Situation: This story has been written for
'Virtual Season Nine'.
Rated R for some explicit language
Type: Profiling X-File, M/S MRS
Story: New York City's Finest cannot stop a
serial killer from running havoc throughout
the city, leaving his mark on the city. Fox
Mulder is contacted by an old friend and
asked for help, thus turning the killer's
attention on him, and forcing him into a
deadly cat & mouse-game across town. But the
agent has no idea the price he has to pay is
very high.
Disclaimer: Do I need to remind you that our
beloved FBI duo is not mine? They belong to
CC. But since he's not using him to the best
of his abilities, the XF fanfic writers are.
First we'll take Manhattan,
Matrix
Teaser
Day One, December 8, 2001
For the occasion he drove a white '89 Chevy.
Stolen. He left his comfortable home outside
of town to drive up to her house in
Manhattan. Crossing the George Washington
Bridge he found himself staring at the
skyline.
He had no respect for the one he was going to
kill first. She was just to draw attention.
She would bring the crowd to the city and
make sure they feared him. He had chosen her
carefully as his first victim, knowing she
would live up to his expectations. She lived
in Manhattan, the heart of the rich city. He
met her during fundraisers. He had watched
her the day before at the Franklin Mason
Benefit. And he knew he would kill her.
She always used the remote to enter her
garage. She did this night too. Immediately,
the garage door opened. She drove inside and
turned off the engine.
The garage door was already closing when he
slipped into the darkness of the large space,
hiding himself for one moment behind the
Beamer. He dropped the bag soundlessly on the
floor, and waited until she opened the car
door, sliding his own body from behind the
Beamer until he stood right before her. She
didn't hear or see him coming. If she had,
she wouldn't have had time to scream. He
grabbed her by the arm and wrist, pulling her
further out of the car. She nearly fell, but
he held her firmly.
"Start walking," he hissed in her ear,
planting her firmly on her feet. Pushing her
forward towards the door he watched her every
move, knowing there was an alarm set and that
she would need to type in the code to get
inside. She changed it every week and he knew
it would not be same as when he had once
spent the night there.
"Open the door," he ordered, "one wrong move
and you're dead, Susannah. You know I'll snap
your neck just like that."
Her hands were shaking while she opened the
door, tapping in the code as quickly as she
could. He memorized it. Then she used her key
to open the back door. He shoved her inside
and closed the door quickly behind him. She
grimaced and turned around quickly.
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked as
she caught her breath.
He didn't respond.
"What do you want?" she asked. "Sex? Is that
what this is about?"
He slowly nodded his head. "I'm afraid you've
got it all wrong, lovely Susannah," he
whispered in her ear. "I didn't come here for
the sex this time. I came here to get other
pleasures."
She paled and swallowed away the lump in her
throat. Her soft voice changed its tone. For
the first time in her life she knew she
didn't have the power over someone that she
thought she would have forever. She became
afraid.
"It's not too late, is it?" she asked
nervously.
He sighed. "I'm afraid it is."
He grabbed her wrist to keep her in the room.
"No, please," she whispered, her voice
changing its tone. He looked into her eyes,
staring into the fear. He concentrated on her
thoughts and captured them with the powers
that made him so special. Then he went into
her mind and caught the name of the person
that she thought of at that exact moment. She
screamed because his intrusion cut through
her brain like a knife. Her head seemed to
burst and her agony was so strong that she
forgot for one second that she was going to
die. And he smiled.
"Thank you," he said, "you just gave me my
next victim."
He suddenly let her go, and she fell. She
crawled and struggled to get up, but his
hands were already around her throat,
squeezing the life out of her until she
passed out. He stopped. He didn't want to
strangle her and have it over with yet.
Carefully, he placed her on the couch.
When he was finished, he kissed her softly on
the lips again. He said goodbye to her
sleeping form, and then left the way he had
come, using the code to seal off the house.
His leathered hand pushed the automatic
garage door button. He walked out and waited
for the garage door to close before he left
into the night.
Inside the house the telephone was ringing
loudly.
Susannah vaguely became aware of a sound
outside of her dreams. She forced her eyes
open, reaching immediately for her sore
throat, moaning when she moved her damaged
wrist by accident. Oh god, she remembered it
all in an instant. Her head felt dizzy, she
had to claw into the fabric of the couch she
was lying on.
The last thing Susannah heard was a deafening
noise in her ears, and the last thing she saw
was the immense fire that blew up in her
face. A sharp sound penetrated her ears and a
pain, worse than anything she had experienced
before came to take her away. Then her body
blew up with the rest of her house, leaving
nothing but shattered pieces of flesh and
bone and fabric all over the place. Leaving
her with nothing but blinding loneliness
where there was nothing left for her but
death.
Act 1
Day Two, December 9, 2001
Special Agent Dana Scully knew they were in
desperate need of vacations, but it would
still be another sixteen days before Christmas
arrived, and even then it wasn't so sure they
would actually be enjoying some time off. It
was about time though, she thought. It seemed
forever since they had some time to
themselves. Last week she was still trying to
stop Mulder from going insane, and now -
despite the fact it was rather quiet at the
office - it felt as if they couldn't simply
wind down and relish the fact they were both
still well.
Funny, how time passed so quickly in these
offices. Even more comical was how quickly
they both recuperated after going through
such ordeals. It seemed so easy at times that
it frightened her. Sooner or later they
wouldn't be that fortunate and they would not
forget. But last night at Mulder's, it had
seemed as if all was back to normal and they
were both getting over last week's disaster.
It was behind them and once again they were
moving on.
The phone rang shaking from her from her
thoughts. "Scully," she answered, listening
to Kim who invited her and Mulder to come see
Skinner instantly. "Mulder's not here," she
explained, "but I'll leave a note."
She hung up, scribbled a note that she left
on his desk, and hurried to Skinner's office.
She arrived just as Mulder stepped out of the
elevator and walked over to her. He seemed
distraught and tired, probably just like she
was. They really did need to catch up on
their sleep.
"Hey," she said, putting her hand on his
wrist for a second while glancing nervously
down the hall. Her little gestures could give
their relationship away but she couldn't help
touching him. That single gesture always told
him how much she cared, and when he smiled
back, she knew she had just made his day.
"Hey," he said back. "Skinner wants to see
us?"
"Yeah, you were pretty quick. Did you beat
the world-record reading little notes to get
up here?"
He smiled. "I didn't go to the office. I just
bumped into Kim downstairs in the lobby making
a Starbucks run, and she told me. Do you know
why he wants to see us?"
"Since I know it's not tickets to Hawaii, I
guess we'll have to wait and see."
He grinned. "If you're feeling bored, Agent
Scully, I can always give you a case of a
headless monkey born out of the belly of a
dog with paranormal powers."
She stuck out her tongue before opening the
door to the small reception area, "No thanks.
I'll take Skinner's case at any time."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Agent
Scully," Skinner said from the doorway as he
watched his agents enter. "Come in. We don't
have much time."
"We, sir?" Mulder asked, curious as to who
else would be waiting for them inside the
man's office.
Skinner invited them in. Mulder looked up
surprised as Assistant Director Frank Smythe
got out of his seat before the desk and
offered his hand. Reluctantly Scully shook
the man's hand. She realized instantly they
were up for a Violent Crimes Section case. A
profiling case. About a month ago she had
first met Frank Smythe during a briefing.
Smythe had been introduced as Tom Alexander's
replacement after Alexander's unexpected
death.
Smythe seemed like a decent enough man, but
right now Scully couldn't really be grateful
for the assignment, especially since they
were both so tired and had just been through
a difficult run of cases.
Smythe smiled politely and sat down again as
the others took a seat. "Agents, I think I
might have an interesting case for you. I
have run through the file with AD Skinner and
he has confirmed to me that he's willing to
'lend' you two for a couple of days to sort
this thing out for us."
"What kind of case?" Scully asked, already
dreading the answer. "Serial killer?"
"Not exactly." Frank shoved the file in
Mulder's direction, catching the agent's eyes
as Mulder opened it surprised. He wasn't
prepared for the first photo and blinked a
couple of times before closing the file
again. Smythe saw him wince and nodded, "I
had the exact same reaction when I first saw
it. It's horrible, I know."
Scully reached for the file and opened it.
She too felt a knot in her stomach as she
stared at the photo of what appeared to be a
deformed corpse, missing bits and pieces as
it had been blown to smithereens. The body
was black and hardly in one piece. There was
nothing left of it to declare it human. Yet
it could be identified instantly as a corpse.
"Lovely," Scully muttered. "A bombing?"
"Yes. Right in the center of New York, can
you believe that? The city is turned upside
down. Everyone is in uproar because of this.
People are talking political bombing again.
They want blood. Fortunately we calmed
them down a bit by stating we would put our
best men on it. Didn't you hear about this on
the news last night and this morning?"
"I didn't listen to any news," Mulder said
almost at the same time as Scully. The two
glanced at each other.
"I'm sorry," Mulder continued, "why exactly
are you coming to us with this? If this is a
terrorist action, shouldn't their Task Force
be doing this?"
"This isn't a terrorist action," Skinner
said. "This was murder."
"With a bomb?" Mulder asked surprised.
"Yeah," Smythe said. "With a bomb. There are
no terrorists involved, Mulder. The target
was a civilian, a woman who had many admirers
and enemies. Someone chose her for this
repulsive death but not because she was of
political importance. The mayor knows that by
now, as does the Senate. But this is already
a high profile case and you will be watched
from the moment you step into it. You should
be aware of that."
"That still doesn't explain why you've come to
us with this case," Scully remarked.
Smythe smiled. "I know, Agent Scully. This is
officially not an FBI matter ... yet.
There's someone else that is interested in
solving it, but he specifically asked for you
even though he's in charge. He sought FBI
assistance and came to me to request you. He
says he's an old friend of yours. In fact,
I've had the pleasure of working with him in the
past, too."
"Who?" Mulder asked curiously as he leaned
forward a bit. His interest was caught,
Scully saw, and she feared that he would take
a case that wasn't even theirs to begin with
just because the right person was involved.
"Jack Campbell."
This time Mulder's attention was caught and
won over by Smythe. Slowly the agent rose out
of his chair and said, "No way."
"Someone you know?" Scully asked.
"Oh, yeah," Mulder said with a grin and a nod.
"Jack was a profiler, we started out together.
Then he up and left, went to work for New York's
Finest. I lost track of him, I don't know
what he's been up to recently."
"You can ask him yourself," Smythe said. "He's
on his way down from New York to see you this
morning. In fact, I think he might already
have arrived and is probably waiting in your
office right now."
"He is?" Mulder asked even more surprised.
"He flew out from New York this morning?"
"Yes. I told him to go to your
office and meet you there."
"I still don't understand why he wants me
on this case," Mulder said, shaking his head.
