Conspiracies (3/4)

[Peggy Mei-Ling Li]

From a...@cix.compulink.co.uk Sun Sep 11 12:11:04 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 3 of 4

CONSPIRACIES - Part 3 of 4

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.

FBI Building, NYC. Day Two, 2:10pm

In a windowless corner of the open-plan general office, Fox Mulder sat
behind a desk busily annotating a report. The desktop was littered with
stacks of paperwork. A small computer workstation was perched on the
edge of the desk, its monitor black and dead. Ever since the closure of
the X-Files, Mulder didn’t trust electronic data systems. Contrary to
official policy, he rarely made use of his terminal.
“Hey Mulder, I got big news.” Special Agent Carrabelli said,
almost succeeding at him attempt to sound sincere. When his new partner
looked up, Johnny quoted from the newspaper held open between his hand.
“Says here that 22% of Americans believe Elvis was right to shoot TV
sets!” Grinning in delight he twisted around in his chair to see
Mulder’s face. “How about that, Spooky. You think we should maybe start
a file.”
“No.” Mulder said impassively. Features deadpan he added, “I
already have a file on Elvis.”
The bleeping of Mulder’s telephone mercifully interrupted Agent
Carrabelli’s retort. Taking care that his expression gave nothing away,
Mulder scribbled down a note, then replaced the handset in its cradle.
“Gotta go.”
“Hey, wait up.” Carrabelli started to rise.
“Sorry.” Mulder smirked darkly. “You’re not invited. My
informant is easily ‘spooked.’” Without giving his partner the chance to
think of an argument, Mulder snatched up his trenchcoat and headed for
the exit to the street.
He’d walk for a few blocks before hailing a cab. That way he
could be reasonably sure that no one was following. These days he
watched every shadow. There was little in the way of real evidence, but
he was convinced that he was under surveillance. Whether by FBI agents,
or those loyal to the Alphas, he had no way of knowing.
The call had been a coded message requesting a meeting. By using
the phrase *bad weather* the caller had revealed that the information
came from the Lone Gunman investigative group, and was urgent. Mulder
didn’t know the caller’s name, and intended to keep it that way. Since
his unnerving encounter with the MIB in Dayton, and the fiasco of the
Ehrlenmeyer Flask, he preferred to keep all information on a need to know
basis. What he didn’t know, he could not be forced to reveal.
The minute that Mulder was out of sight, Agent Carrabelli
propelled his swivel-chair over to his partner’s desk. Retrieving the
notepad he squinted at the spidery scrawl that was Agent Mulder’s
handwriting. The message read; ELVIS LIVES!

NYC, Lower East side. Day two, 3:00pm.

