Date: Fri, 23 Feb 1996 16:55:06 -0500 (EST) From: Paul Wartenberg Subject: RESIGNATION 04:En Passant (1/?) Copyright: all copyrights are owned by other people. Any character from the X-Files belongs to Chris Carter & Co. Any other characters probably belong to other X-Philes in which case I'm in trouble anyway. Go figure. As I am very poor, please do not sue me. En Passant Story Four of RESIGNATION by. Paul Wartenberg "Capturing en passant is an option which must be exercised at the first and only opportunity. If the opportunity is not exploited, the option lapses..." --Fred Reinfeld, Complete Chessplayer (1953) PART I Scully Washington D.C. FBI Headquarters I entered Assistant Director Skinner's office with fear in my heart. It has been some time since...Mulder's passing that I had come here. Section Chief Blevins had exerted some effort in re-establishing the chain of command, which the past few years had almost dissolved. As a matter of fact, Blevins is the first person I see as I walked through the door. Sitting next to Blevins was McGrath from Professional Responsibility. This kept getting better by the minute. His presense pretty much assures my re-assignment to garbage detail in Montana. Skinner spoke up, getting my attention his way. "Agent Scully. Please be seated." I took the last empty chair, shoved against the far wall facing Blevins and McGrath across the table. Skinner remained at his desk, turning his chair askew to face another direction entirely. "Good morning," I whispered. Thankfully, I noticed the air was free of carcinogens. "We can dispense with the pleasantries," McGrath growled. "We are here to evaluate your current work." "McGrath," Skinner rebuked him. Blevins flipped open a folder on the table. "Since your assignment to New Orleans you have completed two current investigations and closed out three open files from Special Sections..." "I hope all reports have been to your satisfaction," I replied. Blevins glanced at me. "Not entirely, agent Scully, but they will do." "Is there anything I can add to the reports, then?" "We are not concerned with your reports," Blevins added. "We are concerned with your responsibilities as a federal agent." I nodded silently. "We happen to be interested in why you have refused to accept assignments with other field agents," McGrath stated flatly. So that was it. "I had accepted to work with agent Clarice Starling. Her departure from the X-Files was her own accord, and I had no influence on her decision." "You had an opportunity to work with a field agent on your assignment to the Blue Ridge case in North Carolina." McGrath's tone turned sour. "Agent Yeager refused to commit fully to that assignment. The field supervisor in Asheville can confirm that Yeager was not up to the case...sir." McGrath grabbed the folder from Blevins, searching for something. He nodded and spoke verbatim from the supervisor's field report, "`Agents Scully and Yeager failed to complete said inquiry due to incompatibility over investigative hypotheses. Yeager added to the situation with unprofessional behavior toward Scully and by deliberately avoiding following up a lead which proved essential to the case.'" I waited for McGrath to prove his point. "While I admit Yeager was out of line for failing procedure, I can assume from this report that you added to the problem by refusing to build an acceptable teamwork demeanor with Yeager." I shrugged. "I told Yeager my theories, he told me to shove them. Any failure to create teamwork was from his end, sir." Blevins answered. "According to Yeager, your theories on the possible suspects and MO were ridiculous and unworthy of investigation." I nodded. "Considering the...extreme nature of the X-Files, one should have an open mind, sir." Blevins tilted his head at an angle, waiting for me to finish that line of thought. "Working on the X-Files, I have noticed the tendency to look for the finer details of any case, that all possibilities should be examined and scrutinized so that the truth behind the event can be found." "We are not looking for truth, agent Scully," McGrath responded. "We are investigating for facts." "My work with agent Mulder has helped me realize that some truths, intuitive truth, personal truth, can aid in determining the relevant facts. It helps, sir, in postulating possibilities so that the facts can be found. The important thing is to solve the case, with as few victims as possible." "And what about working within regulations, agent Scully?" McGrath scowled. I scowled back in return. "I followed procedure, sir." "Yeager has given nine examples of your going beyond regulations, agent..." "To my knowledge he had not established that in his field reports to the supervisor, sir. Wouldn't you consider that overriding the chain of command, sir?" McGrath slammed the folder shut, his hand pounding against the table as he quickly rose in anger. "I would consider that statement to be insubordination, agent Scully! In my opinion you're turning into another goddamned Mulder!" "Agent McGrath!" Skinner shouted from his chair. "That will be all. This evaluation is concluded." McGrath stewed for a second, then stormed from the room. Blevins slowly rose from his seat, collecting the folders. He turned to face Skinner. "Can we conclude this at another time, sir?" "That," Skinner slowly stated. "will be all." Blevins nodded, then walked from the room. At no time did he look at me. When they had cleared, Skinner rose from his seat with a folder in hand. "You must understand, agent Scully, there were some loose ends regarding Asheville." I nodded slowly. "I am aware Yeager's allegations of misconduct might upset you, but rest assured the field office's report against him will convince most his word means little." "I would wonder why McGrath was so accepting of Yeager's position," I whispered. "OPR must always check every possibility. McGrath's job is to always assume the worst." "No offense, sir, but with the X-Files, McGrath keeps expecting the Apocalypse." Skinner tossed the folder onto the table. "I had to wait for this evaluation to pass this along. Blevins knows a special assignment is forthcoming for you, but this way he won't know about it until your preliminary field report." I opened the folder, spotting the photograph of a bespectacled middle-aged man. "And this assignment is?..." Skinner returned to his chair. "Professor William Vanderval, age 41, currently working at Indiana University Bloomington and as part of a federally funded think tank. Or he was. Five days ago he disappeared, no indication of foul play. FBI got this turned over from state authorities as it involves someone on federal payroll." "Could you conclude this to be a kidnapping? How can this involve the X-Files?" "Read the report first, agent Scully. Then you'll understand why it's important to locate him. Not just for the agency but for the X-Files as well." I glanced again at Vanderval's vitae. I suddenly noticed he was stationed as part of a federal research grant at Camp Styles in Mount Green, KY. During the time period of the cloning experiments involving the Nathans. Oh my God. I retreated to the basement, where I tapped into the computer network and pulled up all relevant information. I read the report while waiting for the computer search to finish. Dr. Vanderval was one of the leading biogeneticists in this country, noted for his work on RNA manipulation and artificial proteins. His work at Camp Styles involved a government project in the production of artificial blood, to supply hospitals in times of crisis or low supplies. When Camp Styles shut down during the base closures, Vanderval got himself employed at Bloomington. He then secured another grant relating to a project involving brain cell growth. I noticed the scientific details of the case were highly classified, making me wonder if that was all Vanderval was up to. The last persons to see him were three fellow researchers, all with corroborating testimony. None of them witnessed any odd behavior. For all appearances, he never returned home nor made any phone calls off campus during the day. The computer beeped, completing the file search. I prompted the print command and slowly read the printout. The computer had located his published journal works as well as a few background articles. I noticed one of his research papers involved the possibility of creating artificial proteins for genetic manipulation, for the purpose of inventing "new" lifeforms never before seen on Earth. He even used possible cloning techniques as examples of feasible methods. A-ha. As I read the report, I realized that even though the Nathan case was officially closed, I was still aware of the Smoking Man's involvement. Locating Vanderval would give me another shot at him. As long as I got Vanderval alive... Bloomington Monroe County Airport Two days in Bloomington gave me only one thing: a finer appreciation of heavy sweaters. I pulled at my trenchcoat, wrapping it around myself as the wind outside the airport suddenly picked up. I hurried through the main door into the terminal, and breathed easy as I quickly enjoyed the warm inside air. This trip had been useless, a simple retracing of steps that led back to the same spot: no sign of any struggle either at the campus office, the home, or the parking lot. No witnesses. Nobody stepping forward at gas stations or bus terminals or car rental agencies with any sighting. None of Vanderval's friends nor family members remembering anything unusual weeks before. No ransom notes nor taunting letters. Even a search of the local forests led to nothing except five teen hangouts, twelve drug busts, and especially the confiscation of innumerable beat-up Playboy mags, all of which I expected: those with older brothers who hung out with potheads might relate to this experience. I had no idea what could have happened here. Mulder would immediately suggest conspiracy, and considering Vanderval's background I might accept that. But if he was working for the conspiracy in the first place, why abduct him? To cover upsomething? To accept a more secretive assignment? There's a possibility an opposing government kidnapped him, but then there would have been some trace of a struggle, or at least the case would have been taken over by the security agencies. Okay, Scully, I thought to myself, are you willing to accept the possibility of alien abduction? Nope. Uh uh. No way. What would aliens want with him? I shook my head and hurried to the ticket counter. I had called ahead and confirmed a flight back to D.C. I needed further background information and I could get that better through headquarters. I waited at the counter for a few minutes before a very blonde woman came up with a ticket in her hands. "Hello, yes, you must be FBI agent Scully." That was curious. I never mentioned I was an agent when ordering the ticket. "That would be me, yes." "Yes." She smiled. It was unsettling and abnormal. "Here's your ticket to Chicago." "Chicago? No, wait, sorry, there should be a