"I'll get coffees. Will I leave our baggage here?" Mulder pointed to a concession stand along the sidewall and then at their stack of cases piled beside the carousel. Other passengers grumbled and muttered as they walked and leaned around the small pile.
"That's fine," Scully said quietly. "I'll make sure no-one steals your underwear." Then she yawned again. "What is that stink?"
"Probably the pollution. Gotham is the last city to still have significant heavy industry in the downtown area." He winked. "Get your friends in the EPA to have a word."
Although Mulder had significantly more contacts in the environment agency, she nodded indulgently and waved her hand to encourage him to go.
She switched on her cellphone and looked for a signal. She lifted the handset to her eye-level and moved it left and right. Still no signal. After several seconds she flipped the handset closed and looked around for assistance.
The area at the baggage claim where they had stacked their own bags had now become quiet, but the carousel in the next bay had lurched into life and a fresh squall of passengers was flowing thru. She noted an officer of the Transit Police standing quietly between the two bays observing people and their activity. From behind she could see his body armor and the short machine pistol peculiar to airport duties.
Mulder returned with two steaming paper cups in a cardboard tray.
"Officer," she said. "We're Federal agents on our way into the city. Is there a place we can get a better signal?"
"Feds? You here for the Wayne investigation? That's a real waste of your time. I'm sorry to hear that."
"We can't really say, but..." She nodded conspiratorially. "...It is a very important case. And we need to contact the local office to let them know our location."
His face remained helpful. "There was a drill this morning. We're still waiting for the towers to be switched back on. There's regular payphones over there if you got change." He nudged the butt of his machine pistol and it turned to point at a bank of open phones. "You have a nice day," he said as he continued on his way. "Welcome to Gotham City."
Mulder handed her the cup with the boiling hot green tea. "I'll make the call," he said. "I got a pocket full of change from the coffee stand."
:::
The quarters dropped smoothly into the slot. The succession of well-remembered button pushes was met by a brief ring and a grumbled snort of acknowledgement.
"Wuh?"
Mulder laughed to himself. "Bobby. It's Mulder." He tried to sound as friendly as he could. They had only met twice before. Mandatory training courses. But contacts were always useful.
"Oh hey. It's the Fox. Is it today? Are you in town?" Bobby was clearly excited.
Mulder nodded to no-one in particular. "We're at Nixon now. Do we have a car coming?"
There was a brief pause. "Ah. Sorry buddy. Since the city got religion, all our expenses are under scrutiny. Even the account with 'Enterprise' is on hold."
Mulder raised his eyebrows. Not a surprise. "We'll get the rental then. I'll claim it back in D.C."
"Would you mind?"
"Are you asking?"
"I guess not." There was an apologetic chuckle down the phone.
"We'll see you for lunch. Will I have to buy that too?" He knew a joke would be the friendly thing to say.
There was a short pause. "Is your lady friend coming?" Mulder could clearly visualize the leering look. Bobby was a gentleman, but he talked about women all day long.
Mulder played innocent. "I don't know what 'lady friend' means. I can confirm Agent Scully is part of our investigative delegation."
There was a sniff down the phone. "I'll see what I can do about that check. We'll call it a meeting. Which it will be."
Mulder laughed quietly. "Don't do anything that will get you into trouble. We'll see you in about an hour."
:::
The monorail glided smoothly past the remains of several large warehouses. After following the disused canal the buildings became denser, a mix of brownstones and shorter rebuilds. At each stop a dull tone warned of the doors opening then closing. There were no announcements.
Mulder felt like an idiot although it was not his fault the rental desk had no vehicles left. Poor planning was the excuse. Mulder had not disagreed.
"More smells," Scully noted. She searched in her purse for a paperback and held it down in her lap, intent on reading.
"That's the breweries," said Mulder. "The raw materials stink. At least from out here they do. But once they've worked their brewery wizardry, when it gets into the bars, it becomes something magical." He winked, but Scully continued to read her paperback.
"Sartre liked a drink," he teased. "Sheer hell when he had too much."
She turned the page of the novel. The train cars started to ride lower between the buildings, and the towers of the city started to squeeze in tighter.
"Hell is other people's cases," he joked. "I didn't know you spoke French."
She tapped her finger on the current page. "I don't. But I read it well enough."
There was silence again. "You know you didn't have to come," Mulder noted as she looked down. "It's only a few days. I'm not going to cause trouble or elope. Not on a tax case."
Scully sighed and put the book to one side. She met his gaze with a reassuring look. "The Wayne investigation is probably the Bureau's biggest case of the century. Agents from all over the Justice Department. I wouldn't mind getting my hands dirty for a change. A proper police case."
"Well, you've read all about Gotham. You'll find dirty hands here. So watch where you put yours if you want to get back to D.C. with all your fingers." He raised his eyebrows comically.
The train car descended into a tunnel and for a brief second they were in darkness.
