6:30 AM, Somewhere in Washington.
"Sir? This just arrived for you, sir."
The thin well-dressed man motioned a small unopened telegram to a mean seated at his desk, his back to the door.
"Open it and read it."
"Yes, sir." The thin man opened it and cleared his throat:
"Small problem STOP Please advise STOP Agent D.S. awakening STOP Prototype possibly at large STOP"
The thin man went white when he realized what he had just read. "Sir! Would you like me to compose a reply?" His voice trembled as he spoke. In his nervousness he smoothed back a lock of hair that had fallen in his eyes.
A thick haze of smoke arose from the desk chair. In between the lean, gaunt man's finger's was a thin cigarette. He tapped a few ashes onto the expensive-looking rug.
"Mmm. And send flowers for the lovely Agent Scully." He turned around in his chair and smiled at his own joke.
"It was funny, Clark. Crack a smile at least."
The thin man blinked at him like he was crazy.
"Do you know what this implicates? The confidential information that could be leaked?"
"Relax. The prototype knows nothing, and we can keep the girl under sedation. And remember your position. It doesn't do for a secretary to become so involved in his employer's affairs." He pressed the cigarette to his thin lips.
"Yes, Sir."
The Cigarette-Smoking Man continued to smile.
And Smoke.