should have tried a different approach,
maybe worked full-time for a year so he wouldn't have needed the part-
time job here, but he said he was just so excited at being an engineer that
he didn't want to wait. When he left, he hugged me and thanked me for
helping him so much while he was here and he said that he would try to
come back when the time was right."
She fell silent then and was obviously lost in a private introspection.
Mulder decided to give her a minute to gather her thoughts and lay any
ghosts to rest. But she continued on after a matter of seconds.
"They used me against him at the trial, you know. They used what he
said. It wasn't right. He didn't mean it that way."
Mulder understood what she meant. The DA had made Alvarez'
comment seem threatening when it hadn't been intended that way. He
nodded to her, letting her know he understood.
"He got sent to Vietnam, you know? And he lost a leg in an explosion. I
didn't know about that until the trial. Poor Jose."
She turned to face Mulder full on then, sat up straight and said, "He
didn't do what they said he did. I never believed it then and I still don't.
Is that why you're investigating? Did you finally find the real bomber?"
Mulder considered how much he could tell this woman and then decided
she was owed something for keeping the faith all this time.
"We believe it's a strong possibility that the wrong man was sent to jail
and we've been investigating the original bombings. But, Lorraine, I
think you can appreciate that this information is not for public
consumption. It might hurt Jose's case if you let anyone know
prematurely."
Mulder tried to sound sufficiently serious. The last thing they needed
was for this to appear in the paper. For the general citizenry to know
there might be a bomber running loose and even worse, one who might
have ties to the Bureau.
The woman reached out and grabbed Mulder's hand in hers, then said
"You can count on me Agent Mulder. I won't breathe a word of this to
anyone."
Mulder felt a chill down his spine at her words. He couldn't resist the
comparison of this woman to the stereotypical Mrs. Got to Know It All
And Then Let Everyone Else Know About It. Not much he could do
about it now.
"Thank you, Lorraine. Agent Scully and I -- and particularly Jose
Alvarez -- are counting on your discretion."
The woman nodded and then sat back contentedly in her chair, a big smile
on her face. Mulder groaned internally, more certain than ever he'd just
been taken. Oh, she'd try to keep it quiet. But then she'd drop a little
clue to a friend or family member. She'd get them to ask all the right
questions o that she could rationalize it away. If she only answered yes
and no in response to their questions, then she wouldn't really be telling
anyone anything, right?
Mulder leaned back in his chair tiredly, and looked over at Scully. She
had a funny expression on her face, one he could only interpret as
meaning 'Oh well, Mulder, you couldn't have known.' She shrugged
her shoulders at him slightly and then started fiddling with the pad of
paper in front of her. He turned back to the secretary, determined now to
be strictly professional.
"Could you tell me where you were when the bomb went off in 1976?"
"Oh, yes, I was in my office on the third floor -- that's where Dr.
Cartwright was, you see, and I was just down the hall from him. They'd
just completed the computational lab and it was going to be used for the
first time for a CFD course. It was one of the first of it's kind and our
Department got quite a bit of publicity for it. It was partly funded by
General Dynamics. It's Lockheed Martin now, of course. CFD was so
new and no one else was teaching a class to undergrads. Unfortunately,
the publicity for the bombing sort of killed any hopes for teaching it again
for many years. We didn't offer it again until just seven or eight years
ago."
Mulder shifted in his seat, partly out of frustration at this woman's
tangents and partly out of discomfort. The headache from the morning
was back full force and it was time for some more Tylenol. The secretary
looked up at him, realized he was getting impatient, that his attention was
waning, and got back to her story.
"Anyway, I was on the third floor and the lab was on the fourth,
practically right overhead. A student was in my office at the time and it
sounded like thunder. Thunder overhead. But we were inside so I knew
it wasn't thunder. Then there was screaming. We could actually hear the
screaming from the floor above. Well, someone hit the fire alarm so I left
the building, just like everyone else. No one really knew what had
happened until some of the students who had been in the lab came
running out."
She was tsking again and shaking her head.
"Those poor kids. It happened right in front of them, you know? They
shouldn't have had to see such a thing. And there was one kid. His
name was Terry, I think. He came out of the building in a daze. I think
he must have been in shock. He was covered with blood and .... other
things. He had been standing behind the teacher and when the bomb
blew. He was protected from the blast but not from the .... well, you
know."
Mulder nodded, imagining the brain matter, blood, bone, and bits of
body parts that the kid must have been covered with. That kid had
probably been in for some pretty hefty counseling over the years.
"Within five minutes, the campus police arrived and started moving
everyone away from the building. They gathered all the students who'd
been in the lab and took them off somewhere. An empty classroom I
think. A few of them were taken to the hospital, in shock. At first, they
thought Terry had actually been hurt and he was the first one taken. We
learned within minutes what had happened. There were SWAT teams,
fire engines, ambulances, police ... even FBI, swarming around the
building. Everyone was interviewed and then we didn't really hear
anything else for a long time. Things just seemed to pretty much go back
to normal. Until Jose was arrested. Then it was all big news again."
Mulder nodded, then asked, "Could you give me some names of other
faculty members, staff, students - anyone, who might have also been
around then?"
Suddenly Lorraine didn't seem quite so helpful. She had liked the idea
that she would be their sole source of information. Mulder had pretty
much exhausted his niceness quotient. Now he wanted answers.
"Mrs. Ward, it is crucial that we have this information immediately."
The woman jumped in her seat, suddenly reminded that this man in front
of her was a Federal Agent who meant business, not a lost student in
need of mothering.
"Yes, sir. Of course. Let's see, the only other secretary in the
Department who was there then is Kay Strel. She's on the fourth floor,
412. One of our Tech support people was also here then. That's Martin
Landers. He's in 107. Then there are a few faculty members. Dr.
Patterson in 510. Dr. Chen -- his office is in 307, but he's usually in his
research lab in 212. The only other one who was around then is Dr.
