Veckman Residence
Richmond, VA
December 19, 1999
11:45 A.M.
Mulder plucked a sunflower seed from the bag and absentmindedly popped one into his mouth. Gnashing the casing soundly with his teeth, he spit out the cracked shell and invited the salty texture to creep slowly around his mouth. Drawing a pair of binoculars over his eyes, he watched as Veckman placed the phone back in the receiver and proceeded out of sight into the next room. Rubbing his hands together to keep them warm in the midst of the intense cold penetrating the car, he sighed to himself and watched as his hot, cloudy breath formed circles in midair.
"Think warm thoughts," he told himself, "warm thoughts. Okay. Here goes." He closed his eyes and tried to imagine. "Sun.beach.palms .water lapping gently over the sand.half naked Pamela Anderson running in slow motion."
His next sordid visions were cut short by the ring of his cell phone. He picked it up from his pocket and placed it against his ear.
"Mulder."
"Mulder, it's me." Scully's voice sounded strangely excited from the other end.
"Scully," he answered, as a new vision danced through his mind, "how nice of you to join us. I believe you know Pam?"
"Pam?" she asked, bearing a quizzical expression that her partner could almost see through the telephone, "Mulder, what are you talking about?"
"Nothing," he replied, "Never mind. What's up?"
"Well," she hesitated briefly as she attempted to compute the beginning of their discussion, "I analyzed the sample that we found in Maryland, and I have to tell you, Mulder, it's like nothing I've ever seen before."
Mulder shifted the phone to his shoulder and once again peered through the binoculars. "What is it?" he asked.
"The majority of it is some sort of unclassified cyclic organic compound," Scully explained, "We extracted it and put it through both a mass and UV spec. It's composed of several carboxylic and phosphoric agents. I think the electron transferring capabilities inherent in those agents allow the compound to function as a kind of synthetic ATP molecule, a man-made super energy source."
"Fascinating, Scully," Mulder said blandly.
"Isn't it?" she replied, "I mean, who knows what sort of medical ramifications a compound like this could have in the future. It's been hypothesized that."
"Scully?" Mulder interjected.
"Yes, Mulder?"
"I sort of missed everything after 'Mulder, it's me. Could you break it down for me in, you know, English?"
Scully sighed loudly, notably irritated at the fact that she had to explain something that was so easy to comprehend.
"Like I said before," she repeated, "most of the sample is an organic compound that has these sort of built-in energy intermediaries. They're known in the chemical world as electron transport molecules and they function by either donating or taking energy that is necessary for the carrying out of chemical reactions."
"So why would the Eves be injecting themselves with that sort of compound?" Mulder asked, throwing a few more seeds into his mouth.
"As I also said before," Scully continued, "the same sort of electron transport elements are found in ATP molecules, the body's equivalent to an electric factory. ATP is found in nearly every living thing, down to the tiniest single-celled organism. It's a powerhouse that exists with one purpose - to drive chemical reactions."
"So the reason that the Eves have this compound is?" Mulder watched as Veckman reentered the room upstairs, flicked off the light, and grabbed something shiny off of the bedside table.
"Well, if what Eve 6 said is correct, that the clones all have five extra chromosomes, it might be difficult for the body to manage all the cellular processes necessary to keep itself stabilized. That is, if the body is used to carrying out the DNA replication and transcription of 46 chromosomes, but instead has to suddenly compensate for ten extra.well, if there was not enough energy to complete these processes, the result could have disastrous, debilitating consequences on the subject."
"So what you're saying," Mulder said, "is that somebody created this compound to, what? Provide the extra energy needed to complete the processes of those extra ten chromosomes?"
Scully shrugged, not sure if she even believed what she was saying. "That explanation would coincide with the other compounds present in the syringe," she told him.
Mulder raised an eyebrow as Veckman appeared at the front door and stepped into the brisk wind. He locked the door and advanced quickly to the silver BMW waiting patiently on the drive. "What other compounds?" Mulder asked.
Scully checked the file she was holding in her hand. "Cholesterol, nitrogenous bases, inorganic phosphate, organic sugars."
"What would all that be used for?"
"Cholesterol is present at great quantities in the cellular membrane," Scully answered, "It's used as a strengthening tool."
"And the others?"
"The others constitute roughly the components of DNA, itself," she replied.
"So if the DNA processes aren't functioning correctly in the Eves," Mulder reasoned, "then it might be necessary to supplement those processes with their rough ingredients if it was desired to perfect the process that caused the other Eves to eventually disintegrate to mental debilitation."
