=====o=====================================================o===== "Sins of the Fathers" by Mary Ruth Keller E-mail: mrkeller@eclipse.net =====o=====================================================o===== Part III - Assassination and Redemption (Disclaimed in Part I) -----o-------------------------------------o----- "Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire, and rifted Jove's stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory Have I made to shake..." The Tempest -----o-------------------------------------o----- Sky Harbor International Airport Phoenix, Arizona Sunday, March 3, 1996 3:00 pm Scully dropped the bags in the back of a different blue Ford Taurus. After calculating the length of their drive (nearly a full 24 hours), and the weariness of their still recovering bodies, the partners decided to fly. They had come from winter in Montana to late spring in Phoenix, all in a few hours on a cramped commuter flight, where they used the time to review the life of Guiliano D'Amato. The vast power his family controlled was astonishing, but they found no illegalities in the interconnections of the D'Amato Empire. "Scully, look!" Mulder was just limping out of the terminal towards her. When he reached her, he held out a tourist flyer. She took the glossy paper, then studied it for a moment. She frowned. "He's a tourist attraction?" The gold letters at the top of the brochure proclaimed, 'Tour lovely Italy, and never leave the State!' Below was the Palazzo De Medici, in vivid 4-color print. She looked up at him. "Who is this guy?" --o-0-o-- Scenic Overlook Palazzo De Medici Sunday 3:30 pm Mulder and Scully leaned against their rental car while looking down on Guiliano D'Amato's tenth birthday present. He pointed to the bottom of the flyer's second page. "Homes of the rich and famous, Scully, paid for with bathtub gin. See?" "It's a fortress, Mulder." Scully was studying the architecture carefully. "Oh, it looks beautiful, but that's all it is. One door in, and one out back. No windows on the first floor, just elegant marble to please the eye. The windows on the second floor are tiny and sparsely distributed. It's not until you reach the third floor that you get any significant sunlight. Remember that the families who built the originals fought with each other in the city streets, and they needed security against their enemies." Mulder regarded his partner quizzically. She looked up, as if noticing him for the first time. "Sorry, a little of Intro to European Civ spilled out." She pointed at a diagram in the brochure. "All these enclosed gardens could be used to shoot cannons from." Smirking, he leaned into her side. "So you think his father knew we were coming when he had the place built?" "No, I think he wanted to tour lovely Italy without leaving the State." She rubbed her eyes. "So what elegant accommodations have you found for us here?" He leaned over her. "Nothing so fine as Mr. D'Amato's, to be sure." He pointed up the ribbon of asphalt. "Mesa Heights Best Western, two miles north." They reentered the car and drove off. When Mulder's cel phone beeped, he lifted the phone out of his jacket pocket to his ear without taking his eyes off the road. "Mulder. Hey Frohike, flamed the sucker yet?" He smiled over at her. "They're okay," he mouthed. She nodded, relieved. He frowned at the voice on the phone. "You're back and ready to roll? Great. We found Guiliano's place. It's in the tour guides. Yeah, bummer. Bye." He pocketed the phone. Scully shifted on the bench seat, aching, both from her injuries, and from the constant travel. As she dropped her head onto the headrest, she felt her partner's fingers brush the top of her hand. Her eyes closed, she tipped her head to send him a small smile. At least she wasn't traveling alone anymore, but she still missed her dog. --o-0-o-- Annapolis, MD Sunday 6:00 pm The Pomeranian, however, was not missing Scully. In fact, he was standing on his back legs, wagging his tail, scratching at an image of his mistress glowing on the television screen in Margaret Scully's living room. Margaret ran in from the kitchen as she heard: "Our first news tonight is a breaking story about clandestine connections between the Federal Bureau of Investigations, Drug Lords, and the Mob. Unnamed sources have revealed that an FBI agent found, with his partner, savagely beaten in his home last month, was actually in charge of a major cocaine distribution ring. He was also apparently involved in mail-order distribution of pornographic materials. An FBI representative we contacted would only verify that the matter was under internal review and until that process was complete, no further statements would be issued. Connections between the FBI and the mob go back to the days of J. Edgar Hoover, according to a recently published biography of the Bureau's first, and most famous, director..." She muted the sound. She thought first to call her daughter, but she knew Dana wouldn't want to be disturbed while tracking the men who had beaten her. No, he's probably up to his ears in alligators. However, there was someone who needed a friend right now. She opened her address book, then dialed. After the second ring, the call was answered. "Hello, Caroline? It's Margaret Scully..." --o-0-o-- Mesa Heights Best Western Room 153 Sunday 11:45 pm Dana Scully turned the knob on the door connecting her room with Mulder's. Their separate quarters were not as comfortable as the suite in Montana, but were pleasantly situated facing the pool and garden behind the hotel. She had chosen the smaller room with the queen-sized bed, while her partner had taken the larger, L-shaped chamber with a double bed. A sofa and chairs sat in the section where his space wrapped along a second side of hers, providing access to the outside through sliding glass doors. A 27" TV on a stand stood along the wall to the right of the door connecting their quarters. The object of so much of Washington's attention was lounging on the sofa, wearing the same jeans and long-sleeved Dockers shirt he had slept in the previous night. His left leg, abnormally thick from the cast, was propped up on a small coffee table, and his right foot was tucked underneath his thigh. He was restlessly channel-surfing, with the sound off, as usual, but stopped when she entered. She was uncertain as to how, or even whether, she should proceed. Resolved, she walked over and stood beside him. "Mulder?" "Hum?" He glanced up at her face. "I...I know I shouldn't need this, but..." He understood. He attempted to relieve her discomfiture by assuming one of his best hurt puppy-dog looks, then held out both arms. She tucked herself in gratefully; their silent communication was working again. As Mulder rubbed her shoulder with the arm he had curled around her, he continued absently changing the channels, then stopped. Scully opened her right eye to check what had caught her partner's attention. "Voyager, Mulder?" She watched for a few minutes. "A repeat?" He looked down at her and smiled. "I know, Scully, not as good as TNG. But it has its up side." "What, women in tight uniforms, giving orders?" she joked, almost in a whisper. "Scully! You *do* know what I like!" He waited for a response, but his partner was asleep. This felt right. He remembered as a boy looking down at another head resting trustingly on his shoulder. It had belonged to his sister, Samantha, whose disappearance had changed his life. Despite the way he loved to tease Sam when they were little, she knew if she had a bad dream to come to him, not to his exhausted mother. His parents both knew, but did nothing until he turned ten. His photographic memory would never let him forget that day when his Father had marched them both into his study for *the* *talk*. Fox and Sam had stood, rigid, while their Father, his desk chair creaking, informed them that they were not to seek each other out in the dark for comfort anymore. "You will be a young man soon, Fox, and we'll have no rumors of impropriety about my family. Your sister will have to learn to sleep by herself after nightmares." His father had been right, of course. A child could never understand the complexity that adults saw, or the changes the future would bring. But that night, when he heard his sister crying and knew he could not help, he died a little