"These impossible women! How they do get around us! The poet was right: can't live with them, or without them." Aristophanes

Chapter 5:
Running Before The Storm

Vero Beach, off Main Street. 8:18 p.m.

"Over here, Sheriff!" Deputy Jeff Sims called out.

Blake ran over, the building wind slapping his clothes around.

"We better hurry up on the scene, Jeff. We got a strong squall comin' in."

Once he made it into the alleyway, the wind ceased its harassment of Blake. Blake had to watch his steps for garbage. Normally a dark alley would've been pretty foreboding, but under the glare of the police lights any sense of apprehension seemed to melt away. Jeff had called to Blake from the far end of the alley, away from the body. *What did he find now?*

"Sheriff, take a look at this."

Jeff stood with a forensic technician. He shone a light on the fence. The deep crimson red of blood greeted him and Blake.

"Looks like we got ourselves a wounded attacker, Sheriff."

"More like a second victim," a voice behind them called out.

They turned to see Mulder. He was slowly strolling down the alley from the dead body.

"Our first victim's gun hasn't been fired."

Mulder held out the gun in his gloved hand.

"Do you usually find hardware like this, Sheriff?"

Blake frowned. "Silenced Walther PPK. That's spy hardware, ain't it, Agent Mulder?"

"Yeah. Sure Sheriff. *Spy hardware*," Mulder said, smirking.

Blake caught the smirk, and felt a bit embarrassed in front of his colleagues. He blushed.

"Gee, Agent Mulder. I just thought that-"

"Its fine, Blake."

They all turned to see Scully walking towards them. Her heels clicked on the pavement, punctuating every step she took. She forcefully brushed aside a stray bit of hair. Her red lips were pursed, and she had a very determined look on her face. Very determined. Jeff shook his head. He felt sorry for whoever crossed a gal like this. Blake just bit his lip as he watched her sexy walk.

"*Some* people, Blake, don't check the crime scene properly," she continued, her barb aimed at Mulder.

"If Agent Mulder had taken the time to fully check the body, instead of rushing over here, he would've discovered this."

With that she held out a passport. It was in some odd language, but Mulder made out it said South Africa.

"What's that, Miss-" Blake corrected himself in front of the other cops- "Agent Scully?"

"It's a diplomatic passport, Blake. Just the kind a spy might carry."

She shot a look at Mulder to make sure he didn't say something snide, then continued, "These were also these in his jacket pocket."

Scully handed Blake a number of cards, along with a photograph.

"That's Don Sampson," Jeff pointed out, looking over Blake's shoulder.

"Yeah," said Blake, "but look at this here."

He held up a card. It read:

Alexander Deger
Chief Executive Officer
Geographic International Explorations
Floors 20-30, 3 Auric Plaza, Vero Beach, Florida

"I've seen that company before," Mulder said.

"Yeah, wasn't it on the list that diver gave to us?"

"Yes," Mulder said, surprised by the *simple sheriff's* recollection, "these deaths may be tied together."

Scully flipped out her cellphone, and grabbed the note from Jeff, who had just taken it. He exchanged a scared glance with the forensic technician. Hell hath no fury.

"I'll call to see if they're still open."

"Actually, Scully," Mulder said condescendingly, touching her arm, "I think it might be better if you do an autopsy on this body. You know to see if he has any side effects like Sampson's body. I can go and check this one out."

Scully shot Mulder a look that would have killed many a lesser man. *He did NOT just tell me to stay behind while he goes off to do the REAL work! He did NOT!*

"Excuse me!?!"

*Two can play her little games* Mulder thought.

"Sheriff Blake and I'll be fine Scully. You can go off on the autopsy."

Mulder quickly grabbed the note back, then Blake by the arm, and they hurried away to the car. Mulder felt sorry for the poor bastards who had to stay behind. He hoped Scully wouldn't castrate them to roughly.

"Bye Miss Scully," Blake called out as Mulder dragged him away.

She turned back to face Jeff and the forensic technician. When they saw her face, the technician let out a little whimper and Jeff instinctively reached for his gun. Hell hath no fury.

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Vero Beach, 3 Auric Plaza. 8:51 p.m.

Mulder had called the company in the car. GIE was open odd hours, due to international gold markets, he was told. So eventually Mulder and Blake pulled into the large parking lot in front of the glass building.

The building was a testament to the odd nature of man to disregard his environment. It was a sleek modernist structure, yet it seemed that when the next hurricane came along, the building would be reduced to a nice pile of shards.

Mulder and Blake got out of the car. There was another car there, and a man leaned on it smoking. He wore a nice suit.

"'Bout the FBI got here."

Mulder leaned over to Blake, "Is he with you?"

"I thought he was with you, Agent Mulder."

They walked up to the man, who dropped his cigarette to the ground.

"You guys are with the Bureau, aren't you?"

Mulder showed his badge. "And who might you be?"

The man flashed an unusual badge, "John Morgan, US Customs. We've been looking into GIE for some time now. It seems they deal with some less than reputable governments around the world. We suspect they may be smuggling gold into the US, without paying taxes. A horrible crime, you know, Agent- what was it?"

"Mulder. This is Sheriff Blake Easton."

They all shook hands.

"How'd you know we'd be here, Agent Morgan?" asked Blake, a bit suspiciously.

"Well, your case is pretty high profile. And since I knew Sampson's tie to GIE, it seemed only a matter of time until you ended up here."

"And you've just been waiting here?" asked Mulder this time.

"No. I've had this place staked out for a while." He paused. "So, are you guys going to ask GIE some questions, or what?"

Mulder and Blake exchanged a glance. Mulder didn't think Blake was that bad. What angered him more was that Scully thought Blake was so good. Now they both shared the same doubts. But how were they going to turn away another federal agent, one who had some background information too?

The howling wind picked up. A squall was blowing in faster and faster. Vero Beach was in for a rough night. In more ways than one.

They all walked into the lobby. They passed some rigorous security measures, and finally made it to the elevators.

"What exactly does GIE do that they have such tight security?" Mulder asked.

"And that they take up 10 floors?" added Blake.

"These guys are into a variety of different industries. Their main sector is mining, where they explore for, and mine, gold throughout the world. They also run a financial management subsidiary, an international freight company, a security services company, and a few others I can't think of right now. The CEO, Deger, is one of the richest people in Florida. I also hear he's quite the player in Washington. Which is why we have to make sure to tread lightly here. OK?"

Mulder knew all about being told to tread lightly, and he didn't really care for it.

The elevator stopped, and they got out. The floor was in imitation of an ornate Renaissance palazzo. Marble was everywhere, and some Old Master paintings hung on the walls. The desks in the room were wooden works of art, with gilt highlights. A cute blond secretary sat behind a large teak desk. She smiled at Mulder. He smiled back. *Hey, Scully's not the only one who can have fun.*

"Would you look at this place," exclaimed gaping Blake.

"Shut your mouth Blake, you wouldn't want a bird to get stuck in there," Mulder quipped.

Blake hadn't heard; he'd gone off to stare at a painting.

"Why don't you and the Sheriff ask some of the employees questions, Agent Morgan? I'll talk with Deger."

"Sure. You'll have to talk to his secretary first though, right?" said John, winking as he walked off.

Mulder nodded.

*Stupid Yank,* the Australian thought, *now where's that yokel Sheriff?*

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I've got a game. Find out which character's last name is an anagram for a theme in this story. The winner gets, well, um, how 'bout the satisfaction of knowing they've won? And my admiration, which, of course, is priceless ;- )

- your writer buddy