ticket for D.C. There's a mistake." "No mistake," the woman kept smiling. "You're to go to Chicago. Enjoy your flight." "I'm not going to enjoy my flight because it's not the flight I want." "I'm sorry," the blonde grinned, confirming in my mind that she needed psychiatric evaulation. "But I was told you needed to go to Chicago." I arched an eyebrow. This was too weird for real life. Was someone trying to tell me something? "Um...okay. I guess I can get a connecting flight there." "That's the spirit!" Her smile grew wider. "Plus, don't forget to check our newsstand for the latest information." "Like whether or not that's your real hair color?" I whispered under my breath. I took the tickets and headed toward the nearest newsstand. I slowed my steps, however, wondering what sort of sick situation I was getting myself into. I don't enjoy getting led around by the leash like a trained animal. I nodded to myself and headed for the bathroom instead. I found the ladies' room empty. I slowly walked through, knocking on each stall door. I then turned to the sinks, getting some water in my hands and washing my face. When I lowered my hands from my face I noticed in the mirror the black man who warned me about Mulder's train ride standing at the doorway. "You should have gone to the newsstand." I turned, reaching for my gun. He raised one arm at me and said, "Agent Scully, the last time you tried that I could have twisted your arm off." "This time you're standing too far from me, so screw you. Are you the one responsible for my flight being changed?" "You apparently asked the wrong questions during your investigation here, agent Scully. You failed to notice certain avenues of exploration." I lowered the gun a little. "Nothing seemed certain. You seem to be in possession of information I don't have." "Dr. Vanderval has had a few assistants from time to time. One of them is David Mandel, currently a graduate student at the University of Chicago. Look for him." I quickly tried to remember that name. He had placed one call to Mandel in Chicago about a month before his disappearance. But there was nothing out of the ordinary to suggest a connection. He turned to leave, but I had to ask something. "Can you tell me why Mandel would be involved? Why Vanderval disappeared? And what do you gain from my help?" He stopped to scowl at me, then yanked the door open and swiftly closed it behind him. Wonderful, I thought. Once again, the powers that be just leave enough information to lead you into a deathtrap, Scully. You could always ignore it, Scully, screw those shadow agents and prove you're not their willing servant. But, my other voice echoed in my head, what other evidence do you have? I sighed and made a mental note to have those extra voices removed from my mind. I headed for the flight to Chicago leaving gate 9. I noticed nothing out of the ordinary until I boarded the plane, when I saw that the first class section was deserted. I seemed to be the first one on. "Where is everybody?" I asked out loud. "All passengers have boarded and are accounted for," a sickly sweet voice replied from behind. "Please take your seat." I turned to see the blonde from the ticket counter was now the blonde flight attendant. "Oh, God no, not you," I gasped. "What are you doing here?" "I hope you will enjoy your flight," she smiled. "Please take your seat." I rubbed my forehead, an unnecessary headache forming in my skull. "Please tell me if Mulder ever had to put up with this." The blonde nodded. "Oh, yes. He complained most vocally, just like you are now." I shrugged, taking a seat. I felt so much better knowing he had to suffer this, too. Chicago It was past twilight when I located Mandel's apartment building in Oak Lawn. It was a dilapidated building that must have survived the fire started by O'Leary's cow. Some of the windows looked shattered, and the doorway was filled with empty bottles and mangled blankets. I had checked earlier at the university, and most of Mandel's colleagues did say he had missed a lot of classes and technical assignments recently. It might seem I could be on the right trail here. I slowly walked the stairwell up to the fourth floor. There was no sign of life in this part of the building, although I heard sounds of screaming and banging through the thin walls. On the fourth floor, I cautiously stepped into the hallway where the shouting seemed to be louder, making eye contact with a small child standing in his doorway. He stared at me curiously, then turned and closed the door behind him. The hallway itself was poorly lit, with small scraps of paper, clothes, and other trash littering the floor. The sounds of fighting subsided, hopefully someone's arguments were finished for now. I counted the numbers on the apartment doors at this end of the hall and knew Mandel's place was further down. Suddenly, as I headed that way, a smallish figure jumped into the hallway and ran for the far end of the hall to the fire exit. I pulled my gun, but held my fire when another figure, taller, shrouded in darkness, chased after him. Damn, I got here too late. I chased after both of them, making it to the small doorway leading out. I took a deep breath and shoved myself against it, swinging the door open and quickly scanning for possible targets. I heard the clanging of footsteps on the metal stairs, and I looked up to see the shadowy figures of the two men. I calmly took my time up the stairs. There weren't any other buildings near us that were safe to jump onto. There was no other way off the roof. I glanced over the roof's ledge, checking to see if it was clear for me to climb over. I heard some sounds behind the large ventilation shafts, so I took my chance and quickly jumped onto the roof. I kept my gun ready, slowly pacing toward the shafts when the smaller man fell out of the shadows, the taller figure quickly moving out to grab at him. "Freeze!" I shouted. "You have nowhere to run!" The tall figure moved quickly, whipping out his gun and turning to face me. I was ready to pull the trigger when I recognized the face. He had started growing a beard, thinly trimmed against his chinbone. Everything else, the placid expression, the lousy tie, the bad haircut, it was... "Mulder?" I gasped. To Be Continued... ===================================================================== ====== Date: Fri, 23 Feb 1996 16:57:05 -0500 (EST) From: Paul Wartenberg Subject: RESIGNATION 04:En Passant (2/?) Copyright: all copyrights are owned by other people. Any character from the X-Files belongs to Chris Carter & Co. Any characters from the Prisoner belong to Patrick McGoohan (who's busy writing the movie adaptation)! Any other characters probably belong to other X-Philes in which case I'm in trouble anyway. Go figure. As I am very poor, please do not sue me. En Passant Story Four of RESIGNATION by. Paul Wartenberg PART II Mulder The Village Location Unknown I slowly became aware of the scent of the ocean. A gentle wind blew across where I rested, rustling the leaves of trees in the distance. I opened my eyes to see that I had returned to the Village, sitting on the patio overlooking the bay. The early morning wind picked up some, whistling through the stone railings. There was little sign of life, except for... "I see you've stopped shaving," a charming voice stated from a spot across the table. I stared at the elderly man once known as Number Six (or Number One, or Drake, or even Peter Smith) sitting there, scratching at his own beard. "Well, they always wanted a clean-cut image at the bureau," I shrugged. "Since I'm not working for them now..." Number Six nodded, then tapped a hand on a folder sitting atop the table. "I finished the report regarding your efforts in Osaka. Most impressive. The political scandal alone will take your friend CancerMan years to recover from this." "Do I get that raise you've been promising me then?" The old man shook his head. "Sorry, my friend. Budget cuts, you see. But at least you get to travel." "What? I have to go already? But I haven't had my cup of coffee yet." He stood up to go. "Not to worry, Mulder. We're still collating some data from the past few transactions. Take some time off." I retired to my apartment, checking up on the fish. Then I pulled a folder out from the bookshelf and opened it on my coffee table, spilling the photographs everywhere. It had been weeks since Number Six (or Number One or Peter Smith or Vinnie Vega or whatever) had passed these on to me. I sighed and picked up one that by now looked a little beat up and smudged. I had stared at the photograph all these weeks, and still nothing in it had changed. No new revelation awaited me, no startling image hidden in the details. It was just a black-and-white snapshot of Deep Throat standing over Scully, a dead man caught in a still life while my partner suffered. Or did she? Number Six told me she worked for them, for Deep Throat and CancerMan and the others responsible for my sister and my father. Even if she knew it or not. But Scully, she was there for me, saved my life... Why am I even doing this? a voice questioned in the back of my mind. Why am I working for this man? Vengeance? Justice? A change of pace? Why should I trust him? But can I trust anyone, even...And where will this take me, what price will this place on my soul? I stared at the photograph for hours, doubting everything, even this grey image in my hand, wondering what I have done in my life, realizing that maybe, maybe, in the end, I could trust no one... I started from my sleep, nearly crushing the photo as my hands clenched from the sudden stirring. I rubbed my eyes, taking note of the dark, that the day had already passed. A lightswitch was touched, and a corner of my room brightened. Number Six sat resting across the coffee table from me, cane in one hand and a file in another. I rubbed my hand down to the chin. "I missed the `Friends' re-run again, didn't I?" "I see you're...reminiscing." I tossed the photo into the pile and closed the folder. "It's hard to have your whole life turn upside down and let it fade from your thoughts." "I understand, Mulder." I wondered in the back of my mind if he did. "I admit I still feel...responsible for having Scully brought here. I can't blame her if they were using her, programming her..." "What you feel for her is part of what defines you, keeps you from turning into the monsters we're up against." Number Six tossed the folder onto the coffee table. "But you have to remember Scully was working for them in the first place." I picked up the folder, waiting before opening it. "Nobody deserves to be treated like chattel." "What goes around comes around, Mulder." "What's in the folder?" "Just came up. A scientist working on one of your friend's projects went AWOL from work, apparently finding something he doesn't want to share with the other boys. He's strategically far enough up the pipeline that if we can capture him, we can pick apart the scientific arm of CancerMan's operation." I opened the folder, catching