"That is a question you should also ask him,"
Smythe said. "I gather that you are taking
this case?"
Mulder didn't respond, but his eyes sparked
with the knowledge that he would see a lost
friend again soon.
*******
Day Two, December 9, 2001
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, DC
A tall, slim man with blonde hair sat at
Mulder's desk, looking at the office that
seemed strange to him. He had heard rumors
that Mulder had been involved with paranormal
activity, but he had never thought it was
true. Yet when he called a few friends at the
Bureau the night before they had confirmed it.
Jack Campbell was a man of impulse. Ten years
ago he had changed his FBI outfit for an
NYPD outfit, choosing New York because he was
born and raised there, and the police
department because he felt he was doing no
good at the FBI. Before he had been recruited
for the Bureau, he was destined to become a
cop anyway. His father had been one, and his
grandfather before him. When he was
recruited, they had been upset.
Jack had been very good at his job.
The NYPD had been difficult. But in the end
his track record showed he was worth the
effort, and he received a promotion again
within the year, this time running six other
detectives in his own little Homicide
Investigation Unit.
Finally the door opened but instead of
Mulder, the petite, female agent entered
first. She was talking to Mulder and then
stopped, surprised that their guest was
sitting at Mulder's desk. Campbell knew her
name was Dana Scully and that she had been
Mulder's partner for years, but he stopped at
her attractiveness and candor. He liked her
instantly and when her eyes caught his, he
knew she liked him too.
Mulder came in behind her and Campbell
smiled, almost in relief, as he recognized
his old friend instantly.
"You see, Scully?" Mulder quipped, "I knew
there was a reason to keep my New York Knicks
T-shirt."
Campbell grinned widely and fished inside his
pocket, delivering three tickets that he
waved in the air. "I knew I could still bribe
you the same old way," he smiled. Mulder
stepped forward and embraced his old friend.
Jack accepted the embrace and patted Mulder on the back.
"Next time you shouldn't wait ten years to
pay off your debts, Campbell," Mulder
grinned, tucking the tickets in his pocket.
"Yeah, well, it took me a while to pull some
strings for these seats," Campbell answered
as they let go of each other. Mulder turned
slightly and said, "Jack Campbell, meet Dana
Scully. Scully, this is Campbell, the terror
of New York."
"Nice to meet you," Scully said, shaking his
offered hand. "I can't say I've heard much
about you though. In fact, your visit comes
as quite a surprise."
"To all of us, Agent Scully," Jack said as he
leaned comfortably at the edge of the desk.
"Believe me, I didn't know I was going to be
here yesterday either, but I do need your
help and I had to find a way to stop you from
refusing."
"You could have asked me over the phone,"
Mulder said. "Of course I would have come.
Now that you're here though, tell me what's
going on."
"Actually, I sent you a short email yesterday
to tell you I was on the way. You should
check your mailbox more often," Campbell
grinned.
"Sorry. I'm usually out chasing aliens. Now,
speak."
"If you don't mind, I'd like to discuss the
case with AD Smythe and your boss at the same
time. It's a long, difficult story to
explain, and we don't have much time to go
through the details. Our flight leaves at
two. I know I might have gone too far in
assuming you are going, but I couldn't wait
for the bookings. This case is too important
and needs your help."
"That sounds serious enough," Mulder said.
"Actually they're already expecting us.
Skinner said they would be waiting for us."
Campbell opened the door for Scully and let
her walk out first. He followed next to
Mulder who found his friend had changed.
There was a haunted look in Jack's eyes. He
hid something.
As they took the elevator, Campbell asked how
his friend was doing.
"As good as can be expected," Mulder said,
who couldn't help but stare at Scully
standing right in front of him. Campbell
caught the glance, feeling a sting in his
belly. He too glanced at someone this way
years ago. And now that person was dead and
he was on his own again, wondering how he
could change his life for the better.
Campbell blinked and shook his head slightly.
He shouldn't be daydreaming like this. That
was then and this was now, and now he needed
to solve a case as soon as possible.
Walter Skinner immediately took a liking to
Mulder's friend as they were
introduced. Earlier that morning, Smythe had
used scanned prints of the murder scene, but
now Campbell opened his debriefing with the
original photos. There were six all together,
taken from different angles showing the
damage done to the house and victim.
"Her name was Susannah Delany, age thirty-
four. "This is her when she was still alive
and kicking. And this..." yet another photo
going into Mulder's hands, "this is her when
she died. Not a pretty sight, I can tell you
that. I saw the real thing and haven't felt
much like eating since."
"You are handling this as a murder case?"
Mulder asked. "You told the AD that they were
first talking terrorists?"
"Yes. Fortunately I was able to calm down the
Mayor's Office and the Governor's. The
explosion could be heard miles away. The
house was blown to kingdom come, taking two
other houses with it. There were no other
victims. The bombing was most definitely
focused on Susannah. The bomber used an
inventive wiring system to trick her. She was
trapped inside her own home. When she picked
up the phone, she triggered the bomb and left
nothing of her. If she would have touched the
door, she would have died too."
Mulder glanced at the photo of the beautiful
woman who smiled into the camera. She looked
like the All-American girl. Yet someone had
killed her in the cruelest way possible. For
someone to do that, he or she must have felt
a huge resentment toward her.
"She was a well known figure in New York
society," Campbell said. "I met her a couple
of times as well. She was popular amongst a
certain crowd but she was also nicknamed 'The
Slut' in some circles. She led a very complex
life."
"So what are your thoughts then?" Mulder
asked. "Surely you must be following a
certain direction?"
"Right now we're still exploring, Mulder,"
Campbell confessed. "But we need a profiler
on this case and I thought of you instantly."
"Why me?" Mulder asked. "We've got a few
profilers working in New York."
"I know, but I wanted you for the job because
I know your style and how you think. I
believe that together we might have this
solved within a few days. If I have to work
with a profiler I'm not familiar with, it
might take a while and we might be grasping
at straws. With everyone breathing down my
neck, I cannot afford that. So basically, I
need you, Mulder." Campbell smiled. "And of
course you knew those tickets didn't come
cheap."
Mulder didn't smile back, still wondering
what Campbell was concealing from him. It was
strange that he would come back for him after
ten years, believing he was still doing the
same job at the same office as if those past
ten years hadn't existed. And how could he
still remember every detail of his work while
so much had happened in between? No, there
was a catch. But Mulder would find out soon
enough what it was. He could tell that
Campbell was eager to talk to him in person
without others watching them.
"Okay," Mulder said, "I'll do it."
Scully opened her mouth to protest, but
realized she couldn't stop this. She only had
to take a look at the photos to realize what
disaster had been caused.
"We've got ourselves a madman, Agent Scully,"
Campbell said softly. "And my gut feeling
tells me he has just begun. A man who does
this will not stop with one kill. We need to
go through details today before tomorrow he
kills another one. He knew this woman, yet he
killed her. Shouldn't we stop him from going
through his list of 'friends' before -"
"Wait a minute," Scully said, "he knew her?
How can you be so sure?"
"There was an alarm set. She couldn't have
put it on because she was trapped inside the
house. He knew the alarm and set it before he
walked out again. He could only have done
that if he knew her. She never gave out that
code to anyone."
Mulder glanced at his watch. It was nearly
noon. In two hours their flight would leave.
He thought of the overnight bag that he had
used when he spent the night at Scully's. It
was set to go. He got up and looked at
Scully. "You are free to stay here, Scully,"
he said formally. "But I'm going to accept
this case. Though it is a profiling case, I
could use your help for the autopsy and
details."
Scully got up, knowing she would not let
Mulder go on his own. "Let's go then," she
said.
Campbell smiled and said his goodbyes to
Skinner and Smythe. Then Skinner got up as
well and followed the agents outside. Mulder
looked surprised at him as he said, "I'm
going too."
"Sir?" Mulder asked surprised.
Campbell grinned at Mulder's surprise. "Your
boss gave his permission on the condition
that I would book him a ticket too. He's in
charge of the two of you."
Two hours later two agents, an Assistant
Director, and a New York cop got on a flight
out to the Big Apple where a killer awaited
them.
ACT 2
Day Two, December 9, 2001
He knew by watching the news they were
investigating.
For tonight however he had already chosen his
next victim. No, Susannah had chosen him.
Her mind had given him the way to the man
that might have been the only one she ever
truly loved. Why else would he have been the
last person on her mind before passing out?
He knew the man by name and in person.
Stephen Wells was his name. He was forty-
seven years old and a bachelor. He was a kind
man, in fact, the opposite of what Susannah
had been. He didn't deserve this death, yet
it could not be avoided. Susannah had picked
him out.
Wells lived in luxury but only to an extent.
He worked in an office on the other side of
town where he always worked late. There he
would die. Every morning he arrived around
ten o'clock after his daily jog. At night he
often stayed until nine, unless he was
entertaining or invited to a party. He didn't
have many other hobbies other than that. He
supported charities and had been at the
Franklin Mason Benefit.
That morning the killer had walked into the
office building in as if he were an employee
of the CPA Corporation on the third floor,
but instead had taken the elevator up to the
tenth floor where Wells worked. There he had
taken a quick look around and muttered an
apology to the receptionist when he got
caught being on the wrong floor.
He had hurried back down and knew that
tonight he would come back around eight, when
everyone was at home except for Wells. Anyone
else that would be there was out of luck.
The killer looked up at the TV-screen when
Jack Campbell was mentioned as being in
charge of the case. The reporter also
mentioned an FBI profiler was now on the
case. An interview with Campbell followed. It
had been taped the night before, right
outside Susannah's shattered house. The
killer raised his glass and got out of his
seat, tapping it against the television
screen. "Here's to you and your profiler,
Jack. May the best man win."
Then he picked up his ready-made bag and left
for the office. Tonight would indeed be a
victorious night.
Day Two, December 9, 2001
Mulder deliberately chose the seat next to
Campbell, glancing apologetically at Scully.
She nodded, knowing he had to talk to his
friend. After the plane took off for the
short flight, the agent spoke.
"Now tell me, Jack, why did you really
contact me?"
Jack looked aside, not even surprised with
the question. "You really cannot accept that
I picked you out because of your expertise,
can you?"
"I read your email, Jack. You practically
stated in it that you experience paranormal
experiences. I've got this feeling they have
a lot to do with why you contacted me."
Jack sighed and rubbed his head, trying to
escape the headache that seemed to come and
go during the day. He knew he wasn't meant to
lie to Mulder, but how could he explain his
reasoning when he didn't even understand it
himself?
"I knew you weren't a profiler anymore," Jack
whispered.
Mulder glanced towards him curiously. "You
knew?" he asked. "Then why -?"
"I thought that you, with your expertise in
the paranormal, would understand me better
than anyone else. I didn't ask you for your
profiler skills, but because of your
paranormal expertise."
Mulder leaned forward and whispered, "Are you
saying this is an X-File?"
