[all-xf] NEW: "The Beginner's Guide to Tightrope Walking" (2/2)
Kel /Ckelll
NEW: "The Beginner's Guide to Tightrope Walking" (2/2)
"The Beginner's Guide to Tightrope Walking"
Part 2 of 2
by Kel
ckelll@hotmail.com
Keywords, disclaimer with part 1
Mulder was in and out of the office over the next few days. I don't know if he was dodging me or if he was just busy. One evening I picked up a six-pack of Molson and headed over to Skinner's.
He was using the walker this time, and leaning on it hard.
"Bad day," he explained, grimacing. He took his time getting himself back into his chair, and when he was finally seated he unfastened his prostheses and let them drop to the floor.
"Can I get you anything? Call anyone?" I asked.
"No. Just a bad day," he said.
"Maybe you shouldn't," I said, showing him the six-pack.
"Few sips won't hurt."
I opened a beer and handed it to him. He took a swallow and set it down on the table.
"How's life up on the tightrope?" he asked.
"Maybe you can help me out with that," I said.
Before he answered, he looked down to where his legs ended in stumps. It was a quick glance, and he looked up as soon as he realized he was doing it.
"What can I do for you?" he asked.
"Whatever Mulder's doing to fight the aliens, he's doing it on his own. If more of us could get together, at least we'd have a chance. We can go on-line, hook up with other people who believe. We can spread the word."
"Were you in the service?" he asked.
"MP."
"Ever seen combat? Because you're looking at it the wrong way. They're stronger than us by a factor you can't imagine. They have abilities we don't understand. Our only real hope is that they get tired of us."
"So, sabotage? Guerrilla tactics?"
"Think about this, Luskin." He folded up the walker and set it down to lean against his chair. "You've got a wife and a family. You better think long and hard before you decide to do anything that will make you stand out."
"What if I'm willing to take the risk?" I asked, even though I didn't know if I was willing or not. For the first time I considered that torturing Mulder and letting him go might have been their idea of a warning.
"Then do it on your own. Don't turn to the internet because that's one place where they blend among us with total ease."
Skinner picked up his bottle and picked at the label. I opened a Sam for myself. "They're not invincible," I said. "I saw Mulder kill one."
"What kind?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"What kind? Black oil? Big claws? Shapeshifter?"
"I don't know what you're talking about. No claws, no oil, and no shapeshifting either. He stuck a pick in its neck and it died."
"Green stuff came out?" he asked.
"Yeah, green poison gas."
Skinner nodded. "That was a shapeshifter. Some of them are on our side. Some have moral objections to interfering with us, and many more think it's not worth the expense. A few just think we're cool. They come here on assignment and *go native.*"
Mulder had compared himself to an Aztec trying to warn Montezuma about the Conquistadors. I was starting to feel like an Aztec dropped off in the middle of the Senate cafeteria, trying to make sense of the cliques and coalitions.
"That's hard to believe."
"Some of the aliens are better friends to us than some of the humans," he continued. "The last time humans banded together to face the threat, they sold us out."
==============
Skinner was telling me to give Mulder room to work, and my wife was saying it was time to drive up to New York and see Mark's play. We went.
Holy cannoli but he was good. The play was so-so, sort of a semi-comedy about a mob boss. Think *Guys & Dolls* meets *Scarface.* Mark, though, was phenomenal. He played the second-in-command to the main detective. He didn't have any solo numbers, but in one of the songs he had a line to himself. Also, in scenes with just the crime family, he was one of the background mutts. I knew he had a great voice, but I never realized he could dance. It was weird to see his name on the Playbill, because he goes by Mark Laskin. Sounds better than Luskin, right? It took me a second to remember it wasn't a typo.
We spent a few days, did some tourist stuff, revisited some favorite places. Roz said there was no point in even thinking about how much we were spending, and I agreed with her. We took Mark out to dinner a couple of times, and once we had lunch with him and his roommate.
Driving home, I felt pretty good. You don't like to see your kid pick a career with so many ups and downs. A million broken hearts and all that. But I could see that right now he was doing okay. Doing great.
"We should fly out and visit Jenny," my wife said.
"We should," I agreed. "Maybe fly her to New York so she can see the play."
"I'd like to take Mom."
Bringing her mother home for Passover every year is more work than the cooking.
"Her hearing's gotten so bad," I reminded her. "Maybe Mark could get someone to tape him."
"It's a short flight."
"You know, Marthe was saying she wanted to see it. . ." What would it take for me to send my office manager in my place?
"We'll wait till it's warmer," she said. "Jerry, what did you think of Lawrence?"
Lawrence was the roommate.
"He seemed nice," I said.
"I like him too."
Roz was beat, so instead of stopping at the diner we went straight home. Then I went out for coffee and a doughnut.
Couple of doughnuts couldn't add much damage after four days of fabulous dining. No point in brewing a whole pot of coffee just for me. That explains the coffee and the doughnut. I have no explanation for why I decided to stop in at my office.
Mark's big number was about forgotten cops, how everyone remembers the bad guys' names, but not the cops who brought them down. I was whistling the tune as I opened the door. The reception area was dark, but light was coming from the hallway. I stopped whistling. I hadn't seen any cars out front, but I hadn't checked in back. I drew my weapon as I went to investigate.