Smith in 423. He was a graduate student here in '76. He did his M.S.
here and then went to General Dynamics. Then went back to school --
Georgia Tech, I think -- and then came back here as a faculty member
about seven years or so ago. Yes, that would be right because he just got
tenure."
She was looking quite satisfied with herself once again and Mulder didn't
have it in him just then to probe any further. They'd gotten quite a bit.
Much of it was information that Jake's team had already uncovered, but
quite a bit was new. He glanced over to Scully, silently offering her the
opportunity to ask any questions she might have. She shook her head,
indicating she had none.
Mulder stood and reached out his hand, saying, "Thank you, Lorraine.
You've been a tremendous help."
The woman stood up quickly and shook his hand, once again acting as if
this were the high point of her year. She practically gushed when she
said, "Agent Mulder it was my pleasure to help you on this case. Please
come back if you have any questions."
Scully spoke then for the first time since they'd been introduced. "Thank
you, Mrs. Ward, we will."
Mulder stood back and let his partner leave the room first, then followed
close behind, one hand on the small of her back, as if to guide her safely
through the doorframe. When they were far enough from the Chairman's
suite to avoid being heard, both stopped and conferred briefly.
"So, Scully what do you think?"
"I think we're not likely to really discover much by talking with these
people. We should probably leave it to Jake's team. The information
about Alvarez was interesting, though. I think we should probably get a
little more involved in that end of the investigation. I also think our good
secretary isn't going to be able to keep quiet for long."
Scully saw Mulder grimace and immediately felt guilty. She hadn't really
said it right.
"Mulder, there was nothing you could have done. It's inevitable.
Whether it was you or one of Jake's men, the word would have been out
within the day any way."
She could see him thinking about it and he eventually nodded in
acceptance.
"How about if we check out this lab, just to get a clear picture of it, then
head back to the Bureau?"
Scully nodded and glanced at her watch.
"It's a little after four now. We have about thirty minutes if we want to
get back in time to coordinate before the six o'clock meeting."
He nodded to her in acknowledgment, then gestured for her to lead the
way.
Twenty-five minutes later, they left the building, curiosity satisfied.
There had really been nothing to see. A room filled with computers,
students scattered here and there, staring intently at the screens, fiddling
with the keyboard or mouse. The bombing had taken place so long ago
that there was no feel of it left. It was almost impossible for Mulder to
put himself there, to imagine with any detail what it had been like. The
headache hadn't helped the situation, either.
As they left the building, Mulder again noted what a beautiful day it was.
It had been hard to remember the sun and grass while stuck inside the
prison-like engineering building. He shook his head at the thought of
spending four or five years there. He saw that Scully had stopped a few
steps ahead of him and now stood patiently waiting. *Get with it,
Mulder*. He quickly caught up and fell into step beside her.
They didn't talk. In fact, the silence was comforting, companionable.
Mulder listened to the sounds around them as they walked. He noted the
drop in activity from a couple hours before. There were still students
about, but not so many now. No one paid any attention to them, which
Mulder found odd. They were sort of out of place, after all. The
students wore jeans or shorts for the most part. But there were several
professors about, dressed a little more formally. Perhaps the students
had put them in that category as well.
Just as Mulder had pretty much moved on to other thoughts, it happened.
It hit him suddenly. He was sure of it. He could feel it. Someone was
watching. Someone was following. Mulder resisted the urge to turn
around to look. There had to be a way to do this without letting the guy
know he'd been made. Mulder looked at the building they were walking
past and noticed the door that led to a hallway running the length of the
building. He could clearly see all the way through to the other side.
He stopped for a moment, kicking his shoe, as if there were a pebble in
it. Scully stopped beside him, and looked at him curiously. He bent
down to take off the shoe with one hand, placing the other on Scully's
shoulder to help provide balance. He had also effectively managed to
block his face from view. No one could see his mouth move as he softly
spoke the words, "Don't move. Don't turn. Someone's behind us. I'm
going through this building and I'll circle around. Pretend you're waiting
for me. Look at your watch. Appear impatient."
Mulder stood straight and shook out the shoe, right foot suspended in air.
He slipped it back on and then bent down to tie it. He again kept his head
down as he said, "After five minutes, turn around and try to locate him.
I'll be at the corner by then."
Mulder stood and then gestured to the building. He didn't try to keep his
voice down as he said, "Hey, Scully. I'm going to make a pit stop." He
started towards the building, took about four steps and then turned back
to her. "I won't be long. Just wait for me. I promise I'll be out in just a
couple minutes." He waved at her then in a somewhat pacifying gesture.
He hoped the guy bought it. He hoped the guy would just stay where he
was.
Mulder ducked into the building and then glanced back quickly. He saw
Scully standing with her arms crossed, looking decidedly impatient. He
took off then, running through the building, out the back doors, and
towards the left so he could possibly circle around behind the guy.
He walked slowly now. Carefully. Back partially against the wall.
Making sure not to make any sound. Searching for any sign out of the
ordinary. He hugged the back wall of the building, preparing to turn the
corner. Then he flashed suddenly on the last time he had done this. He'd
almost killed Krycek then. And Scully had shot him, stopping him from
his drug induced inclination to murder. It was a sobering memory.
And all at once it dawned on him what he'd just done. He had left Scully
out front as a target. She was an easy target and had no backup. She
couldn't even reach for her weapon without giving herself away. The
sweat was flowing now, coating his back, making the shirt stick. He
banished the awareness of discomfort. He couldn't afford it. Couldn't
afford wasting time on something so unimportant. He had to get in
position fast.
Mulder reached down to his side and withdrew his weapon from its
holster, brought it up to his face and checked to make sure it was ready
for action. It wasn't necessary, was just habit, but it made him feel
better. With the gun in his right hand, he leaned back against the wall,
took a deep breath, then stuck his head around the corner just far enough
and just long enough to get an impression. An impression that no one
was there. No one obvious, anyway.