"If you want to call it that way. Yes and no,
I don't know, Mulder. There's something about
this case that I can't explain. I know we
have the bombing. The evidence is there.
The murder happened in a natural way. She
died because of that bomb. Yet there's
something I can't put my finger on. I don't
know what it is. It's been bugging me since I
got the call yesterday about her death."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
Campbell laughed. "Come on. You know they
would take me off at once. You of all people
should know what it's like to fight against
those with preconceived notions."
"What makes you think this is paranormal?"
Mulder asked. "You said it yourself: All the
evidence is there. There's nothing abnormal
about the case, and -"
"Look." Campbell glanced behind him, hoping
that Skinner and Scully couldn't hear. He
didn't know them well enough to confide in
them just yet. He wanted to keep his little
secret between Mulder and himself. "There's
something you should know, Mulder. Something
that might change the way you look at our
friendship."
"You're a woman," Mulder remarked quasi-
shocked.
Campbell laughed. "No, it's not that bad."
Mulder grinned. "So you can't surprise me
anymore. Now tell me."
Campbell sighed deeply and looked forward. "I
was recruited for the Bureau, not because of
my skills or expertise or brightness, like
you. I was recruited because I had visions as
a child, teenager and young adult and they
knew about it."
Mulder leaned forward even more. "You're
psychic?" he asked surprised.
"I used to be."
"Come on, Jack. Once a psychic, always a
psychic. Spill the beans."
"All right," Campbell admitted. "I am still
psychic, if that's what you want to call it
but it's not strong anymore. It just happens,
usually at night. I envision events. People
say I'm good at what I do. But if they knew I
use ninety percent of my instincts to catch
my killers, I wouldn't be so believable
anymore. They would call me a fraud."
"And you had a vision about Susannah Delany?"
"Yes, I had. After the bomb, I went to that
house and I had a vision of her being trapped
in there with a man - her killer. He did
something to her that I cannot describe. He
seemed to pick her brain and then he went
away. The vision was very blurry and strange,
and I don't know how to describe it any
better than that. I believe that he too is
psychic and that we connected
somehow. I picked something up from his
actions."
"And because you can't use that vision, you
turned to me, hoping that I could," Mulder
remarked.
Jack smiled. "I know, it sucks, but that's
how it is."
"I see," Mulder said slowly, trying to figure
out what to do next. His first urge was to
convince Jack to have his ability further
explored, but he knew his friend would not go
for it.
"All I ask of you, Mulder, is that you treat
this case as a profiler. But keep an open
mind. And don't tell anyone about this, I beg
of you."
"I won't," Mulder vowed. "But you need to
realize and accept that your ability is not a
curse but a gift. And anything that you see,
you must tell me if it affects this case. If
not, we're through."
Jack promised and watched as Mulder opened
the file and started making notes to profile
their killer. The two words that sprung to
mind were "cold-blooded" and "vindictive."
Those words alone made Jack shiver. He sensed
trouble.
Day Two, December 9, 2001
The Federal Building in downtown New York had
25 floors, so Skinner didn't have difficulty
arranging for a few adjoining offices at the
VCS. AD Norris, who ran the New York
division, was a good friend of his and had
been warned of their coming. Of course,
everyone knew the stakes.
"This way," Jack said, walking to the
elevators. He pushed the button to the
eleventh floor and led the agents to two
small, conjoined offices on the right. A man
in his fifties waited for them and got up as
they stepped inside. "Good to see you,
Walter," he said, shaking Skinner's hand.
"Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, may I
introduce you to Assistant Director Donald
Norris? Mulder, Don took over for Linda
Harper," Skinner said, knowing the memory of
the missing AD would haunt his agents for a
good long while. Mulder and Scully stepped
forward to greet the new AD. Jack already
knew Norris.
"It's a pleasure, Agent Mulder," Assistant
Director Norris said. "I've heard quite a lot
about you."
"You have?" Mulder asked with a hint of
surprise. "I wouldn't believe everything they
told you, sir."
Norris smiled, and invited them to sit down,
explaining to them they could use these
temporary offices to get settled in during
the next few days. His own office was on the
tenth floor but he would always be at their
service if they needed any help.
Everyone took a seat at the conference table.
Norris was a busy man with twelve agents
working for him. His specialty was serial
murder. As a rookie-cop he had been involved
in the Son of Sam-case years ago before
joining the Bureau.
"I understand you've done other cases prior
to this," Norris started as he directed
Mulder, " AD Skinner told me that you're a
good profiler with an excellent record."
"Thank you, sir."
"You do realize this is not a paranormal
case?"
"Yes, sir, but even a killer can use
paranormal activity. In 1993, we solved the
case of Eugene Victor Tooms, a man who
extracted human livers in order to hibernate.
This was a serial killer who had been active
for over a hundred years. There was also a
man named Virgil Incanto who lived on the fat
of obese women in order to survive
physically."
"I think I get the picture, Agent Mulder,"
Norris interrupted. "As long as you
understand that this case involves a regular
man, I'm okay with it."
"Thank you, sir."
Norris got up and put his hand on the file
that lay on the middle of the table. "I have
a meeting in about ten minutes," he said, "so
I'm going to leave you to your own devices.
Walter, you know where to find me should you
need one of my men. Just let me know how we
can help you. Of course you can also contact
AD Smythe for questions or information."
"I appreciate that, Edward," Skinner said,
shaking hands with his colleague. "We'll keep
you informed."
"Thanks."
Norris left, closing the door behind him on
the way out. Campbell turned towards the
others. "I suggest that we start working.
Where do you want to begin, Mulder?"
"I'd like to autopsy the body tonight if
possible," Scully answered in her partner's
place. "I suppose it has been held for me?"
"It has," Jack confirmed. "Even though the
coroner's office wasn't too pleased with
that. I had to pull a lot of strings to
persuade them to wait."
"I'd like to see the crime scene first,"
Mulder said. "Get a feel."
"We can do that," Jack said. "But we also
need to make a courtesy call to the mayor's
office. We need to settle some issues there
before the mayor steps in and takes over. He
has the power to make our lives miserable if
we don't act discreetly."
Jack glanced at his watch. It was after five.
If they were going to act, they didn't have
much time left before dark. "I'll call the
mayor from the car and set up the autopsy for
you, Agent Scully. I suggest that we profit
from the little time we have left before it
gets too dark."
"I'll stay here," Skinner said. "And get in
touch with the other authorities. Remember,
I'm only here on an administrative basis.
This is your case, but I'm backing you up
should the heat get turned on."
"We understand, sir," Mulder said.
Day Two, December 9, 2001
The house was one big pile of debris to put
it mildly. Absolutely nothing was left of the
Victorian home, except a couple of walls; in
between lay the remains of the first and
second floor. The fire department had shored
up the walls and was still cleaning up the
mess when the agents got there.
"Most of the evidence has been taken to a
police compound," Jack complained. "We're
trying to go through details there because
it's too dangerous to hang around here.
Pieces of debris keep falling down."
Mulder took a look at the neighboring houses
and noticed they too had suffered greatly
from the bomb, but they were not beyond
repair. "We asked the owners to find
temporary shelter," Jack explained. "The
Mayor's Office is helping them out until they
receive their insurance benefits."
Jack carefully made his way through the
debris and stepped inside what was left of
the living room. The cracked piano that had
been in one of the photos still stood there
as a memento to a woman's life that had been
completely ruined with a crushing bomb.
"Where did they find Susannah's body?" Scully
asked, following in Jack's footsteps.
"Over there." Jack pointed towards the
remains of a wall covered by a whole lot of
wood and stones. From his pocket he got out a
map of the floor plan, provided to them by
the architect who had renovated the house
five years ago before.
"The area in which she was found was the
living room. It had an L-shaped form, you
see? You can still see the remains of the
couches, the TV, stereo, all that stuff. All
the electrical equipment exploded in the
fire. The short end of the L was her dining
room. It was a large room with two steps
leading to the front door. There was also a
stairwell in the back, going to the first and
second floor. She didn't use the second
floor. The kitchen had another stairwell,
probably used by her housekeeper."
"She had a live-in housekeeper?" Mulder
asked.
"No, there was a woman that came over twice a
week and spent a whole day at the house.
Susannah didn't want to be disturbed by her
and they had very particular arrangements for
her work."
"The kitchen had been a spacious, modern
room," Jack continued as they walked over,
showing them photos of how it used to be. It
had two doors leading outside; one going to
the back, which was being used as a service
entry door. And there was a second one
leading up to the garage. Both doors had an
alarm."
"Was the garage secured?" Mulder asked.
"Automatic door?"
"Yeah. She had the automatic door installed
after the renovations. The garage could hold
two cars, which were both accounted for. She
drove a Jaguar and a compact BMW. According
to the housekeeper she changed the alarm code
once a week and she was the only one that
knew it. When the housekeeper came over, she
had to ring the front door and was allowed in
by Susannah. If Susannah wasn't at home, the
housekeeper couldn't get in."
Jack waited as he watched Mulder think. "We
believe that the killer made his entry
through the garage door. He probably slipped
in and waited until she got out of her car to
grab her. He forced the alarm off her, no
doubt."
"Was there a silent alarm?" Scully asked.
"No."
"You mentioned earlier that the bomb had been
set off by the telephone. Did the bomb squad
examine the device yet?"
"They have," Jack said, glancing at one
of the firemen that looked very curiously at
him. "But I suggest that we discuss this on
our way to the mayor's office. Have you seen
enough for now?"
"I have," Mulder confirmed, thinking about
the details he would put in his report. He
had seen enough for now. Pure hatred lived in
this debris. And there was an urge to end up
in the news by killing this way. He had
succeeded.
Right now anything was still possible.
"Destroy and mutilate," Mulder mumbled, as he
left.
"Our killer definitely gets off on what he's
doing," Mulder said as they returned to the
car. "He took his time to set this up. He
took risks, but he didn't care."
"Go on," Jack said, listening to Mulder's
nearly monotone voice. He could see the man
was talking without thinking, as if he wanted
to say it before it was gone out of his mind.
"He wants us to admire his handiwork, that's
for sure. He had two reasons to use this
bomb. He wanted to destroy everything that
was dear to her; not alone her physical being
but also the place she had put her stamp on,
as if he wanted nothing left of her to be
remembered."
"Do you think he'll kill again?"
Mulder looked at the others. "We'll know soon
enough."
Mulder's words shocked the other agents,
realizing he was right. Right now there was
no way of telling if the killer had already
chosen his next victim. There was no trace
leading to another potential victim.
"Let's get out of here," Scully said. "Can
you two drop me off at the coroner's office?"
"Sure," Jack said as they made their way back
to the car. Across the street still stood a
crowd gathered to see who was rummaging
through the debris. Mulder saw a few cameras
and reporters. He spotted them a mile away
and knew they would want to get answers soon.