bit, and a seed of hatred for both his parents was born. --o-0-o-- Palazzo De Medici Monday March 7, 1996 6:00 am Guiliano rose early when he was in residence at De Medici, so he had already showered and shaved before descending to his underground office. While he kept all his family antiques in Manhattan, the furnishings here were equally elegant. His rosewood executive desk was on the far side of the office from double entrance doors, facing two Moroccan leather chairs. While working, he could look up at a row of monitors along the wall on his left. Displayed on these were the grounds of his estate, or anywhere within the underground complex. An English oak conference table, with carved oaken chairs, stood between his desk and the monitors. The right side of his office was sunken, lined with sectional seating and tables. He encouraged his computer people to use his office as an informal lounge, even when he was in the house. He had preparations for Wednesday to complete, prior to his wife's arrival from New York. Lucia's job at the United Nations as Special Attache to the Office of Women in Developing Countries often involved extended overseas trips. She was preparing to depart on one this Friday. However, a problem of a more unpleasant nature occupied him at the present. His groundskeepers had alerted him to sightseers on the road yesterday, erstwhile tourists his security cameras recorded as Agents Mulder and Scully. He fast forwarded through the video recording their actions, first driving to the overlook, viewing his home, finally leaving. Since they had been followed to the Best Western and observed checking in, his operatives had their rooms and the grounds under surveillance. From a late-night phone call, he knew they had retired after taking dinner at the hotel cafe. He would be informed of any further activity on the agents' part when it occurred. On the conference table were several major national newspapers. He walked over to pick up the Washington Post, where the top story was not about the continuing budget crisis but a scandal at the FBI. He read the article. He knew all of this, of course, and now knew it was all a lie. But, certain turns of phrase reminded him... There was someone behind the rumors, a dark face, cigarettes. His father and Mulder's father had worked with this man. Did Agent Mulder know him as well? Was he working for the man with no name, or was he a victim of his machinations? He checked a file for a phone number. It was time to find out. --o-0-o-- Mesa Heights Best Western Room 153 Monday 6:15 am The phone woke them both. Mulder had curled around Scully in the night, just as he used to cuddle Sam so long ago. His cell phone was on the nightstand by his unused bed, so he attempted to slide his shoulder out from under her, to leave her resting on the sofa, but he was too late. She had started at the first ring and was sitting up, rubbing a crick in the back of her neck. He placed the unit against his ear. "Mulder." His hoarse voice had cracked. She watched him limp around the room, as he listened to the caller on the other end. He terminated the call. "Scully, that was D'Amato. He wants to meet with me tomorrow afternoon. He said he would 'pencil me in' at 3:30." He shook his head. She stood to walk over to him. "Alone, Mulder?" "Yes. He didn't say to bring his Guardian Angel." "No, I'm sure he didn't. But," she persisted, smiling at his joke, "your Guardian Angel can at least listen in." "A wire? Don't you think all those goons of his will spot a wire before I'm three feet inside his gilded Rococo front gate?" "Not this wire." She paused, remembering. "That's right, you weren't at the Seminar." "What, did one of those standard Bureau presentations actually provide some useful information?" She shook her head. "No, it was at one of the Computer Shows downtown. Pass me your phone." Baffled, he complied. She hit the third speed dial button. "Byers? Mm-hm, this is Scully. No, don't get Frohike." She rolled her eyes at Mulder, who smirked. "Let me talk to Langly." "Hey, G-lady, what's shakin'?" "Remember the Seminar at Fed Unix last Fall?" "How could I forget? Frohike had the flu that day, and when he heard you were there, he was ready to eat his shorts. What about it?" Scully rolled her eyes at Frohike's oft-voiced obsession. "Remember that Micro Wire System presentation?" "With the integrated video and speech recognition system? Sure do. Got one a week later. Radical." "How well does it work?" "Well, I found a few bugs in the voice activation routines, but other than that, great. Why? You and the Fox-man - " She frowned. " - need it to put the I in FBI?" She smiled. "Yes, we do. How soon can you get it out here?" "You guys are in Arizona, not Montana, right?" Scully began tracking, back and forth, in front of the sliding glass door. "Right. It's like May out here. Montana was still locked in January. That help?" She heard keys click in the background. "Okay, I can take a Delta non- stop leaving at 10:00 from National. Be catching some rays with you guys by 3:30 your time. Say the word, Doc, you can have one, two, or three times the fun?" She sobered. "No, it'd better just be you. We don't know how this will turn out, so make your return flight tomorrow morning." "Bummer, Scully, sounds like this is really big. Can't you get backup from Kojak?" "No, we can't. He doesn't know we're out here, officially. He and Mulder shouted at each other about professional detachment and going through channels for two hours before we both took annual leave." "CYA. Yeah, been there." "Okay, Doc, gotta roll. You at the Best Western?" "Mm-hum. Two miles and six social classes away from Palazzo De Medici. Can't miss it. When will you get in? We'll meet you." "G-lady, get a life! For this I rent a convertible and cruise. Chill by the pool until I get there, okay? Want to talk to Frohike?" She groaned. "Good enough. Bye." She handed the phone back to her partner. "You'll be amazed at this system when you see it. Almost all fiber optics. No metal, except in a small unit that replaces your belt buckle. And, the video and audio are received by a standard TV/radio receiver card. The entirety of the transmission is captured and encrypted directly into files on disk." "Who developed this, anyway?" "Oh, a small company in Colorado. They were under contract to the government, but the funding was cut, so they went commercial." She turned to sit back on the sofa. "He'll be in around 3:30 this afternoon. He wants to rent a convertible and drive here, so we won't have to meet him." "Is just Langly coming?" "Yes, like I said, I really have a bad feeling about this, Mulder. We shouldn't involve those guys any more than we have to." She rubbed her temples. He touched her shoulder. "Scully, you were here all night." "You should get some more sleep." "So should you." He settled on the couch and gave her another puppy-dog look. She laughed. "No, a real bed for me." She walked back to the interconnecting door, then paused. "Mulder, thanks for, uh..." She looked over her shoulder at her partner. "No problem." He had already picked up the remote and resumed surfing. She scratched her head. "Scully! Come here!" He thumbed the volume up. She turned and crossed back to the sofa, listening as a perky blonde announcer read, "But first the news from Washington: A late breaking account of corruption at the Federal Bureau of Investigation has the Capital City buzzing..." A surveillance photo of Scully and Mulder leaving the house in Springfield hovered over the woman's shoulder. She sat beside her partner and watched as their lives were detailed on the morning news. The tall agent rubbed his face with both hands. "Why this? Why now?" --o-0-o-- J. Edgar Hoover Building Monday 9:30 am Assistant Director Walter Skinner was not having a good day. His car had broken down on the 14th Street Bridge, snarling traffic for miles. While waiting for the tow truck, he heard the news about Mulder on the radio. The cab he eventually took dropped him at the main entrance to the building, where the AD had to run a gauntlet of microphones and cameras. Inside was no better, since conversations stopped when he passed groups of agents in the hall. He could read their faces, though, all announcing plainly that most of the Bureau thought Spooky Mulder had finally