And yeah, I'd brought my piece to New York. I feel safer if I'm packing.
Mulder stepped out of his office and stood there blocking the doorway.
"What's up?" I asked.
"My client doesn't want to be seen here," he said. "I promised him privacy."
I gave him a look to ask him what was up. If he couldn't talk at least he could give me some signal.
"I'll explain later. Go home," he said.
It wasn't so much that I didn't believe him as I didn't care. If Mulder was telling the truth all we'd lose was a customer. I pushed past him into the room.
"Jerry! Now this is a treat."
It was Barry, the dart-playing bowler from Applebee's. Only there was something off about him, something I hadn't noticed the first time.
"Good to see you, man. Are you here on business?" I asked.
"Yes, unfortunately. I wish I had time to buy you a drink."
"Business, Jerry. If you'll excuse us," Mulder said pointedly.
I holstered my gun, but I left the strap open.
"Might as well stay, now that I've seen him," I said, flashing a nice, easy smile in Barry's direction.
"I'm sure Mulder can handle this on his own," Barry said.
He was a big, genial man, the kind of guy who would help you put in a deck or lend you his truck. He looked nothing like Gulliver the travel agent or the dead VP from the construction firm, but somehow he seemed the same. I could only think of one reason for that.
"Where are you from, Barry?" I asked. "I don't think you ever told us."
"He knows," Barry said to Mulder.
"He knows nothing," Mulder insisted. "Jerry, I'm begging you, don't mess this up for me. Just go home."
"What would you say if I told you I was from another planet?" Barry asked.
"Wow," I said. "Now that's what I call a tourist."
Apparently that wasn't the right answer.
"Sorry, boys, but playtime's over. Put your weapons on the table."
"Come on, Barry, just a friendly conversation. And Jerry's gonna go now," Mulder said.
I could say that Barry moved fast for a big man, but he moved faster than any man. I thought he was going to go for my gun, but he didn't go for me at all. He went for Mulder. One hand on his arm, and then the sharp crack of broken bone.
"Shit!" Mulder's voice was ragged and he doubled forward clutching his arm against his chest. "Why'd you do that?"
"You are dangerously unpredictable, and your friend may prove a distraction," Barry said. "Put your weapon on the table if you want to continue this conversation."
Mulder made the effort, but he couldn't get to his piece left-handed.
"Give it to him," he said, twisting toward me as he pulled back his jacket to expose the shoulder holster. "Give him yours too."
I stared at Mulder, waiting for some sign of alarm. His bowling buddy from another planet had just snapped his arm like it was a quick alternative to handcuffs.
"Guns don't work on him anyway," Mulder added. His face was tight with pain, but I didn't see fear. Speechless, I laid down Mulder's gun and then mine.
"Surrender your weapon, Mulder. That's not a suggestion," Barry said.
"You have it." Mulder jerked his head to indicate our guns.
"I'm beginning to understand why everyone finds you so irritating. Would you really prefer for me to break more bones before I disarm you myself?"
Mulder looked annoyed as he groped awkwardly in his pocket, but when Barry reached forward to help him, he turned away. Finally he produced his second weapon, that shiny silver stiletto with the spring-loaded blade.
"I should break your neck just for fun," Barry said.
"What's wrong with you?" Mulder asked. "Are you on the rag or something?"
"I've been summoned."
"Summoned. And all this time you've insisted that you don't work for them."
"I don't work for any government or any faction. I am merely an observer."
"Some observer. You broke his arm," I said. That drew his attention.
"I can't tell you how much I've enjoyed your company. You're not as urban or urbane as your friend here, but your middle-brow wisdom is simply a joy."
"Barry's just a big old fanboy when it comes to humans," Mulder explained.
"The wounded wise-cracking hero used to be one of my favorites, until the novelty wore off."
"His fuckin' planet decides to get the hell off our fuckin' planet, and he's taking it out on me," Mulder said.
"Not quite. My *fuckin' planet* is calling home the civilians, because your *fuckin' planet* is no longer approved for casual visitors."
"We're a travel destination?" I asked.
"What other planet has Elvis Costello and banana cream pie?" Mulder asked.
"Or Whitney Houston, before you people ruined her," Barry said. "But where are my manners? Please, gentlemen, have a seat and make yourselves comfortable."
We did what he wanted, and he stood facing us, his back to the door.
"I'd be a lot more comfortable if you would unbreak my arm," Mulder said.
"I thought you opposed extraplanetary interference."
"Hurts like a bitch," Mulder said.
"That's the core of a raging argument in some circles. Is it morally acceptable to abandon this little world after so many years of manipulation?"
"They used us as their laboratory. They gave us diseases," Mulder explained to me.
"Mistakes were made. If it were possible to return you to your pristine state, I'm sure we would do it," Barry said.
"That's a piss-poor apology," Mulder said.
"I asked him to be quiet and let me use my influence. In a few years they might forget about you entirely. Is that unreasonable?" Barry aimed the question at me.
"He's not good at keeping quiet," I said.
"Scully has a fucking microchip in her neck. They made her walk into a fire. They can read her thoughts. They can force her to hurt herself, or our son," Mulder said.
"The political picture has shifted entirely. Nobody with any authority wants to do that," Barry said.