"Can you get those reporters to hand over
printouts of the photos taken last night?" he
asked. "Might come in handy."
"Already been done," Jack said, "standard
procedure."
Scully and Jack made their way out but Mulder
stopped before the outer wall, turning and
staring at the debris. Suddenly he was back
at the bombing in Dallas. Back then the
bombing had taken place to cover up several
strange deaths. What if this bombing had
taken place for the same reason? If not to
destroy one's life, why would anyone plan
such a horrid death?
He shivered.
Day Two, December 9, 2001
In the car Jack got a call from the forensics
office.
Preliminary reports showed that the bomber
was an amateur. The device was set up simply;
it worked when a trigger was set off by a
certain move. He didn't use new,
sophisticated technology to get the job done.
He used the old tricks, like hobbyists did.
"He must have had help to do this," the
expert said as he explained over the phone
what he found. "That, or he used 'Bombings
for Dummies' on how to set a bomb."
"What about the Internet?" Mulder suggested
when Jack hung up. "There are chat rooms and
forums for just about anything. There
probably are on terrorists and bombs as
well."
"How to create the perfect, destructive
bomb," Campbell said. "It's sick, but it can
be done. It shouldn't be too difficult to
find that out. I'll have someone do a search
on the Internet. Who knows, we might get
lucky."
Day Two, December 9, 2001
The office building was dark, just like he
had expected it to be. The reception area was
empty but the outer doors were still open. He
would need a badge to go up now, and he
didn't have one. He pushed the button of the
tenth floor and waited until a male voice
asked, "Yes?"
"Stephen," he said, "it's me. Can you let me
in?"
There was a silence on the other side and
then the man who worked on the tenth floor
said, "Sure." The killer smiled, knowing
Wells didn't know whom he was letting in.
The office at the end of the corridor was
brightly lit. That was Stephen's office. He
had seen that this morning while making his
stroll through the building. Stephen was
there alone. The man looked up when he walked
in and said, "Excuse me, do I know you?"
"Of course you do, Mr. Wells," he said.
"We've attended several benefits together,
haven't we?"
"Of course we have," Stephen said hesitant,
offering his hand. "How are you? What can I
do for you? I'm sorry, I thought I let one of
my colleagues in."
"I know," he smiled. "I took the risk of
coming here, hoping you would be by yourself.
You are alone, aren't you?"
Wells looked nervous. "I'm sorry but you
still haven't told me what you're doing
here."
"We need to talk, Stephen."
"About what?"
"About things that you've done. About people
that you've been with." He took a seat at the
edge of Stephen's desk and took a paperweight
off the desk. It felt heavy in his hand. He
toyed with it as his eyes focused on Stephen
who became agitated.
"What are you talking about?" Stephen asked.
"What things have I done?"
"Why are you at work, Stephen, when you
should be mourning Susannah's death?"
"Susannah?" Stephen Wells laughed bitterly.
"Is that what this is all about? You're here
because of Susannah? You're a reporter,
aren't you? You came here because you found
out about us and now you're trying to get a
story out of it. Get out!"
"I'm not a reporter," he answered calmly.
"Are you trying to blackmail me then?" Wells
muttered as his face turned red in anger.
"Get the hell out before I call security. How
dare you come in here right after her death
and do this to me? We had a good thing going.
You can't use that against me. Get the hell
out before I kick you out myself!"
He smiled. "I'm not leaving, Stephen. I've
come here to kill you."
Wells' eyes changed expression when he saw
his 'guest' wore leather gloves. The man's
eyes were as cold as ice. And his facial
expression was blank. Suddenly, Wells felt an
excruciating pain inside his head, and he
screamed as he moved away from his chair,
putting his hands up his head as he shrieked.
It felt like someone was cutting into his
head with a knife, taking out all the
thoughts and dreams. His eyes locked with the
killer's and it felt like he would never be
the same again.
Then the pain stopped suddenly and the killer
smiled. "Thank you for handing me my next
victim."
Wells stumbled backwards, nearly tripping
over his chair as he came to the realization
he had signed his own death warrant. And then
the paperweight came up and smashed him over
the head, cutting deep into his skull. Wells
slumped backwards, pulling a stack of paper
onto the floor with him. There he remained,
out cold.
The killer removed the man's cellular phone
and tucked it into his own pocket. He would
leave that outside the room where Wells
couldn't use it.
The killer moved quickly now, shutting the
office door and switching off the lights so
that only the dim nightlights remained on.
Using the same MO he had used on Susannah, he
triggered the phone and fax. Then he wired
the rest of the room. Closing the door, he
placed the bomb right outside the room and set the trigger. Every single action the man inside did would kill him. And if someone tried
to save him, he would still die.
A few minutes later, he was downstairs and he
left the building in utter darkness.
Inside the room, Stephen Wells woke up
slowly, reaching for his bruised head. He
sighed deeply as he tried to grasp at what
had happened to him. The world danced before
his eyes. He touched his temple, feeling the
deep cut made by his own paperweight. Then he
remembered. He knew who that man was! That
struck him the most. He had seen him before
and knew of his political ambitions. And he
was also a killer.
He had to tell someone! And then there was a
vague sound, like a phone ringing. The sound
seemed too loud in his bruised head. His
fingers reached for the phone, picking it up.
A sharp-pitched sound pierced his skull. He
saw the wires. And then nothing anymore.
When the fire ended, the entire top floors of
the office building had gone to hell.
Underneath the debris on the ninth floor,
which had suffered too during the blast, laid
the unconscious body of the security guard.
Day Two, December 9, 2001
The mayor's office buzzed with activity as
Mulder and Campbell arrived. It was seven-
thirty in the evening, yet all the personnel
still seemed present. Some of them were
dressed in evening gowns and tuxedos.
"There's an AIDS benefit tonight," Campbell
said. "I was supposed to go too, but with all
that's been going on, that's not going to
happen. Not that I'm unhappy with that; I
hate those events."
"Don't let your father hear you say that,"
Mulder remarked, remembering the former
Chief of Police whom he had met twice.
"Detective Campbell," the mayor's secretary
said, as Jack knocked on the glass door that lead
to a small but beautifully decorated
reception area. "The mayor is expecting you."
"Thank you," Jack said as they walked in.
Inside another, classically decorated office,
a man in his late forties awaited both men.
Mulder had seen the mayor on news bulletins
and in newspapers. Rumors had it that he was
going to try for the Senate during the next
elections and that the eligible mayor's seat
was up for grabs.
It was no secret the mayor was a very cocky
man who didn't like it when things didn't go
his way. He wanted to exert his authority
over the NYPD and FBI during high-profiled
cases, but when he found out he hadn't, he
got nasty.
"Close the door, Ellen," the mayor said. "And
tell David that I'm going to be running late.
He should warn Congressman Mitchell."
"Yes, sir," the secretary said as she shut
the door. The mayor didn't offer them coffee.
He made it very clear he didn't want to spend
much time discussing the case with the two
men who were supposed to solve it soon.
"Look, Campbell," the mayor said, ignoring
the fact for now he saw this man on a
personal basis as well and at times even
liked him. "I'm not going to beat around the
bush here. I want results and I want them
yesterday. I appreciate you bringing in the
FBI, but you're slowing things down. What are
you doing to get this guy?"
"We have gathered all the evidence and are
exploring Miss Delany's past, sir. You must
understand that it will take time."
"We don't have time. Everyone's breathing
down my neck. They all want to know how this
could happen in my city. They believe some
crazy bomber is terrorizing the city. I have
a press conference in the morning to tell
them this is not the case. Please tell me
this is a one-time thing, Jack."
Jack opened his mouth to speak but stopped
when Mulder interfered. "There is no telling,
Mr. Mayor," he said quickly. "We might have a
serial killer on our hands. But he's not a
terrorist. I can guarantee that much."
"How can you guarantee that?" the mayor asked
angrily acknowledging the answer he didn't
want to hear. "There's not much you know
about him yet, is there?"
"That is correct, sir," Mulder said. "That's
why I'm here. I can guarantee you that I will
do everything in my power to identify him."
"Good," the mayor said. "Because if you do
not, I'll make sure you never work at the
Bureau again."
"Is that a threat, Mr. Mayor?" Mulder asked
coldly.
"No. Call it warning. I know the Director
quite well."
"As do I, sir. And I can tell you that he
will not appreciate the remark you just made.
Right now, you need us more than we do you. I
suggest that you keep that in mind." Mulder
rose from his chair and turned his back
toward the mayor who sat numbly in his seat,
not able to utter another word. Quickly, Jack
left as well, shutting the door behind him.
"What the hell was that?" Campbell asked,
suddenly bursting into laughter at Mulder's
angry features. "You don't really know the
Director personally, do you?"
"Of course not," Mulder said, calming down.
"But I don't think the mayor's going to
contact him either. He needs us and he knows
it. He needs the FBI to keep his city calm
right now. If he screws that up, he loses all
credibility himself."
"You like to taunt people, don't you Mulder?"
Jack asked. "You haven't changed a bit."
Mulder's smile faded. "There's a lot you
don't know about my past, Jack," he said
seriously. "You have no idea what it's been
like to work at the Bureau, knowing that
everyone there wants to get you fired.
They've been ridiculing me and laughing at my
work because they don't understand it. And I
get so tired when that happens outside the
Bureau as well. That man in there doesn't
have reason to threaten me, but he thinks he
can because he runs this city. So it's my job
to set the record straight."
Jack patted Mulder on the back. "I know what
you mean," he said. "Believe me, I do. Let's
get out of here and go see Scully. She should
be working on that autopsy right now."
"I hope she's finished," Mulder grinned. "She
loves to slice and dice, but I don't like to
watch."
"Don't tell me you're squeamish!"
"Of course I am. Every regular person should
be."
The two men walked outside to Campbell's car
and got in. Suddenly Jack froze, rubbing his
eyelids forcefully as he sunk deeper into his
seat. Mulder looked askance at him, but chose
not to disturb him as the detective sat
quietly in his seat.
Finally Jack relaxed and looked up.
"You had a vision, didn't you?" Mulder asked.
Jack nodded and looked aside. "I can't be
sure," he said as drops of sweat poured down
his face. "But I think there's been another
one."
At the same time Jack's cell phone went off.
And Mulder knew it was going to be a long,
long night.
Day Two, December 9, 2001
Mulder called Scully on the way to the office
building that had been under attack and asked
her to arrange for a rental car and meet them
there. She agreed and said she would arrive
in about an hour or so, after finishing the
autopsy. She still had some work to do.
The two men sat quietly in the car, not
wanting to discuss the second murder. But
Jack wanted to talk about the vision. "It was
that man again," he said. "I can't help but
think that we somehow are on the same level.
I see what he's doing but I can't see where
or when. It's like I'm picking up some of his
thoughts; the ones that he perhaps wants me
to see."