flipped. When he reached the reception room outside his office he paused. It could be no one but his shadowy superior who stood somehow apart from, but in complete control of, his chain of command. He glanced at his secretary who nodded sympathetically. "Hold my calls, Gloria. I'll be out when I can." --o-0-o-- Mesa Heights Best Western Poolside Monday 12:00 pm Mulder was swimming. Normally he would have jogged, tiring his body and quieting his mind by concentrating on setting a regular rhythm for his long, loping stride. However, his leg ached with every step, and he could numb himself just as well by stroking lap after lap, up and down the pool. It seemed all the news shows were full of the latest scandal, starring Special Agent Fox Mulder. He thought back to this morning. --o-0-o-- Scully sat beside him through it all, hearing herself described as everything from his supervisor to his estranged wife, to their mutual disgust. When neither of them could stand it anymore, she turned the set off. "Enough, we have to concentrate on Guiliano D'Amato. He could kill you." "And this won't?" He limped around the room, shouting. "This will destroy everything! All my work, the X-files, my mother, and you, Scully. I'll never find Sam. Never." He struck the cast against the wall. "I need a run." "Get your Speedos on." He turned to her. "Mulder, you brought you pre-packed travel bag, so I know you have them. That cast can come off long enough for you to swim, just as long as you don't smash your leg into the side of the pool." It was true. This cast he had had fitted last week was in two interlocking, hinged pieces, held on with velcro straps, over a calf wrapped in bandages. He could remove the weight to shower, so why not? --o-0-o-- Mulder had been at it for an hour, and felt pleasantly lethargic. He swam over to Scully, who was sitting at the deep end, swinging her feet in the water, kicking up spray that had soaked the concrete around her. She had showered and changed into a pair of cut-offs and a Redskins T-shirt. He crossed his arms on the tiles beside her, swinging his feet lazily to keep upright. "Care to join me?" She gazed at the water, then chewed her lip. "No, I'd love to, but I can't. No strenuous exercise or I start bleeding again. Remember?" Her Doctor mask settled over her face. "You've probably had enough yourself. I'd like to check your leg before I wrap it back up." He climbed out of the pool, using his partner as a crutch to reach the nearest chair. She knelt down to probe the calf with her fingers. Mulder rubbed his hair with the white hotel towel draped over the seat back. The swim *had* helped clear his head, and his sense of humor was back. "Diagnosis, Dr. Scully. Will we have to amputate?" She snorted. "Not hardly, Mulder. In spite of all your hard work, I think this will heal normally. And, outside of predicting rain, in a few weeks, you'll never know it was broken." When she finished rewrapping his leg, he caught her hands to squeeze them in gratitude. "Thanks, Scully. I'm sorry you're caught in all this." "Partners, remember, Mulder?" She sighed. "Besides, according to Geraldo, I'm having an alien's baby. Who could miss that?" She settled back in her chair and yawned. "I think I'll take Langly's advice and catch some rays before he gets here." Mulder watched his partner drop off to sleep. He realized she had lost more weight since the attack, and he knew she was running on force of will alone. He could feel the endorphins from the exercise wearing off, leaving him sleepy as well. He hated them as a kid, when you 'had' to take one, but between his insomnia and the night surveillance, sometimes they were all the sleep he had. As his mind drifted away, Scully's words 'alien's baby' gave him pause. "Scully?" "Mm-hum?" "Does it bother you?" "Does *what* bother me?" "That you can't have children of your own now?" After she sat up, she hugged her calves while she considered. He opened his eyes and turned his head toward her. She rested her chin on her knees. "Yes, and no. I had always wanted to have a little girl of my own. Someone who would be prettier and smarter than I am - " He cocked an eyebrow. " - but now, I'm not sure. It's not like the Scully genes and name will die out if I don't have kids; my nephews are insurance against that. Given the damage I sustained from my abduction, it's doubtful I could have carried a pregnancy to term, anyway." She looked over at him, watching her. "I talked with Dr. Anderson while you were sleeping at the hospital. Even so, knowing what I think I know, I wouldn't want to wish harm on subsequent generations." "But, you wouldn't... You had a wonderful childhood, Scully." "No, I don't mean anything like that." She expectantly blinked at him. Shifting to face her, he prompted, "Okay, go on." "Consider this. If my abduction was experimental monitoring for a multi-generational experiment by some Secret Cabal into human genetic manipulation. ...." "Or alien-human hybridization." After sitting up, he focused on her intently. She waved her hand at him, continuing, "How could I let my unborn offspring suffer like the Mufon women I've seen? I'm a human being, not a lab rat. It's better to end this with me." He nodded. "I've been thinking about that letter of my mother's. Scully, I think I know why Sam was abducted." He looked into her eyes. "For generations, Jewish families have intermarried, despite all the persecution we've suffered over the past millennium or so." Scully nodded, then gestured for him to continue. "From what I understand about genetics, such close relationships expose unique mutations. Now, some abductees have reported that the aliens are keeping an archive of genetic materials, like the Human Genome Project, except for the whole planet. With my grandparents dying at Dachau, Sam and I are the last carriers of my mother's family's genes." "You don't have to postulate an alien connection to come to that conclusion, Mulder." "Scully!" He stood over her. "How could human beings, in 1972, have the technology to kidnap children as Sam was? How? We could barely make it to the moon and back." He began pacing. Scully noticed three elderly women sitting on the other side of the pool, wearing bright hats and full-support bathing suits. They were surreptitiously watching her partner over copies of Esquire and McCalls. "Scully! How can you say aliens aren't involved?" She smiled to herself. "Well, we don't have any tangible evidence one way or the other." She leaned toward him. "I'd sit down now. If you keep parading around, you'll stop the pacemakers in those grandmothers from Queens over there. They seem to like you in those tight... red... Speedos." He glanced across the pool. The three pairs of eyes were hidden behind magazines. He looked down at his partner, who had settled back in the chair with her eyes closed. Since the chlorine was beginning to make him itch, he decided to beat a hasty retreat. "I'm hitting the shower. Back in a few." Four pairs of eyes followed Fox Mulder's swimming trunks until he disappeared into his room. --o-0-o-- Palazzo De Medici Monday, 1:00 pm Guiliano helped his wife out of the limo, holding her joyfully. He had never, unlike his father, taken a mistress. Lucia had won his heart in college, so he had belonged to her, body and soul. His two girls Antonia, six, named for her grandmother, and Victoria five, hugged his legs, one on each side, while his son shook his hand. Reynaldo had just turned ten. He was a serious, studious boy, who loved most talking to the computer geniuses in the underground complex. As he herded his family into the garden, one of his men spoke in his ear. Guiliano turned to his wife. "Lucia, darling, so sorry. I'll be right up. Save me some cookies!" The last statement was for his daughters. "Now, Luther, what have our visitors been doing today?" The man handed Guiliano a small tape recorder and headphones so he could hear Mulder's and Scully's discussion at poolside. At the conversation's end, he removed the headphones and handed the unit back to Luther. This man Mulder was not his enemy, but seemed to know many of the dark things the frayed black notebooks in the Mantuan safe contained. Guiliano looked forward to their meeting tomorrow afternoon, when perhaps he could make an ally of the FBI agent. Together, he