"Humor him," I said to Barry. "Just take the chip out and he'll lay low."
"If he was serious he could take it out himself. Set her free, since it means so much to him."
"But she would die," I said.
"She will die anyway. What does she have left? Forty years? Fifty?"
"Barry, you could do this for me. You're leaving anyway, and I'll wait until you're gone. Just tell me how to do it," Mulder said.
Barry shook his head. "It can't be done. Not safely."
"It can," Mulder insisted.
Even Barry could hear the desperation in Mulder's voice. "Only in theory," he said gently.
"But there's a device for it. Something that locks into the tumor seed so it can be removed," Mulder said.
"Tumor seed?" I asked. My wife beat breast cancer fifteen years ago. I lost a nephew to Hodgkin's. "What? You guys invented cancer?"
"Look how far *you guys* have come toward a cure," Barry said.
"Do the right thing, Barry. Do it because it's right," Mulder pleaded.
"You've become intolerable, Mulder, in a very literal sense, but for the sake of our friendship, I will fix your arm," Barry said quietly.
That's what he did. I couldn't see how he did it, because he was standing between us, towering over Mulder even as he lowered himself down to chair level. I think he really did feel some friendship for Mulder, but as he'd told us up front, this was business.
"Better?" Barry asked.
"Yeah, thanks," Mulder said. He flexed his arm a couple of times and seemed satisfied. "Barry, I'm so close. I've got the device. I just need someone to operate it."
"I've really enjoyed knowing you, Mulder. You're an archetype, but also an original," Barry said.
"Give me a name then. Tell me someone else who can help."
"I thought you learned of someone. I thought you had a source who would help you."
"He stopped calling. Did you people take him?" Mulder asked.
Barry was tall and muscular, and I didn't like the way he was standing over Mulder. "*You people.*" He sighed. "We're many people, just as you are."
"Hey, can you say something in your language? What do you think of earth women?" I asked. "Do you have spaceships?" I couldn't draw his attention.
"I'll miss you, Mulder," he said. "I'll never think about Earth without remembering you."
"Don't go all maudlin on me."
"A small crew of scientists will remain. I'll do what I can to see that Scully isn't bothered."
"Thanks." Mulder sounded surprised. He also sounded clueless.
Barry leaned closer to him. "This will be painless, and as quick as I can make it."
For once in my life, I was quicker.
I'd never killed anyone before, never stabbed anyone, and I think my hand shook as I gripped the spring-loaded stiletto. I'd seen Mulder use one, but I'd been at the wrong angle. I didn't know what I was doing and I didn't know if I could do it.
I could. I pressed the point against the back of his neck and popped the switch. Barry grunted once before he dropped, and I had to take a hop backward so he didn't knock me over.
Mulder looked at me in astonishment. "How?" he asked.
"Ice pick," I managed to answer, even as Barry corroded on the floor and wisps of gas hissed out from the puncture. "We gotta go," I said, because I wanted to be out of there before he burst into flames. As I reached down to pull out my stiletto Mulder said, "No, leave it," but my hand was faster than my brain and it kept going. The blade left the hole, and the leak of green gas went from a trickle to a gush.
"Fuck," said Mulder. We grabbed our guns and ran.
=============
We met up at an all-night coffee shop. Old habits die hard, and both of us jockeyed for the seat facing the door. I knew Mulder was off his game when I won. I fed some quarters into the jukebox, another old habit. I had so many questions I didn't know where to start.
"You make a lousy Scully," Mulder said.
"She lets you watch the door?" I asked.
He smiled. "She had no field experience when she was assigned to me. She didn't know about watching the door until she read it in a crime novel."
"No experience at all?" I asked. A new agent should start out in a large division, at least for a couple of months. The X-Files was not a normal choice for a first assignment.
"I was a crummy mentor." He peeled the wrapper of his straw and twisted it into a string. "I fell in love with her."
"But how could you work like that?" I asked. It's one thing for two forensic accountants to snuggle up after they analyze the books. But two field agents, where one might have to send the other into danger?
"The psychological term is *suppression.* I refused to think about it and I kept my distance."
"Obviously that didn't last."
He flattened the straw and rolled it into a spiral. "When there's one person who comes through for you and trusts you to come through for them, and you get to where you take the trust for granted, and then you find out there's more to them . . ." He shrugged. "You know how it is with a partner."
I spread some marmalade on my English muffin. "Even on stake-outs where Gilligan wore his blond wig, I was never tempted," I said.
"But even Gilligan, if they did something to him you'd want to get them back. And what they did to Scully. . ." He unwound his straw and stretched it out on the table, smoothing it flat with his index finger. "So what kind of partner am I?" He looked up at me. "What kind of husband?"
"What exactly do you think you can do? Barry said they were leaving. He said nobody was interested in her any more. The bug's still in place, but no one is listening."
He'd ordered a grilled cheese sandwich, and it sat there on his plate while he consumed his fries. That sandwich started looking mighty good after my English muffin was gone. "So what are your options?" I asked.
"Option one, I don't do anything. We're just a big wad of dogshit that they stepped in by mistake, and they have no intention of coming back to us," Mulder said.
"Kind of what Barry said."