He took another deep breath, silently reminded himself that his imposed
five minute limit was quickly approaching, perhaps even exceeded. He
stuck his head around the corner for a longer period then, searching out
every location where his one might hide, where one might conceal
themselves from view. He could see no one.
But then he heard it. Heard the shot ring out, quickly followed by two
more. Heard them echo off the brick buildings of the courtyard. And
heard the accompanying scream from his partner and from those nearby.
He abandoned the notion of staying hidden and ran straight up the side of
the building and back around the corner. He took in the situation in a
heartbeat. Scully was climbing to her feet, steady but holding her left
hand to her head. Her other hand held her weapon. She was okay.
"Scully, where is he?"
She turned at his voice and gestured towards the next building over, in
the direction they'd just come, some twenty yards away.
"He went into that building. No description. It was too fast. Go, I'll
call it in."
Mulder knew she was all right and didn't question her instructions to go
after the guy. He took off at full speed, one part of him aware of the
sudden cessation of all sound unnatural. Cars had screeched to a stop
and still sat, with drivers agape. Students were frozen in place, a few still
lying on the ground where they'd thrown themselves after hearing gunfire
erupt around them. A faculty member stood on the sidewalk, briefcase
lying on the ground next to him. No one screamed now. No one spoke.
And Mulder heard a bird off to his right, another not far from it. The
wind rustled in the bushes. It seemed inappropriate somehow. Wrong,
that nature was so oblivious to the struggles of it's greater creatures.
As he practically slid to a stop near the entrance, the several young people
there cowered back in fear, unsure whether he was a good guy or the bad
guy. Mulder didn't have time for his badge, just hoped they'd trust him.
He yelled out, "Federal Agent. Which way did he go?" while
simultaneously shedding his overcoat and jacket, letting them drop on the
ground outside the steps.
One young woman pointed to the door and said, "He went into the
stairwell. Just to the right of the door."
Mulder nodded and ran up the stairs to the entrance of the building,
stretching his legs to take them two and three at a time. He took a sharp
right and paused outside the door marked 'Stairway'. Listened for a
heartbeat, heard nothing, then grabbed the knob in his left hand and threw
it open, gun extended in front of him. In the fraction of a second that it
took the door to fly open and slam against the wall, he'd assessed the
emptiness inside and decided it was safe to move.
Keeping his back to the wall, he started up the stairs, pausing briefly on
the first landing to lean in to the center, and look up towards the floors
above. He saw movement several floors up and started running then,
again taking the stairs two and three at a time. At the second floor he
paused, threw the stairway door open and stuck his head out, looking
into an almost empty hallway. He allowed his body to follow a moment
later. There was a student in a lab coat, standing in shock at the
abruptness of his entry as much as the fact that he was waving a gun
around.
Mulder barked out, "Did a man come running through here?" As soon as
he saw the shake of the head, he returned to the stairwell and his dash up
the stairs. He repeated the process on the next two floors, until he was at
the door to the roof.
He took a couple deep breaths and threw the door open, staying pressed
back against the inner wall of the stairway. After a couple seconds of
silence, he stuck his head around the corner, and quickly gauged that it
was safe, at least for now.
Mulder moved onto the roof slowly, listening for anything unusual, any
sounds that would indicate movement. His eyes panned across the roof,
taking in the various structures that would offer natural hiding places. He
moved forward carefully, trying to keep his own sounds to a minimum.
There was nothing but silence. Not even birds. And then he heard it to
the right. A rolling pebble, a scuff. Something that wasn't natural. He
turned quickly and ran in that direction, and in a heartbeat recognized a
man's back disappearing around a corner. He heard the sounds moving
away from him now and ran full out, holding his weapon out in front of
him, ready to fire. Fully prepared to fire.
There was a brick structure, a room that could have served as storage,
behind which Mulder was pretty sure the man had disappeared. He
sensed that there was an exit in that direction and put on another burst of
speed, unwilling to let the guy get away when he was this close to
catching him. Mulder was breathing hard and his heart was pounding in
his chest -- from both the exertion as well as the rush of adrenaline. He
took the corner at a full-out sprint, used his left arm to help swing him
around and to shift his momentum. And suddenly there was no ground
under his feet.
There was nothing but air and he was falling. He was falling and he
couldn't understand how it had happened but didn't have time to think
about it as he started accelerating at more than 32 feet per second squared.
Gravity was working and there was no way to avoid it. And time
slowed. It slowed so that every heartbeat took long minutes, every breath
took hours. He knew with complete certainty that he would die and
regretted only not telling Scully how much she meant to him. But then
time sped up again and was moving too fast. There was no time to react.
With no time to think and no time to assess possibilities, Mulder let go of
the gun instinctively and spread his arms out to either side. He saw
grillwork to the left and some part of his brain recognized it for what it
was -- a fire escape. Before even a second had passed, his left hand was
out, reaching for it, and he managed to grab a rail.
Mulder wrapped his hand around the rail, willing his fingers to somehow
support a force well beyond their ability. His hand was shred on uneven
galvanized iron as it slid violently down the rail, sending signals of
piercing pain to his brain. And then his arm jerked abruptly and his
shoulder left it's socket it one violent yank. Cartilage and muscle
screamed, forcing the unconscious release of his one hope for survival.
He was airborne once again and he managed somehow to fight off the
blackness that spotted his vision from the pain now at his shoulder, his
hand, his back. But he'd held on long enough for his momentum to
shift, for his body to swing back towards the building instead of out into
empty space.
Mulder had dropped another floor's height, but his body had turned
enough so that his right arm was close. Close enough to the fire escape
that he might have a second chance. And he managed to hold on this
time. His right hand grabbed on the rail, slid down to the bottom, and
again the additional pain threatened to overwhelm him. But he was too
stubborn to let go, to give up. And it paid off finally as his body swung
in towards the building, allowing him to land on the fire escape platform
between the second and third floor.