"Do you have any idea if he looks familiar to
you?"
"I can't see his face. I don't know who he
is. It's all too blurry. This vision doesn't
work at all, Mulder. It's just a nuisance.
It's a joke."
"It's not," Mulder said, trying to calm his
friend down. "Look, you said that the FBI
recruited you because of your visions. Did
they know about it?"
"I don't know. What I meant is that they
thought I had insights no one else had. They
were right of course. But I wasn't tested on
those visions nor did anyone discuss them. I
just felt as if I was cheating when I used
them. I thought that by joining the NYPD I
could make better use of them, but there,
too, I discovered that they always came too
late."
"I understand now," Mulder said. "But that
still doesn't change the fact that you can do
some good with that psychic ability of yours.
You have the power to help people, Jack.
And believe me, I know what you are going
through. You have to learn from what you can
do."
"You call it a gift, a power," Jack said
somber. "But I call it a curse."
"You won't know what it's like until you let
me help you."
"Let me think about it," Jack said. "Okay?"
"Fair enough," Mulder said, feeling victory
was almost his. Then the agent looked ahead
and muttered, "Jesus."
"What the hell," Jack muttered, parking the
car right in front of an office building with
ruined top floor. Dozens of people were
running about. Several fire department
vehicles were already there. There were
police cars and ambulances. It looked like
World War III.
Mulder and Campbell rushed out. All hell had
broken loose and it seemed nothing would ever
be the same again.
Act 3
Day Two, December 9, 2001
Quietly Mulder walked alone through the
ravaged tenth floor. In the back office, the
remains had been found of Stephen Wells, the
apparent victim of the second bombing in two
days. Just like Susannah Delany before him,
Wells had been the target of a vicious
murderer. And just like with Susannah, his
belongings had been destroyed.
The man's death was just as horrible as
Susannah's had been, allowing Mulder to
believe that the killer had deliberately
picked this man to die. But what was the
connection between Delaney and Wells? Why
would he choose two people that apparently
had nothing in common?
"There was a second victim," Jack reported as
he walked towards Mulder. "They found the
security guard a floor lower. He's hurt but
not in any danger. He was making his rounds
when it happened."
"Have they found out how the bomber got into
the building yet?" Mulder asked. "He must
have had a badge or something."
"The security system is still to be examined,
but at first sight it seems that Wells let
him in. He must have known him."
"There was no one at the reception area?"
"There never is at night. The receptionist
leaves around seven and there's only the
security guard. Everyone who works here late
at night has his or her own badge. So when
there's a guest at night, he or she needs to
be allowed in."
"Is the badge system checked?"
"Yeah," Jack confirmed. "They'll go through
the badge lists tonight to see if anyone
gained access that way. But at first sight it
seems that that's not the case."
Mulder nodded. "He would give himself away
instantly. He wouldn't do that."
"So Wells must have known him."
"Most likely," Mulder said thoughtfully as he
stood in the center of what had been Wells'
office. The bomb squad confirmed the phone
had been wired, alongside the fax machine and
door. Wells' cell phone had been found on one
of the other desks. It was obvious the killer
had wanted his victim to pick up the phone.
"What are we going to do, Mulder?" Jack
whispered. "We've got a deadline now. If he
kills again tomorrow, we need to be there to
stop it."
"Go do some good old fashioned police work
and work your way through the details and
suspect list," Mulder said. "Scully will pick
me up here. I'll make the profile tonight.
I have enough information to
work with."
"Are you sure?"
"Definitely," Mulder said. "Can you do me a
favor and book us into a hotel? Just give me
a call and let me know what you come up
with."
"Okay," Jack said, saying goodbye to his
friend. Mulder looked at the firemen who were
still cleaning the floor and turned his back
towards them, concentrating on the scene.
More and more he became convinced the killer
had a reason for destroying his victims like
this. It wasn't just the viciousness. There
was something else.
"Hello?" A man tapped on what remained of the
doorpost and walked in. "I'm sorry, I'm
looking for Detective Campbell."
"He just left," Mulder said. "Sorry, you are
-?"
The man walking into the room was dressed in
a tuxedo and seemed completely out of place
in the destroyed room. He was in his late
thirties and good-looking. His bright dark
blue eyes took in the environment and he
seemed nervous to be in the room. It seemed
to be the last place he wanted to be.
"I'm sorry," he said. "My name is Alec
Thompson. I'm a friend of Jack's and work for
the mayor. I was on my way to a benefit when
I found out what happened. The mayor's
assistant called me and told me." Thompson
smiled wryly. "I guess he thought I would
find out more than the mayor did."
"I'm Special Agent Mulder," Mulder said,
shaking the man's hand. "I'd be more than
happy to tell you how our investigation is
going, but the mayor already knows everything
he needs to know."
"I gathered as much," Thompson said. "Can you
tell me if Jack is around?"
"He went downtown."
"Oh. I'll call him then." Awkwardly Thompson
remained in the room, staring at the debris.
"How could anyone do this to another human
being?"
"Good question," Mulder said. "One that I
cannot answer for you."
"I'm sure you can't. Well, it was good to
meet you. Goodbye."
"Goodbye." Mulder watched as the man left,
wondering about this strange visit. He made a
mental note to check out the man. One just
never knew. Mulder walked to the staircase
and went down. In the reception area he
bumped into Scully who was just about to go
up.
"You just saved me a long walk up," she said.
"How was it up there?"
"Horrible," he said. "Let's get out of here,
Scully."
"Where to?"
"The FBI Field Office. We need to talk to
Skinner and put together what we've got.
There are a lot of things to discuss."
"I agree," Scully said.
Mulder glanced at her curiously, knowing she
had something to tell.
Day Two, December 9, 2001
It was nearly midnight. The day had been
quite long but the night would become even
longer. The second murder had clearly shown
they were working against a time limit they
had to keep in mind. The profile that rested
in the agent's head still needed to get on
paper. And there were a lot of details to
discuss.
But Scully was first and got to explain the
details shown during the autopsy. Her voice
sounded professional and her words were to
the point, yet Mulder could see how repulsed
she must have been while performing the
autopsy.
"I'm afraid there was more going on than just
the bombing," Scully started.
"Oh?" Skinner said surprised. Her partner
didn't seem so shocked.
"Susannah Delaney showed massive brain tissue
damage; damage that could not be caused by
the bombing. Believe me, it took me a while
to figure this out. Her face and head were
damaged beyond recognition, as you can
imagine. Her face was practically blown away.
But when I took a sample of the brain, I saw
that all the small blood vessels had
exploded; she had been subjected to something
that would cause this before she died."
"Something like what?" Skinner asked. "A
machine?"
"No," Mulder said. "Not a machine. A person."
"Excuse me?" Skinner said. "Can you explain
yourself, Agent Mulder?"
"I know this might sound difficult to accept,
sir," Mulder said, "but I have reason to
believe our suspect is psychic, or at least
has psychic abilities that allow him to do
this. He uses these abilities for some reason
that I'm not aware of yet, literally causing
the explosion of the brain cells before the
actual death."
"That would leave his victims dead before the
explosion," Skinner said. "Wouldn't it,
Agent Scully?"
Scully hesitated and glanced at Mulder. She
had no idea why he came up with this, and she
had no reason to believe his theory. Yes, the
victims suffered from brain damage that might
have eventually caused their untimely deaths,
but to state that the killer did this with
psychic abilities? That was stretching it a
bit too far.
"Scully?" Skinner repeated. "Could this be
possible?"
"If you ask me whether they could have
survived this sort of ordeal, then I'd answer
yes. But if you ask me if this is caused by
using psychic abilities, I'd have to say no."
"I knew you were going to say that," Mulder
said, not angry with her at all. She wouldn't
go for his theory, so he had to defend it
without revealing Jack's secret. He had
given his word. He groaned lightly and
shifted in his seat. "I haven't anymore proof
to validate this theory yet, sir," he
continued. " You are going to have to trust
me on this one."
"What do you want me to say, Mulder?" Skinner
said as he got up and put his hands in his
pockets, turning his back towards the agents.
"Do you want me to go to the Deputy Director
with this story? Do you want the press to
find out about it?"
"No, sir. Officially, I'd go with the crazy
bomber story. Unofficially, I would find out
if this man is truly psychic and if this case
falls within our X-Files-department. But
I'm pretty sure that - if and when we catch
him - we will know that he indeed is not a
regular serial killer."
Scully glanced at her partner, not knowing
whether or not she should be angry with him.
He was holding something back from them, and
she wanted to find out what it was. It had
something to do with Jack. She knew that. But
when was she going to find out?
Mulder saw her discomfort and gave her a warning
look. She knew better than to argue with him.
She didn't feel like doing so. It was too
late in the evening and they were not one
step further than they had been in the
afternoon.
"I suggest that we break for tonight and
proceed in the morning," Skinner said. "It's
late and we're all very tired. Agent Mulder,
I suggest that you give your theory a rest
for now too."
"Yes, sir," he said.
On the drive back to the Field Office
Jack had called and said they were
all booked into a Holiday Inn. He gave Mulder
the address and told him he would pick them
up in the morning. He was also on his way
home, even though his mind wasn't set to
sleep. Too many events still lingered in the
back of his head.
Skinner took his own rental car and followed
Mulder and Scully back to the hotel, where
they'd booked three separate rooms. Before
Skinner's eyes the partners said goodnight,
but Mulder knew he would see her again that night.
After taking a shower, Mulder changed into
sweats and a T-shirt and turned on his
laptop. The events were still fresh in his
mind and he knew he could not sleep before he
had put his profile on paper. The TV was
playing in the background.
A soft knock startled him and as he opened
the door, Scully stood there, also dressed
casually in jeans and a T-shirt. "Hey," he
said, letting her in. She smiled and kissed
him as soon as he closed the door. It wasn't
a hungry kiss. They weren't in the mood.
Tired she glanced at the laptop and said,
"Shouldn't you be resting?"
"I can't," he said. "I still have some work
to do."
"Can I help?"
"No, you've done enough for tonight." His
voice sounded serious. She knew he didn't
like it when she worked late, like he did at
times. She also knew he was working on his
profile, something she couldn't help with.
Hesitant, they stood opposite each other. She
cupped his head in her hands and kissed him
again, softly and smoothly this time.
"Would you mind staying?" he suddenly asked.
"I still need to finish this, but I would
love it if you could keep me company."
"Sure," she said, retreating to the bed. She
laid herself down, throwing off her shoes.
She found a comfortable position and
watched him as he sat by the table and typed
his profile. Next, she flipped channels and
read the magazine a previous guest had left.
Around two she finally fell asleep.
Mulder sighed deeply and wondered how in the
world they would ever combine this
relationship with their professional careers.
Then he smiled and realized they had been
doing exactly that over the past 9 years.
They might not have been sharing their beds
for that long, but their affair had been
going on for quite some time. They both would
be liars if they denied that.