Mulder nodded. "Option two, I take the information I got from the executive's computer, and the device I got from the skinny old travel agent, and I use them to get rid of the chip and the cancer. I know that's what Scully would choose--in spite of the risk."
"Risk?" I asked.
"Death. Cancer. Brain damage."
"Shit," I said.
"If I lost her. . ." His voice trailed off, but his hand was on the spot where his jacket bulged over his gun.
"Mulder." I felt like I was trying to call him back from somewhere.
His shoulders slumped and his hand dropped to the table. "But there's Billy."
"Damn right there's Billy," I said.
"Billy," he agreed. "Damn right. Anyway, I have the instructions, but I still need a doctor to operate the device."
"That's what you meant when you asked Barry to give you a name."
"He might have come through if you hadn't killed him."
"Yeah, you had him right where you wanted him."
His sigh acknowledged my point. "It's like I told Barry. I had someone, but I pissed him off and he won't talk to me."
"You have that effect on people. Want me to talk to him?"
"Yeah, if I could find him. He only calls from a prepaid disposable."
"Al," I said. "The guy who made you shred the *Washington Post*."
"What did you do, tap my phone?" Personally, I don't know how anyone can trust a cell phone, but Mulder was honestly indignant.
"You don't have to tap a cellular," I reminded him. I *intercepted* it."
"Is that how you got the ice pick?"
"Winston Canaday's an old associate of mine. We, uh, work well together."
"Yeah, I knew he was one of your mutts," Mulder said.
"Halfway between a mutt and a weasel," I explained. "Oh--he got a name for you. Another guy who was looking for an ice pick."
"Really? Someone who knows about the aliens and knows how to kill them."
"A mob doc. Actually--"
The click in my brain was more like a resounding clunk, like a giant wheel had turned and all its heavy gears had groaned into place.
"Actually, Mulder, this could be the guy you need."
=======================
One thing about the aliens I'd gotten wrong. They don't automatically burn when you kill them. The travel agency and the construction exec's mansion must have been booby-trapped. The next time I went to my office, Barry was gone but there was no damage at all.
I had an interesting time telling Roz about it. She took it all in, nodding now and then.
"Well?" I asked when I was finished.
"Well what?"
"That's all you have to say?"
"I don't like the part about do-it-yourself brain surgery on Dana."
"Nose surgery. Just taking something out of her nose."
"Maybe you don't realize the proximity of the nasopharynx to the brain. I'll draw you a diagram."
"No, that's okay."
But she did. You know, there's a lot of stuff up there. Nerves, arteries, bones. And the brain is right there too.
"Lucky we found a medical doctor for that part," I said.
"A gynecologist. I wonder if he's planning to take the scenic route."
===================
Kurtzweil's office was in back of an appliance repair shop.
"How did you find me?" he asked huffily when Mulder and I burst through his door.
"This is my friend Jerry. He knows everybody," Mulder said.
"Everybody?" Kurtzweil eyed me uneasily. Most people who pay for his services are connected, and he had to be thinking I was a wiseguy.
"What's the story, Alvin? You let Mulder do favors for you, and now you don't want to do for him?" I asked. I should have brought a cigar to light.
"Killing those things, that's good for all of us, isn't it?"
"Don't be a weasel, Alvin." I gave him a slap on the cheek and ordered him to sit down. "Go ahead, Mulder. Show him what you got."
Mulder reached for something in his pocket. From the outside it looked the same as the spring-assist stiletto. It made me sick to think about getting it shoved up your nose.
Kurtzweil took the device and turned it over in his hand. "I don't know," he said.
"I heard about the ruby," I said. "Alvin here was able to prevent a misunderstanding with an associate of ours in the import business," I explained to Mulder.
"The ruby was this big," he protested, holding his thumb and pointer finger a half-inch apart. "I don't even know what a cancer chip looks like."
"You're a doctor, Alvin. A man worthy of respect," I said
"Respect is everything to Jerry," Mulder reminded him.
Kurtzweil looked at me with more fear than respect. He pushed the button on the device he was holding, and instead of a spike, a length of cable curled out from it.
"Like a plumber's snake," I said. "Easy."
"The tip is supposed to match itself to the cancer chip. It's practically automatic," Mulder said.
"I'd be happy to recommend a good ENT," Kurtzweil offered.
"We'll be in touch, Alvin. Don't leave town." I patted his cheek, gently this time, and we left.
"Somebody's been watching way too much Sopranos," Mulder said when we were back in the car.
"You kidding me? That was Marlon Brando."
"Well, Alvin's buying it. How long until he figures it out?" Mulder asked.
"Couple of days, easy. He's not going to take the chance of asking around about me."
Mulder nodded. He was quiet as I drove back to the office.
"What's our next step?" I asked, but he didn't seem to hear me. Except that ten minutes later he said:
"We have to go see Skinner."
"We do?" I pulled over to the right lane, because that exit was coming up.
"You know where he lives?" Mulder asked.
"I've been there."
"That's good, that brotherhood stuff. I don't see him enough."
I do make it a point to keep in touch with fellow agents going through bad times, but they're guys I've worked with side by side. Skinner was never in that category.
"So why go there now?" I asked.
"Scully named Skinner as her proxy. She chose him to make her decisions if she can't do it herself," he said.