Mulder landed hard, felt his knees fold, rolled to the right and crashed
against the brick wall. For at least four seconds, it didn't matter that his
hands were shredded and dripping blood down to the platform and
ground below, that he'd felt the stitches in his right arm tear, that his left
shoulder was separated, pulled violently from its socket, that his entire
body felt bruised and battered. For at least four seconds, the only thing
he could think about was the miracle of his existence. He was actually
alive. He'd run off a building into empty space and had survived it. He
was on top of the world. Fucking A. But then the four seconds were up.
Reality set in. And he became aware of the agony. His miracle turned
into hell on earth.
Scully was still below on the sidewalk. While not seriously injured, she
knew better than to try to start racing up several flights of stairs with a
quarter inch deep gash along the entire right side of her head. She had
immediately called in for backup and had directed the various officers as
they'd arrived to the exits of the building. She'd instructed them that a
Federal Agent was in pursuit of the suspect, not wanting some green cop
to accidentally shoot her partner.
She was conferring with the Captain when screams to her right caused
them both to swing their heads in that direction. Everyone was looking
up. And when she did as well, she saw her partner falling through the
air, grab onto a fire escape, lose his grip, then manage to grab again and
swing onto it. And before she knew it, she was running towards the fire
escape access, yelling out "Call an ambulance". She jumped high, pulled
down the ladder and started climbing, oblivious of her own wound. She
was beside her partner in less than two minutes.
He didn't look very good. He was still gasping for breath, was lying
mostly on his back with part of his left side propped against the wall
awkwardly. He evidently hadn't moved since coming to an abrupt stop
against the wall. He was gripping his bent left arm with his right hand,
holding it tight to his body. Every breath caused a matching grimace of
pain. Blood flowed freely from both hands, as well as his right upper
arm, where he'd been grazed just the day before. His face was white,
gray really and Scully knew that despite the sweat that dripped from his
nose, his chin, his hair, he would be cold from shock. And he was.
She pushed the hair back from his eyes and spoke softly, letting him
know that help was on the way. An ambulance had been called and
would be there any minute. Everything would be all right. She moved
her eyes down to his body, trying to access whether there was any hidden
damage. Broken ribs were a real possibility. She was loathe to move
him until she could determine the extent of his injuries.
"Mulder, can you hear me? Can you tell me where you're hurt?"
Scully was relieved to see her partner's eyes open and focus on her. He
cleared his throat, gasped for air, and then managed a haggard reply.
"Shoulder. Think I separated it."
Scully immediately moved her hands to feel gently, let her eyes take in the
awkward angle, the grimace of pain in response to her touch. Heard the
sharp intake of breath and matching groan.
"Okay, Mulder. We can bind that into place before getting you down
from here. It'll help keep the jarring down to a minimum. Anything
else?"
He understood she meant other than the obvious and merely shook his
head slightly, forcing out, "I'm all right. Just the shoulder."
He tried moving then, tried to sit, and froze when the blast of pain
overwhelmed his senses, caused him to almost black out. The curse he
released through teeth-clenched jaw sounded far away, even to his own
ears.
He laid his head back hard against the ground, practically slammed it
down, hoping to battle one kind of pain with another. It helped and he
managed to fight off the blackness that hovered nearby. He became
aware of Scully's hand on his right arm, the other on his forehead. Her
voice was so soothing. So calming. He knew she was hurt herself, had
seen the blood flowing down her face, onto her neck, and appreciated that
she was with him.
He decided to let go for a few minutes. Scully was here looking out for
him. She'd make sure the suspect wouldn't get away if it was at all
possible. She'd make sure the police did what needed to be done. He
closed his eyes and allowed himself to sink into the black pit of oblivion
that welcomed him with open arms.
The last thing he heard was Scully's voice saying, " You'll be okay,
Mulder. The ambulance will be here in a minute."
*******************************************
Tuesday, 6:07 p.m.
Arlington Hospital
Scully was now even more tired of hospitals than she had been the day
before. This hospital emergency room looked almost exactly the same as
the one in the Dallas hospital. The same colors, the same furniture. The
seats were just as hard and cold. This doctor facing her, though, was not
quite so relaxed and easy going as Dr. Aker had been. Nor, she
suspected, as competent.
Scully was feeling ever more impatient. Trying to get specific details out
of the woman in front of her was like pulling teeth. This five minute
conversation was already at least four minutes too long.
"So what you're saying is that he doesn't need to stay overnight. Is that
correct?"
"I'm saying that he has no life threatening injuries and that, providing
proper rest and care is ensured, I'd be willing to release him into the care
of a professional."
Scully's irritation quotient was just about exceeded. This woman didn't
know how to answer anything in less than twenty words.
"Fine. Could you tell me where he is, please? I'd like to check on him."
"He's still in the examining room. His hands are being treated. The
shoulder's been set and is confined with a sling. We've restitched his
shoulder wound."
Okay, now Scully really wanted to scream. Wanted to grab this woman
and shake her. They'd already been through his condition. She knew all
this. Now she just wanted to see him. See him with her own eyes. She
forced herself to breathe deeply and then just walked past the woman.
Why bother even trying for anything useful from her? The sputtering
from behind cheered her for some reason.
Scully walked into the room she'd seen them take her partner and quickly
surveyed the six stations. Mulder was to the right, two tables down. He
was sitting, in undershirt and pants, left arm in a blue sling that was
wrapped around his entire chest, straps fastened tightly. His left hand,
which hung out from the sling slightly, was wrapped in white bandages
and the young man in front of Mulder was just completing treatment of
the right hand. A matching bandage covered her partner's right upper
arm. If Scully didn't have the vivid picture of her partner nearly falling to
his death in front of her foremost in her mind, she would have found the
sight of so much white cotton wrapping various of his body parts
amusing.