hoped they could end the evil that no longer lived only on those yellowed pages. --o-0-o-- Mesa Heights Best Western Room 153 Monday 2:00 pm Mulder was restless. His mind had begun churning during the shower, but now he couldn't depend on the TV to numb it. All the channels, or so it seemed, were rehashing the latest scandal. On CNN, Janet Reno was denying all knowledge of the X-Files, and making comforting noises about not wasting the taxpayer's precious dollars on vampires and flukemen. Sally Jessie had lined up a sorry group of con artists posing as alien abductees. Oprah's guests were raised in homes with resident ghosts. He punched the power button on the remote. He needed to talk to Scully. They were becoming a team again, and he felt as if a part of him had recovered from a long illness. He walked out to the pool, where he heard a sharp rustle of glossy paper. He bent over his partner, who had turned on her side and was deeply asleep. He felt for her. Over the past few months, she had tried to extend her beliefs beyond the purely empirical, but events had gone terribly wrong. The Lucy Householder case, the boxcar in Iowa, and Kevin Kryder had all stretched their partnership, almost to breaking. The only respite had come when he had investigated the strange occurrences with the cockroaches at Miller's Grove. They had talked then, frequently and at length, sharing across microwave phone connections as if each was in the room with the other. For that short weekend, Bambi Berenbaum notwithstanding, they had connected somehow, finding their old groove, bouncing ideas off each other at all hours. Then had come the cosmic mis-alignment in Comity. And Detective White. "The mystery of the horned beast." His head spun. All those hateful words, and she apologized first, then had been beaten trying to defend him. His remorse overcame his usual mercurial nature, and he began softly apologizing to her sleeping form. "Mulder?" She must have heard him, since she had pushed herself up from the lounge. "Is Langly here?" "Shh, Scully, rest. I just needed to think." He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, as he had often seen her do, then gently moved her arm so she would settle down, hoping she would return to sleep. But she was awake and had read the pain in his face. "Mulder? We're starting over, remember? Our deal?" She reached for his wrist. "It's all in the past. Let it go. For me?" He nodded. He knew that for him, it was not over, and that he would wake some night in the future, terrified that he had lost her again. But for now, he let it be so. --o-0-o-- Mesa Heights Best Western Motel Parking lot Monday 3:45 pm Mulder stood on the sidewalk as Langly, long hair flying, pulled up. "Hey, G-man! Wanna go for a spin?" Mulder grinned. "Later, Langly. That's the gizmo I've heard so much about?" He pointed to the passenger seat, where a laptop computer carrying case with a shoulder strap rested. "Yupper. I've made some mods I'll need to show to Scully." The tall agent lifted the case out of the car. Langly stepped up to Mulder and looked him over. "You up for the pow-wow with the Godfather tomorrow? You still look majorly wasted. Where's the G-lady, anyway?" "Yeah, well, I've been better." Mulder shrugged. "Scully took your advice and has been snoozing in the sun since one thirty." The two men fell in step walking through the lobby to the pool. Langly bounced along beside the agent. "Saw you on the Morning news, man. The Doc was right, this *is* big. Frohike told me to make sure you were taking good care of his lady." Mulder grinned, thinking how forcefully Scully would react to such a description of herself. As they entered the pool area, they saw that she had curled up in a ball and tucked her arm under her head. Langly frowned. "Frohike would kill you if he saw her like this, man. You guys push yourselves way too hard." As the FBI agent touched his partner's shoulder, he began speaking her name softly. Scully sat up, but her muscles had stiffened lying on the thin pad and she let out a quiet 'Oh!' of pain. "Hey, Doc, it's showtime!" She noticed them both standing before her. "Hey yourself, Langly." She slipped to her feet. Looking up at her partner, she saw Mulder was brooding again, probably about her. "You okay, Mulder?" She asked to try to break his train of thought, but he nodded without replying as the three walked into his room. --o-0-o-- Room 153 Monday 5:00 pm Langly and Scully were discussing the laptop he had brought from the Gunmen's office. "Yeah, Doc, I knew your 486 wouldn't cut it with my upgrades. The crosstalk detection algorithm needs a Pentium 90 minimum to work in real time, so we can deconvolve the remote transmission from the carrier wave. I could replace it with an autocorrelation circuit, but we couldn't use data compression on the signals, and we would have lost some of the signal to noise ratio." "What about beating the compressed signal against a chaotic carrier in the control unit and cross-correlating in hardware at this end? You wouldn't lose signal to noise, and would avoid the heavy CPU load. Go with a lighter weight processor and eliminate the crosstalk problem." Langly nodded. "Working on it. Byers needs to research the microcircuit layout we'll have to have built to keep the size of the control unit down." Mulder had listened to a full hour of this, and had heard enough. "Guys, look. You can rebuild the computer later. I need to know that this thing works before D'Amato makes me an offer I can't refuse." The Gunman and the Agent stared at him. Langly waved his hand. "Chill, man. That's the easy part. Doc?" Scully picked up a tiny piece of plastic and a loop of fiber optic cable. She stepped over to his side. "Mulder, I'm mounting the microphone behind your ear now. You'll need to hold still while I fit it." She stretched to reach her partner's right ear, then pushed down on his shoulder. He sighed and sat in a chair. "Better?" "Mm-hum. Langly, pass me the CCD." She fitted a tiny cylinder over the top of his ear, then slid it down between the ear and his skull, joining the video and audio sections with a click. "What, no wires, Scully?" She shook her head as she picked up the loop of cable. "There are two gold wires imbedded in the center of this fiber optic cable. There's very little metal involved here, less than in my necklace, so it won't set off a metal detector, and you wear the cable inside your belt so it's not visible. One wire acts as a receiver antenna for the units on your ear." She pointed to a gold-tinted block by the Pentium. "That plate is the power supply which replaces your belt buckle. It will get warm over time, but needs to radiate heat to keep working, so don't rest your hand on it too much." Mulder blinked. She held up a white square packet. "This slips inside your clothes. It's the control and compression circuit, laid out on a flexible substrate like those used in some inventory systems. If you are searched, unless you have to strip, they'll never feel it. When connected to the second antenna, it sends the compressed dual audio/video signal. The signal from the remote sensors on your ear is polarized opposite to the transmitted signal on the other wire so they won't interfere. You see?" She smiled at the look of complete bewilderment on his face. "Oh, and don't worry about the leather blocking the microwave signal. These wavelengths pass through organic tissues without distortion." He frowned. He had given up trying to understand what she was explaining after 'two gold wires', but 'pass through organic tissues' he thought he could grasp. "You mean right through me?" "Mm-hum. But don't worry. The radiation levels are only slightly higher than what you would be exposed to from a good sunlamp, and none of this will be next to your skin. I'll finish hooking you up, so we can send you for a test limp around the pool. If all goes well, you can watch the trip when you get back." --o-0-o-- It worked. The running commentary Scully had said to provide to test the voice recognition software was scrolling up the screen, while in the upper right corner, sequential images were displayed in a small window. He sighed. She was explaining things to him again. "Remember, Mulder, the cylinder behind your ear is actually a miniaturized digital camera. Your hair is short, so