sight of a middle-aged gent. I scanned the background report. His name was Vanderval. "Don't you think the man with the Morleys might want him back?" "Certainly. This brings up another opportunity, this time to wipe out his secret corps of soldiers. You have clearance on a kill order this time, Mulder." I shook my head. "Not interested. If I kill anybody, it'll be my hide. CancerMan will have me hunted down by every regular cop in the country." "Only if he wants to reveal the deaths, Mulder. A body always attracts too much attention, and a group of them will bring the worst kind of attention. He'll cover up the death of anyone just to hide his own tracks." Number Six stood. "Of course, he'll have you killed in a blink of an eye if he gets the chance. Caution will certainly be a prized asset on this assignment, Mulder. I hope you're ready for it." "I'd like to think I was born ready, but I'll need to check my horoscope first." He nodded. "The helicopter will arrive in an hour." "Can I stay awake this time when I leave?" Number Six headed for the front door. "Only if you're wearing blindfolds." "Hmpf. Well, might as well get some sleep in on the flight, then." I fell out of bed onto a strange floor. After rubbing my side, I dragged myself up the bedsheets so I could glance at the nearest clock. I examined the hotel room, looking for details of where I might be. The doorknob to the room turned. I quickly rose and glanced furtively if any weapon had been left for me. A middle-aged woman pushed herself through the door, dragging a maid's cart with her, speaking loudly in Spanish to someone else down the hallway. She suddenly stopped, however, when she saw me just standing there. "Boo," I said flatly. She screamed and closed the door. I nodded to myself and headed for the window. The maid didn't figure this room was occupied. I guess somebody forget to register with the front office. I figured I was deposited in Spain, Madrid or Barcelona, waiting for a flight to take me stateside. I pulled the curtains open and stared in shock to see a cold, foreboding landscape of skyscrapers and urban blight. I recognized the scene. I was in Chicago. For the first time in months, I was home. Chicago The files left at the hotel asked me to check in first to a pawnshop a few blocks west of downtown. Bells rang as I swung the door open, bumping it against a set of bikes. I slowly walked through the narrow passage made by the debris of other people's lives, carefully stepping over items that had fallen to the floor. "Can I help you?" a voice echoed from the back. "I'm looking for a used wok," I replied. "A used rock?" "No. Wok. I love fondue." A black middle-aged man came up to the service desk, cigar clenched between his teeth. "It's a god awful password, ain't it?" "Better than talking about the weather," I smirked as I reached the counter. The pawn shop man rose one hand toward me. "You got your files?" I nodded and handed over the papers. He swiftly plucked them from my hand and counted out the sheets. "The report on Vanderval didn't state how the local authorities are searching for him," I remarked. The man nodded. "You worry about your own search. If you have a run-in with the cops, do your best to avoid getting shot. Just remember they're innocent bystanders, our biggest worries are the plainclothes from the other team. Any other questions?" "Yeah. What do you get if you multiply six by nine?" "42. We were warned about you." The man tossed the files onto the counter. He grabbed a squeeze bottle and squirted the fluid over the papers. It smelled like turpentine. He dropped his cigar to the counter and the files erupted in smoke and heat. Standard procedure. "Hope you remembered it all, Mulder." The man reached for a cigar box, pulling out a new one. "No problem. But, this is a big city. I'll need some support on this one." The man nodded to the service door. "Step in back." I went through the doorway and headed back to the repair office. The pawn shop man soon joined me, lighting his cigar and clicking the lighter shut. "I have to warn you Vanderval made a hard run. We traced him all over the midwest, spotted him in Kansas City three days ago. But we confirmed he's got reason to hide here." "The connection to Mandel, sure. But what's here in Chicago?" "Maybe they got tickets for Jordan and Rodman." "Well, what you got for me, then?" The man pulled a sheet off the repair table. There were a billfold, some credit cards, a packet filled with the usual electronic gear, and a Sig-Sauer P230. "Welcome to the Second Amendment Nation, Mulder," the man puffed. "What support do I have?" "Security's been called over, that should help." I arched an eyebrow. "The killer balloon? How do I get it to come for help, whistle?" The man knocked open a drawer, pulling out a wristband. "This is a security clearance item. It has auto sensors on your biorhythms, if you're under stress or unconscious it'll respond." I flipped the wristband over in my hands, noticing the little buttons and touchpads. "Nobody said I was fashionable," I whispered as I put it on. "Just remember, if we figured out Vanderval is getting help from Mandel, Vanderval's former bosses are going to find him here, too." "I've been warned about that." I nodded toward the man. "What about you? What support can you give?" The pawn shop man shook his head. "I'm here. I'm always here. But I'm no damned action hero. And I ain't going to get in the way of any bullets, either." "Anything else?" "Oh, yeah," he smiled, pulling car keys out of his pocket. "I rented a Hyundai for you." I grimaced. "And what, pray tell, was wrong in getting a Taurus?" I drove to the University of Chicago, finding a parking space on the edge of the campus. It was a good twenty minutes before I located the science building. It was getting late into the afternoon, meaning only the hard-core students were walking the halls. I caught the office directory at the front door and counted off the hall numbers until I got to the Biogenetics department. The secretary's office was empty, so I slowly stepped into the back hallway to the faculty cubicles. The hall was clear, but all the doors were closed. I figured on scanning for any info in the secretary's work space. The file cabinets were in the far corner. I glanced at the drawer labels, spotting the one containing transcripts and dissertations. The Village's file on Mandel said he'd been a student here for years, meaning his dissertation's a work in progress. It would help to know what he's doing here. I tried the drawer handle, knowing it would be locked but hoping for some luck. "May I help you?" I slowly stood and turned around. A young woman stood next to the secretary's desk, her hand on a pile of papers dropped beside her. "None of the professors are in today, sir. Can I help you?" "Just...looking." "We have paintings on the wall if you're looking. Student records are another matter entirely." Her expression was mildly peevish. "Actually, I was looking for a student by the name of David Mandel. I needed to talk to him about some research he'd done lately." The secretary shook her head. "Dave's a little hard to find this past week. I doubt he's in today, either. Can I take a message?" "Is there anybody in who would know about Mandel's projects?" She stared at me coldly. "Is Dave in trouble?" "Perhaps. That's why I need to speak to him." The secretary kept her cold stare. "Let me take a message for you. Can I have your name, sir?" I shook my head, realizing this was going nowhere. I headed for the doorway. "Just tell him a guy named Luder is looking for him. I got to go." I stepped quickly through the hallway heading for the main door. Coming here was a mistake. I should have gone to his home first. I hoped I could find more information there. Oak Lawn I took one look at Mandel's apartment complex and realized this must have been the one building missed by that O'Leary's Cow incident. I took the stairwell up to the fourth floor, staying cautious, one hand near the Sig. The distant sound of rap music vibrated off the walls. The poor lighting cast shadows everywhere. The fourth floor hallway was empty, sparsely lit, worse than the stairwell. I slowly walked down toward the far end, counting the apartment numbers. I got about four doors down before I heard the creaking of hinges. I whirled, shoving my arm into the jacket and gripping the gun, while shoving myself into a crouching position against the wall. I stared at the doorway, my gun almost out of the holster, locking eyes with a small child who stared back in wide-eyed terror. We stayed that way, with my head swirling bothersome thoughts of what I might have done, for some time before I whispered to him. "Please, close the door." He nodded slowly and closed the door. I stayed crouching for a second, trying to remember how to breathe. I slowly stood and continued toward Mandel's place. The first thing I noticed was the door: the doorknob appeared twisted into an angle. This wasn't a good sign. I gently pressed one hand against the door itself, leaning against the wainscotting while my other hand kept its grip on the Sig. I wasn't surprised to see the door open easily, the lock having been nicely removed by a swift kick to the handle. The living room was in the worst condition I've ever seen outside of my own place. Whatever was left of the furniture tended to be in separate corners of the apartment. Papers were strewn everywhere. Although the kitchen was untouched, the noticeable mildew probably kept the trackers from getting too close withoutbiohazard gear. I slowly stepped over the garbage and checked each of the rooms. No sign of life, and every room was trashed. I doubted I could spot anything here of any value. Still, I pulled out from my jacket two small elongated strips. Standard procedure, to ensure if anybody came back to this apartment: I placed one strip, about two inches long, of electronic surveillance against a cabinet, near the telephone. I angled the strip so that the micro-sized camera lens had a good view of the room; the audio sensors were strong enough to get a conversation anywhere in the room. The strip itself was transparent, the wires operating the whole thing thin enough to escape a quick glance. I slowly headed back out to the front of the apartment when I heard the sound of wood banging against a wall. Someone else was here. I glanced down the hallway, spotting a short, poorly-dressed man shaking his head at the damage around his feet. I took a gamble and decided for the direct approach. I quickly hurled myself into the hallway and headed directly at the man, knocking into him at a good speed and sending him sprawling across the far wall. "Jesus!" he cried out. "What the hell..." I grabbed him and threw him back across the room. He was able to regain his footing and stumbled to a halt, lifting one arm toward me. "Did you break in here?" "Are you Mandel?" The man turned pale, and took two steps away from me. "Who else could have been here, Mandel?" I stepped away