The agent took a deep breath and returned to
his work, only to finish up around four.
Startled he glanced at his watch, took off
his shoes and socks, and slid underneath the
blanket with her. Scully groaned, the turned and embraced him in her sleep.
He fell asleep with her face next to his, her
nose almost touching his. She was the last
thing he saw. She would also be the first
thing he would spot in the morning.
Four miles away the killer stayed awake and
watched the news. He was content with the way
things were going. The kick of killing was
only starting to grow.
Day Three, December 10, 2001
Take time to catch your breath and choose
Early in the morning Mulder woke up at his
usual hour, only to be surprised by Scully's
glance. Her face was still very close to him
and it seemed that they hadn't moved a bit
during the night. They were still entangled
in each other's arms.
"I have to go," she said as if they had just
shared a valuable night and were forced to
say goodbye. "Jack will be here soon to pick
us up."
"I know," he responded with regret, but there
was no objection. It was too soon to let the
world know. Right now there was just their
attention for each other. It was too precious
to throw away with a single wrong movement.
She slid off the bed and knelt down and
kissed him goodbye. "See you in a few," she
said and left the room with her keys in her
hand. He looked at the door, wishing she
would come back, but knowing that she
wouldn't. There were silent agreements
between them, and they both lived up to them.
Mulder washed up and brushed his teeth.
Around eight he turned on the local TV
channel, only to be inundated with the amount
of press interest. There was a ten-minute
story on last night's events. The mayor was
interviewed at last night's benefit, and his
right hand, a man named David Lane, explained
to the gathered press that they had faith in
the FBI and police working together.
Suddenly Mulder stared at the screen,
recognizing his image as the center of a
profile story.
His Bureau history and track record were
mentioned, as were previous cases he had
investigated as a profiler. There was also a
slight mention of the X-Files. Humored,
Mulder finished dressing, wondering how long
it would take before the press got their
hands on him and forced him to give
statements he didn't really want to.
Before long, Skinner stood before his door.
He had already warned Scully as well that
Campbell was waiting in the lobby. They would
take a quick breakfast and be on their way.
Campbell looked worried when they came
downstairs.
While they were eating breakfast, Campbell
explained. "Your hotel was leaked out to the
press. They're eager to talk to one of you,"
he said. "I'm not really up for it. I don't
want to alarm this guy. But I guess it can't
be avoided." Jack handed Mulder a document
that the computer spit out the night before.
"I've done a bit of tabloid research," he
explained. "Susannah Delaney was kept track
of, and it seems that Stephen Wells has been
spotted with her several times during the
past few months."
"They had an affair?" Scully asked.
"Looks like it. But ironically enough, this
was one of the relationships that could be
discussed out in the open. If you were to
read all the other articles on her, you would
see that there are some high profile people
on that list, from the Senate and the mayor's
office."
"We're still assuming someone she dated
killed her?" Skinner asked, glaring at Mulder
whose facial expression didn't change. "Is
that what we are going to tell the press?"
"It's a good story," Mulder said. "But it's
not the entire story."
Mulder only smiled and turned his face to
Skinner. "Don't worry, sir," he said. "I'm
not going to screw things up. I'll make sure
the FBI is not discredited or damaged by my
story." Mulder straightened his back and
walked outside, immediately surrounded by
several reporters that all fired their
questions towards him.
"Agent Mulder," a woman said, pushing a
microphone under his nose. "You're on a live
television. Can you tell us how the progress
on your investigation goes?"
"I can't tell you many details about our
investigation," Mulder said politely. "I have
created a profile on our suspect that will be
distributed to all law enforcement agencies.
We have reason to believe there was a strong
connection between the deaths of
Susannah Delaney and Stephen Wells, and that
they were not chosen randomly."
A short silence followed. Then everyone tried
to shout his or her question.
"Is this the work of a terrorist?"
"Is the killer going through New York's High
Society?"
"Did Miss Delaney have an affair with Mister
Wells?"
"Did Mister Wells kill Miss Delaney before
committing suicide?"
Mulder didn't answer any of the questions,
simply excused himself and walked past them.
Then a man grabbed his wrist and he turned
around. The reporter who had touched him
asked, "Do you think the killer is
challenging the FBI with his actions? After
all, there have been bombings before against
law enforcement agencies."
Mulder stopped and thought over his answer
carefully before turning towards the camera
as if he wanted to look straight into the
killer's eyes. From where she stood Scully
could clearly see her partner's eyes as he
coldly said, "I know how he's doing it. Now
it's just a matter of stopping him."
Then Mulder simply walked further until he
reached the rental car. Fishing out the keys
Scully had given him the night before, he got
in and waited until Scully slid in next to
him. Jack Campbell used his own car, as did
Skinner.
"Why did you challenge him?" Scully asked.
Mulder raised his shoulders and shook his
head. "People like that should know they
cannot get away with murder."
"He already has, Mulder."
Yes, Mulder thought, he already has. But if
he got the message, he knows by now that I
know how he's doing it.
Sitting before his television set, the killer
felt anger bottle up inside of him. The agent
knew. He could tell by the way that he looked
into the camera. It had been a message for
him. A message to let him know he was on to
him.
The killer nodded slowly. If this was a
challenge, he was up to it. From now on he
had but one opponent: The Profiler.
Day Three, December 10, 2001
"Are you okay, Mulder?"
"Hmm?" He looked aside only to find his
partner gazing anxiously at him. She had
that look in her eyes again that proved she
was concerned for him. He didn't want her to
worry. There was no need for it. But he had
been sitting quietly in the car, and she
wondered where his usual smart remarks were.
"I was just thinking about these two
victims," he said, "I wonder if they knew why
they were killed."
"We will only know that when we find
their killer. He's the only one that knows
that right now. But I'm guessing that they
knew. People usually die for a reason,
Mulder. Isn't that what your profile states
as well?"
"Of course it does," he answered. "But human
nature keeps on surprising the hell out of
me. At times I just wonder why someone does
what he does. And I just want to know why
we're here. Why is this person doing the kill
the way he is. And why am I here setting up a
profile and why are you performing yet another
autopsy while we should be having fun."
She smiled. "Isn't this your idea of fun? I
thought you were such a workaholic?"
He grinned and looked aside, letting his mind
drift away from the traffic for a second.
"Since I've got more than my share of you,
I've adopted other ideas of enjoyment."
She smiled, tracing the line of his mouth
with her finger. In the solitude of the car
it didn't matter what they said or did, and
he responded by resting his face against her
hand for a second to allow the warmth of her
flesh comfort him more than any of her
words could. She felt like teasing him but
knew better than to do so. Instead she pulled
away her hand reluctantly when they arrived
at the Field Office.
"Damn it," Mulder said, as the parking lot
seemed closed up. A guard walked over to them
and looked inside. "Sorry, Agents," he spoke,
"we've got mechanical problems - can't seem
to get the system to unlock this morning.
There's a reserve parking lot around the back
though. Just go around the corner and drive
up the small parking lot to the left."
"Thanks," Mulder muttered, doing as the man
had said. When he parked the vehicle a second
car drove up the lot. Campbell had followed
them and drove up behind him. The two
Chryslers stood next to one another.
"Make sure you get the right car tonight,"
Scully said. Jack made a face. "Hey, I've got
the luxury edition. Let's go."
The agents walked to the front entrance of
the building, hoping that there wouldn't be
any press waiting for them there either.
Fortunately the guards had chased most of
them away. "Before I forget to mention it
again, Jack," Mulder said as he used the
badge to make his way in, "someone came to
see you last night at the Wells' crime scene.
A guy named Alec Thompson. He said he was an
old friend of yours and works for the mayor."
"That's right," Jack said surprised. "But I
haven't seen him for ages. And he came to the
Wells' site?"
"Yep."
"That's odd." Campbell stepped into the
elevator and pushed the button. "Why would he
come and see me there?"
"Perhaps he had something to tell you,"
Mulder said.
"I wouldn't have a clue as to what that might
be, but I'll give him a call." Jack leaned
back against the glass and stared in front of
him. It was obvious he was wondering about
that unexpected visitor. Mulder stared at
Scully, hoping that she might not ask too
many questions.
She understood his look and excused herself
when they got out of the elevator. The night
before she hadn't asked Mulder about Jack.
She knew her partner would tell her when the
time was right.
"What's going on, Jack?" Mulder asked as they
walked down the corridor to the offices at
the end. He closed the door behind them and
watched as Jack walked straight to the window
and looked outside, his hands tucked in his
pockets like Skinner always used to do.
"I had another vision last night," he said.
"They come more often now and they frighten
me. I feel like they're trying to tell me
that we're getting close, but that we're
running out of time. These latest visions
scare me because they're unlike the ones I've
had before. In the past I felt like I could
help people with what I saw. Now I can only
guess at what is happening."
"You are the conduit," Mulder tried to
explain. "It's through you that we must
proceed in finding him."
"But what if he uses me the same way?" Jack
asked desperately. "What if he too has those
visions and only allows me to see what he
wants me to see?"
"We can only assume that you alone have those
visions, through some connection that you
have with him," Mulder said slowly, suddenly
realizing he had been through the same thing
years ago with John Lee Roche. The connection
had been there, and it been two-way. "No," the
agent said out loud. "We cannot assume that."
Mulder took a deep breath and concentrated on
Jack. "Tell me what you saw."
"It's complicated."
"Just try."
"There was a large building and a lot of
people inside. They were all dressed in
tuxedos and evening dress. It was some sort
of party or benefit. There was a huge sign
out front. Wait, it was a sign for the AIDS
benefit. He moved and then stopped and
looked around. There were a lot of different
people that I saw, all very blurry faces. I
couldn't make them out. But there was a
female hand that stretched out. I didn't see
her face, but I caught a glimpse of her dress
and the ring on her finger. It was a special
ring."
"Do you think you would be able to recognize
that ring and dress?"
"I think so."
"He chose his next victim," Mulder said. "He
was at the AIDS benefit and picked out the
victim Wells gave to him. He's moving
forward. If the past two days are any
indication, tonight he will try to kill his
third victim."
"Wells?" Jack asked surprised.
Quickly Mulder explained his theory on the
psychic ability of their killer. Jack
listened in surprise, realizing at last that
he couldn't grasp what was going on. No one
really could. He sighed deeply and rubbed his
head. He was so tired of these visions. All
he wanted was to lead a regular life and
forget he ever saw anything inside of his
mind.
Mulder put his hand on the man's shoulder and
said, "You did well, Jack. I promised you
help and I will give it to you. Just hang on
for a bit longer and try to see the best of
it."
Jack smiled wryly. "You're forgetting I'm not
so experienced with this paranormal stuff.
You're the expert."
"You're learning quickly," Mulder responded.
"Now then, can you get us a list of attendees
at that party?"
"Of course," Jack answered, tiredly.