the lens won't be covered up, and everything you point your head at is recorded at the rate of five frames per second. The patch mounted behind your ear is a wireless microphone. It picks up all sounds, but the software at this end can only interpret human speech. These squares are other sounds like bangs or squeaks. Oh, and the speech recognition software only works on English." He gasped in mock horror, then pointed. "What's that blank window for?" Langly tapped the screen. "That's my crosstalk detection monitor. The company has tuned each of these units to a slightly different microwave frequency, but they can interfere with each other. If that happens, a bar of rectangles appears here, like what you see on your stereo volume displays. It tells us that you are close to another system, or to any microwave source operating at a similar frequency. If the bar gets longer, the other signal is getting closer or stronger, or both. The real time display will slow down, but the data still get compressed and recorded on disk for later playback." He grunted. "I should have known I couldn't leave home without it." The Gunman glanced at Mulder before he continued. "In a system direct from the company, one unit would pick up the signal from another, or in the case of an incoherent source, simply cease altogether. The government cut the funding before they could get this problem solved." Scully nodded. "This is important for range requirements. The system operates effectively over longer distances because the signal is compressed into a narrower bandwidth than normal prior to modulation, but that requires controlling the phase of the carrier wave..." Mulder held up both hands. "I surrender, okay! It works, I've seen that. Tomorrow, when I meet with the Big Cheese, I'll can't think about any of this or D'Amato will wonder why my brains are oozing out my ears. Anybody else hungry?" Langly smiled. "My stomach says it's 7:30, and I'm dying for some Tex-Mex. Want to cruise in the open air, G-lady?" She nodded. As she removed the bits and pieces of hardware from Mulder's person, he whispered to her, "Love it when you talk dirty, Scully." She arched one eyebrow. "Thanks, Mulder. I always knew Physics would do wonders for my love-life." --o-0-o-- J. Edgar Hoover Building Tuesday March 5, 1996 10:00 am Walter Skinner checked his office one last time for any personal effects he would not want appropriated in his absence. Orders had come down from above that he and the X-files agents were suspended pending completion of a high level investigation into Agent Mulder's outside activities. The dictates were from the visible side of the FBI, from Janet Reno and Director Freeh himself, not from the shadowy powers he knew worked behind the scenes. That would involve Congress, of course, looking for any scandal to bring down the Clinton Administration. The People's Representatives on the Hill, however, were amateurs compared to the man who had sat in the chair across from his desk yesterday. Skinner could still see him there, smoking cigarette after cigarette, lecturing him on how he had betrayed the integrity of the nation and the FBI. But he had one last piece of official business before his suspension began. He steeled himself, squaring his shoulders, and picked up the phone. When it was answered, he heard a familiar voice. "Scully." He relaxed. "Agent Scully, this is Assistant Director Skinner. I have been instructed to inform you, that you and Agent Mulder are hereby suspended until further notice, pending the outcome of the investigation into Agent Mulder's activities. All work on the X-Files will cease during this time. Also, please do not attempt to contact me at any time in the near future, until a parallel investigation into my own involvement with Agent Mulder is complete." "Sir, I..." "Some friendly advice, Agent Scully. Drop whatever you are doing and get back here. Given the political mood of this town, Congress is involved, so contact your lawyers. Good luck and be careful." He hung up the phone. --o-0-o-- Mesa Heights Best Western Room 153 Tuesday 8:15 am Over the noise of the shower, Mulder heard his cel phone ring, then heard his partner answer. He turned off the water and listened. When he heard the 'Sir, I...', he stepped out of the stall and wrapped a towel around his waist, holding both ends in his left hand. As he opened the door, he heard a click as the phone contacted wood. He realized Scully must be sitting on his unmade bed, using his cel phone where Langly had left it, on the nightstand. The Gunman had departed for the airport a few minutes earlier, after Scully had reviewed all the failure modes for the wiretapping system with him. He had been 'crashing' on Mulder's bed for the night. Mulder had wondered before settling to spend the night where he spent most of them anymore, on the sofa. "Scully?" She looked up at him, surprised to see him standing in front of her. His hair was wet and standing up at all angles. "What did Skinner want?" Having already showered, she was wearing a new pair of jeans, black running shoes, and a black oversized tee shirt with the word 'Caldera' in small white letters where a pocket would have been. "We're suspended, Mulder." "Oh." They had expected to be, ever since yesterday. She crossed her arms. "No, I mean he's suspended too. He said Congress is involved, *politically* involved." "As in hearings?" Frowning deeply, she nodded. He bent over. "But that's usually a higher level problem, the legislative angle, right?" She shook her head. "He warned us to get lawyers. How can I afford a lawyer? I still have Med School loans to pay off!" Frustrated, she pushed her hair back off her face. Mulder tucked the towel in around his waist, then picked up the phone. "I'll call Matheson." He dialed the number to Senator Matheson's inner office, thus bypassing the receptionist. As he waited, he sat down on the bed beside his partner. She stood, heading for her room. He touched her hand. "What's wrong?" "I need to get some pain killers. I'll be back." Once she closed the connecting door, she bent double, wrapping her arms around her stomach. Gradually the pain lessened, then she returned to Mulder's room. His long legs hung out over the end of the sofa, swinging aimlessly. Scully pursed her lips. Easing back down on the cushions by his head, she noted that the phone rested on his chest, not by his ear. "He won't talk to me." Since his eyes were closed, she laid her hand on his shoulder. "Won't, or can't?" "Won't. As in not now, not in the foreseeable future." He reached to take her hand and rub it between both of his own, while he gazed up in her face. "Scully, why is this happening to us? We've been beaten to a pulp, and now we're being grilled alive in the public spotlight. Who is so ticked off at us that they would set all this in motion, then stand back to watch us squirm?" She snorted. "Who isn't, Agent Mulder?" "If we are so dangerous, why not just assassinate us and be done with it?" Scully closed her eyes, then rubbed her forehead with her free hand, not wanting to break the link with her partner. "I don't know. We suspect so much, but can prove so little." The pain was back again. She wanted to curl up on Mulder's chest like a little tabby cat and sleep for a week. She lifted her hand out of his to flick some soap off his shoulder. "Finish your shower, Mulder. You'll make a wonderful impression this afternoon by scratching through your meeting if you don't." She purposefully stood and turned her back to him before quipping, "Oh, that towel is just a hair too short. Good thing your partner is a Doctor." "Scully! It is not!" She expected more teasing in response, but he headed back to the bathroom. --o-0-o-- Palazzo De Medici Scenic Overlook Tuesday 3:15 pm Standing by the parked Taurus, Dana Scully checked her partner over one more time. She had convinced him the overlook offered the best reception for the monitoring system, even though he had wanted her stationed closer. He had agreed, quickly, before she launched into an explanation of topographic effects on microwave transmissions. "Scully, you tested this all before we left. It's fine." He thought to make a parting jibe. But she had sobered looking down at the dazzling marble mansion. "Xanadu, Mulder. That's what this place makes me think of." He