I thought that was strange, but there was no damn way I could say so. Naturally you'd figure Mulder would be the one.
"She doesn't trust me to pull the plug," Mulder explained.
I was going to say how this wasn't about pulling the plug, but again I shut my mouth. If things went bad, it could come to that.
"He's a good choice," I said. Skinner knew what life was like when other-world hardware took over your body.
"Thanks," he snapped.
"She wanted to spare you the guilt," I suggested. "Besides, Skinner can be more objective." I glanced over at Mulder and saw his hands were in fists.
"I got it," he said. "Just shut up."
============
Skinner answered the door before I finished knocking, but he was sitting in a wheelchair.
"Mulder?" he said, after a brief nod in my direction.
"It's been a while, sir," Mulder said. "How, uh, have you been?"
"I'm waiting for the medi-cab. I thought you were the driver."
"If this is a bad time," Mulder mumbled.
"It's fine. Come in."
"What happened to your legs?" I asked Skinner.
"They had to be re-fitted. I'm picking them up today."
"We could come back," Mulder offered, but Skinner was already backing himself out of our way and I followed him in.
"I'm sorry I haven't been to see you," Mulder said.
Skinner maneuvered his chair to face the sofa. Mulder and I sat down.
"We're both busy men," Skinner said. "Why are you here now?"
"It's about Scully."
Skinner nodded. "Is she all right?"
"That's really the question," Mulder said.
"She seemed fine last week," Skinner said.
"She is fine," Mulder said. Skinner looked at his watch, and I decided to take a chance on talking out of turn.
"There might be a way to take the microchip out of her neck, but maybe it won't work. Maybe it will kill her. Maybe it will remind the aliens they have unfinished business."
Mulder nodded. "Yeah, that's about it," he said.
"You can take it out and she won't get cancer?" he asked.
"If it works," Mulder said. "The faction that manages the chip is a fringe group, laying low for now."
"For now," Skinner repeated.
"I don't know if the chip is even working any more,"
"If you doubt the destructive power of antiquated, abandoned alien technology, take a good look at me," Skinner said.
"This isn't about you," Mulder said.
"The Lone Gunmen think the chip could malfunction at any time, or that it could be hacked," Skinner said.
"They might be wrong."
Skinner leaned way forward, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. "What the hell's the matter with you, Mulder?"
"I just don't want to hurt her." He sounded dazed and distant.
"Well, you are," Skinner said. "She knows you don't trust her. You're afraid of losing her, but she's already lost you."
"That's not fair," Mulder protested. "That's really not fair."
"Don't let this chance go by." It wasn't an order, it was a commandment. "Take care of your partner. Take care of your wife."
Mulder didn't say a word, just got up off the couch and walked out the door.
"I'll call you," Skinner whispered as I followed Mulder out.
===============
If it wasn't for Billy, I think we would have done it that night, but there was an easy way to get him out of the picture if we waited a day. Dana had family coming to town, and Billy would be able to have a wonderful visit and sleep-over at his grandmother's house with his adored cousin. Mulder and Dana sat in the front seat, Billy and I were in the back.
"Matthew is a skateboard genius," Billy told me. "Everyone is, in California. I bet I'd be good if we didn't have to live here."
"We've got the Air and Space Museum and the National Zoo," I said.
"They have Disneyland, and their zoo is awesome too. Matthew plays the drums, and I can't play the drums because we live in an apartment. And I can't have a skateboard because Mom says there's no place to use it."
Dana had to know that something was up. I never doubted her trust in Mulder, and the way she went along with his convoluted arrangements proved it. Did it really make sense for Billy to sleep at his grandmother's when the house would be full with his uncle's family? Why was I coming along for the ride? Dana never asked.
"Matthew and his mom get to fly in on a Navy plane because his dad is in the actual Navy!" Billy said.
"Your mom is in the actual FBI," I reminded him.
"Big whoop," he said.
"Your dad is a PI," Mulder added.
"So gay," Billy said.
"William! That is not appropriate," Dana admonished him.
"Jerry and I are just friends," Mulder said.
"Stop it, Mulder," Dana said.
Billy turned to me. "Dad said your son is gay, but you don't talk about it."
"I told you he hears everything," Dana hissed.
"That's right," I said. "He's a famous actor."
"Cool. I didn't mean that kind of gay."
"No harm done."
We were going to pick up Dana's sister-in-law and nephew at the naval air base, which was the opposite direction from Baltimore. Dana would drive me to pick up a rental car while Mulder waited for the plane.
That last wrinkle was my contribution, because Mulder wouldn't be allowed to take his gun on the base, and he'd have to leave it with me. That was the warning Skinner gave me by telephone; make sure Mulder was unarmed in case something went wrong with Dana's treatment.
We were all supposed to meet up by some restaurant, and the sister-in-law and the kids could drive to Baltimore in the rental while Dana, Mulder, and I went back to the city. Dana's mom owned a compact, and Dana's brother was a big man. His ship wasn't due in for a couple more days, but Mulder said it was cheaper to rent by the week anyway. It probably was.
"I'm going in the SUV with Matthew, right?" Billy asked.
"Yes, William, you can ride with your cousin," Dana confirmed.
"Cause this car is gay."