"Theoretically," Scully responded, "but the so- called ingredients that I just described are relatively large macromolecules. I don't know that they could be so easily injected into the bloodstream, cholesterol in particular."
"But theoretically," he pressed, "it's possible."
"Well, anything's possible in theory, Mulder," she replied, throwing a stray wisp of cleanly cut hair behind her hair, "That's why it's known as theory."
"Scully, if there was a place where this kind of scientific technology could be created, where would it be?"
"I'd have to look into Mulder," she told him, "but I'd have to say one of the most prestigious molecular biology units in the nation."
"Do me a favor, Scully," he asked, more of an order than a request, "Find that facility and its connection to Veckman."
"Mulder," she sighed, "do you know what day it is?"
"Sunday?" he asked.
"No, Mulder."
"Yes it is," he responded slyly, the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto his face, "that's what my watch says and Mr. Rolex doesn't lie."
"Well.yes," she fluttered, frustrated at the progression of their dialogue, "and you know, you've already made me miss Mass this morning."
"Don't worry, Scully," he replied, "God and I have a direct line. He told me that you're excused for the day.so long as you're bending to my every whim."
"Mulder," she spit angrily through the phone, "there is nothing that you could ever say to get me to do any kind of bending, period."
"Stop it, Scully. That's sexual harassment, and I don't have to take it."
"Like I was saying," she continued, "today is December 19th. There is less than a week until Christmas and I still don't have all my shopping done. I should be hitting the malls, not scrounging for some hidden connection between a doctor and a syringe."
"Scully, just do this for me and I'll get you the best present ever," he coddled.
She thought it over and then replied, "Okay, just this once. But it better be something good. Not another 'Super Plays of the Super Bowl'."
"'Superstars of the Super Bowl'," he corrected, "and it does my heart good to see that you've cherished it so fondly."
"Mulder," she began, but he interrupted her abruptly as Veckman started his car and drove away.
"Sorry, Scully," he said, "gotta go." He hung up without another word, started the engine, and followed at a secure distance.
"Jackass," Scully muttered, and threw her cell in her pocket.
University of Virginia Microbiology Division 4:28 P.M.
"Ah, Agent Scully, yes? I'm so glad that you could make it."
Scully placed her soggy black umbrella in a trashcan by the door as a young man of average height rose to greet her. His face seemed to Scully a strange, but pleasing, mixture of boyish features and swarthy, roguish handsomeness. His jet-black hair provided the perfect contrast to his piercing blue eyes, which were framed by thin wire-framed glasses. The smile that emerged on his perfectly-formed mouth caused a similar grin to appear on her face as she shook his hand.
"Dr. Sutherman?" Scully questioned, as the man nodded in affirmation.
"You look as though you were expecting someone else," he said pleasantly, chuckling as though he were accustomed to such a reaction.
"Not someone else, someone older," she acknowledged, blushing slightly as she lowered her eyes to the floor.
"If truth be told," he replied, "I was expecting a fifty year old man with a pot-belly, gray-hair, and a penchant for exotic ties. Shows you what happens when you make assumptions based upon surnames and professions." He motioned for her to follow him out of the unkempt lab and into his meticulously neat office."
"Yes, well," Scully continued, taking a seat in front of his desk, "at any rate, it's an honor to meet you. I read your paper on the use of hematopoietic stem cells against activated oncogenes. It was quite groundbreaking research."
"You read that?" he asked, a bemused expression on his face, "Is a session in molecular biology now a prerequisite at Quantico?"
Scully smiled. "No," she explained, "I'm a scientist."
"Biologist?"
She shook her head. "Physicist. I'm a medical doctor, actually, but I always found molecular particularly interesting. I like to keep myself apprised of new findings."
He nodded his head approvingly. "So what brings you to my door, Dr. Scully? You obviously do not need to be guided by hand in order to examine new discoveries."
"Didn't the secretary inform you of the reason for my visit?"
"No," he responded, "All I was told was that you needed to correspond with me regarding some case you were on. I wasn't given the specifics."
"Then let me bring you up to speed," Scully began, "My partner and I are currently investigating a case based upon genetic tampering. We believe that the culprits are engaging in illegal cloning activity, experimentation conducted in an attempt to generate a more perfect specimen."
"A woman of your scientific background, Agent Scully, is probably aware that that is precisely what genetic research centers around, generating a more perfect specimen. In fact, most genetic research is conducted to better humankind, specifically. Since you read my paper, I'm sure you know that stem cell research is devoted to the prospect of alleviating the most debilitating of genetic and human-caused catastrophes - diseased organs, paralysis - things of that nature."