from him and toward the hall, trying to position myself between any avenue of escape. "Look, I'll call, I swear I'll call the cops on you..." Mandel stammered. "Who else would be looking for Vanderval, Mandel?" I scowled. If he had turned any whiter, Pat Buchanan would have named Mandel as his veep. He quickly fell to his knees, grabbing at the paperwork strewn on the floor. "Mandel," I almost shouted, keeping my distance and slowly pulling my gun from its holster. "I want some answers." Mandel suddenly handed me a piece of paper. "Here. Take it. I swear, that's it!" I took a minute to consider my options, wondering how something of value could still be here. I cautiously reached for the paper and glanced at it. It began, "You can earn thousands of dollars without ever having to leave your home..." I cursed myself and looked up to see Mandel leaping over his shattered furniture and heading for the door. I didn't have time to reach for my gun; instead I leapt after him, slamming myself through the doorway into the hall. Mandel headed to the fire exit at the far end, and he was already halfway through it. I ran hard toward the exit, shoving it open and glancing in every direction to see where he went. The clanging of footsteps above me quickly confirmed his location. I took the stairs upward to the roof, although I couldn't see how that would be a good escape route. None of the nearby buildings were high enough for a rooftop chase. When I got close to the top, I paused for a second and briefly glimpsed over the edge, checking to make sure Mandel wasn't preparing any surprises. The roof was clear. I stepped onto the roof, glancing in every direction until I heard the clanging of metal near the air vents. I ran in that direction, turning the corner in time to see Mandel hunched over something. "Mandel..." I snarled. Mandel leapt up toward me, but I was ready. I grabbed him by his face and quickly twirled him past me and into the A/C siding. I then sent my fist into his gut, taking another second before banging him against the metal siding again. Mandel gasped in pain, and I slammed my fist down against the side of his face, knocking him clear out to the open roof area. I quickly turned to glance at what Mandel was kneeling over, only to see the remains of a yellow packet suddenly burst into flames, pieces of some secret flying off as ashes on the wind. "Dammit," I snarled, stepping over to Mandel, realizing he had beaten me to something important, "you better tell what that was..." I bent down and grabbed Mandel by the collarbone. As I lifted him up to his feet to shake the truth from him, I suddenly heard a shout from behind me. "Freeze! You have nowhere to run!" Instinctively I reached into my jacket for my gun and twirled around, getting Mandel between me and our pursuer. I whipped the Sig up to my sights and stared toward...Scully, who had her gun aimed right at me. We stared at each other for what must have been minutes, when she finally gasped, "Mulder?" "Scully," I whispered, "This shouldn't be a surprise." She kept her gun up. "What are you doing here?" "Same as you, I guess. You're hunting for Vanderval, I suppose." "Yeah. But...what happened?" "Um, excuse me..." Mandel gasped, my grip on him still tight. "Shut up," Scully and I snarled simultaneously. "Scully," I added, "you can lower the gun." "Mulder," she frowned, "I need an answer. What is going on here?" "Excuse me..." Mandel repeated himself. "What?" I snarled. "Um, what's that?" Scully and I turned to see the white Rover bouncing on the far ledge of the roof. Scully lowered her gun. "Mulder," she whispered. "I hope you've got a great explanation for this one." Rover roared and suddenly moved toward us. I instinctively moved back, dragging Mandel with me. Scully stood her ground, raising her gun toward the sphere. Rover kept moving, quickly unfurling itself, in fact it looked like it was reaching out for... "No, Scully," I gasped, suddenly letting go of Mandel. "Dammit, not her!" I jumped between Rover and Scully, feeling the cold wrappings twist around my arms, finding myself slipping into Rover's deadly grip... To be continued... ===================================================================== ====== Date: Sat, 2 Mar 1996 20:19:19 -0500 (EST) From: Paul Wartenberg Subject: New: Resignation 04: En Passant (3/?) Copyright: all copyrights are owned by other people. Any character from the X-Files belongs to Chris Carter & Co. Any other characters probably belong to other X-Philes in which case I'm in trouble anyway. Go figure. As I am very poor, please do not sue me. En Passant Story Four of RESIGNATION by. Paul Wartenberg PART III Scully I was stunned when I saw the white orb...unravel itself, so much so it took me a minute to realize the white strands reaching from it were wrapping themselves around Mulder. I moved forward, reaching for him, but it was too late. I watched as the strands interwove with each other, expanding out to resume its original spherical shape. I was terrified, worried about what happened to Mulder, worried about what...this thing was. It had moved so swiftly, so spontaneously, it seemed...alive. I slowly raised a hand to try and touch the surface, to see if there was any way of reaching Mulder, when I heard a muffled beeping. The orb quickly unraveled, startling me. The orb lifted itself upward, the strands falling limp to the rooftop and rolling Mulder from its grasp. When Mulder fell clear, the strands re-weaved themselves. I moved to Mulder's side while keeping an eye on the orb, lifting him in my arms as I checked for a pulse. It was there, faint but steady, his breathing shallow. On his wrist was a device that kept making a beeping noise. I suddenly remembered we were chasing somebody. I looked up, glancing to where Mandel might have been. Instead, I saw him at the far ledge, staring back at us with some terror in his eyes. "Mandel! Wait!" I called out. He didn't. I watched him silently step to the ledge and without a second thought step away from the roof. "Oh my God," I whispered. Mulder actually isn't as heavy as he looks: I've learned that much after dragging his unconscious body about three or four times already. The real problem was dragging him down the fire escape back to the fourth floor; the steps were narrow and it was hard turning the corners. I propped him in a sitting position right outside Mandel's place. After making sure his pulse and breathing were steady, I ran for the stairwell and practically leapt all the way down to the street. I almost twisted my ankle passing over the concrete steps and landing on the sidewalk, but I had little time. I needed to get to Mandel's body. I turned the corner and headed down the alleyway where he fell. I stared through the darkness, looking at everything. I slowed down as I got to where the body should have landed, glancing over the garbage cans and warped cardboard boxes. There was nothing there. Well, there was no body at least. I knelt down and looked closely, spotting some liquid. I remembered once, when we were chasing Gregors, that one of them leapt out of a tall building and still walked away. They had a tendency to leave behind a green ooze. Wondering if Mandel may have been one of Vanderval's experiments, I rubbed some of the fluid onto my fingers and brought it close to my face, looking to see its color. It was blood. Red blood. I was puzzled. If Mandel was a clone, this should have been green. If he was human after all, then where did his body go? I stood up and glanced in every direction, looking for some sign that another person was here. Looking to see if Mandel walked away. But I didn't see a thing. I dragged Mulder's body into Mandel's apartment and closed the door. Leaving him against an upturned sofa, I went into the kitchen, grabbing the least mildewy glass and filling it with water. I took it back to Mulder and promptly threw the water in his face. "Aahh!" he quickly gasped, startled. I arched an eyebrow. "That was quick." He rubbed his eyes. "I came to about a minute ago. I was hoping you would just leave me here." "Are you kidding? I haven't seen you in months. For God's sake, Mulder, I thought you were dead." Mulder didn't say anything. "Talk, Mulder, or I'll throw this glass at you next." He sighed. "I don't know if...all right. I was kidnapped by someone and...I've gotten involved now in something." I sat down next to him. "How much trouble are you in?" "Truckloads of trouble. There's a war on, Scully, and we're both stuck in the middle of it." "What kind of war?" "Between some of the secret organizations throughout the world. I...I can't really explain all of it, but..." "But it now involves Vanderval and his cloning experiments." "I'm not sure about what experiments he's up to. I guess you got orders to find him, too, huh?" I nodded. We sat in silence for a few seconds before I spoke. "It's good to see you again, Mulder." He nodded. "I had hoped to try and...get in touch, but..." "You know, you could have tried to get in touch with me. I might have helped." Mulder chuckled to himself. "Sorry. I could only make local calls from where I was." "Where was that?" "I'm not sure. Maybe off the coast of Morocco." "Did that thing come from there?" "What? Rover?" "Is that what you call that white orb? Whatever that was." "Hmm. It's just Rover." I stared at him incredulously. He shrugged. "It's part of my new life as secret agent. My...new boss sent that over as a back-up." "Why?" "Why what?" "Why are you working for someone else? Doing this?" Mulder thought about that. "It was the only thing I could do, at the time." "And so what's the thing to do now, Mulder?" He glanced at his electronic wristband. "I'm not sure." I placed my hand on Mulder's. "Mulder, I can help you." He didn't answer that. Instead he asked, "That was pretty good detective work you did, figuring out Mandel might be involved. We had to use more...unconventional means you couldn't use with the FBI." "Actually, a mutual friend of ours pointed me to Mandel, otherwise I'd never have gotten this far." Mulder arched an eyebrow. "Who?" "Tall black man. Acts like he'd rip your head off if you said `Have a Nice Day' to him." He winced, pulling his hand from mine. "Oh, Jesus, Scully. He's on the other side." "And just whose side are we on, Mulder?" He sighed. "I'm not sure right now. I don't think we're on the same team here, Scully." I stared at him in shock for longer than I realized. "I hate to remind you, Mulder, but we're partners!..." He stood up, shaking his head. "That was another lifetime ago, Scully. I'm sorry." I stood up to face him. "Just what do they have on you, Mulder? What? Did they promise you your sister? Did they threaten you? Mulder, you're not giving me any straight answers here..." Mulder grabbed me by my arms, forcefully. "No, it's...it's something I have to deal with. I have to see this through." "The hell you will, not by yourself!" I shook loose from his grip. "Goddammit, Mulder, I thought you trusted me." He glanced away, then turned