"We need to concentrate on that ring and
dress. First priority now is to find our
victim. Do you think that ring was custom-
made?"
"It must have been," Jack said, "I had never
seen anything like it."
"Can you try to get a list of jewelers in
town that could do this?"
"I'll have one of my men on it. He's quite
good at that sort of thing. I'm sure he'll
find it quickly."
"Good," Mulder said. "Because time is running
out on us. Can we compare the list of the
guests of last night's benefit with the
guests of other well-known benefit parties
that occurred just recently - let's say
during the past two months?"
"Of course," Jack said. "Mulder, what exactly
are you thinking? Is our killer a high
profile man? Is he attending all of those
benefits as well, choosing his victims
amongst his friends?"
"The victims let him in. He knew their
habits. He was most likely a friend or
acquaintance. It does make sense. He most
likely had an affair with Susannah Delaney
too. Since that list is quite long, it might
take us a while to go through all the names,
and then we can only hope that their romance
was known."
"Is all of that in your profile, Mulder?"
Jack grinned.
"Most of it," the agent responded. "Let's see
if we can pass the profile on, shall we?"
Within half an hour Mulder's profile had been
approved by Skinner and sent out by email to
all the law enforcement agencies in town.
Every FBI agent knew what kind of person they
were looking for. But that still didn't make
things easier. The most confidential note in
the profile was that the killer most likely
lived in the 'better parts' of town, probably
leading a double life. Mulder had not
mentioned the Jekyll & Hyde syndrome but had
implied it.
Skinner was more than satisfied with the
preliminary report and profile. So was
Washington. But the killer was still on the
loose and as noon passed and snow began to
cover the streets, everyone felt the tension
grow.
Day Three, December 10, 2001
Scully left to complete the autopsy of
Stephen Wells. "Here I go again," she
had muttered while leaving. Mulder and
Campbell worked like crazy going through the
lists of attendees of several high profile
local benefits. It was no good. Several names
popped up on every list, including the
mayor's.
Another team was going through the tabloids
trying to gather a timeline on Susannah
Delaney's love life. Jack also placed several
calls with different newspapers and a society
reporter who told him with whom Susannah had
been seen. So far about nine names had popped
up. There were different timeframes that
couldn't be accounted for, and since her
hunger for one-night stands with young studs
was no big secret, everyone could only guess
at the correct amount of men she'd had.
From the timeline, six names appeared on the
guest lists of all the benefits as well.
Skinner called it a long shot but worth a
look. None of the names meant anything to
him, but both Jack and Mulder uttered a
surprised shout when Alec Thompson's name
popped up again. At one of the benefits he
had taken Susannah as a guest.
"So Alec knew her," Jack muttered, looking up
as his eyes darkened.
"Don't you think you should have a word with
him?" Mulder asked.
"I guess so," Jack said. "Who could have
thought this would ever happen."
"What do you mean, Jack? What's so
surprising about this Thompson guy?"
"I'm not sure at this point; just suffice it
to say something isn't right, and I'm getting
a bad feeling about this," he replied
morosely.
Mulder didn't understand why Jack was so
upset but let his friend be. There were other
things to consider now
Before long Scully returned and on her hair
danced snowflakes. "It's freezing out there,"
she said, blowing in her cold hands. Her nose
had turned a red tint as well. Mulder looked
at her and his heart made a quick jump before
he was able to concentrate on his work again.
Finally, around three o'clock Jack's
colleague Chris Morgan called and said he
might have found the ring. From his vision
Jack had made a rough sketch that he had
faxed to his colleague downtown. With that
sketch Chris made his way around New York's
most expensive jewelers, hoping that the ring
had been a product of The Big Apple.
"Are you sure?" Jack asked.
"Definitely."
"Let's go then," Jack said, grabbing his
jacket. Mulder and Scully followed. Out in
the cold the three pulled their coats tighter
and rushed through the snow to the parking
lot. The cars were covered in snow.
"There's our car," Scully said, pointing to
the Chrysler that was parked near the exit.
"Just follow me," Jack waved before he got
in. Mulder and Scully got in the other car
and waited for the detective to leave, but he
didn't. Instead he got out and took a look at
the left tire. He waved with his hand towards
the agents.
"What's wrong?" Mulder asked.
"I've got a flat. Damn it! I'll have to get
that fixed."
"I'll tell the guard," Mulder said. "Maybe he
can arrange to get it fixed."
Mulder walked to the guard and explained him
what had happened. The guard nodded and said
he would make arrangements. At Mulder's
insistence Jack slid in behind the steering
wheel and drove.
At the jewelry store Chris Morgan waited for
them. "The jeweler is pretty sure he made
that ring," Morgan explained. "I showed him
the sketch and he has a photo of the original
that looks a lot like it. I suggest that you
take a look at it."
The jeweler was polite and showed them a
picture of a ring he had specially designed.
Jack took one look at the photo and knew that
was the ring he had seen. "This is the one,"
he said. "Whom did you design it for?"
The jeweler seemed uncomfortable to give away
personal information but he had two FBI
agents and a cop standing before him. How
could he refuse? "I designed it for
Congresswoman McPherson," he said. "She's one
of my regular customers and inherited the
diamond. She wanted a unique design for it.
Her husband gave it to her as an anniversary
gift."
Jack looked at the others. "If what we think
is right, she might be the next victim."
"Or it might have been a waste of time,"
Scully said, hoping she was wrong.
"We have to get in touch with her and put her
in protective custody," Jack said as they
walked out. "But what story are we going to
use? We can't just go up there and tell her
we feel she might be in danger."
Scully asked Jack, "Do you think you might
find out if she was involved with Stephen
Wells?"
Jack hesitated before saying softly, "No. She
couldn't be involved with him."
"She's his sister, isn't she?" Mulder said.
"Stephen Wells had a sister, Sophia. She's
the one he's after now. He wants to kill her
too."
"That's right," Jack confirmed. "She is his
sister."
Mulder felt a shock surge through him as he
suddenly realized he now had confirmation of
how the killer chooses his victims. "He picks
out the last person in one's mind before
death occurs," Mulder said slowly. "That's
how he does it. He feeds on people's
emotions, choosing that one person that means
more to you than anyone else; the one person
you would think of before dying."
"Wait," Scully said, ignoring Chris Morgan's
stunned look. "Are you now officially calling
this an X-File, Mulder?"
"It has been since the day it started,
Scully," Mulder said. "And now we have the
proof."
"Why, because he goes after the sister having
first killed the brother? What proof is that?
It means nothing, Mulder. There is a
connection between all these people and it's
down to earth. Don't go looking for things
that aren't there. We need to pursue this the
logical way. We cannot afford to turn this
into an X-File."
"It is an X-File," Jack said as he stepped
forward. "We need to pursue it that way. When
we find Congresswoman McPherson, we will find
him."
"Fine," Scully said, "I just don't want to
be the one to tell Skinner."
Mulder smiled, knowing he had practically won
her over. The evidence was there. Now all
they had to do was put the pieces together
and see how it explained the reasons behind
the heinous acts.
"Track down Congresswoman McPherson," Mulder
said. "We need to talk to her before he finds
her and kills her."
Act 4
Day Three, December 10, 2001
Later, when night settled in, everyone
felt the tension as they waited for more
bad news to come. But it didn't. There
was no new attempt. There was no new bombing.
In a safe house, Congresswoman McPherson
waited with her husband. She knew she would
not see her bed that night. They had
persuaded her, convinced her that she was in
mortal danger. And she had run while her
heart was filled with grief over her
brother's death. He had died by the hands of
the man that was now going to try and kill
her, they said. And so she had not thought it
over. She simply did what they told her to
do.
That night her house stayed empty. There was
no one present but the police officers that
kept an eye out, hoping that he would show
up.
But he didn't. Because he had known they were
there. He had heard through his office.
Anger had settled in his heart when he stayed
at home that night, seeking revenge. He
wanted to punish the man that was after him.
He wanted to stop him.
And finally, when he went to bed in his
apartment, which he used when meetings ran
over too long and felt too tired to go home,
he knew he was going to kill him.
And he had found just the way.
Day Four, December 11, 2001
After he dropped Jack off at his apartment
about two blocks from the hotel, Mulder and
Scully arrived back at the hotel around
midnight. Skinner was already there but
nowhere in sight. He had probably gone to bed
after debating for a long time with the mayor
and his assistant.
The two agents had a light meal together.
Again it was too late to eat properly.
Scully sighed while she ate her salad, plucking
at the vegetables on the plate. It was the
only meal the kitchen had to offer them at that
late hour.
They sat alone in the dining room and the
constant chatter of the female cook and one
of the waitresses sounded like white noise to
their ears. The two agents said quietly
together at first, both too tired to do much.
It seemed that it was going to be a very
short night once again.
"What is it?" Mulder asked.
She didn't respond at first but finally put
down her fork and looked at him. "I've got a
bad feeling about this," she said. "I feel
like we're being watched. Our every move is
being recorded."
"That's the press for you. They know where
you are and what you're doing. Fortunately
it's just a one-time thing," Mulder said
lightly, realizing he, too, wasn't hungry
anymore. They were all very tired but at
least they could rest assure that tonight's
victim had not died.
"I'm not talking about the press," Scully
said. "I'm talking about him."
"Do you feel he's watching us?"
"Yes, and it gives me the chills," she
admitted. "Mulder, in all these years we've
seen a lot of gruesome things. We've seen
murders that were beyond humanity. I know
there are bombers out there that don't
hesitate to kill off hundreds of people if it
serves their political purpose. But it's just
hard to grasp that someone deliberately does
this to make a person suffer. Every bit of
humanity inside that man is gone. He doesn't
feel anything anymore. He uses his
intelligence and financial means to do this,
and he has the freedom to do this. I can't
rest properly until I know he's behind lock
and key."
"I know," Mulder said, placing a hand on
hers. "It's difficult to work on this case,
but it's going to be worth it when we get
him. And I promised you that vacation. Okay?
When we get out of here, we're taking off. I
don't care what anyone says about it. It's
going to be our vacation."
"As long as you don't take me to Vegas, I
don't care where we're going," she smiled.
"It's a deal." He smiled and his fingers
lingered long on her hand. "Let's go," he
said.
They pushed their chairs back and walked
to the elevators. When the doors closed
behind them, Scully felt her partner's lips
on hers and she opened her mouth eagerly.
They knew they weren't going to spend the
night together. In the morning Jack would
come to the hotel to drive to the police
station with them, where the search for the
killer continued. But it was after one and
they needed the rest. At Scully's door they
said goodbye. With regret Mulder shut the
door behind him and took a shower.
He glanced at his watch. He was awake and not
eager to get to sleep. Sighing, he settled
down on the bed and went through the file for
the fourth or fifth time. He knew it by heart
now. He knew every single detail on the
killer and couldn't help but wonder what they
had missed. But they had a list now of
potential 'candidates'. In the morning they
would contact all the suspects and go over
their stories one by one. There would be a
break soon. The killer would slip up.