"Yes, Dr. Sutherman," she answered, "I am aware. But what if the scientists were not simply attempting to perfect the health of a certain person, but all people, instead?"
Sutherman furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not quite sure I follow what it is you are saying," he told her.
Scully sighed, hoping not to lose her scientific respectability in the face of such an accomplished peer.
"I mean," she said, "what if eugenic experimentation was being conducted in the hopes of creating better humans?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if it were," he answered, drawing in a breath and folding his hands neatly on his desk.
"You.wouldn't?" The words came out slowly as Scully registered her surprise.
"No, I wouldn't," Sutherman repeated, "Cloning experimentation has been carried out readily within the past decade, successfully within the past two years. The birth of Dolly in '97 triggered, in my opinion, a fascination in the scientific psyche. It seems now that everyone in the research community is attempting to get a piece of the pie, to use the cloning technology that is now available to turn a pretty profit by preying on the fears of the nation - people with dilapidating illnesses, parents who so long for a glimpse of their deceased child that they would allow a copy of that child to be produced. It seems that nothing is no longer sacred."
A look of extreme distaste clouded Scully's face. "But don't you find that.sick?"
"I do, indeed, Agent Scully," Sutherman confided, "Sick and also dangerous. And I'll tell you why. The clone that we know as Dolly the sheep was classified as successful, the reason for that being that Dolly was born healthy with all chromosomes intact. However, the successful Dolly was engineered only after the degradation of 276 other embryos. That is to say that it took 277 attempts until the process actually worked correctly. And that's just with a sheep. Think about what would happen if the same experiment was conducted on the more complex human, Agent Scully. Who knows what the product would be like? There could be physical disfigurement or mental dilapidation. And that's not even taking into consideration the ethical standpoints." Sutherman sighed deeply. "But with the lack of current legislation, geneticists are taking it to the limit, pushing the boundaries. Until Congress chooses to act, I fear that sheep will be only the beginning."
Sutherman paused from his diatribe to consult the wooden cherry clock on his desk.
"Now, Agent Scully," he said, rising to his feet, "I'll have to beg your forgiveness, but I must ask your leave. I have an interdepartmental meeting in ten minutes, and have yet to grab something to eat." He motioned towards the door.
"There is actually one last thing I need to ask you before I go, doctor," Scully answered, making no movement to get up from her seat. Sutherman reseated himself with an air of intense patience and asked her to continue.
"My partner and I are currently in the midst of a murder investigation. The victim was killed several weeks ago by a gunshot wound to the neck. At the crime scene, we found a syringe that contained several chemical components, one of which was a synthetic organic compound exhibiting unique properties." Scully reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the lab results she had received earlier that day, handing them to Sutherman. His eyes widened as he skimmed through the papers.
"You say that this was found in a syringe?" he asked.
"That's right," Scully responded, nodding her head.
"Well," Sutherman said, "if the components listed here were, indeed, in the syringe, then perhaps the murderer might have killed her by lethal injection. Certainly, injecting cholesterol directly into the bloodstream can cause death. These macromolecules are simply too big to dissolve into the veins."
The glanced up briefly and noticed an odd expression quickly creep onto his interviewer's face. However, it faded just as quickly, and the doctor thought little of it.
"That might be a possibility," Scully answered, "except that the bullet wound in the victim's head was a pretty clear indication of death."
"Oh, right." The doctor nodded his head and handed her back the results.
"Besides," she continued, "I have reason to believe that this particular chemical cocktail didn't so much hinder the victim. Rather, I believe it helped."
"In what way?" Sutherman asked.
"It's not important now," she replied, "What is important is that when I consulted the leading authority at Quantico concerning places capable of producing the synthetic compound you just saw on that report, I was told that this was the only lab that would be able to handle such a task."
A supremely unexpressive look of contemplation fell on Sutherman's face.
"What precisely are you asking me now, Agent Scully?" he questioned, "Whether I know of any involvement of my lab in the production of this chemical that was found in a syringe at a crime scene?"
"Do you?"
"Absolutely not," he replied.
"And if anyone in this lab could produce such a compound, it would be you, wouldn't it? Don't you also have a background in organic chemistry?"
"Yes," he said, "I do. And I am not too modest to say that if anyone could produce this compound, it would probably be none other than myself. However, I can assure you that I have much more important matters on my plate than synthesizing some chemical which the body produces in immense stores on its own. Now if you don't mind." the tone was more insistent this time and a note of finality hung in the air as he once again rose from his chair, "I must be getting to that meeting." He handed her a card. "If you have any more questions, please, don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you for your time," Scully replied, rising from her seat and advancing towards the door. Upon reaching the threshold, she stopped and turned around, glancing at him a final time. "By the way, doctor," she asked innocently, "how did you know that the victim was a woman?"
