Conspiracies (4/4)

[Peggy Mei-Ling Li]

From a...@cix.compulink.co.uk Sun Sep 11 12:11:16 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 4 of 4

CONSPIRACIES - Part 4 of 4

Computer Room, FBI HQ. Day two. 3:46pm

Fingers gliding smoothly over the plastic keys, Scully coaxed information
from her terminal. She was currently linked via modem to a secure
database maintained by NASA. Stored in its electronic files were the
details of everyone who had ever worked for the organisation, including
one Peter Van Thewsen; a civilian analyst who’d worked on attachment to
NASA’s lunar information collation programme between January 1972 and
February 1973. Van Thewsen had a string of glowing testimonials from his
former employers, and during his second month had taken a battery of
physical and mental test, which all personnel were required to take on a
yearly basis. The tests included an IQ assessment, in which Van Thewsen
had achieved the staggering score of 195. A person only required an IQ
of 135 to join Mensa; the society for anyone considered to be a genius.
The strange thing was that the results of the same tests, administered
just twelve months later, showed an IQ that was only slightly above
average. “I guess this must be an error.” Scully thought aloud.
“All other records show the Senator as normal.”
“Sure.” Drake agreed, exhaling a cloud of dirty grey smoke.
“What else could it be. Now, you’ve got that bee out of your bonnet,
maybe we can get back to some real work. Huh?”
“Real work is what I’m attempting to do, Agent Drake.” Scully’s
eyes flashed fire. “We were taught to be thorough at Qunatico. If you
can remember that far back.”
“You prissy little bitch -”
Special Agent Drake’s coming diatribe was interrupted by the
unexpected entry of Johnny Carrabelli. Dana twisted away from the
monitor as her name was called. Even if Carrabelli’s body language
hadn’t given it away, the tone of his voice would have been enough to
warn of trouble.
“Hey, Scully. You’re wanted in Skinner’s office. Right now.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Uh-huh.” Carrabelli responded. “I’ve been temporarily
reassigned to take your place on the Van Thewsen case. The bossman
thinks you’ll be more useful on, a new line of enquiry.”
Scully was confused. “What’s going on here?” She asked, trying
to catch Carrabelli’s eyes. “Come on, Johnny. This sounds like it’s
serious. Tell me what’s happened?
“It’s your crazy ex-partner, red.” Carrabelli lied flawlessly.
“He just murdered a man in cold blood. Threw him right out of an
apartment window.” Carrabelli gestured with his hand. “The poor sap
did five floors in as many seconds.”
“Mulder murdered someone!” Scully responded, unable to keep an
element of shock out of her voice. “There must be some mistake. He
wouldn’t do anything like that.”
“We got him on tape entering the building taking the elevator to
the victim’s floor.” Johnny said. “Next thing we see is a guy crashing
through a pane of glass. Mulder leaves the building about a minute
later. When he sees me, he pulls his gun. Right about now there’s a
warrant being issued for his arrest. He’s considered A & D.”
“Wait a minute.” Scully frowned. “Back up a little. You said
this incident was recorded on tape.” She hesitated, almost afraid to ask
the obvious question. “Does that mean Mulder was under Bureau
surveillance?” “Hey, don’t give me a hard time.” Carrabelli shrugged.
“I was just doin’ my job.”
“Why was he being watched?” Scully demanded, already halfway
sure that she knew the answer.
If Mulder was being watched, it was the result of what he’d
discovered during their last X-File case. All that she knew about the
contents of the Ehrlenmeyer flask was considered hearsay. But Mulder had
actually seen with his own eyes the results of what might have been alien
gene manipulation. Perhaps he’d seen more than even he realised.
“You know better than to ask that.” Drake chipped-in. “Give the
guy a break, for Christ’s sake. Anyone would think you had somethin’
goin’ with old Spooky.”
“Oh, we did.” Dana said, coldly furious. Rounding on her
obnoxious partner she added, “It’s called friendship. Something that you
wouldn’t know much about, Drake.”
Carrabelli coughed politely into his hand. “Skinner’s waiting.”
Nodding curtly in response, Dana stood and walked out of the
room. No matter what the evidence might seem to be, she knew Fox Mulder.
Under certain circumstances he might kill. As would any FBI Agent. But
he would never deliberately hurl an unarmed man to his death. Something
was going on, and it smelled very much like a set-up.