She approached the table, stopping next to the nurse. She stood quietly
and watched as the man used tweezers to pluck pieces of iron and paint
out of her partner's hand. It looked like it hurt. She looked up to her
partner's face, saw that his eyes were closed, his forehead creased in
concentration. His slumped shoulders in no way indicated that he was
relaxed. In fact, she could tell that his entire body was tense, every
muscle straining to keep his body still. Why in the world didn't they
have him lying flat for this?
She saw his hand jerk just slightly in response to the nurse's
administrations and was prepared to stop this and have him lay flat when
the nurse beat her to it.
"Sir, are you sure you wouldn't prefer to lie down? It would be much
more comfortable."
Mulder opened his eyes then and focused on the man. Scully could see
then that he saw her, as well.
"No, I'm fine. Just finish .... please."
Scully held her tongue. Didn't say what she was thinking. *Damn the
man and his pride.* Or was it something else? Something beyond pride?
Mulder was still so often a mystery to her.
She waited until the man was finished, had sprayed Mulder's hand, then
wrapped it and left them alone. She took a couple steps closer so that she
stood in front of him, practically touching his knees.
"Hey, partner, how are you feeling?"
He didn't respond. Just gave her a crooked grin. The message was
clear. 'Guess, Scully.'
"I called Jake. He's running the meeting tonight. He's going to get the
team working on this latest venture of our guy's. I also called Delano just
a bit ago and filled him in."
Scully shook her head at the thought of their suspect. This guy was
really something. Her reverie was broken by her partner's words.
"How are you, Scully?"
"I'm fine. Really. It just grazed me. I lost a little hair. Look."
She pulled away a batch of hair to reveal the wound. The doctor who
treated her had decided to forgo a bandage, at least at present, wanting to
allow it to dry and start healing as soon as possible. It didn't look serious
to Mulder. He was reassured by the lack of stitches, the lack of white
bandage. He turned his eyes back to hers, then.
"You have my weapon?"
She reached into her purse and pulled out his gun, handed it over to him.
He reached his bandaged right hand out for it.
"Think you'll be able to hold onto it?"
Mulder was not amused. It just wasn't the right time for joking. With an
exaggerated "Ha, ha, Scully", Mulder slid off the table, even as Scully
backed a step to give him room. A wave of dizziness caused him to close
his eyes briefly. He took a deep breath and pushed away from the
examining table to stand on his own. Scully was gripping his right arm
tightly at the elbow. He gained his equilibrium and gave her a sick smile.
"Let's blow this joint, Scully."
Scully laughed, turned to look up at him with a quizzical expression.
"Blow this joint? What movies have you been watching lately?"
Again she got no response, but the expression said it all.
"Okay, you're clear to go. But, Mulder .... I'll drive."
"You're a riot, Scully."
*******************************************
Tuesday, 9:19 p.m.
Dallas Bureau, Command Center
Jake and Scully conferred quietly. Mulder had faded out about a half
hour before and now sat with his head on his right forearm, which lay on
the table in front of him. Scully knew he belonged in bed. Knew he
needed real rest, but she also knew him. He wouldn't go yet. Not until
they'd made some headway in figuring out why they'd been followed, by
whom, why the guy had shot at Scully, and where the heck he had
disappeared to.
The three had been drawing up the various lists of tasks for the teams
when Mulder had conked out. They'd been in the middle of a discussion
on the worth of tracking down admission forms to the School of
Engineering at UTA for the past twenty-five years when Mulder just
folded over on the table. Neither Scully nor Jake had been particularly
alarmed, both having seen the results of Mulder's almost obsessive drive
in the face of physical limitation before. But it had caused them to pause
and watch while it happened.
Scully decided enough was enough, finally.
"Jake, I think that's it for tonight. It's been an awfully long couple of
days and I think this is enough to get things moving for now. Mulder can
review things tomorrow morning and make any additional suggestions."
"Okay, Dana. What about him? How do you plan on getting him back to
the hotel?"
Scully looked over at her partner and suddenly wished for a matter
transfer device like they had on Star Trek. It sure would make things
easier.
"I'm not sure. Let's see whether we can get him to his feet."
Scully stood and approached her partner. She leaned over the table,
rested her hand on his right shoulder and called his name out softly.
There was no response so she tried again, this time with a slight squeeze
to his shoulder.
"Come on, Mulder. Time to wake up." She saw him blink sleepily, then
raise his head, surveying the surroundings as if he had no idea where he
was. The creased forehead and confused expression cause her some
concern. Thoughts of delayed trauma to the brain swirled through her
mind. It evidently worried Jake as well because he asked, "Hey Mulder,
are you all right?"
Her partner sat up straight then, evidently self-conscious because of Jake
Mander's presence. Scully still had her hand on his shoulder, unwilling
to drop it just because of some male ego thing.
"Come on, Mulder. It's time to head to the hotel. Jake and I finished up
the task descriptions necessary to get people started tonight. Anything
that we missed you can fill in tomorrow. Now, though, it's time for
bed."
Mulder looked like he was prepared to argue, had his mouth open, in
fact, when Scully's cell phone rang. She pulled it out and turned it on
quickly, relieved for once at being interrupted.
"Scully."
She jerked to her full 5'2" height at her boss' voice.
"Agent Scully, I heard that both you and Agent Mulder were injured this
afternoon during pursuit of a suspect. How are you? And where are
you?"
Scully didn't have time to consider where or how he had heard. She
found that a little part of her was pleased that he was actually breaking
security in order to check on his agents.
"I'm fine, sir. The bullet just grazed me. I'm at the command center
right now. Mulder ....."
She stopped suddenly, realizing she wasn't completely sure how to
explain what had happened to her partner. Her gaze turned to him,
almost unconsciously. He was struggling to stand, evidently having
arrived at the conclusion that their boss was on the phone. Scully finally
decided to ignore the how altogether and focus only on the what.
"Mulder got pretty banged up. He has a separated shoulder that's painful
right now, but should heal quickly with no problems. The stitches from
the bullet wound yesterday were pulled. His hands were lacerated. Both
are wrapped. He's basically bruised and battered. He'll live."