Sutherman's face still bore the stoic look from their earlier confrontation. "You must have mentioned it," he replied simply.
"Huh," Scully said, "you're probably right." And with that, she turned back towards the door, grabbed her umbrella, and departed from the room.
Sutherman watched her leave and a scowl erupted ever-so-slightly on his face. He walked back into his office, and turned to close the door. Thunder rumbled softly in the night. When he turned back towards his desk, they were standing in front of the back door. A terrible mixture of innocence and intent glistened on their faces, illuminated by the stormy lightening.
"Girls," he said, jumping at the sound of a loud thunderclap, "you startled me."
"You made a mistake," the one on the left said.
"You made a mistake," the one on the right repeated, in exactly the same sing-song voice.
"It's okay," he told them, taking a seat in the chair where Agent Scully had just been seated, "she doesn't suspect anything."
"She knows," the left one said, advancing towards Sutherman on one side of the chair, "It's obvious."
"She'll be coming back with a warrant any day now," the right one finished for her, walking around towards his right side.
Even after all this time, it was still amazing to Sutherman. He knew that they were two separate physical people, and yet, it was like they were of one mind, one omniscient entity that could pervade his mind and see into his deepest thoughts.
"She doesn't know," he repeated firmly, "and even if she did, there's no way that she could ever link either of you or Veckman to this facility. The compound is hidden away safely. She'll never find it."
"We found it," the one on the left said, pulling a vial from behind her back and holding it up to the light.
"It was easy," the one on the right added.
The two girls were now standing directly next to him. He wasn't exactly sure why, but their proximity made him a little uneasy.
"How.how did you find it?" he stuttered.
The girls looked at each other and smiled broadly.
"We're geniuses," they said together, as if the truth in this statement was not merely obvious, but self-explanatory.
"You made a mistake," the one on the left repeated, "and now that we know the location of your entire store of serum."
".you're expendable," the girl on the right finished. She pulled a syringe from behind her back and flicked it malevolently. A burst of liquid issued forth from the needle. They were both laughing as the one on the right plunged the needle deep into Sutherman's arm. It was as if he could actually feel the serum coursing through his veins. As he lapsed into convulsions, he whispered the word that they had been asked on several previous occasions.
"Why?"
"We don't know," the one on the left said.
"You tell us," the one on the right said, "you made us."
"You made us," the one on the left finished.
The darkness took him over as thunder rumbled violently through the sky.
5:13 P.M.
Scully opened her umbrella against the darkening heavens. Wondering silently if the rain would ever cease, she advanced toward her car and pulled the keys from her pocket. She was still fumbling with them when a hand reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. The keys slipped from her hand as a ripple of fear swept through her stomach. Grabbing for her gun, she turned around to face her attacker.
"Hey, watch that thing! You're going to put someone's eye out!"
Scully put the safety on and pulled the gun back so that it faced the sky. "Jesus, Mulder!" she cried, placing it safely behind her back, "You scared the hell out of me!" She brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear and bent down to pick up the dropped keys, but was preempted by Mulder who already had them in his hands.
"Thank you," Scully said as he placed them back in her palm, "but, Mulder, what are you doing here? I didn't tell you where I was going."
"I followed Veckman," he told her, taking the umbrella from her hand as she renewed her attempt to find the correct key.
"He's here?"
She turned her attention from the keyring to Mulder's eyes. They were filled with the excitement that always appeared when the investigation began to get interesting.
Mulder nodded. "He pulled in the back about two minutes ago. I was following him when I saw you." A grin spread across his face. "Imagine my surprise."
Her response was interrupted by the sound of tires screeching on the wet pavement. The agents attempted to shield their eyes from the glare of the blinding headlights barreling down upon them. Scully turned her head as the light became unbearable but Mulder was able to just make out the shadowy figures in the car.
"He has them, Scully," he yelled as the car drove off into the night, "He has them."
"Has who, Mulder?" she asked.
"Eves 9 and 10."
A look of horror came over her face as comprehension dawned. She threw the keys back into his hands as she bolted back towards the front door. Mulder followed her lead up the stairs, through the corridor, and back into the lab where she had just departed only moments before. She was the first to enter Sutherman's office and the first to see his lifeless body sprawled in the chair facing his desk.
"Jesus, Scully," Mulder said softly, "what the hell did you do to him?"