In the lounge of a borrowed fifth floor apartment, Mulder took the
go-between’s invitation to sit. The worn sofa faced a large TV set which
was on, but with the sound turned down. The CBS News broadcast was
showing more pictures of Senator Peter Van Thewsen. On the journey, his
contact had said almost nothing. But it was clear that he was scared by
whatever had prompted the meeting. Whether that fear resulted from the
information itself, or the possible consequences of possessing it, was
not yet clear.
“Okay.” Mulder offered a friendly smile. “You want to tell me
why I’m here?”
“Sure.” The young man nodded, causing his long fair hair to fall
over part of his face. Sweeping it back in an often used gesture he
knelt before the TV, and pressed a button on the video player housed
below it. “They told me to say this was taken just over a week ago. The
place is a few miles outside of Harrisonburg. That’s about eighty miles
south west of Washington D.C, as the crow flies.”
When the screen flickered into life, Mulder felt a chill of
dread. The video, apparently shot at night in open country, showed an
image that had been branded into his mind. In a moonlit, star-filled sky
there was an object which should not have been there. It hung in the air
like a Christmas bauble, seemingly spinning about its own axis. Exactly
as he remembered, the craft which had been codenamed Zeitgeist 516
dropped at speed and hovered motionlessly above a dense grouping of pine
trees. The intense white glare which had surrounded the craft winked
out, leaving a large black shape which was difficult to see against the
sky. Moments passed during which nothing appeared to be happening.
Then, just as Mulder was about to ask a question, five pencil-thin rays
of green laser light lanced groundward from the bottom of the craft.
“Here it comes.” The go-between warned. “Keep your eyes on the
left of the screen, down at ground level.”
“What exactly am I looking for?” Mulder probed, eyes unblinking
as he tried to extract as much data as possible. The cameraman seemed to
know what he was doing, and the equipment was good. Though almost
inevitably the picture was not as sharp as he would have liked.
“Just keep watching.” The young man said nervously. “You’ll see
soon enough.”
A shadowy shape appeared for a fleeting instant within the area
defined by the lasers. Mulder had time to see only that whatever or
whoever it was definitely travelled in a downward direction, then the
guide beams were gone. There was the impression of movement from the
unlit UFO, and the camera tilted abruptly upward, recording a brilliant
white light shooting straight up at incredible speed.
“Now.” The young man said, drawing Mulder’s attention back to
earth even as the camera was hastily refocussed on what appeared to be
two figures, emerging from between the trees.
Mulder let out an involuntary gasp. One of the men was dressed
in black. The other wore casual attire, but there was something familiar
about him. Possibilities tumbled like dice inside Mulder’s mind for the
seconds it took the cameraman to zoom in for a brief close-up. As the
famous face came into clear focus, the lensman was heard to mutter, *Holy
shit. It’s him!* The video finished without warning, leaving Mulder to
presume that the Lone Gunman team had done what *he* would have done at
that point, and gotten the hell out.
Rendered temporarily speechless, Mulder found himself wishing
desperately that Scully was there to confide in. Then, regaining control
over his emotions, he was glad that she wasn’t. He wanted Scully nowhere
near this. Taking a deep breath he looked at the young man. His steady
gaze was returned by one of apprehension, as if the go-between feared
that he’d be arrested on the spot.
“They were right.” Mulder confirmed. “It was Van Thewsen.”
Saying the name out loud seemed to break the almost palpable tension
which had invaded the room. “Now, you’re obviously quite a smart guy.”
Mulder continued. “Smart enough to know how dangerous this information
is. Correct?” The young man nodded once. “Its okay, you’re not in
trouble. Just as long as you listen to me and do exactly what I tell
you. Is that absolutely clear?”
Speaking quickly but calmly, Mulder told the go-between to record
over the tape, and when that was done, pass on a verbal message to the
Lone Gunman group. They were to be informed that the safest course would
be to destroy any remaining copies, and to forget what they’d seen. If
asked for a reason, they were to be told that what they’d stumbled upon
was something that was classified above top secret. Something they were
simply not equipped to handle.
As Mulder shut the door of the apartment behind him, he found
that he was shaking. He didn’t know whether the Lone Gunmen would take
his advice, but was certain that if they didn’t, some of them would end
up dead. Since discovering the truth about Zeitgeist, he’d thought about
little else. Making discrete enquiries on his own time had revealed
little, other than the frightening fact that the Men In Black had a very
long reach. But what might happen to the Lone Gunman group wasn’t the
reason that he had the shakes. That had to do with his ex-partner. He’d
heard through the grapevine that Dana Scully had been assigned to the Van
Thewsen case, and been pleased for her. Until he’d seen the evidence
captured on video. Whether the Senator had been one of the so-called
Alphas, or merely a high level messenger, was the burning question. It
was something he now had to find the answer to, before Scully got wind of
the high level conspiracy.
Exiting the building, Mulder automatically checked for signs that
he was being watched. He’d taken about a dozen steps when he spotted
Johnny Carrabelli. His partner was standing on the opposite side of the
road, grinning like a hob-goblin. Carrabelli said something into his
mobile phone, and the next thing Mulder heard was the unmistakable sound
of breaking glass. Realising that it was coming from somewhere behind
and above him, he turned on his heel and looked up.
The go-between fell screaming like a fire engine, and struck the
sidewalk head first. Shards of shattered glass landed all around him;
deadly rain peppering the flagstones. Mulder didn’t need a doctor to
tell him that the young man hadn’t survived the imapct.
Pulling his gun from its holster, Mulder wheeled around,
orienting on Carrabelli’s position. But his murderous new partner had
vanished. Putting the weapon away Mulder turned and ran full pelt. He
had no idea where he was going, only that he had to get away. The day
that he dreaded had finally arrived. MIB were closing in on him.

CONSPIRACIES - Part 3 of 4