She was looking at Mulder when she said it, making sure he knew that
her smile was meant for him. She ignored the numerous facial
expressions suggesting his irritation in her recitation of his condition.
"Agent Scully, what hospital is Mulder in?"
She could hear her boss' hesitancy on the other end. Could appreciate his
confusion. The injuries she'd outlined sounded critical enough to warrant
an overnight stay at least. But in reality, there was nothing the hospital
could do for him that she couldn't do. There was no purpose to his being
forced to stay. And her boss knew that if her partner were in the hospital,
she'd be there with him. Hence the quandary.
"Mulder's right here, sir."
There was a moment of silence at the other end of the phone and then
Skinner said, "Could I speak with him please, Scully?"
"Of course, sir. One moment."
Scully walked over to her partner, gestured to the phone and held it up for
him so Mulder wouldn't have to hold it. Her partner leaned against the
conference table, and bent slightly at the waist to allow Scully to reach a
bit better.
He finally said, "Hello, sir."
"Agent Mulder. I'd been led to believe that you were seriously injured
this afternoon. Are you sure you shouldn't be in a hospital? Or at least
taking it easy? You won't be any good to the investigation if you collapse
from exhaustion or for injury-related reasons."
Mulder smiled, turned to look at his partner and saw by her matching grin
that she'd heard, too. Damn if Skinner wasn't sounding paternal towards
him.
"Sir, Scully and I were just leaving. It wasn't really that bad. Really."
There was silence again and now Mulder was getting slightly irritated.
"Sir, look, it's not really wise for us to talk too much by phone.
Everything's okay here. You need to concentrate on keeping yourself
safe."
He heard the sigh from the other end and managed to convince himself
that Skinner had used their injuries as a way to reach out to the world
beyond his safehouse prison. Mulder could appreciate the boredom.
Had spent enough time confined in hospitals and even his apartment to
appreciate Skinner's frustration.
"Okay, Mulder. I'll check in with you tomorrow."
"Yes, sir."
And then the line was dead. Scully dropped her arm, switched the phone
to the other hand and shook out her right arm. She smiled at her partner
and said, "That does it. Now you went and told him we were leaving.
So I guess we have to, now."
Mulder couldn't find it within himself to argue, even though some small
part knew they were missing something important. Oh, well. It would
still be there tomorrow.
He let his shoulders drop, slowly. Felt the tension contributing even
more to the pain in the left one.
"All right, Scully, let's go."
Mulder turned to his friend and said, "Jake, we'll see you tomorrow
morning. Probably by eight but we'll play it by ear."
The man nodded and wished them a good night. Watched as Mulder
semi-staggered from the room, watched as Scully grabbed his right arm
to help steady him, watched as Mulder leaned his head down and spoke
to her too softly for Jake to hear. Watched as they left the room together.
He suddenly regretted that he worked alone. That he didn't have a
partnership like these two did.
*******************************************
Tuesday, 10:12 p.m.
Dallas Century Hotel
The knock sounded loudly, surprising him. His partner stuck her head in
the room and said, "You decent, Mulder? I want to check you over
before you turn in."
Despite the number of times Scully had seen him in his underwear, he
still felt self-conscious. A few minutes earlier, he had practically
collapsed on the bed, dressed only in his boxers and numerous bandages.
At her entrance, almost without thought, he pulled the sheet up slightly
and then arrested the movement when he realized what he was doing.
This was Scully. This was his partner, for Christ's sake.
"Hey, Scully."
Scully felt her eyebrows raise at the tame response. After all, she'd
intentionally given him quite an opening line to respond to. And he let it
pass right by. He must be exhausted. She approached the bed and
gestured for him to slide over, then sat down next to him.
Mulder closed his eyes briefly, calmed his breathing. Having a woman
sit down next to you, in bed, when you were wearing next to nothing,
was certainly going to result in a physical response. Scully was good at
ignoring. She'd had plenty of practice over the years. He knew this.
But it didn't stop the flush that spread across his skin. He had to keep
telling himself. This was Scully. This was his partner. His best friend.
After regaining the proper perspective once again, he opened his eyes and
turned his head towards her. She had asked him something and he
wasn't sure what it was. He decided to wing it.
"I feel fine."
She paused a moment, then looked amused when she said, "I asked what
you thought about the progress the teams made this afternoon."
This time he couldn't even find it in him to be embarrassed. He chuckled
softly before answering.
"They're good agents, all of them. After what happened today and what
Jake told us about his team, I think we need to concentrate more heavily
on the original bombing cases. I agree with Jake and with AD Skinner's
intuition. I think that Alvarez was set up. Maybe not by the team, but by
someone. The real bomber probably. That's where we have to focus our
efforts."
Scully had been checking his shoulder and bandaged hands while he'd
been talking and now nodded to him in agreement. Mulder seemed
unaware of her as he continued speaking.
"I just don't get the motivation, though. It makes no sense whatsoever.
If this guy is responsible for the original bombings, and set up Alvarez,
then why would he go after the team twenty years later. It's not like
anyone's been listening to Alvarez, right? Or maybe someone did start
listening. Maybe he'd finally convinced someone. Maybe he'd
convinced someone on the original team."
Scully had her right hand wrapped around her partner's left wrist. She
was taking his pulse and noted it slowing even as his words slowed and
he began to drift off. She could see him fighting it, trying to stay awake.
His eyelashes fluttered and then came to rest finally as he let himself go.
The idea he'd just put forth was an interesting one. Perhaps one of the
team had become suspicious of some aspect of the case after all that time
and had started to reinvestigate. It would certainly explain why the real
bomber was taking out the team members. Perhaps he knew only that
one of the team members was suspicious, but not which one.
Scully sighed and reminded herself to add this to her list of things to
begin investigating tomorrow. She placed her partner's arm down by his
side and pulled the sheet up to his chest. She made sure his left arm was
immobilized. She pulled a couple other pillows over from the other bed,
then placed them next to him in the hopes it would prevent him from
rolling during the night.