================
Dana knew something was up, and she knew it was something about her. She'd quietly refused her sister-in-law's pleas to go along to Baltimore, and she was practically silent through lunch. If it wasn't for the two boys whooping and giggling you would have thought we were at a funeral.
Now she sat next to Mulder, I sat in the back, and I saw they were holding hands.
"Matthew's grown," Mulder said.
"They really need to take him to an orthodontist," said Dana.
"Are you sure they haven't?" Mulder asked anxiously.
"I don't know, Mulder. Maybe they have," she said.
"Jerry, you still have my gun," Mulder said. The first time he asked for it I'd pretended not to hear him.
"It's in the lockbox in the trunk," I said.
"When did you get a lockbox for the car?" Dana asked Mulder.
"I didn't."
"It's mine," I explained.
"We should get one," she said.
"I'll pull over at the rest stop, so you can give me my gun," Mulder said. There was a Welcome Center ahead, with a bathroom and restaurant.
"They make that Maryland fried chicken here, with the cream gravy," I said.
"Jesus Christ, Jerry, we just ate," he said.
"Yeah, but it's hard to find, and as long as we're stopping anyway. . . "
It worked. He drove on past.
Twenty miles later Dana broke the silence:
"I enjoyed Jennifer's paper," she said.
"Oh. Thanks." Nobody calls her Jennifer, and I didn't know she'd sent a paper to Dana.
"She should think about dental school."
"*My* Jennifer? She's an anthropologist."
"If she's serious about forensic odontology. . ."
"There goes your retirement," Mulder said.
Jen was paying her own way through grad school, except for a little help here and there. I wouldn't mind paying for dental school if at least she would be a dentist. I started thinking about how we could re-do my wife's office, hang a new shingle. Dentist, that was something you could fall back on.
What does it tell you when thinking about paying out thousands of dollars is a welcome distraction?
Mulder turned off the highway and drove us through an ugly industrial area, but Dana didn't say anything. She didn't ask when he parked the car in front of a dusty storefront in a half-empty block of concrete buildings.
"I guess we're here," she said, releasing her seat belt.
"We're here," he confirmed. He led the way into the shop and she followed, but first she turned to me and handed over her gun.
"Keep him safe." She didn't even say it out loud, just mouthed the words. I tucked the gun into my waistband. I hate how that feels but I had no place else to put it.
Kurtzweil was waiting for us, but I can't say he was glad to see us.
"A word with you, sir?" he said.
"You're among friends, Alvin. Call me Jerry," I said.
"Jerry, I mean you no disrespect, but I cannot carry out this procedure. The risks are too great, and I have sworn an oath to do no harm."
"Alvin, any further delay will obligate me to shoot you in the knee. That will make the procedure more dangerous still, and therefore a greater violation of your oath. I say this with all respect."
"You're a doctor?" Dana asked Kurtzweil.
She'd been so cooperative and quiet I had started to wonder if Mulder had actually briefed her. I didn't think he would risk it, but it would explain her unquestioning obedience. Now I knew he hadn't told her a thing. She just plain trusted him.
"I am a doctor, but unqualified to do what they demand of me," Kurtzweil answered.
Right now he looked like an alcoholic who'd gone too long without a drink.
"Unless a bullet in the knee would improve your qualifications, I suggest we get started," Dana said.
"His hands are shaking," Mulder hissed into my ear.
Kurtzweil pushed open the door that led to his area of the shop, and Dana was right behind him.
"I don't want him to touch her," Mulder whispered.
"It isn't your choice," I reminded him.
Kurtzweil's room had a variety of benches and chairs. I guess most of his business was tattoo removal. I wondered what Dana thought as she looked around.
"Where do you want me?" she asked, and he waved toward the chair.
She was ready to hop in, except that's when Mulder lost it.
"Scully!" He had his arms around her and if he wasn't crying he wasn't far from it.
"It's all right, Mulder. I want to do this."
"Give me your gun," he said in a low croak.
"What, you shoot me if I won't do it, he shoots me if I do?" Kurtzweil complained.
"I don't have my gun, and you don't need one. If anyone needs to be shot, Jerry will shoot them," she said. She sounded like a kindergarten teacher, and it was pretty funny but nobody laughed.
"Scully," he said again. She touched his chin and he leaned down to kiss her. They stood there a while, him towering over her, finally resting his cheek against her head, and then she pushed him away and got into the chair.
"Give the doctor room to work, Mulder," she said, and he took a step back.
"Mulder, go sit down. I don't want you passing out."
It made me feel better to think that Dana was the one in charge. Mulder sat down on a low bench.
"What is your name, Doctor?" Dana asked.
"Kurtzweil. I'm Alvin Kurtzweil."
She nodded. "Go wash your hands, Dr. Kurtzweil," she said. And he did.
"Do you need to set up?" she asked.
He thumped down a couple of grayish towels, a pack of gloves, and a tube of KY jelly. Then he showed her that thing that looked like our ice-pick weapons. I think she went pale, but maybe not. She's kind of pale anyway.
"I was afraid to use the autoclave," Kurtzweil said. "Didn't want to break it."
"Good thinking," she said.
"I'll scrub."
He washed his hands again and put on the gloves. Dana Scully must be the bravest woman in the world, because she had no idea what he was going to do, and she just sat there.