and walked out the door. I wasn't sure if tears formed in my eyes. Mulder didn't answer, not even with a lie, and that was...unsettling. The police took some time to get to Mandel's apartment. I waited for them, and watched over their investigation of the break-in. I didn't think they would find any extensive paperwork relating to Vanderval; whoever broke in here earlier wouldn't be so clumsy to ignore such vital information. They did pick up where most of the damage was done: hidden creases in the furniture, loose floorpanels, a small cavity behind the bathroom mirror. Mandel had done a good job making hiding places, but what was he hiding? "Excuse me, ma'am," one of the detectives, lieutenant Harker, walked up. In his hands were some small wires. "We spotted this on one of the bedroom walls. Looks like surveillance." I nodded, wondering that the thieves wouldn't leave traces of themselves at the crime scene. Perhaps Mulder left this here to wait for further developments. "Good work. Make sure the crime lab gets ahold of it, and take good care. We need that intact as much as possible for evidence." "Excuse me, what the hell is going on here?" I turned to see two people push their way past an officer into the apartment. One was a young petite woman with jet black hair and far too many earrings over her whole body. The other was... "Are you David Mandel?" I asked, glaring in shock. He was wearing different clothes and his hairstyle looked shorter than before, but it was him. He just shrugged and snarled, "What the hell happened to my apartment?" I pulled out my badge. "Agent Scully, FBI. We're investigating a break-in here." "What does the FBI have to do with this?" "I'm not here for this, I'm here regarding a former college professor of yours. Name of Vanderval." Mandel turned pale, but kept silent. "Have you made any contact with him in the past month?" "No." Mandel's voice trembled just slightly. He nudged his way past me to get further into his home. "Who the hell would break in to my place?" Harker tapped him on the shoulder. "Did you have any valuables here?" "What? No." Mandel turned to face me. "Nobody's told me who would do this." I shook my head. "We're working on that. But we have every reason to believe it involves the disappearance of Vanderval." "Look, I told you I don't know anything about him..." "Can you explain then the phone call made between you and him about a month ago?" Mandel stopped in mid-thought, shocked. Harker chuckled. "You need to work on your alibis, bud." Mandel shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, we talked. He just wanted to know how I was doing on some of my microbiology studies. Nothing happened. Jeez, I haven't seen him at all since Bloomington." He pointed a finger at me. "And I didn't kidnap him if that's what you think. I've got eyewitnesses..." "Eyewitnesses who'll attest that you're rarely in classes or at work in the past few weeks." He placed a hand on his forehead, exasperated. "I was busy! Jeez..." "Busy doing what?" "I don't have to answer that." He turned and headed for the bedroom. I turned to face his girlfriend. "Has he been with you all night?" My question seemed to catch her off guard; she was watching the police collect forensic evidence. "What? Huh...oh, um, yeah, we were at this dance club, Junior's, hanging with some friends..." I nodded. "Okay. Thanks." That answer settled a few questions for myself. It meant the Mandel I saw jump from the roof was a clone. It meant this one was a clone. It definitely meant Vanderval was continuing some of his Camp Styles experiments. But what do I do with the Mandel who was here? I couldn't arrest him for being a clone; besides, who would believe it? It would be difficult to arrest him on suspicion of kidnapping Vanderval without more direct evidence. I walked up to Harker. "Is there any way we can hold Mandel for questioning?" Harker shrugged. "We could question him on why he lied about that phone call. Other than that, there's no reason to hold him." "Do you think he had anything of value here?" "If he didn't, the thief must have been very disappointed." Harker thought for a second. "We could take him in to make a detailed statement on any possible theft. We could try to make sure he's not hiding anything." "No." I shook my head. "He's not under suspicion. His right against unwarranted searches would apply to what he says was or wasn't stolen." "Excuse me," the girlfriend called out from the doorway, one officer holding her by the arm. "Can I go now?" "Is she taking anything with her?" Harker asked the officer. The officer shook his head. Harker shrugged. "Let her go." "Think you can find anything else here?" I asked. "Doubt it. I'll take Mandel in anyway, make sure we don't miss anything." Comfort Inn Midnight With Mandel taken to the police station, I had an opportunity to get some rest in and think things over. It was obvious Mandel was involved with Vanderval. The question was, which Mandel? There may be a handful of Mandels wandering the streets, and perhaps only one or two of them might be in contact with the scientist. The other thing bothering me was Mulder. Seeing him again was a shock, but his reaction to seeing me was almost...cold. He was hesitant, evasive; it was like he didn't trust me anymore. Whoever kidnapped Mulder must have done something to him. Would he really believe I might be working against him somehow? I shook my head, refusing to consider that could ever happen. But still... I made it to my hotel room and shoved the door key into the knob. I started to turn the handle when the door suddenly flew open and a hand seized my arm. "What the?..." I almost shouted as I was hauled into the room. The person let go of me as the door slammed shut, but my body's momentum kept me going forward until I knocked against the bed. I turned, patting my side, reaching for my gun as I tried to see who it was. The room lights were off but the figure stood close to the window, the light from outside giving me a chance to see his or her shape. I finally gripped my gun and pulled it from the holster. "There is no time for that, agent Scully," the figure intoned in his deep voice. I recognized the voice as Mr.X's. Wonderful. "You had enough time to wait for me here, didn't you? A few more minutes isn't going to hurt." Mr.X hit the light switch. I blinked briefly when the room brightened but I kept my aim toward him. "Did you find what you were looking for at Mandel's home?" he asked. "Actually, I found more questions than answers. Might you be able to shed more light on the issue?" He scowled. "It is imperative that you locate Vanderval. You..." "How important is it? Just what do you want from him?" "I don't have to answer to you, agent Scully..." "Then can you tell me what Mulder might want from him?" I knew that would catch him off guard. "What?" "Mulder's alive, and he's here." Mr.X's expression suggested he was unprepared for this. "It's not what you think, Scully..." "Bull. Tell me what happened to Mulder or I swear..." "You'll shoot me? I should warn you everyone in this hotel will hear your shot." "Good. They'll also see me drag you off to the police so I can finally ID your ass." I kept a firm grip on my gun. He kept silent. "Mandel is a dead end right now. There's every possibility Mulder might be getting closer to finding Vanderval. Just who is Mulder working for?" Mr.X finally grunted. "The Village." "What does that mean?" "It means something far more serious and dangerous than you realize, agent Scully." "Is this Village working against our government? Is Mulder caught up in espionage?" "What you think of as `our government' doesn't even know the Village exists. But your friend with the smoking habit knows." I paused, realizing what that meant. "So Mulder's getting some revenge against CancerMan." "He thinks. But every hand is turned against him, agent Scully. Even mine. Do you want to help Mulder?" I nodded. "Then find Vanderval before he does." Mr.X turned to go. "If Mulder finds him first, there's nothing I can do to stop him from getting killed." "Wait!" He paused at the door. "As I said, there's no time for this. There's a warehouse on Pier 12. Go there." I lowered the gun as he closed the door. I took some time to think over what he said. It would make sense that Mulder would work against the Smoking Man, and that the secret services in the government would be hunting for him. But it still didn't explain why Mulder didn't trust me... To be continued... ===================================================================== ====== From: z004799b@bcfreenet.seflin.lib.fl.us (Paul Wartenberg) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: RESIGNATION 04: En Passant (4/?) Date: 12 Mar 1996 13:28:32 GMT Copyright: all copyrights are owned by other people. Any character from the X-Files belongs to Chris Carter & Co. Any character from the Prisoner belongs to Patrick McGoohan. Any other characters probably belong to other X-Philes in which case I'm in trouble anyway. Go figure. As I am very poor, please do not sue me. En Passant Story Four of RESIGNATION by. Paul Wartenberg PART IV Mulder I closed the door on Scully, leaving her in Mandel's apartment. I stood there in the hallway for a minute, wondering if she would come out to follow me. I didn't exactly leave her with any answers. She didn't come to the door. I realized as I slowly walked down the stairwell that Scully would be disappointed, no, pissed off at what I had done. I should have told her... ...but can I trust her? I remembered the photograph. I remembered the warnings Number Six gave about her. But can I trust Number Six to be right about Scully's involvement with Deep Throat and maybe even CancerMan? As I entered my hotel room, the phone started ringing. I slowly walked up to it, letting it ring about four times, cutting off the fifth ring by lifting the receiver. "You alone, Mulder?" It sounded like the pawn shop man. "Well, except for these five call girls I picked up on the way here...," I replied. "We have no time for jokes," he interrupted. "Boss wants you to report in here. Now." The Pawn Shop The pawn shop man led me to another part of the store, a small doorway near the back. It led to a cubicle with the three walls covered with monitors, starting with a large poster-sized screen to a handful of hand-sized ones. "This thing get the Playboy Channel?" I asked the pawn shop man as I took a seat in the small space. All 29 monitors in the cubicle quickly lit up with the image of Number Six. "This is no time for frivolity, Mulder." "Wow," I whispered. "I never heard anyone use `frivolity' in a sentence before." "Mulder!" Number Six suddenly flared up, then calmed down. "Please, close the door." I reached behind myself and secured the door. "Now. How would you rate your attempt to secure Mandel this evening?" Uh-oh. "I admit I had some difficulties..." "Mandel was just one man, Mulder. Shouldn't be too difficult." "I did have him for a second..." "I know." All 29 monitors suddenly flashed to