5:52 P.M.
"I can't believe he's gone. He was just sitting here a half hour ago."
Scully's body sunk heavily into the plush leather chair that was situated behind the desk of the now former Dr. Sutherman. She threw her elbows on her legs and shielded her face with her hands.
"What do we do now?"
Mulder pulled up a chair next to her and took a seat. He handed her one of coffees he had bought at the local Wawa after placing a call to the police.
"Now we find Veckman," he answered, "Veckman and those psychotic demon twins. I've already put out an A.P.B. on the license and make of the car."
He gave his partner a long and penetrating gaze as she thankfully took the Styrofoam cup from his hand.
"Scully," he asked, furrowing his brows as she took a careful sip, "what's wrong?"
"What's wrong," she responded, slamming her cup on the desk, "is that I should have trusted my instincts. If I had only listened to myself, I would have hauled his ass straight downtown. At least he would have been safe in protective custody."
"It's not your fault, Scully," Mulder told her, "You can't dance with the devil and expect not to get burned."
"I know that inside, Mulder," she answered slowly, "but I can't help feeling that I played a role in this." She averted her eyes as she absentmindedly waved her hand in the direction of Sutherman's chalk outline.
"I think you're upset because you liked him," Mulder said quietly.
"Of course I liked him," Scully responded, "He was young, amiable, and extremely intelligent. Did you know that he discovered that hematopoietic stem cells could possibly be used to circumvent cancerous cell lines?"
She suddenly looked extremely excited, almost giddy. Mulder, on the other hand, seemed less than enthusiastic.
"Yeah, well, whatever. Anyway, you don't need to feel responsibility for something you have no control over. It was Sutherman's connection to Veckman that got him killed, not your inability to stop it." He patted her shoulder comfortingly and then began to look through the room.
"Hey, Scully," he called out after a couple of minutes, "Come here a second." Scully stood up, took a few sips from her coffee, and walked over to where he was standing.
"I don't think the Children of the Corn were making some random hit," he told her.
"Of course they weren't. You, yourself, said you followed Veckman here. He had to have been meeting with Sutherman."
"I know," Mulder replied, "but they didn't kill him for pure sport. They had a better motivation. Look here." He pointed into a safe that he had been rummaging through. Glancing inside, Scully noted the presence of a stack of computer cds, all neatly labeled and color coordinated, corresponding with a key taped to the inside of the safe door. All of the cds were accounted for, with one notable exception. In the space where the cd labeled 'Litchfield Project: Structures and Mechanisms' should have been standing tall, a gaping hole was all that remained.
Mulder plucked a sunflower seed from the bag and absentmindedly popped one into his mouth. Gnashing the casing soundly with his teeth, he spit out the cracked shell and invited the salty texture to creep slowly around his mouth. Drawing a pair of binoculars over his eyes, he watched as Veckman placed the phone back in the receiver and proceeded out of sight into the next room. Rubbing his hands together to keep them warm in the midst of the intense cold penetrating the car, he sighed to himself and watched as his hot, cloudy breath formed circles in midair.
"Think warm thoughts," he told himself, "warm thoughts. Okay. Here goes." He closed his eyes and tried to imagine. "Sun.beach.palms .water lapping gently over the sand.half naked Pamela Anderson running in slow motion."
His next sordid visions were cut short by the ring of his cell phone. He picked it up from his pocket and placed it against his ear.
"Mulder."
"Mulder, it's me." Scully's voice sounded strangely excited from the other end.
"Scully," he answered, as a new vision danced through his mind, "how nice of you to join us. I believe you know Pam?"
"Pam?" she asked, bearing a quizzical expression that her partner could almost see through the telephone, "Mulder, what are you talking about?"
"Nothing," he replied, "Never mind. What's up?"
"Well," she hesitated briefly as she attempted to compute the beginning of their discussion, "I analyzed the sample that we found in Maryland, and I have to tell you, Mulder, it's like nothing I've ever seen before."
Mulder shifted the phone to his shoulder and once again peered through the binoculars. "What is it?" he asked.
"The majority of it is some sort of unclassified cyclic organic compound," Scully explained, "We extracted it and put it through both a mass and UV spec. It's composed of several carboxylic and phosphoric agents. I think the electron transferring capabilities inherent in those agents allow the compound to function as a kind of synthetic ATP molecule, a man-made super energy source."
"Fascinating, Scully," Mulder said blandly.
"Isn't it?" she replied, "I mean, who knows what sort of medical ramifications a compound like this could have in the future. It's been hypothesized that."