Fullman’s Warehouse, Hoboken. Day three. 11:37pm

Crouched down behind a large packing crate, Mulder was ready. He’d
chosen the warehouse because it offered a lot of cover and three possible
routes of escape. Both advantages might be required if Johnny Carrabelli
brought company. The meeting had been set via a call made from a public
phone booth to Agent Carrabelli’s home number. Mulder knew that his
‘partner’ had an answering machine hooked-up, and that he wouldn’t be
able to resist an opportunity to continue what he’d started. The real
problem was in deciding how deep the conspiracy against him went. For
some reason, Carrabelli and at least one other accomplice had set out to
frame him.
Alone in the darkness, Mulder sighed. The only thing in his
favour was that the Alphas didn’t seem to want him dead. What had
happened was probably as a test, conducted to see what he’d do under such
dire circumstan-
ces. Or more specifically, who he’d turn to for help. That was the only
answer which made any kind of sense. The truth of the matter was that he
hadn’t told anyone about Operation Zeitgeist or the Alphas incredible
plot. But they couldn’t know that. Someone was obviously concerned
enough to take drastic action.
A loud metallic grating noise brought Mulder fully alert.
Someone was entering the building via the side door, and they obviously
didn’t care who heard them.
“Agent Mulder.” An unfamiliar voice called out. “You can come
out now. I’m not armed.”
Mulder peered around the edge of the crate and saw a man standing
in the beam of an overhead fluorescent tube. The man was holding open
the flaps of his jacket, which like his trousers and tie, was coloured
black. Memories ran like a slideshow inside Mulder’s mind, flickering
past until he came to the one he wanted.
“I know your face. You were with Major Starlin, in Dayton.”
The man grinned lopsidedly. “I was told you had a photographic
memory. We were never formally introduced, but you’re right. My name’s
Draeger. Al, to my friends. I was one of Major Starlin’s aides.
You’ll remember the other one.”
Gun aimed at Draeger’s heart, Mulder stepped from behind his
cover and walked slowly toward him. The sequence of event had taken yet
another unexpected turn.
“How do I know whose side you’re on now?”
“I guess you don’t.” Draeger admitted. “Maybe it’ll help if I
tell you that by this time tomorrow, you’ll no longer be wanted by the
FBI. We’ve been watching Agent Carrabelli for some time.”
“Carrabelli.” Mulder repeated. “Where is he?”
“Right at this minute, he’s at home sitting in his favourite
armchair. Unfortunately,” the Lieutenant smiled, “Johnny has an extra
hole in his head, and a gun in his hand.”
“So how does that clear my name?” Mulder asked.
“It doesn’t.” Draeger smirked. “But, when your former
colleagues check Johnny’s pockets, they’ll find certain damning evidence.
No one will doubt that he planned the hit on Van Thewsen, on behalf of a
political extremist group. Other evidence will point to him setting you
up because you were close to discovering his duplicity.”
“But he didn’t plan Van Thewsen’s death.” Mulder stated, seeing
something in Draeger’s eyes.
“Of course not. We arranged that.”
“Because Van Thewsen was an Alpha?”
“No.” Draeger shook his head. “The Senator had to be taken out
because he was about to cast the deciding vote as Chairman of the Senate
Committee for Defence Systems Development. That vote would have severely
limited funding for a new missile project. The missile is a cover for a
black program, developing a device that can interfere with the automatic
guidance systems of Zeitgeist craft.”
“Jesus.” Uncocking his weapon, Mulder returned it to its
holster. “So what am I supposed to now. Go back to work?”
“Not for the FBI.” The Lieutenant winked. “Your still a wanted
man, Mulder. Wanted by Operation Zeitgeist.” Reaching into his jacket
pocket Draeger produced a folded sheet of paper. “Take a look at this
list. These are individuals we’ve identified as Alphas. I believe
you’ll be familiar with some of the names.”
Mulder quickly scanned the list, and as predicted recognised about
a third of the people. One name in particular caught his attention. It
was another reason why he could never go back.

FBI Headquarters, Washington D.C. Day four. 10:00am.

The phone on Dana Scully’s desk began to ring. Answering, she found
herself talking to Fox Mulder, who hurriedly explained that he wouldn’t be
coming back to work.
“Why not?” Scully asked. “You’re in the clear.”
“Yeah, I know, Dana. It’s not that.” Mulder said, evidently
uncomfortable with the situation. “I have a new job, and that’s all I can
really say. You know how it is.”
“I know that we used to trust each other.” Scully said, hurt to
discover how things had changed.
“Dana, please believe me.” Mulder begged. “I do trust you. It’s
just that there are some things I’m not allowed to discuss. Even my new
job title, stupid as that probably sounds. God, I don’t believe I’m
saying this, but it’s for your own good. Things are going to happen,
Scully, and no one is invulner-able. I won’t risk your life because
someone may think you have privileged information. All I can tell you is
that what I’m doing now might make a difference.”
“Okay.” Scully said, caught between emotions. “I won’t pretend to
be happy about it, but I guess I can understand. Maybe we could meet for
lunch, some time?”
At the other end of the line, Mulder sighed deeply. “No, that
wouldn’t be a good idea.” For a long moment he was silent. When he spoke
again it was with genuine regret. “If there was another way, I’d take it.
I’ll miss you, Dana.”
“Me too.” Scully admitted, choking up despite her efforts to stay
detached. “Hey, Mulder. Send me a post card, okay. That can’t be
against the rules.”
Mulder chuckled. “I will.” Pausing for a second, he added.
“Trust no one.”
The line went dead.

Director’s office FBI HQ, Washington D.C. Day four. 10:03am

The small speaker of the telecommunications monitoring system on Walter
Skinner’s desk announced the end of former Special Agent Mulder’s
conversation with his ex-partner.
“Do you think she knows anything?” Skinner asked the man who sat
perched on the corner of the desk.
“Agent Scully knows a great deal.” Drawing in smoke through the
filter-tipped cigarette which protruded between his fingers, the man held
it for a second, then exhaled a grey-blue cloud. “Though nothing of
significance where you are concerned.”
“For now.” Skinner said humorlessly. “Although she does suspect
me of aiding and abetting those who would obscure the truth. At some
point, our clever agent will have to be dealt with.”
“Terminated?” The smoking man asked.
“Turned.” Skinner replied with a quick shake of his head.
“Someone with Dana Scully’s qualities has much potential. She is clearly
wasted among the Betas.”

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.UK.