Conspiracies (1/4)

[Peggy Mei-Ling Li]

From a...@cix.compulink.co.uk Sun Sep 11 12:10:17 1994
Date: Sun, 11 Sep 94 18:30 BST-1
From: Adam Webb <a...@cix.compulink.co.uk>
To: ma...@uclink.berkeley.edu
Subject: Conspiracies part 1 of 4

CONSPIRACIES

Adam Webb

An X-Files story. Second season. Category - thriller. Rating PG.

This story is © 1994 Adam Webb. The characters Fox Mulder, Dana Scully
and the name X-Files are © Fox Network Programming & Ten Thirteen
Productions. E-mail correspondence to the author via the Internet should
be addressed to
A...@CIX.Compulink.Co.UK.

*Note. This story continues the events begun in my earlier work
ZEITGEIST. While it can be read as a stand-alone piece, certain
references and events will make a lot more sense if you are familiar with
the first story.

***************************************************************

Memorial Park, Washington D.C. Day One, 7:12am

It was shaping up to be a fine summers day. Those already taking
advantage of it included a handful of joggers, one bleary-eyed Romeo only
just making his way home, and two casually dressed men out for a brisk,
early morning walk in the park. One of these men had a face that was a
familiar sight to anyone who regularly watched any of the national
television news programs. Although now sheathed in the veneer which came
with success and power, his rugged frame and alert manner spoke of
tougher times, when he’d lived by his wits. Leaving the park by the
Beaker Street entrance, the older man brought his companion to a halt
with an out-swung arm.
Senator Peter Van Thewsen, Chairman of the Senate Committee for
Defence Systems Development, inhaled deeply. Almost immediately his
craggy features wrinkled in disgust.
“This is Washington D.C. The very heart of government.” Van
Thewsen rumbled like a rusty tank, lecturing his aide as if the man had
no idea what city he was in. “And the air smells like a God-damned Cuban
whorehouse!” “Yes, sir.” The Senator’s assistant replied doubtfully.
Never having been in a Cuban whorehouse, or for that matter any other
kind, he didn’t feel qualified to comment further. Besides which, word
had it that contradicting the Senator one to many times was what had cost
his predecessor a promising career.
“Yes sir.” Van Thewsen mocked. “Is that all you can say,
Revenau. Doesn’t it make you sick to your stomach? No, don't bother
answering,” he warded off another automatic agreement with a scowl.
“Today, Revenau, we’re going to do something to redress the imbalance.
Today, we’re going to say no to those warmongering four-star
sons-of-bitches!” Clapping the younger man on the back he continued,
“Then, when the hullabaloo has died down, we’ll take a few million of
those tax payers hard-earned dollars and use them to make this a better
place.” Revenau nodded enthusiastically. Although he agreed with the
Senator one hundred percent, he was smart enough to be very careful about
who knew it. Van Thewsen was a powerful figure, but then so were some of
those who opposed his anti-armament stance. Joining the Senator for his
early morning constitutional was about as much of a public statement as
it was prudent for someone in his position to make.
“Come on, Revenau.” The Senator said, smoothing back thick
strands of iron-grey hair. “Time for breakfast. We’ve got work to do,
and the world won’t wait.” Only recently had he discovered how very true
his favourite saying was.
The truth had been revealed during an unexpected meeting with a
man dressed in black. A man who had, quite literally, changed his mind.
He knew now that the world was about to alter dramatically, as the
balance of power tipped further in the Alpha’s favour.
The two men stepped off the kerb and began to cross Beaker
Street, taking a slalom-like course between the many potholes which
marred the tarmac’s once smooth surface. Being a good twenty-five years
younger than the Senator, Revenau heard the noise a second or two before
his boss. He turned quickly, and was shocked to see a sports car bearing
down on them, its driver making no attempt to stop. The was no time to
shot a warning, no time to do anything except try to stay alive.
Survival instincts kicking-in, Revenau flung himself backwards, a hand
grabbing for the Senator’s jacket collar. He caught the material, but
felt it ripped from his grasp, as the Van Thewsen hesitated a fraction
too long.
With a sickening thud the blue Mustang ploughed into Senator Van
Thewsen, shattering his legs on impact and hurling him several feet into
the air. The driver touched the brakes, and in that split second the
body tumbled landing hard and sliding to a stop on the road in front of
his vehicle. Anxious to complete his job, the driver’s foot came down
hard on the accelerator, sending the Mustang racing forward. Van Thewsen
barely had time to raise a warding arm before the car was on top of him.
Revenau heard a sickening pop, as the tyres bounced over the
Senator’s body, then the car was speeding away. Forcing himself to look,
Revenau saw that the old man’s head had been crushed like an over-ripe
melon, leaving a red and grey tyre track which stained the road for
several yards. Fighting down the urge to vomit, Revenau tried to collect
his sense. The Police would want him to be very clear as to what had
happened. The grating noise of an explosive collision from further down
the road snapped him back to alertness. Scrambling to his feet the aide
looked in that direction and saw a pall of thick black smoke rising from
the overturned wreck of the blue Mustang. The maniac had crashed!
“Jesus!” Revenau said, suddenly feeling dizzy. Lowering himself
to the ground he sat on the edge of the kerb. In the distance he could
hear the sound of a siren.

CONSPIRACIES - Part 1 of 4