Kurtzweil picked up the icepick and pushed the button, and the little coiled cable jumped out. Dana's eyes got wide but she didn't say anything. He dabbed the end of the cable in a blob of jelly, and then he brought it up against her nostril. I couldn't help wincing, but not Dana.
Kurtzweil poked and fiddled, asking her to turn her head first this way, then that. Her eyes closed to slits and her mouth was a twisted frown as he slid the cable into her nose and then stood there holding it.
"I'm trying, Jerry, you see that," he said. "It's not happening like in the literature."
Mulder's head dropped and he sank forward on the bench.
Dana's voice cut through the silence, a little nasal but crisp with authority. "Try the other naris," she said.
Kurtzweil pulled the thing out, lubed it again, and poked it into the other nostril. All this time his hands had been shaking, so it took me a second to realize that the thing itself was now vibrating.
Kurtzweil seemed relieved. "Automatic. It guides itself," he said.
I guess all Kurtzweil had to do was hold it and feed it in, or maybe not even that much. Dana had her head back and her eyes closed, but then all of a sudden the cable in her nose went from flexed to rigid. Her eyes flew open and she let out a surprised "oh!"
"You found it. Get it out," Mulder said.
"It's against the bone," Kurtzweil said.
"It's supposed to latch on," Mulder said. He was standing behind Kurtzweil, watching over his shoulder.
"The bony plate is in the way," Kurtzweil explained.
"You're going to have to break through," Dana said. "Mulder, go sit down."
"What? How?" Kurtzweil asked.
"Press harder," she said. I was thinking of the picture Roz made for me, with all the blood vessels and nerves back there.
"I'm pressing," Kurtzweil insisted.
"Push harder before Jerry has to shoot you," Dana added vehemently. Tears leaked from her eyes, but her voice was hard as flint.
His eyes squinted shut and he pressed. The cable-thing began to hum and whatever it was doing must have hurt because Dana was grimacing and her hands gripped the arm rests. I could smell something burning.
"You're doing a very good job," Dana said through clenched teeth.
The smell grew worse and there was a trickle of blood from her nose. Dana's head was jammed against the chair and her back was arched. There was no doubt it hurt, but she wasn't making any noise and I was grateful. If she'd screamed or even whimpered, I know Mulder would have lost control. Maybe me too.
Meanwhile that cable-thing had sprung to life. It was like a silver snake, throbbing and twisting on its own. Dana looked like she was trying to escape into the chair. Maybe it was the effort to keep from screaming or maybe it was because she had that thing up her nose, but her breath was coming in gasps that sounded too harsh and too infrequent. I was starting to feel like I was trapped in a nightmare but if Mulder could take it I knew I had to take it too. He was sitting on one of the benches, suddenly drenched in sweat. I'd been leaving it to him to call this off if it went too far, and now I had to wonder if he was even capable. Dana was right--he would have passed out.
Suddenly the humming noise stopped. The cable-thing gave out a little *ping,* and with a snap it curled back into the handle. Mulder jumped up and grabbed the device from Kurtzweil's hand. He pressed the button and the coil slid out, but now it was cool dead metal. He held it up to the light as he studied it.
"There's the chip," he said. He held it out in front of Dana. "This made the cancer. I had to get it out."
"I can't see it," Kurtzweil said, crowding in to get a look.
Mulder elbowed him aside. "You're not finished. You have to cut the chip out of her neck," he said.
"I don't think the device will work on that one," he said. "I'll get you more leads, more names, and maybe you can find what we need for that second chip."
It's funny how a guy can sound like a weasel even when you don't know what he's talking about. I took a step closer to him, just for the hell of it.
Dana was holding a bit of gauze up against her nose. "It's right here, Dr. Kurtzweil," she said coolly, fingering a spot on her neck. "You can see the scar and you can feel it under the skin. Now pick up your scalpel and get it out."
Whatever scam Kurtzweil had been planning, he gave it up and did what she said.
Later when I told my wife about it, she gave me another lecture about anatomy. She said stuff on your neck could turn out to be attached to your spinal cord. You don't just go cutting without having an x-ray, a CAT scan--something so you have some idea what's in there. She mentioned scrubbing the area thoroughly and then using lidocaine to make it numb. Kurtzweil didn't do those things. A dab of alcohol, a slit with the scalpel, then he poked inside with some tweezers and pulled out the chip. A tiny bit of metal about the size of a pinhead, and Kurtzweil wanted to keep it, but Mulder took it, along with the other one.
"I'd like to go home now," Dana said. The gauze had spots of brown, looking darker and dirtier than blood.
Mulder helped her out of the chair. "Can you walk?" he asked.
"Don't be silly," she said. She leaned on him, though, and she still pressed the gauze against her nose.
"I'll meet you outside," I told them. I wanted to give them a couple of minutes alone, but Kurtzweil gasped and started backing himself away from me.
"I see you were able to uphold your oath," I said. I wasn't ready to let him off the hook completely until I was sure that Dana would be okay, but I'd had my fill of playing the heavy.
Kurtzweil tossed the used gloves and towels into a bin. "She shouldn't blow her nose," he said.
"What?" I asked sharply.