smiled at her. "Is the Doctor waxing poetic?" She turned to him. "No, not Coleridge. Charles Foster Kane's Xanadu." She squeezed her eyes shut. He touched her shoulder. "Hey, we'll get through this, okay?" "Okay." Starting down the road, he grinned, since he had thought of a tease to drive her somber mood away. "This is Edison Carter, coming to you live and direct..." "Mulder!" --o-0-o-- Palazzo De Medici Underground Complex Tuesday 3:30 pm Mulder stepped into Guiliano D'Amato's office. Three men sat to the left of the doorway, talking and pointing at a print-out. When the agent moved past them, one of them followed a step or two behind him. Flipping open his ID, Mulder turned to face the man. "I'm Special Agent Mulder, Federal Bureau of Investigations. I have an appointment with Mr. D'Amato at 3:30." "Of course you do, Agent Mulder." The voice came from behind the desk at Mulder's back. He spun around, surprised. "I'm afraid I have the advantage of you. I'm Guiliano D'Amato." Guiliano walked around the desk and extended his hand, then dropped it when Mulder crossed his arms. He lifted his voice and spoke his son's name in the direction of the pair still seated. "Reynaldo?" A small head popped up between them. "This man's father worked with big Papa during the war." Mulder glared at his host. But Guiliano was focused on the boy. "Come, son, remember your manners. You can't spend all day with a computer." Reynaldo sighed, stood and walked around to Mulder, then reluctantly stuck out his hand. Mulder shook it. "Agent Mulder, how big are the computers at the FBI?" The agent shrugged. "Don't know. I just use a Mackintosh at my desk. My partner is the real expert." Reynaldo turned back to his father, who nodded, giving his silent approval before the boy left, relieved to have finished what he considered tiresome adult business. Mulder stepped up to his host. "Mr. D'Amato, I'd like to ask you about the involvement of the D'Amato trust in several of the Native American Casinos in the Northwest." Guiliano nodded as he sat down at the desk. Mulder remained standing, refusing the chair Guiliano had indicated. Guiliano settled into the deep seat. "Fair enough, Agent Mulder. My family was, in Sicily, one of the poorest of the poor. When my grandfather came to America, he made a new life for us all, though not by the most legitimate of means, I assure you. My father turned that all around, and now I feel I must give something back." Mulder shoved his hands in his pockets. "But is this the way?" Guiliano waved. "Have you ever been to a reservation?" The agent nodded. "They look like one of the villages my wife, Lucia, visits for the UN. By helping the Native Peoples of this country earn some money of their own, they can start to make a better life for themselves, and for their children as well." Mulder shook his head. "And what about your anti-drug projects, Sir? Why do you feel it is necessary to work outside the law, using Mob tactics, to stop the crimes the police are paid to handle? Or are these an elaborate cover-up..." Guiliano leapt to his feet. "Agent Mulder, just because I am Italian and wealthy doesn't mean I am part of the Mob! Any more than that your family were bankers in Austria because they were Jewish!" Mulder bit his lip. Guiliano pointed to one of the leather chairs again. "Please, Agent Mulder sit. First, let me apologize for what happened to you and your partner last month. Had I known..." Guiliano stopped. Mulder leaned over the desk's expanse, enraged. "Had you known? Do you know what happened to Scully? How she can't..." Guiliano held up both hands. "Words cannot erase deeds. I can only offer my sincerest regrets to you both. But, you and I have much to talk about. Please, sit." There was something in the request that compelled the agent to comply. Guiliano stood, walked back around his desk, and rested his weight against it. He leaned down until he and Mulder were nose to nose, his hand moving in his jacket pocket. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper. "Agent Mulder, you and I have a common enemy. Someone who is both known and not known to us." He held up his fist, directly in front of Mulder's face, too close for the CCD behind the Agent's ear to image, then opened his hand. He had slipped a foil ring on his middle finger, and on the palm side of the ring was a single word: Morley. Mulder's eyes widened, then he nodded. The tortured course of lies and innuendo that he and Scully had followed to this point were now clear in his mind. He only needed to know why. Guiliano's hand vanished into his pocket again, and when it re-emerged, the foil was gone. Guiliano reversed the other leather chair, then slid it next to Mulder's. Before he sat down, he turned to the three men in the room. "Thank you, gentlemen. That will be all." They walked out, the one named Luther closing the door. Guiliano leaned in closer to Mulder, who turned his head so the ear with the sensors was closest to Guiliano's mouth. "At my next command, the lights in the room will go out. I will sit next to you, and I will touch you. Do not be alarmed. This is the only way we can communicate without detection. I have just now learned that one of my employees is an operative for *him*." Mulder nodded. Guiliano tapped a panel on his desk, casting the room into total darkness. He sat, leaned over Mulder's shoulder, cupped his hand behind his ear, and began to speak. --o-0-o-- Palazzo De Medici Scenic Overlook Tuesday 3:45 pm Dana Scully was pleased. The system was operating exactly as she and Langly expected. She had watched the road to the Palazzo pan by in the video images, ignoring the occasional "Rosebud" that appeared in the dialog window. He had been reciting the entire commentary from the newsreel scene when he reached the front gate and was admitted. As he walked into the house, one square appeared in the crosstalk monitor window. She considered it briefly, then ignored it. Mulder was in a building full of computers and communication devices, so that level of interference was to be expected. She observed carefully his route through the house as he was led to the underground center. Given Mulder's propensity for landing squarely in situations that were over his head, she wanted to be able to extract her partner under any circumstances. As he entered the office, several more squares appeared, and as he turned his head toward the three men, the window filled with them. Her eyes widened. One of the men was wearing a similar device. But why would D'Amato have a wire on one of his own men? If Guiliano D'Amato was a 'legitimate businessman' or even in the Mob, as Mulder suspected, why would one of his competitors want to wiretap this particular conversation? She leaned back in the seat. That only left the government. But the government had terminated the contract before any units were delivered. All but the prototype, as she had learned last Fall, that had been delivered to an unspecified agency. Suddenly, she knew. *He* had to be the one behind all the twists and turns, lies and false leads. The leaks to the media and the hearings would close the X-files forever, and insure that Fox Mulder and his <*their*> quest would never be taken seriously again. His little secrets would be safe in his dark, smoke-filled office. She focused on the video again. As the three men left, one square disappeared from the end of the crosstalk monitor. The man was still there, probably hovering outside the door, and if the prototype was operating as expected, then Mulder's signal was being piggy-backed onto the prototype unit's carrier wave. If it was, then all the information that Guiliano was concealing so carefully from unwanted ears would appear, eventually, in a dark office in Washington, D. C. And she would have handed it to them. If Guiliano's comment to his son meant what she thought it did, they were close to some answers. --o-0-o-- Palazzo De Medici Underground Complex Tuesday 3:45 pm "My father was a good patriot, Mr. Mulder. He loved America." "The Cold War was just starting then. The government wanted to get certain materials out of Berlin and into this country through unofficial channels, without the Soviets knowing about them. Or so they said. So my father, who knew how to work around 'channels' but never, ever wanted to break the