In the morning he would go for a run; that
always cleared his head. Central Park was
nearby. He had running shoes with him. Yeah,
a run would do him good.
With that thought Mulder finally fell asleep,
only to wake up around six-thirty. He got
changed and scribbled a note that he slipped
under Scully's door. Jack was picking them up
around eight, so there was still plenty of
time.
Day Five, December 12, 2001
It was freezing cold out. For a second Mulder
regretted having gone out but his body
adjusted quickly. Warming up to a smooth pace
he left the hotel around the front, passing
the parking lot where a car with a running
engine idled beside his. The man inside the
vehicle glanced at Mulder as the vehicle
drove off. All the cars in the lot were
frozen, except for the one that just left. In
the dark, the vehicle's lights pierced into
Mulder's eyes for a second.
Mulder picked up the pace and jogged to
Central Park.
Scully woke up around seven-thirty, for a
while having difficulty remembering where she
was. She had slept like a log from the moment
she put her head down on the soft pillow. She
opened the curtains, and though it was still
dark out, dawn was slowly breaking. She switched
on one of the bedside lamps and caught sight of
something that lay in front of the door. She
yawned, slipped out of bed, and read the note
that Mulder had written her a note saying he
was out for a jog.
Great, Scully thought. He hardly sleeps, and
then he jogs when he should be resting. That
must make me one very lazy person. What a
combination! She smiled at the thought of
living together one day. Then she blushed.
There was no way they could move in together
just now. They had hardly come to terms with
their newfound feelings. Moving in together
seemed like something still too far away to
consider. And besides, she still liked what
little space she had to herself. It was going
perfectly well the way it was.
She washed up, brushed her teeth, and combed
her hair. Mulder would be back soon, and
Jack would be arriving around eight.
Mulder's feet could hardly keep up with the
pace he was forcing upon himself in Central
Park. He couldn't remember how long he had
been running like that, going so fast he
could hardly catch his breath. His body was
warm despite the freezing cold, but he didn't
remove his sweater, knowing that could be
lethal to a runner.
His mind drifted away from everything he was
working on. He forced himself to keep up the
pace, passing a few other joggers on the way
when dawn finally arrived. His head suddenly
spun, his body reacting to the strain he had
put himself under.
Someone watched him while sitting on the
bench, as he made his run through the park.
He had followed Mulder from the hotel, where
their paths had crossed as well. The man's
glance followed him as Mulder slowly
approached him. The agent was slowing down
now. The killer got up slowly and walked
towards him, making sure their paths would
cross again.
Mulder suddenly stopped, breathing heavily in
and out. He leaned forward, putting his hands
on his thighs as he forced his body to relax.
He opened his mouth as his head pounded and
his lungs filled with cold air. His back and
legs were sore from exhaustion.
The man passed him nearby and for a second
his hand touched Mulder's back. The touch,
like wind brushing through one's hair, was so
light it could have been ignored. Then the
touch was gone and the man walked forward.
Mulder blinked, looked up, and started
walking again towards the exit.
Before he reached the hotel, Jack walked
towards him. "Thought I might find you here,"
he smiled. "You're still quite the runner,
aren't you Mulder?"
Mulder had caught his breath again and
smiled. His eyes blinked. The run had done
him good. He had to change quickly now before
he started shivering with cold. Jack picked
up the pace and walked with him. "We need to
talk, Mulder," he said before they entered
the hotel.
Mulder stopped and looked at him. "What
about?"
"This case. The way we're handling it. Your
input."
"You're not happy with my input?" Mulder
frowned.
"Of course I am," Jack said. "It's just that
- I've got this feeling you're taking things
very personally. I was thinking about it last
night and I'm not so sure that I've done the
right thing getting you here." Jack's excuse
sounded weak, Mulder thought. He wondered
what his friend was really trying to say.
"You look tired, Mulder," Jack continued. "You
don't sleep that much, do you? Did you eat
anything at all last night?"
"What are you - my mother?" Mulder muttered
as he started walking again. The hotel lobby
was busier now than before. Mulder ignored
the other guests and walked to the elevators.
Jack had difficulty following now.
"Look," Jack said, "I talked to Smythe last
night. He called me for a report and asked
me to keep an eye on you. It seems that
you've got this habit of getting in too
deep, and I don't want that on my conscience.
I asked you here because you are a fantastic
profiler, but I don't want you hurt."
Mulder pushed the elevator button. "No, you
asked me for advice. You got me in on this
case knowing it was an X-File. Technically,
that means I could take over, but I'm not
going to. It's your case and I'm helping you
out. You still have to live in this town,
Jack. I get to go home when it's over, and
I'll watch from a distance how you'll get
your promotion. And I'll also watch when you
refuse to give in to your ability to do more
good than you're already doing. Since you've
already made your decision about ignoring
your gift, there's not much more I can say,
is there?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack asked.
He paled, realizing Mulder was right. He
hadn't come here to persuade Mulder to take
it easy. He came here in order to find an
excuse not to proceed with an ability he had
tried to ignore most of his life.
"You know what it means," Mulder said as the
doors shut behind them. "You do what you want
with your life, Jack, but if you have another
case like this because of your visions, I
suggest you seek other ways to go about solving
it."
"Are you accusing me of abusing our
friendship?"
Mulder leaned tiredly against the glass.
"Call it what you like. I'm not in the mood
to argue while we should be out there finding
our killer. So if you came here to tell me I
should back off, think again. You asked me to
work this case with you and I am, to the best
of my ability. Smythe knows something about
my habits and the way I work. Now you do,
too. If you don't like it, you can always
send me back to Washington, but I suspect that
you won't. You need me too much right now."
Jack paled even more and didn't walk out the
elevator with him. "I'll wait downstairs,"
he said as the doors closed behind him.
Day Five, December 12, 2001
Scully waited patiently until he returned to
his room. She could hear him slamming the
doors, and then there were noises coming from
the bathroom. He was in the shower. She
decided not to disturb him, but left for the
lobby instead, leaving a note on the door
that she was waiting downstairs.
Jack was downstairs as well, looking very
glum. She could tell there had been an
argument. She walked over to him. "Hey," she
said. "How's it going?"
"Besides from the fact I'm an ass,
everything's going well," he said. "Where's
Mulder?"
"Getting changed. Did you have a fight with
him?"
"Let's just call it a pathetic attempt at
trying to avoid my responsibilities," Jack
sighed as his fingers touched his temples.
"I'm sorry, Dana. I should have known better,
but I'm just tired and took it out on
Mulder."
"He'll forgive you," she said. "We've got
other things to concentrate on right now.
We've got a long day ahead of us and
hopefully our killer at the end of it. Are
you driving with us?"
"No. My car is fixed - I got a call from
security. I hope you guys don't mind."
"Don't be silly. Skinner should be down any
minute now too." Scully turned and saw
Skinner and Mulder come downstairs. At the
breakfast table not a word was spoken. Mulder
was still angry, but Scully could see he was
calming down when he noticed Jack's
apologetic glance. By the end of breakfast
they were talking again.
"We're going to work on that list of suspects
this morning," Mulder said, taking out the
printout he had made the day before with the
names of men that might have been involved
with Susannah. "Sir, if you can, we need your
help too."
"Of course," Skinner said. "I suppose we're
splitting up in two groups?"
"That's right," Jack said. "I have my team
going through the extensive list of attendees
at the benefit as well, hoping that they
might bump into a coincidence. This afternoon
I will be talking to Congresswoman McPherson
to see if there are mutual acquaintances with
her brother that might be considered
enemies."
"Good," Skinner said. "We're progressing.
Mrs. McPherson will remain in protective
custody?"
"Yes, sir," Mulder said. "We are assuming
she's still high on the hit list. But if he
changes his MO there's not much we can do
about it."
"I'll try again to get through to Alec
Thompson," Jack said. "I still need to find
out what he was doing at the Wells' crime
scene. The whole situation is quite odd, but
couldn't get through to him yesterday. Hopefully,
I'll have the chance to speak with him today."
"Good," Skinner said. "Let's get to work
then."
The four got up and walked to the reception
area. Before getting out the hotel manager
walked over. "We will arrange your cars for
you," he said. "They'll need defrosting."
"That's very kind of you," Mulder said. "But
not necessary."
"Please, we insist. Unfortunately we don't
have an underground parking lot and we always
serve our guests."
"All right then," Mulder said, handing over
the keys. Skinner did the same. Two bellboys
hurried out with warm coats to warm up and
fetch the cars. Scully had already gone
outside and was walking while on the phone
with the coroner's office. She had a meeting
in about an hour to discuss the final
results. Mulder watched as she walked over to
the car.
Mulder turned to the manager. "You don't have
an underground parking lot?" he asked.
"That's right, sir."
"So basically every car that is parked here
at night has to be frozen?"
"I guess so," the manager said surprised.
Mulder frowned. "Is or was there a guest here
that drives a black Sedan who left early this
morning?"
"I can check, sir," the manager said. "Is
there a problem?" The manager hurried to the
desk and checked the computer file with guest
entries and vehicles registration numbers.
All the vehicles that stood on the parking
lot were signed in. He looked up at a very
nervous Mulder.
"Jesus Christ," Mulder said as he glanced
towards the bellboys that had reached the two
cars. There had been a car parked next to his
rental earlier that morning. It hadn't been
frozen and it wasn't from any of the guests.
"Jesus Christ," he repeated as he rushed out,
to Skinner and Jack's surprise. Mulder
practically flew, shouting Scully's name. She
was still on the phone and didn't hear him at
first. In the back, the bellboy had slid into
the car, putting the key in the ignition.
"Scully!" he screamed as his tired legs
refused to go any faster. She turned, still
holding the phone in her hands. Her eyes
looked at him, surprised. Then she was in his
arms as she dropped the phone and he dragged
her with him, making the decision to save
her. It was too late to warn the bellboy.
The car started. Mulder thought he could
actually hear the click as the device armed.
Then there was another click, followed by an
enormous blast that knocked them to the
ground. He threw himself over her as they hit
the ground, hard. The blast was so big that
Mulder could feel the flames on his back, but
they didn't scourge him. There was a strange
numbness through his body. Scully lay deathly
quiet beneath him.
The next moment the world seemed to be on
fire, and then all went black.
To be concluded ..
Matrix
by Humbuggie
Based on an idea by Roxcatje
(c) 2001
Then we'll take Berlin
-- Leonard Cohen
New York City
Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, DC
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
your moment
Don't slide
New York City
New York City
New York City
New York City
Even at a time like this when the morning
seems so far
Think that pain belongs to you but it's
happened to us all
It's all right to make mistakes you're only
human
Inside everybody's hiding something
New York City
New York City