"Scully?" Mulder interjected.
"Yes, Mulder?"
"I sort of missed everything after 'Mulder, it's me. Could you break it down for me in, you know, English?"
Scully sighed loudly, notably irritated at the fact that she had to explain something that was so easy to comprehend.
"Like I said before," she repeated, "most of the sample is an organic compound that has these sort of built-in energy intermediaries. They're known in the chemical world as electron transport molecules and they function by either donating or taking energy that is necessary for the carrying out of chemical reactions."
"So why would the Eves be injecting themselves with that sort of compound?" Mulder asked, throwing a few more seeds into his mouth.
"As I also said before," Scully continued, "the same sort of electron transport elements are found in ATP molecules, the body's equivalent to an electric factory. ATP is found in nearly every living thing, down to the tiniest single-celled organism. It's a powerhouse that exists with one purpose - to drive chemical reactions."
"So the reason that the Eves have this compound is?" Mulder watched as Veckman reentered the room upstairs, flicked off the light, and grabbed something shiny off of the bedside table.
"Well, if what Eve 6 said is correct, that the clones all have five extra chromosomes, it might be difficult for the body to manage all the cellular processes necessary to keep itself stabilized. That is, if the body is used to carrying out the DNA replication and transcription of 46 chromosomes, but instead has to suddenly compensate for ten extra.well, if there was not enough energy to complete these processes, the result could have disastrous, debilitating consequences on the subject."
"So what you're saying," Mulder said, "is that somebody created this compound to, what? Provide the extra energy needed to complete the processes of those extra ten chromosomes?"
Scully shrugged, not sure if she even believed what she was saying. "That explanation would coincide with the other compounds present in the syringe," she told him.
Mulder raised an eyebrow as Veckman appeared at the front door and stepped into the brisk wind. He locked the door and advanced quickly to the silver BMW waiting patiently on the drive. "What other compounds?" Mulder asked.
Scully checked the file she was holding in her hand. "Cholesterol, nitrogenous bases, inorganic phosphate, organic sugars."
"What would all that be used for?"
"Cholesterol is present at great quantities in the cellular membrane," Scully answered, "It's used as a strengthening tool."
"And the others?"
"The others constitute roughly the components of DNA, itself," she replied.
"So if the DNA processes aren't functioning correctly in the Eves," Mulder reasoned, "then it might be necessary to supplement those processes with their rough ingredients if it was desired to perfect the process that caused the other Eves to eventually disintegrate to mental debilitation."
"Theoretically," Scully responded, "but the so- called ingredients that I just described are relatively large macromolecules. I don't know that they could be so easily injected into the bloodstream, cholesterol in particular."
"But theoretically," he pressed, "it's possible."
"Well, anything's possible in theory, Mulder," she replied, throwing a stray wisp of cleanly cut hair behind her hair, "That's why it's known as theory."
"Scully, if there was a place where this kind of scientific technology could be created, where would it be?"
"I'd have to look into Mulder," she told him, "but I'd have to say one of the most prestigious molecular biology units in the nation."
"Do me a favor, Scully," he asked, more of an order than a request, "Find that facility and its connection to Veckman."
"Mulder," she sighed, "do you know what day it is?"
"Sunday?" he asked.
"No, Mulder."
"Yes it is," he responded slyly, the faintest hint of a smile creeping onto his face, "that's what my watch says and Mr. Rolex doesn't lie."
"Well.yes," she fluttered, frustrated at the progression of their dialogue, "and you know, you've already made me miss Mass this morning."
"Don't worry, Scully," he replied, "God and I have a direct line. He told me that you're excused for the day.so long as you're bending to my every whim."
"Mulder," she spit angrily through the phone, "there is nothing that you could ever say to get me to do any kind of bending, period."
"Stop it, Scully. That's sexual harassment, and I don't have to take it."
"Like I was saying," she continued, "today is December 19th. There is less than a week until Christmas and I still don't have all my shopping done. I should be hitting the malls, not scrounging for some hidden connection between a doctor and a syringe."
"Scully, just do this for me and I'll get you the best present ever," he coddled.
She thought it over and then replied, "Okay, just this once. But it better be something good. Not another 'Super Plays of the Super Bowl'."
"'Superstars of the Super Bowl'," he corrected, "and it does my heart good to see that you've cherished it so fondly."
"Mulder," she began, but he interrupted her abruptly as Veckman started his car and drove away.
"Sorry, Scully," he said, "gotta go." He hung up without another word, started the engine, and followed at a secure distance.
"Jackass," Scully muttered, and threw her cell in her pocket.