law, called some friends of his father's in Sicily. They set up a secret delivery system, over the Alps and through ruined Italy." Guiliano paused to lick his now-dry lips. "Go on." The Agent prompted. "But my father had also learned from his father. Keep records. He tracked who went in, and what came out. I have those records, and a certain William Mulder appears in them, over and over, as going into Germany, and slipping goods, and people, out." Mulder nodded. So far, this much agreed with what he suspected. "But then my father grew suspicious. He began surreptitiously opening crates and inspecting contents. His notes speak of a certain shipment of boxes from the Black Forest. Huge boxes. One, in particular, was so large and so heavy, that it took several months to get out of Italy. My father checked this one himself, and the words he whispered to me on his deathbed will stay with me forever. He said it was a silver cylindrical ship, made of metal he had never seen before, or since." Mulder grasped the arms of the chair. He turned toward Guiliano's voice. "Where is your proof?" His whisper was hoarse, strange to his ears after all this time of listening. "Hidden. Locked away where only I know. Can you explain these things to me if I show them to you, Agent Mulder?" "I will try. There is much I still don't know. Where?" Mulder could hear the fabric of Guiliano's collar rustle as his host shook his head. "Not now. We must meet later. I will give you the location and time." Mulder felt Guiliano turn his hand over to place a circular plastic chip in it. His head pounding with anticipation, the agent slipped the chip in his pants pocket. And proof enough for his skeptical partner. --o-0-o-- Dana Scully was. But she was seeing something else as well. The crosstalk monitor had saturated, then disappeared, just one of the problems Langly and she had discussed. The circuitry could, on certain commands, overload the correction algorithm, and the system would fall back to its baseline configuration. The Gunmen had not had time to troubleshoot the problem, so they usually rebooted the system. But she couldn't, not now. She could see two conversations, the one between Mulder and D'Amato, and a second that made her turn the engine over and race down the hill. The last line blinked at the bottom of the dialog window. 'Have to get out of here now, before they detonate.' --o-0-o-- The initial blast shook the computer complex, sending Guiliano and Mulder flying across the room. They lay there, stunned by the shock wave. --o-0-o-- Spinning the car to the left, Scully headed for the main entrance. The power to the entire estate was off and the gates hung open, so she pulled the Taurus up just outside. She checked the computer screen, finding it was blank, with an error message at the command prompt: Unexpected termination of remote signal. No longer receiving data. She closed the case, then slung the carrying strap over her shoulder. She knew the transmission was on disk, but she also knew if she left this behind when she went in to get Mulder, somehow it would be missing when she got him out. If she got him out. She *had* to get him out. She ran through the gates, through the front door of the mansion. She was stopped momentarily by the dazed and frightened people running past her, but she pushed ahead. Guiliano had outfitted his father's delicate reconstruction of the Fifteenth Century with modern emergency lighting, so she tucked her pocket flash away. Mulder had looked up as the door had chimed before. She had seen the music it had made as blocks on the screen, and he had muttered, "Monteverdi?" But the number? She counted flights of stairs, then pushed the door open. Even the emergency lights were out on this floor. She called out. "Mulder! Mulder, where are you?" "In here, Scully!" Her knees nearly buckled with relief. "I'm coming Mulder! Keep shouting!" "Scully, in here! We're in here!" She banged through the doors, slid to a stop, and turned to follow the sound of his voice. "Mulder, are you okay?" She knelt beside him, touching his shoulders, feeling his head. "Yeah, I am. Find D'Amato. He knows, Scully, and he has proof. We've got to get him out of here. He was beside me before the explosion." They both began searching with their fingers in the darkness, calling for Guiliano. Their host responded. "Agent Mulder?" Scully crawled toward the man, touching his hand, then feeling both legs. She could hear Mulder's breath beside her as she queried Guiliano. "Can you move, Sir? I'm a doctor. Are you hurt?" Guiliano rolled onto his hands and knees. "No, I'm fine. Agent Mulder, there is a safe in my office...Blessed Mother, Lucia! The children! I have to get them out!" He ran out of the room and towards the stairs, the two agents right behind him. Mulder began to fall back, burdened by the cast. Scully turned to pull him along. A second explosion shook the building. The agents climbed the stairs and pushed into the main house. There was more light here, then they saw why: the Palazzo De Medici was burning. Guiliano was halfway up the stairs in the main part of the house, calling out for his family. Mulder cried out in his head. Then it was all around them. Mulder froze, pulling Scully to a stop. "Mulder! We've got to get out of here, now! Come on, I can't carry you!" She looked in his eyes. The terror within burned brighter than the flames without, and Mulder was rigid. She was desperate, so she stood on the tips of her toes to yell in her partner's ear, "Mulder, I know where Sam is! Let me take you to Sam!" The terror blinked, then nothing. "Sam." He fell limply on her. She groaned as the deep pain she had been trying to ignore swelled up from within her. She began dragging her partner back out the way she had come in. Her heart was pounding and the adrenaline generated numbed her senses. She kept moving toward the front door. She felt, rather than saw, Guiliano carrying two children and pushing past her. Suddenly, they were outside. The air felt cool on her skin, and Mulder was beginning to come out of his trance. She fell just outside the door, Mulder landing on top of her. --o-0-o-- Fox Mulder was outside. He didn't know why he was there, but he was outside and lying on top of Dana Scully. He had to get them further away from the house, he knew, before the rest of the structure collapsed on them. He stood up, trying to set her on her feet. She was shaking, and whispering 'no more' over and over again. "Scully, stay with me!" He couldn't carry her, not with his leg, but she was semi-conscious. He felt the computer banging against his hip. Remembering the plastic circle in his pocket, he hoped it hadn't melted in the heat. Guiliano was outside with them, and his family. They would finally have proof. He spied the tail of the Taurus just beyond the gate and guided his partner to it. --o-0-o-- "Reynaldo!" Guiliano turned to his wife, who was holding the two girls. "Lucia, where is Reynaldo?" Remembering, she looked up in terror. "He was underground, talking to the new network programmer." Her eyes widened in horror. "No, no, not Reynaldo. Not my son! Guiliano! No!" D'Amato ran back toward the house. Several people tried to stop him, crying out that his son was gone, and to stay here, but to no avail. Guiliano D'Amato ran inside just before his tenth birthday present heaved under a third explosion and fell in on him. --o-0-o-- Mulder slipped into the back of the Taurus, where he hoped to shield himself and Scully from the flying debris. He held her until the shaking stopped. Slowly, she became fully aware of him. "Mulder? Are you okay?" He laughed, a grim bark. "Yeah, I'm okay. How did I get out? I remember fire, and something about Sam. Then nothing." She slid her legs down to the floor so she was sitting on the seat, still leaning against him. "I'm sorry. I told you I knew where Sam was. It was the only way to make you move because you were rigid with fear. I had to say something to you to try to make you leave." She flipped open the laptop. "It's all here. I recorded everything Guiliano said to you, see?" She scrolled back through the file. It was, as was the plastic circle. But the man who was the key was gone. Mulder shook his head. Then he remembered. "Didn't D'Amato say something about a safe in his office?" She frowned. They