Mulder actually looked like he was resting comfortably. Scully sighed,
then slowly reached her hand up to feel her own head, to feel the just
healing wound made by the bullet that had grazed her. They'd been
incredibly lucky today. Both of them could have been killed if things had
gone just slightly differently.
Scully stood slowly and turned out the light, then made her way to her
own room. She smiled as she heard the soft snore behind her. At the
connecting door, she turned for a moment and whispered, "Sweet
dreams, Mulder" before closing it again behind her. She left it cracked a
few inches, just in case her partner needed something during the night,
then went about getting ready for bed. Jesus, it was just Tuesday.
They'd only been here since Sunday. Scully wasn't sure whether she
could make it through another couple days like these had been.
She turned on the television and scanned the channels for CNN. She was
out of touch and had no idea what had been happening in the world lately.
It was something that often happened when she and Mulder were
embroiled in a case. She'd lose four or even more days of world events,
only to discover that a war had started or ended, a new vaccine had been
discovered, the President of the United States was embroiled in yet
another sex scandal. Sometimes it was better not to know.
She moved over to the bed and started pulling covers down and stopped
suddenly when she heard her name mentioned. Was that possible? Was
CNN reporting on some Scully relative somewhere?
She turned, grabbed for the remote's volume control, then sat down
heavily on the bed. It wasn't a Scully relative and it wasn't a Mulder
relative. They were talking about her and her partner. Shit!
The reporter sat at a desk with a screen behind him, showing a scene
from the airport a couple days before. It was a still photo of the airplane,
lying tilted some twenty or thirty yards from the runway, surrounded by
fire engines and ambulances. The frozen images had been caught forever
on film by some enterprising journalist in the making. Scully wondered
idly how much the photographer made on this picture alone.
The reporter was saying, "....confirmed reports that Agents Mulder and
Scully from the Washington, DC Bureau had not been on the flight
themselves but were in the airport. It is not known at this time what the
extent of their involvement is in the case. However, informed sources
have identified them as being present at the University at Texas Arlington
campus this afternoon when gunfire erupted. While no one was reported
as being seriously injured, Agent Mulder was taken by ambulance to the
Arlington Hospital. The Hospital has confirmed his release."
Scully discovered she'd been holding her breath and suddenly took in a
huge lungful. She was reciting a mantra silently. *Please God, don't let
them interview the secretary. Please, God, don't let them interview the
secretary.*
She was relieved when the next group of faces to appear on the screen
were students who had evidently been at the building during the
excitement. They really had nothing substantive to contribute, although
their description of events certainly sounded dramatic. Mulder would
have enjoyed hearing himself described in what amounted to action movie
terms.
One kid was now saying, "Yeah, he came flying out from the roof and
grabbed onto the fire escape. He dropped almost three floors and I
thought he was a goner for sure but then he swung onto the fire escape,
just like Stallone, man. It was way cool."
Scully smiled and glanced over at the door leading to her partner's room.
On second thought, it was probably best that he wasn't seeing this.
When she glanced back to the television, her heart skipped a beat at the
sight of Lorraine Ward, up close and personal on national t.v. Oh, shit.
Oh, fuck. This was not good. This was not good at all. Scully
considered waking her partner and passed. The phone rang and she
picked it up quickly, never taking her eyes off the unfolding drama.
"Scully."
It was Jake Mander.
"You watching?"
"Yeah, hang on."
She rested the phone on the bed and turned her full attention to the
newscast once again, knowing that Jake Mander and millions of others
were doing the same at that very moment. Watching fascinated at this
story of plane bombings and Federal Agents and gunfire on a college
campus.
Lorraine was saying, ".... I can't really go into detail about what we
talked about, of course. That wouldn't be right. But we talked for a
good thirty minutes and then they left. Then not ten minutes later there
was all these gun shots that rang out across the campus. I'll tell you, I
was a bit worried that my life would be in danger after talking with
them."
Scully shook her head in amazement. No one would have even known
they'd talked to the woman if she hadn't blabbed it on national t.v.
Actually, it was quite possible that she would be in danger now. Scully
couldn't help the 'Idiot' that escaped softly.
The report ended with substantially more questions raised than were
answered. They'd gotten off lucky. Lorraine had kept quiet for now.
But it was only a matter of time before the link to the Agents' deaths, to
the attacks on Skinner, and to Alvarez was discovered. They'd have to
plan for it.
Scully picked up the phone again and turned the television off.
"Hey, Jake."
"So what do you think? Nothing too damaging, yet, huh?"
"I agree. But it's only a matter of time now. We better start making
some contingency plans. I'm a bit more worried about AD Skinner's
safety. It's one thing to have to watch for one crazy man. It's quite
another to have to guard against a horde of rabid reporters. We better
coordinate with the various PD's a little more openly so they know
what's at stake."
She sighed heavily and put her free hand up to her forehead, rubbing in
circles. Damn, publicity was the last thing they wanted or needed on this
case. Mulder was going to be royally pissed tomorrow. Jake Mander's
thoughts must have been operating in parallel to her own.
"Did Mulder see it?"
"No, thank God. He's asleep."
"How is he?"
"Okay. Not great. Not too bad."
"He should stay in bed for a few days."
Scully snorted out loud at the thought, amused that Jake would even
consider the suggestion.
"I know, I know, this is Mulder we're talking about. Forget I even
suggested it."
"Forgotten."
"Listen, I'll see you guys tomorrow. Try to get Mulder to take it easy,
huh?"
"Night, Jake."
*******************************************
Wednesday, 3:21 a.m.
Dallas Century Hotel
Scully came to a sitting position with a jerk, trying to understand why her
heart was racing, her pulse pounding. It took a moment to orient herself,
to realize where she was. She glanced at the clock, practically shuddered
at the time, and prepared to lay back down. Then she noticed the light
coming from the other room. Could Mulder actually be awake?