University of Virginia Microbiology Division 4:28 P.M.
"Ah, Agent Scully, yes? I'm so glad that you could make it."
Scully placed her soggy black umbrella in a trashcan by the door as a young man of average height rose to greet her. His face seemed to Scully a strange, but pleasing, mixture of boyish features and swarthy, roguish handsomeness. His jet-black hair provided the perfect contrast to his piercing blue eyes, which were framed by thin wire-framed glasses. The smile that emerged on his perfectly-formed mouth caused a similar grin to appear on her face as she shook his hand.
"Dr. Sutherman?" Scully questioned, as the man nodded in affirmation.
"You look as though you were expecting someone else," he said pleasantly, chuckling as though he were accustomed to such a reaction.
"Not someone else, someone older," she acknowledged, blushing slightly as she lowered her eyes to the floor.
"If truth be told," he replied, "I was expecting a fifty year old man with a pot-belly, gray-hair, and a penchant for exotic ties. Shows you what happens when you make assumptions based upon surnames and professions." He motioned for her to follow him out of the unkempt lab and into his meticulously neat office."
"Yes, well," Scully continued, taking a seat in front of his desk, "at any rate, it's an honor to meet you. I read your paper on the use of hematopoietic stem cells against activated oncogenes. It was quite groundbreaking research."
"You read that?" he asked, a bemused expression on his face, "Is a session in molecular biology now a prerequisite at Quantico?"
Scully smiled. "No," she explained, "I'm a scientist."
"Biologist?"
She shook her head. "Physicist. I'm a medical doctor, actually, but I always found molecular particularly interesting. I like to keep myself apprised of new findings."
He nodded his head approvingly. "So what brings you to my door, Dr. Scully? You obviously do not need to be guided by hand in order to examine new discoveries."
"Didn't the secretary inform you of the reason for my visit?"
"No," he responded, "All I was told was that you needed to correspond with me regarding some case you were on. I wasn't given the specifics."
"Then let me bring you up to speed," Scully began, "My partner and I are currently investigating a case based upon genetic tampering. We believe that the culprits are engaging in illegal cloning activity, experimentation conducted in an attempt to generate a more perfect specimen."
"A woman of your scientific background, Agent Scully, is probably aware that that is precisely what genetic research centers around, generating a more perfect specimen. In fact, most genetic research is conducted to better humankind, specifically. Since you read my paper, I'm sure you know that stem cell research is devoted to the prospect of alleviating the most debilitating of genetic and human-caused catastrophes - diseased organs, paralysis - things of that nature."
"Yes, Dr. Sutherman," she answered, "I am aware. But what if the scientists were not simply attempting to perfect the health of a certain person, but all people, instead?"
Sutherman furrowed his eyebrows. "I'm not quite sure I follow what it is you are saying," he told her.
Scully sighed, hoping not to lose her scientific respectability in the face of such an accomplished peer.
"I mean," she said, "what if eugenic experimentation was being conducted in the hopes of creating better humans?"
"I wouldn't be surprised if it were," he answered, drawing in a breath and folding his hands neatly on his desk.
"You.wouldn't?" The words came out slowly as Scully registered her surprise.
"No, I wouldn't," Sutherman repeated, "Cloning experimentation has been carried out readily within the past decade, successfully within the past two years. The birth of Dolly in '97 triggered, in my opinion, a fascination in the scientific psyche. It seems now that everyone in the research community is attempting to get a piece of the pie, to use the cloning technology that is now available to turn a pretty profit by preying on the fears of the nation - people with dilapidating illnesses, parents who so long for a glimpse of their deceased child that they would allow a copy of that child to be produced. It seems that nothing is no longer sacred."
A look of extreme distaste clouded Scully's face. "But don't you find that.sick?"
"I do, indeed, Agent Scully," Sutherman confided, "Sick and also dangerous. And I'll tell you why. The clone that we know as Dolly the sheep was classified as successful, the reason for that being that Dolly was born healthy with all chromosomes intact. However, the successful Dolly was engineered only after the degradation of 276 other embryos. That is to say that it took 277 attempts until the process actually worked correctly. And that's just with a sheep. Think about what would happen if the same experiment was conducted on the more complex human, Agent Scully. Who knows what the product would be like? There could be physical disfigurement or mental dilapidation. And that's not even taking into consideration the ethical standpoints." Sutherman sighed deeply. "But with the lack of current legislation, geneticists are taking it to the limit, pushing the boundaries. Until Congress chooses to act, I fear that sheep will be only the beginning."