scrolled back through the images from the underground meeting before the lights were turned out, but could see nothing that looked like a safe, or would conceal a safe. Scully rested her hand on her partner's arm. "He has more than one office, you know." The agents exchanged a glance, then slid out of either side of the back seat. Mulder opened the driver's door and sat down, but Scully was missing. He ran around to her side of the car, where she was kneeling on the ground, doubled over, gasping. He helped her into the passenger seat. "Scully, what is it? Do you need a doctor?" She shook her head. "No, we have to find that safe. I'll be okay. Let's go." She buckled herself in, her lips drawn in a tight line. --o-0-o-- The man known as Luther watched them pull away. He had stood behind the car during their conversation, knowing that although their speech was not audible, the video signal would be analyzed, their lips read. They would be followed. --o-0-o-- Washington, D. C. Wednesday March 6, 1996 8:30 am The cigarette burned in the ashtray, left unattended after a single drag. He had made this decision, signed this same form, more times than he cared to know. He was about to break a pledge to a dead friend, but now, he paused. He was the only one left from those days, and what he was about to order would shatter the last link with a second generation. The chair squeaked, and he stood, looking out over the monuments and boulevards. They were too close to the truth. Guiliano D'Amato had died before delivering all he knew to Fox Mulder, but the documents were still intact, and there was a trail from the information Mulder and Scully had to those papers. They would traverse that path within a day or two, before he could stop them through the strategy he had already initiated. No, he had no choice. He had to sign the termination orders for the two agents. A knock interrupted him. "Sir?" It was the same stocky young agent. He had seen much, and he hoped, learned much, from the past month, but he was no more confident than when this had begun. "Yes?" "There's someone to see you, Sir. They gave the password." His annoyance over the way the agent botched his English was a momentary diversion. All were dead, or so he thought. "Has *he* been searched?" The agent fidgeted. "They're clean." The old man rolled his eyes. "Very well. Send him in." The agent walked out as quietly as he had entered, while the old man closed the folder and dropped it on the desk. "Well, even though I haven't seen you in years, I would know this was your office. You still sit, day after day, in the dark, don't you?" He was transported back through time, fifty years and more, until he was a young man again, sitting, gazing across the office at the most beautiful woman he thought had ever seen. Caroline Podhowitz. She turned on the lights. He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the sudden onslaught. He saw that time had touched her too, but she was as lovely to him as ever. "Caroline! So good to see you. So sorry to hear about your loss." He had spoken these words so smoothly one would have thought them genuine. He hoped she would never learn how well he was aware of her husband's death. "Please, sit. How are you?" "Well, my Mystery Man, tell me something." That took him back. He had worked in the office under an alias, something he had told only her. She would tease him at lunch about spying on spies, before asking probing questions about the computer he was building. "Anything, Caroline." "Why did Bill Mulder want to marry me?" His face fell. The lie would be that Bill Mulder adored her, as did he. But he opted, for once, for the truth. "You weren't interested in him. You were a challenge to him. Here he was, the dashing spy, running in and out of danger, and you didn't ooh and ah at him like the other girls in the office." She sighed. "I always thought so. I knew he didn't really love me. I sat up in that big house in Chilmark for years, waiting for him to come to me. Massachusetts is a cold state when you are all alone." He remembered her from then. She had been so vivacious, so urbane, this Jewish girl from Vienna. She had come from a lively world of grace and culture as a refugee to war-time Washington, where her skills with languages had earned her instant respect and an important job during the war. "Caroline. You should have come back to work. You didn't have children for the longest time. We could have used you. The computer industry was just getting started then." She shook her head. "Married women didn't work after the war. You know that. It was so hard, seeing all those happy women pushing their little carriages up and down the sidewalks, and be waiting fifteen years for one of my own. Before I knew about Fox, I thought I was too old to have children. Then there was my darling Sam. I was blessed. For a while." Her face clouded. "Caroline, why did you stay with him?" Gazing out the window behind him, she saw only the morning sky. "He promised me he would find out what happened to my parents. He said that was why he had to be gone so much, in Europe. I wanted to go back with him, just once, but he would never let me go home." He studied her face. "Do you know how I found out what happened to them? I came down to visit my son last year. He was too busy, as usual, to spend much time with me. I went to the Holocaust Museum. Their faces were on the wall! My parents!" She stopped, overcome. "I believed Bill until that moment, but then I knew. He had never been looking for my parents. It was all a game with him." For her sake, he chose to end it quickly. "Caroline, I would love to talk more, but..." "You're busy. Still solving the world's problems, I take it." He nodded. She looked down at her fingers. "I'll come to the point. Why are you doing this to my son?" He started, and stared at her. "Caroline, I'm..." She held up her hand to silence him. "Don't lie to me. I recognize your methods. They were our methods, for a while. Back when we had to keep the world safe from tyranny." He stood and pointed out the window behind him. "Caroline, what do you see when you look out this window? Or should I say, what don't you see? You were raised in Europe. What don't you see?" Caroline rose from the chair to walk over to him. She looked out over the obelisk, the Greek temples, the domes, and in the distance, the Cathedral, rising into the sky, like so many she remembered from Europe. "Walls. There are no walls out there, Caroline. And do you know why?" She turned to look closely at him for the first time, observing the deep lines scored in his cheeks. "Why?" "This is a nation that has not been invaded by a foreign power for almost two hundred years. And why? Because people like me have made sacrifices, choices, for that security." "But, there is no one to fear anymore. The Soviets..." "The Soviets! Did you really think all this secrecy was about the Soviets? No, there is a more dangerous enemy out there. We must be ready. What your son is trying to do will weaken this nation when it must be most prepared. The things he wants to expose must not come out, ever. That is why I am trying to stop your son." She spun on one foot, not wanting to look at him anymore. The gesture flipped the cover on the folder. She looked down, and started in horror, then she grabbed the papers. "You would kill him?" He tried to take them, but she was too quick. She began ripping the pages, first in half, then quarters, then smaller and smaller, until they were confetti. She knew, now. "You took my girl. You made Bill choose, and he chose my girl. You had him killed, didn't you? Didn't you? And now you would take my son. You are a monster!" "No, Caroline, no!" She walked toward the door. "Caroline! I give you his life!" She faced him. "But you must give me your silence. You must not tell him what you know. Your silence for his life, and the life of his partner." Nodding, she left without a word, extinguishing the lights as she closed the door. He turned back to the window. He would keep the promise he had made to Caroline, since he knew she would keep hers. The Agents would live. He would simply work through other channels, and devise new strategies. Fox Mulder had won this battle, but it was still a long war. --o-0-o-- END - SINS OF THE FATHERS - ASSASSINATION AND REDEMPTION