She decided to check on him, to make sure he was okay. She threw off
the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She grabbed a
sweatshirt and pulled it over her lighter cotton night shirt as protection
against the slight chill. She reached beside the bed and picked up her
discarded socks and pulled them on her feet as well.
Scully headed towards the connecting door and heard noises as she got
closer. The television. Figured. She stopped at the door, trying to
decide whether to knock or not. She didn't want to wake him if he was
asleep, but she certainly didn't want to surprise him if he was awake.
She finally decided to knock very lightly and was surprised when she
heard his voice call out, "It's okay."
He was sitting stiffly against the headboard, right arm holding onto the
left, even though it was still in the sling. He didn't look good.
"Hey, Mulder. What are you doing up?"
She saw his grimace and understood that he was in pain. The medication
he was taking should have gotten him through the night. Then it dawned
on her. He probably hadn't taken it. And even if he'd wanted to, he
probably couldn't have removed the top to get at the pills, with both
hands bandaged and left arm immobilized. Shit, what kind of doctor was
she? What kind of friend was she?
Her partner was his typical 'no tell' self when he replied, "Just couldn't
sleep. That's all."
Scully came into the room and walked closer to the bed. She could see
the light sheen of perspiration now. Could see the fine lines indicative of
persistent pain. She cursed at herself once again, swallowed hard, but
kept her face impassive, her expression neutral.
"You know, while I'm here I could get you your next dose of pain
medication. Are they in the bathroom?"
She saw his face relax slightly and knew she'd guessed right.
"Yeah, they're on the counter. Thanks."
Scully turned to the right and entered the bathroom. She noted her
partner's shaving equipment and toiletries lines up like soldiers at
attention. For a man who was notoriously sloppy at work, he certainly
was neat whenever they traveled. She spied the little prescription bottle
turned on its side, laying against the soap dish. It was the only item on
the counter not put neatly in its place. She could practically see him
trying to remove the top and finally just tossing them down in frustration.
She opened it efficiently and removed two of the pills, then set the open
container on the counter. She left the lid lying next to it. Filling a glass
with water, she made her way back into the bedroom.
Mulder had closed his eyes and appeared once again to be concentrating
on banishing the pain. It irked her slightly that he hadn't just asked for
her help. He never wanted to appear weak in any way, regardless of how
hurt he was. Then she recalled the year of her own 'I'm fines' and
decided he wasn't the only one who was guilty of trying to hide
discomfort and pain. She'd done it, too. Hadn't let him in, even as she
was dying slowly from the cancer eating its way to her brain. What a pair
they were.
"Here you go, Mulder."
She sat down beside him, trying not to jostle the bed too badly. Still she
saw by the intake of breath that the movement had hurt him. She held out
the pills, watched as he slowly brought them to his mouth, and then reach
out for the water. She held on to the glass long enough to make sure he
had a good grip on it, then let go. The water sloshed slightly in response
to the shaking of his hand, further evidence that he was not feeling at all
well.
"Thanks, Scully."
He handed the glass back to her and met her eyes straight on for the first
time since she'd entered the room. He took a shaky breath and said
again, "Thank you."
Scully knew what he was really saying. Knew he was saying, 'Thank
you for taking care of me. Thank you for caring enough to come check
on me in the middle of the night. Thank you for understanding what I
need even when I don't tell you.'
She put the glass on the table next to the bed and took his right hand in
hers for just a moment, careful of the bandages. She wanted to be sure
he knew just how much his friendship meant to her. How much he
meant to her. Her voice was slightly unsteady when she replied finally.
"No problem, partner."
Mulder gave her a small smile. Message received. Scully turned to look
at the t.v., relieved to see ESPN instead of CNN. Time enough for that
trauma tomorrow. She glanced at her partner once again.
"Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"
She knew it was a stupid question as soon as she asked it, but couldn't
take it back. Mulder still stared at her, gaze unwavering, but the question
had elicited a small smile.
"I'll try soon. I promise. Why don't you go back to bed?"
"Okay. I'll see you in the morning."
Scully stood and turned to the door, started walking towards it. She was
consumed with a single thought, a single desire. That both she and
Mulder could learn to ask for help, especially of each other. But perhaps
it was a lesson they'd never learn. A couple feet away, Mulder's voice
stopped her.
"Hey, Scully?"
She turned, quizzical expression obvious.
"Yeah?"
He looked like he wanted to ask her something but was afraid to.
"What is it? Do you need something?"
Then she realized the phrasing that he might actually accept, might
possibly respond to.
"Is there anything I can do for you, Mulder?"
She saw the internal struggle and knew he'd finally made a decision when
he slumped back somewhat against the headboard.
"I have a huge favor to ask. You can say no."
Now she was curious. What the heck could he need that would cause
this level of embarrassment and angst?
"All right. Ask."
"My neck is really killing me. It's so tight I can hardly move it. Do you
think you could give me a neck rub?"
Scully arrested the laughter that threatened to bubble out. The request was
made in such a plaintive voice. He sounded so sincerely mournful.
Never in five years had this Mulder surfaced. He was being honest with
her, asking for her help. Maybe they could learn after all. She decided
that such honesty was to be rewarded.
"Mulder, I am renowned in the Scully clan for my neck, shoulder, and
back rubs."
She approached the bed once more and waved at him to move.
"Come sit on the floor by the bed. You can lean against it so your
shoulder doesn't get jostled."
Twenty minutes later, Scully was trying to figure out if she could
somehow get him back into bed without waking him. Impossible.
"Hey, Mulder. Earth to Mulder. Wake up and get back in bed."
He roused slightly, just aware enough to follow her instructions,
allowing himself to be directed and led. After he was flat on his back and
safely tucked in, Scully checked the clock alarm to make sure it wasn't
turned on, then returned to her room. She stretched her own neck from
right to left, suddenly wishing Mulder could return the favor for her. Oh
well, he'd just have to owe her. She was asleep within two minutes
despite her stiff neck.
*******************************************
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