a black and white vid recording. From the camera's angle, I realized this was from Rover's point of view. You could see the rooftop with three figures in the distance, the computer readings locating my tracer and its biorhythm status. Then the camera moved closer, scanners locking onto what the computer thought was the threat: Scully. "Damn," I whispered as I watched myself intervene in Rover's assault. "It's a good thing for you the security tracer deactivated Rover before your termination." "Before my..." I let that thought work its way through. "You mean it would have killed Scully?!" "This is no vacation, Mulder. You're investigating a possible threat to all humanity while going against the most lethal competition you'll ever know. Rover is programmed for the highest level of activation: hunt and kill. There will be no time to discern one target from another." I scowled in silence. "Mulder, I recognize the fact that you would still have feelings for her. And I hate repeating myself about who she really is. But think, Mulder. Haven't you realized yet why she's assigned to this? That she may be working on their side?" "I don't think CancerMan just handed this to her..." "Of course not. That was done indirectly through the chain of command. And she should certainly be unaware of their programming her subconscious." I sighed. "You may be right." Number Six nodded. "This will be a more difficult assignment now. I know you have no reason to trust me on this, but please, Mulder, I hope you will avoid her from now on." "All right." "Did you talk with her?" "Yes. I only told Scully that I was looking for Vanderval." "Did you mention the Village?" I thought about the answer for a second. "Yes." He nodded. "I expected that. Not to worry. Her supporters know about that already." "What about you calling Vanderval a threat? I thought he was just someone who could be exploited to your benefit." The monitors on the left wall suddenly flashed into different images. The most notable image was a news report on the discovery of ten charred remains. "Those ten bodies were dredged up this afternoon. Preliminary reports on the victims indicate all male, all roughly the same build. Coming as it is with this hunt for Vanderval here, we are assuming this is related somehow." I stared at the horrific images as the camera zoomed in on one body, an arm reaching upward, its fingers grasping at nothing. "Scully mentioned Vanderval was involved with cloning experiments." "Exactly." I turned to face Number Six's screen. "Why kill those ten? Can we be certain this is related in the first place?" "We are certain, Mulder. Check the fax machine to your right." I glanced over to a sleek black angular box. Paper started feeding through the far end. I grabbed the first page and glanced at it. It contained some pretty advanced bio-chemical computations. "I don't know how well you understand biology," stated Number Six, "but our people in the Village are confirming this is a preliminary attempt to develop an artificial virus." I scowled as I flipped through some of the papers. "Biological warfare." "Not in the way you expect. These computations were delivered via computer to various think tanks by our time midnight. Vanderval is making a statement that he's closer to this than we realized. We have reason to believe he's gone underground to complete his work and release this himself." I dropped the sheets to the floor. "Oh, my God." "Your orders have changed a bit, Mulder. You need to confirm first if Vanderval's developed his virus. If he has, make sure the virus is destroyed and then kill Vanderval. He's not worth the risk to bring in or leave for the others." I nodded. "Do you think Mandel is still connected to Vanderval?" "Did he provide anything?" "His apartment was already ransacked, and he burned what other papers he did hide." "That much is gone." Number Six scowled. "But he should still know where to look for Vanderval. You need to relocate him quick." "Anything else?" "Yes. Stay away from Scully. And stay away from Rover as well. Let it do its job." The screens went blank. I picked up some of the papers and in the flickering monitor lights I stared at the graphs. I wondered why Vanderval would reveal his work anyway; it made it simpler for other scientists to prepare for the real thing. I opened the door and went into the workroom, looking for the pawn shop man. "Hey. We need to get a trace back on Mandel's whereabouts." He stepped back into the room. "Chill, Mulder. Get back to that room. All the heavy gear is there." He took the seat in the cubicle and pulled out a keyboard from underneath the front counter. The main screen lit up as a computer display. "Okay. Where first?" I leaned against the doorway. "If he's stupid, he may have made a lot of bank withdrawals lately, especially tonight. See if you can locate geographically all possible withdrawals sites." He typed in a few quick commands. The monitor switched to a grid map of Chicago, then recolored various points. The screen zoomed in on one section of town. Only three sites were lit up in that area. "That's where he made the most withdrawals," the pawn shop man shrugged. I looked closely at the number of withdrawals made at those sites. One had about ten of them, but none of them in the past three days. "What about any places near his home?" The screen adjusted back to the main map. The closest withdrawal point to his apartment did business about two weeks ago. Damn. "I take it this guy's not stupid," the pawn shop man remarked. "Apparently not." I scratched at my beard. What else could Mandel be doing that we could trace?... "What about his college research?" I wondered aloud. The pawn shop man shook his head. "Would you think the college downloads project proposals? Maybe any of dissertations or published works..." "Not like that. His research wouldn't indicate where he worked. But he could have billed the school for certain field work or travel expenses, they do that sometimes..." "Requisition forms? That should be easy." He typed in a few commands, sending the computer screen into a tizzy. "Tell me," I asked him. "Do you know what you're doing?" "Doesn't matter. This gear's got the hardware to handle encryption. Just type in a preset command and let it run. We can break into a lot of the major systems with this." I arched an eyebrow. "Including the Pentagon's?" "Not really. There's nothing there, actually." "What?" "Do you think they'd hide all the good stuff in the public places, man?" he shrugged. "It's too tempting to break into there. Like that Poe story, Purloined Letter. Hide it where they won't look." "How do you know that?" He scowled for a second. "All right. So I looked." The computer beeped and the screen lit up with the university's logo. "Here we go," he said. He typed in some more commands, and the computer moved the financial records. "We'll search for anything with Mandel's name to it." The computer took a second, then a list scrolled down the screen. I glanced at each record source. "Here," I tapped the screen on one number relating to the science department. "Check this one." It was a requisition form for marine biology equipment. Lots of it. The Destination was given as Lake Michigan, near North Chicago. A place called Nurregan's. "Anything up that way?" "It's a small place, a few warehouses mostly." "We'll need to check the other forms." I tapped the next one down with similar codes. The record came up as travel expenses, totalling five trips to the same area. All within the past month. "Could be nothing," the pawn shop man said. "Could be doing his research." "Anything he does now is suspect," I replied. "I'll head up there, see what's what." "Did you place any scanners at Mandel's place?" he asked. "Just one, didn't have time for the other." "Let me just check on that," he said, sending a few commands through to the surveillance strip. The monitor quickly changed over to vid mode. We quickly saw two very large faces of two very curious police officers. "Oops," I whispered. "Wonderful," the pawn shop man snarled in my direction. "Now I gotta go get it." North Chicago It took little time to get here, usually since traffic at night is nonexistent. I found the road heading to the shoreline and looked for anything with the name Nurregan. I spotted it on a warehouse sign not too far from the shore. I followed the road until I got to a set of buildings, to all appearances deserted. Only one street light was in the area, too far away from the buildings themselves. I pulled the car over away from the street light and away from the buildings. If anyone was here I wanted to go in unseen. I watched my steps carefully, hoping I wasn't making too much noise. When I got to the closest building, that hope worked out for me since I heard someone else inside. I paused at a side door into the loading dock, knowing I could be aiming into a darkened room from an obvious point. From the noises coming from the other side of the door, the person wasn't too far away. The voice, occasionally cursing, sounded busy and sounded a lot like Mandel. I took a deep breath, swung the door open and knelt in the doorway. "Freeze! I've got you covered, Mandel." When I saw the other person near a pile of scrap and junk wearing black shoes, black pants, black trenchcoat and an overall MIB demeanor, I realized I made a slight mistake. I confirmed that realization when a bullet ricocheted off the doorway on my left, coming from an different angle. Which meant there was someone else here. Someone armed. I jumped away from the doorway and closed it hard. Thinking quickly, I headed toward the other side of the next building, hoping to get further into the darkness. I kept close to the building, not running too hard, focusing on what I could hear ahead of me in the night. I could hear from behind the scramble and pounding of runners. I ducked between the second and third buildings, finding another loading dock area. I quickly looked for a door, and finding one hurried to it. I found the door unlocked and quickly shoved it open and closed it tight after I got inside. I glanced about quickly, getting my eyes adjusted to the darkness. I spotted a stairwell and headed for it. But as I got closer I noticed it was metal: if they got too close they would hear me. I glanced about, looking for other places to hide. I couldn't see much, so I headed for the other side of the room. Then I heard the door opening. I had no choice but to dive under the stairwell. I shoved my gun back into its holster, waiting to see what happens. I stared between the metal steps as the door opened and one of the men stepped into the room. One arm was up to his shoulder, meaning he was prepared. He moved quickly into the room, a lot faster than he should have. I don't think he was used to the room yet. I noticed his partner wasn't following behind him. He might be coming in the other way. I'd have to take care of this one now. He got close to the stairwell and glanced up, possibly thinking that was where I