"Forty-eight hours. Just let it drain." He didn't look quite so fearful, but his hands still trembled.
"How do you know?" I asked. I tried to catch his eye but he got even more squirrelly.
"Common sense." He dropped the scalpel into a plastic canister. "Plenty of fluids. Tylenol for fever."
=============
Skinner told me the best way to live life on the tightrope is to never look down. The longer I did it, the easier it became.
Mulder's situation was different. I don't know exactly when Dana got those chips put in her, or when Mulder decided it was worth everything to get them out. I do know it had been years since he'd let anything else drive his days, and I guess in some sense he was looking to get his life back. He wanted a rain check for the time he missed with his son, a do-over for all the silence between him and his wife. He gave me his resignation and I wished him well.
I heard from him once in a while. He e-mailed to ask my opinion on Royal Caribbean versus Norwegian. Dana called to say how much they loved Mark's play and how he'd given them a backstage tour. Roz saw Mulder in her office when he wanted new glasses, and this time he had no trouble with the exam.
Then one day Mulder showed up at the office with a bag of fried chicken.
"Come to beg for your old job back?" I asked.
"Scully's at work all day, and she has this crazy idea that if I'm home I should clean the house," he said.
I moved things around on my desk to make room for the chicken. "I gave away your office, but I guess we can work something out," I said.
Mulder hung his jacket over the back of a chair. "Freelance. Scully wants me to make use of my higher education," he said.
"You could teach," I suggested.
He took some paper plates out of the bag and put them on my desk, followed by napkins and plastic forks. "You know anyone who wants to learn how to spot an alien?" he asked.
I shrugged. "You got a point there," I said.
"Coleslaw? Potato salad?" He loaded our plates.
"Thanks. There's soda in the fridge." He got up and brought over a couple of cans as I helped myself to a piece of chicken.
"You know, Jerry, you're no slouch yourself when it comes to intuition," he said.
I gestured him to wipe his nose, the old sign for brown nose. The chicken was exceptional, by the way. Crisp and spicy, but not too hot.
"You notice things," he insisted. "You've got those spider senses."
"So?" I put down my drumstick and cleaned my hands on a napkin.
"Just saying." He picked up a thigh. "Can you believe Scully calls this greasy? Billy and I have to sneak out of the house to eat it."
Mulder's got a second talent, beyond that spooky intuition. He doesn't only read the signals, I think he transmits signals of his own. It's like he can tweak a conversation to make it go the way he wants. We were sitting at my desk, eating some outrageously delicious fried chicken, when I mentioned something that had been on my mind.
"You took a hell of a chance trusting Kurtzweil," I said.
He popped open a soda. "He came through for us."
"He's one of them," I said. There was something about Kurtzweil, just like there was something about Barry and Gulliver. If I knew it, Mulder knew it too, and I hoped he wasn't going to play dumb.
Mulder nodded his agreement. "He's nowhere near as obvious as Barry was. If you picked him out, your spider senses are ready for the big league."
I pushed my plate away. "He almost fooled me. That act of his, pretending he was afraid I would shoot him."
Mulder took a biscuit. "He enjoys playing human. Besides, a bullet wouldn't hurt him, but it would definitely blow his cover."
"Anyway, he came through when we needed him."
"Mission accomplished." He leaned back. "Right?"
"Yup." I pulled the waste basket from under my desk and cleared away the plates. The bag of chicken was still half full. I twisted the top of the bag to close it up.
"They're still here you know," he said. "Crazy renegades like Kurtzweil who like to blend in. A handful of scientists and observers."
"You think they're a threat?"
Mulder shook his head. "They don't mean us any harm."
"And there's nothing we can do about it even if they did, right?" I tried to hand him the bag. "The main thing was to get their hardware out of Dana, so she wouldn't be at their mercy."
"Scully insists on a broader view."
I found myself wagging my finger in his face. "If we start killing them they will definitely take us out. Didn't you tell her how the guys in charge want to leave us alone? Did you tell her what your buddy Barry had in mind on your last date?"
"God, I miss that guy," Mulder said in his usual deadpan.
I laughed in spite of myself. "Would you take your damn chicken and go home?"
"Scully says we need to be ready if the situation changes. We should be watching them and learning as much as we can. Making contact with the friendly ones."
I shook my head. "So much for your early retirement and life of leisure."
"Happens to the best of us." He finally accepted the bag of chicken. "You're in, you know."
He stood up so I stood up. "When did I sign on?"
"Human being? Check. Aware of aliens? Check. Spider senses? Not required but definitely useful. You're in." He raised the grease-stained bag in a salute. "See you around, boss." He was out the door before I could say another word.
I stood there, mouth half-open, staring at the closed door. I was in? Now what was I supposed to do? Call my insurance guy and up my coverage? Drop in on Winnie Canaday and buy up the rest of his shivs? Change the letterhead--Luskin Associates, Protecting the Earth?
Me, protecting the earth. I'd be satisfied if I could keep my kids from harm. More than satisfied. It brought me back to 9/11, when I would have traded everyone in Manhattan if it meant my son would be safe.
Safe--ha, ha, ha. We're all up on Skinner's tightrope, even the lucky ones who think they're on the ground.
When did Mulder's problems become my problems? I guess they always were.
###
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