went. That was my chance. I swung out from underneath the stairs. I nailed him in the upper body, aiming for the gun. I felt the metal against my fist, and I quickly moved to grab at it. We struggled in close quarters over his gun, his legs kicking out against mine. I kept one hand on that arm and swung my elbow to his head and upper body, looking to land a hard hit. I soon nailed him hard enough in his face, and his grip on the gun loosened. The metal scraped against the ground as it slid away. I focused swiftly on beating the crap out of this guy. I blocked one of his punches and landed one of mine right on his chin. I then swung some body blows and threw him against the wall. He took a second to gather his strength, which gave me the time to seize him by the throat and lift him, pushing him back harder into the wall. "All right," I snarled. "I don't have much time here. Tell me NOW what you were doing here." He coughed but said nothing. I pulled my gun out and shoved it against his nose. "Talk. NOW!" There was the sound of gunfire and the man's chest exploded, blood splattering onto my arms. I pulled away from him, knowing it was too late for him, worried it was too late for myself. I turned, dropping to my knees and staring into the darkness of the warehouse. I heard footsteps, but waited until I could see. As the man got closer I could see him better. One arm was still outstretched, aiming in my direction. He got closer, not taking another shot, waiting for his own moment. I recognized him. I stood, prepared to face once again this old benefactor who I have every reason to believe was now against me. Mr.X took another step closer, gun still raised. "You know, Mulder, I have every right to shoot you now." To be continued... ===================================================================== ====== Date: Wed, 20 Mar 1996 13:36:24 -0500 (EST) From: Paul Wartenberg Subject: Resignation 04:En Passant (5/?) Copyright: all copyrights are owned by other people. Any character from the X-Files belongs to Chris Carter & Co. Any other characters probably belong to other X-Philes in which case I'm in trouble anyway. Go figure. As I am very poor, please do not sue me. En Passant Story Four of RESIGNATION by. Paul Wartenberg PART V Scully I arrived at the police station still tired, due to the restless sleep I got last night. I knew what kept me up, finding and then losing Mulder, and that godawful confrontation with Mr.X where you know he has the answers but... Next time I see him, I'll just shoot him before he annoys me further. I found Harker's partner, Ronnson, waiting at their desks. "Morning. Looks like you had some paperwork to finish up on as well." I tossed my briefcase next to Harker's chair. "What's the word on Mandel?" "Well, we found a few things after you left," he replied, tossing a folder into my hands and reaching for some photos. "One of the blues spotted a hiding spot that wasn't ransacked. It contained an unlicensed weapon, with his prints to boot." "Hmm," I muttered while flipping through the papers. "Mandel, you naughty boy." "We might have some problems holding him to it if he gets a good lawyer, but for now it's a good excuse to keep him here like you wanted." Ronnson shrugged. "We also checked the roof since we found the fire exit was getting a lot of use." "Oh?" I didn't tell them about the roof. It would have been...too confusing. "Somebody burned something up there. Mandel isn't talking, though." I closed the folder. "What's with the photos?" "Oh, just parts of the crime scene. Mostly the spots that were hit. There's a lot of them which makes us wonder. But it wasn't a smash-up job; all the hiding places were clean of any kind of evidence." "They took their time, kept themselves tidy," I replied. "Was the gun's hiding spot checked for prints?" "What? Yeah, sure. Nothing there." I shook my head. "Mandel wouldn't clean up his own hiding spot, would he?" Ronnson took a second to realize what that meant. "Aw, DAMN!" he cursed, slamming the photos to his desk. "Don't worry," I replied. "Given the amount of time paperwork gets through any office, I have enough time left to interview for myself. Give me two hours tops and then you can let him go." The interrogation room had seen better days. The table was relatively new and well-polished, but that's only because the old one was in pieces over in the corner. Mandel sat facing the one way mirror while I took the tact of sitting sideways to it. He wore no handcuffs, but kept his arms under the table. "Have you seen a lawyer yet?" Mandel glared at me from the corner of his eyes, keeping his face to the mirror. "You probably know about the charges against you, then." He grunted in disagreement. "It's interesting about how we can use this time we have you to clear up a few points," I disclosed. "Let's start with what you've done with William Vanderval." This got a response from him. "That's is an outright scam and you know it." "Probably kidnapped him using that unmarked gun of yours, we imagine." "That's not my gun..." "Those were your prints on it, in your apartment." Mandel went silent again. "You may have a right not to answer, but we have a right to draw our conclusions. As of now, you're the only suspect." "Which probably means you're grasping at straws," he snarled back. "Are you suggesting there are others who would want to harm him?" No answer. "We can accept the fact someone is involved with this, and it would explain who broke into your apartment, but we need some help from you on this." He leaned toward me. "As I said before, I don't know who broke into my place. That's why they pay your salaries, so you would find out for me." I should have expected this. I guess I need to add some more muscle to my arguments. I went to the door leading to the observation room and opened it enough to poke my head through. I spotted Harker, Ronnson, another detective and a woman with a briefcase and a legal demeanor. "Guys, can you leave us for a second?" Harker nodded to the other officer and lawyer. The lawyer glanced at me. "This is highly irregular. You know anything he tells you can get thrown out of any court by a first-year student." "Doesn't matter. I just want to clear a few things." Harker waved his hand to the other door leading to the hall. He was the last one to the door, and he turned to face me. "You need to chain him down?" "I'll be fine." He nodded and closed the door behind him. I returned to Mandel, this time standing across the table from him. "It's you and me now, Mandel." "Still won't help you. I'm not talking." "We figured out that gun wasn't yours. We'll have to let you go soon but I still need to know something." He started to stand. "If you know it ain't mine, I'll leave now. So forget..." I quickly grabbed him and shoved him back to his chair. He lifted an arm toward me but I blocked it and slammed a fist into his cheek. "You'll stay right here! You have answers and I want them, dammit!" He sat there and rubbed his face. "This is brutality." "I don't care. That scientist is important to a lot of people, some of whom are more desperate than I am. And I don't have time for niceties." He scowled at me. "According to my...sources, Vanderval got in touch with someone named David Mandel. You." "But I haven't heard from him in years!..." "Unless there was another you." His face turned pale. "But that's crazy!..." "Not unless that was you running from the apartment and jumping off the rooftop last night." Mandel's eyes opened wide with shock. "That's why I asked the cops to step away for a second. I know how crazy it sounds, but I've seen it, more often than even you can realize. You're a clone, aren't you?" Mandel turned away, unwilling to let me see his eyes. "That's...that's impossible. They haven't developed the technology for it and you know it." "Do you know about Camp Styles, David?" He didn't answer. "Vanderval worked there, especially during the start up of experiments on a Nathan family. Perhaps you've heard of them." His voice was barely a whisper. "I saw the file on that." There. "Then you know I'm not making this up." "Look," he finally faced me, fear in his stare. "I helped some, okay? They swore me to secrecy and even then I knew noone could buy it. But I didn't do anything illegal, I swear, nobody was hurt..." "Are you a clone?" "Jesus, no!" "What about Vanderval? Why did he get in touch with you all this time?" He shook his head. "I didn't do anything. I've never seen him." "But why did he contact you?" "I never got the message, okay? I don't who he called but it wasn't me. Ask him when you find him, all right?" "And your apartment. Who do you think ransacked it?" He took a second to think, then shrugged. "Nobody. I swear, I had nothing to hide." I stood and headed for the door. "I can't buy that, Mandel. Too many people think you're the only link to Vanderval. Either you're lying or a huge blunder just went down. Either way, there's not much that can protect you from Vanderval's pursuers. Especially not me. Goodbye." I hoped the tough cop routine might rattle him, especially since he should know how dangerous this all is for him now. But he said nothing as I got to the door. I paused, waiting for him to crack and ask for protection. Then I remembered what Mr.X mentioned last night. Without turning, I asked, "One more thing. What about Pier 12?" There was a second of silence. Mandel finally answered, his voice echoing confusion. "Never heard of it. I've never been to any pier. I did some research up the road near Waukegan, but that's nowhere near water." I shook my head. Something was wrong here. I opened the door and left the room. I was stunned to see Harker back in the observation room standing near the mirror, keeping his eyes fixed on Mandel. "So, you know about Vanderval's experiments." I closed the door and waited for a second, gathering my thoughts. Harker must have witnessed everything Mandel and I... And he already knew about the cloning experiments. This was bad. He turned to face me. "Don't panic. You probably knew there would be others looking for him." "Who are you working for?" I whispered. "For the city of Chicago," he chuckled. "I can't say otherwise." "Well, then, there's nothing I can say. Certainly not to you." I turned to leave. "What choice do you have now?" he asked. "You need the department's help, don't you?" I stopped. "I can request other officers." "Not with your track record of poor teamwork. Even with the local authorities. That'll look bad on your evaluation." I turned to face him. "At least you've gotten your information. Your bosses don't need to kill Mandel." He turned away, staring through the mirror. "Not to worry. Mandel doesn't have anything we don't already know. He was just the perfect thing to flush Mulder out into the open." I stood there in shock. Mulder?... "We knew who was coming for this," he added. "Mulder's people took the bait and we'll get him soon enough. Oh, and we knew about Pier 12 to begin with. You won't find anything there." He almost smiled. "Anything else?" I whispered. "Just one more thing," Harker finally smiled. "Good luck finding Vanderval. We're all counting on you." I rushed to the door and hurried out to the hallway, slamming it shut as I left. I thought of running to the nearest phone or car, but I didn't know what good that would do. Oh, God, I thought, they know Mulder's here... Chicago Pier 12 The wind blew cold and hard across the surface of the lake, large waves beating against the concrete walls and metal chains. The wind also rattled at the half-opened metal doors of the deserted warehouse. I know Harker said I would find nothing here, but despite the best efforts of any clean-ups, if one looks closely enough there will be clues found. If a sizeable operation occurred at Pier 12, then there will be signs of it. But what was I looking for? I thought that over as I slowly walked into the cavernous building. Even as I saw the place barren and decayed, I realized with dread that this was the last lead I had in this case. After this, I go home with no trophies and no answers. And I leaveMulder to whatever fate Harker's superiors have in store. I went to one of the cubicles in the near corner, the old office space. Of the glass that remained in the windows, all had been shattered. I glanced into the room, looking for any sign of life within the past ten years. The room itself was empty, but something about the walls... I went into the room and moved closer to one of the gaping holes near the floor. It looked as if it was the electrical plug, except that the wires had been shredded into tatters. But the hole itself seemed to have been knocked larger. It looked recent, too. I examined the floor, noticing a few deep scrapes. I checked other parts of the floor, and spotted some nice grooves between the door and another ravaged wall plug. There was heavy equipment in here. I checked around every wall plug in the warehouse. There was one other spot on the far end where I spotted long grooves leading toward the doorway. The wall also seemed to have numerous drilled holes about nine feet up, suggesting a make shift roof or overhead system. Near that wall plug I also spotted a lot of grainy shards of glass. I traced the grooves back to the door, and walked outside to try and see how far they went. The hard concrete driveway, though, showed few signs of scraping. What traces I could find also pointed toward the water. Damn. There was a sudden screech of tires, and I glanced up in time to see a set of headlights heading for me real fast. I was running before I even heard the start of gunfire. With the sudden whistling of bullets, I had no choice. Hyperthermia was a better option than flesh wounds. I turned for the edge of the pier and dove into Lake Michigan. The water was a lot cleaner than I thought it would be. I kicked myself around and swam back toward the pier. I noticed from this angle that the pier's ledge had some space between the concrete and the water. I drifted to the surface, keeping myself from splashing too loudly. There was little room for air, forcing myself to tilt my head back. In the shadows, the water was getting noticeably cold. Above me, car tires screeched to a halt. I waited for some time, wondering what I could do next. "Dammit, where is she?" an older voice suddenly snarled. "I'm not an expert, but I'm sure I hit her," a familiar voice replied. "I don't think so," the other one answered. "Go get her." "Yeeaagghh!" the second man yelled as I watched him slam into the water. I shrugged to myself and slid back under the surface. It was better than waiting for him to come to me. In the well lit-waters I watched him kick back up to the surface, perhaps to yell at his partner. I swam closer, getting underneath his legs before grabbing them and dragging him under. The man quickly rebounded from my assault and kicked himself loose from my grip. One of those blows got me in the side of my stomach. I had no choice but to rise for air. I knew the first man would be waiting, so I kicked hard and pushed myself swiftly to the surface. I splashed into the air, gasping for breath, hoping the momentum upward would help me dive back into the water before I made myself an easy target. I glanced toward the pier. I locked eyes with the first man, and in an instant recognized the balding head and bland features. It was Vanderval. I dove back in, kicking toward the pier's underside. I knew the second man was in the lake near me, so I turned myself about, glaring through the water. I saw him, keeping his head above water and turned toward the pier. I swam away from him this time, keeping my distance. Even though I was underwater, I could hear the garbled sounds of an argument. I watched as both arms went up in the air. I wondered for a second what he was about to do when his entire body shook. The waters about him started to become murky, and he shook again, this time quite violently. His body was suddenly surrounded by a dark cloud of blood. I quickly turned back toward the pier and swam hard to hide underneath the concrete. I gasped again for air at the surface, and saw the body bob in the shallow waves toward me. I listened for any sign of Vanderval, if he was even there above me. I looked at the lake's surface, checking to see any sign of a shadow, but the angle of the sun was off. Damn. The body drifted closer to me. I reached for it without losing my cover, and I glanced closely at the man's features. The empty stare he gave back to me meant he was already dead. I easily recognized the face of a man I watched jump from a building, and knew the one I saw in jail wouldn't have gotten here so quickly. I let go of Mandel's body, letting the waves push the body against the surf wall. I watched it slide further away from me as the tide took it toward...of course... I saw the top half of a lattice rise over the water's surface. This must be part of the pier's sewer system. I swam over to the grating, moving past the corpse, and shook at the metal. The bars held, but I noticed my hands turning red from rust. I felt around the grating's edges, seeking a sign of weakness in the metal. I ducked under the surface to feel the bottom rim and found it, pulling the screen back about an inch. I kept pulling, bringing my hands up to loosen the sides, getting a few more inches my way. I then got back to the surface, and with some hard tugs, ripped the metal away from the wall with a loud screech. The grating sank fast into the deep. I reached over for Mandel's body, which had floated closer to me, and pulled it into the drainage pipe. I needed evidence. As I began to crawl into the hole, I heard a splash from behind. I glanced back and saw nothing, but Vanderval must have jumped in. I moved quickly and pushed Mandel forward. The pipe's size made it possible to crawl in a crouched position, but the lake's tide was coming in. The water reached up to my shoulders, making it hard to catch my breath. It was dark, but I had no room to handle my pocket light. At least the sounds of the water beating against the pipe walls gave me some sense of where I was going. There was a ricochet sound close behind me. Vanderval must be doing his best to aim. I ducked under the waves and kept pushing the corpse. There was a sudden brightness overhead. I glanced up to see a sewer pipe leading to the pier's surface. I had to do this quickly. I wrapped one arm under Mandel's lifeless form and reached upward with the other arm. Grabbing onto a handlebar, I struggled to lift myself into the duct. It didn't work, and I slipped back into the water. I cursed my luck and let go of Mandel. I grabbed my trenchcoat belt and pulled it off. I wrapped it underneath the body's armpits. I took the belt off from my slacks (thank God I wear pants) and looped it around the trenchcoat belt. Holding on to one end of the belt, I climbed into the duct and secured my footing before trying to lift Mandel up behind me. I stayed in place as I drew the belt upward by inches. I had to hurry, Vanderval was getting closer by the second. I timed it perfectly, letting go of the belt and quickly grabbing at Mandel. The wrenching movement downward to catch the body almost made me lose my grip, but I held on. I moved upward, stepping first and then reaching upward with my free arm. I would be lying if I said it was easy lugging a soaked corpse behind me, but at least it kept Vanderval from a clear shot. I reached the lid and lifted myself up the steps to where I could position my shoulders to the metal cover. I hefted it upward and away from me, sliding it across the concrete. I placed my free hand against the lid's side, both to keep my balance and to slowly shove it completely out of the way. My hand soon felt the side of the opening, and I crawled out. I pulled Mandel's body through the opening and tossed it to one side. I grabbed the metal lid with both hands and quickly dropped it into place. It gave me a few seconds to consider my options. I noticed I was between warehouse buildings. There were a few things of interest in this alleyway, especially a few trashcans. What impressed me was a rusting metal cabinet near a doorway. I ran over and tipped it on its side. I slid it across the pavement toward the sewer lid, noting it had some weight but perhaps not enough. I stopped sliding it just inches from the hole. With some effort, I tipped it back into an upright position right over the lid. It may not be heavy, but in that position all of its weight was on it. I walked over to Mandel's body and dragged it to one side of the building. A sudden gust of wind blew through the narrow corridor and I shivered: I needed to warm up soon. Perhaps a good hot shower... The rusted cabinet suddenly rattled. Vanderval was doing his best to knock it out of the way. On his second effort he nearly lifted the lid out of position. I walked over and waited for the next moment. When the lid quickly shot up I planted my foot right on the edge, hoping to knock some pain into his shoulders. It worked. The lid quickly plopped back into place and I heard through the metal the sounds of someone losing his grip on the steps. The "Aaaaaaaaaa..." all the way down the pipe had an unusually lyrical quality to it. I returned my attention to Mandel's body, considering where to hide it in my car, when I noticed the decomposition. I had seen this once before, when Mulder's sister had been pulled from cold waters. Mandel was...it was more than falling to pieces, but an even melting of the surface, pale skin giving way to a sickly green... No, scratch that. Mandel's body wasn't turning green like the other clones. The melted flesh became a more familiar red of human blood. This might explain why the one at Mandel's apartment didn't leave a green mush in its death place. I also noticed the decomposing body was eating through the clothing, including my belts. I have to remember not to use any of my possessions around any bodies on this assignment. Dammit, Vanderval, I thought. What the hell were you up to? To be continued...