Sutherman paused from his diatribe to consult the wooden cherry clock on his desk.
"Now, Agent Scully," he said, rising to his feet, "I'll have to beg your forgiveness, but I must ask your leave. I have an interdepartmental meeting in ten minutes, and have yet to grab something to eat." He motioned towards the door.
"There is actually one last thing I need to ask you before I go, doctor," Scully answered, making no movement to get up from her seat. Sutherman reseated himself with an air of intense patience and asked her to continue.
"My partner and I are currently in the midst of a murder investigation. The victim was killed several weeks ago by a gunshot wound to the neck. At the crime scene, we found a syringe that contained several chemical components, one of which was a synthetic organic compound exhibiting unique properties." Scully reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the lab results she had received earlier that day, handing them to Sutherman. His eyes widened as he skimmed through the papers.
"You say that this was found in a syringe?" he asked.
"That's right," Scully responded, nodding her head.
"Well," Sutherman said, "if the components listed here were, indeed, in the syringe, then perhaps the murderer might have killed her by lethal injection. Certainly, injecting cholesterol directly into the bloodstream can cause death. These macromolecules are simply too big to dissolve into the veins."
The glanced up briefly and noticed an odd expression quickly creep onto his interviewer's face. However, it faded just as quickly, and the doctor thought little of it.
"That might be a possibility," Scully answered, "except that the bullet wound in the victim's head was a pretty clear indication of death."
"Oh, right." The doctor nodded his head and handed her back the results.
"Besides," she continued, "I have reason to believe that this particular chemical cocktail didn't so much hinder the victim. Rather, I believe it helped."
"In what way?" Sutherman asked.
"It's not important now," she replied, "What is important is that when I consulted the leading authority at Quantico concerning places capable of producing the synthetic compound you just saw on that report, I was told that this was the only lab that would be able to handle such a task."
A supremely unexpressive look of contemplation fell on Sutherman's face.
"What precisely are you asking me now, Agent Scully?" he questioned, "Whether I know of any involvement of my lab in the production of this chemical that was found in a syringe at a crime scene?"
"Do you?"
"Absolutely not," he replied.
"And if anyone in this lab could produce such a compound, it would be you, wouldn't it? Don't you also have a background in organic chemistry?"
"Yes," he said, "I do. And I am not too modest to say that if anyone could produce this compound, it would probably be none other than myself. However, I can assure you that I have much more important matters on my plate than synthesizing some chemical which the body produces in immense stores on its own. Now if you don't mind." the tone was more insistent this time and a note of finality hung in the air as he once again rose from his chair, "I must be getting to that meeting." He handed her a card. "If you have any more questions, please, don't hesitate to call."
"Thank you for your time," Scully replied, rising from her seat and advancing towards the door. Upon reaching the threshold, she stopped and turned around, glancing at him a final time. "By the way, doctor," she asked innocently, "how did you know that the victim was a woman?"
Sutherman's face still bore the stoic look from their earlier confrontation. "You must have mentioned it," he replied simply.
"Huh," Scully said, "you're probably right." And with that, she turned back towards the door, grabbed her umbrella, and departed from the room.
Sutherman watched her leave and a scowl erupted ever-so-slightly on his face. He walked back into his office, and turned to close the door. Thunder rumbled softly in the night. When he turned back towards his desk, they were standing in front of the back door. A terrible mixture of innocence and intent glistened on their faces, illuminated by the stormy lightening.
"Girls," he said, jumping at the sound of a loud thunderclap, "you startled me."
"You made a mistake," the one on the left said.
"You made a mistake," the one on the right repeated, in exactly the same sing-song voice.
"It's okay," he told them, taking a seat in the chair where Agent Scully had just been seated, "she doesn't suspect anything."
"She knows," the left one said, advancing towards Sutherman on one side of the chair, "It's obvious."
"She'll be coming back with a warrant any day now," the right one finished for her, walking around towards his right side.
Even after all this time, it was still amazing to Sutherman. He knew that they were two separate physical people, and yet, it was like they were of one mind, one omniscient entity that could pervade his mind and see into his deepest thoughts.
"She doesn't know," he repeated firmly, "and even if she did, there's no way that she could ever link either of you or Veckman to this facility. The compound is hidden away safely. She'll never find it."
"We found it," the one on the left said, pulling a vial from behind her back and holding it up to the light.
"It was easy," the one on the right added.
The two girls were now standing directly next to him. He wasn't exactly sure why, but their proximity made him a little uneasy.
"How.how did you find it?" he stuttered.
The girls looked at each other and smiled broadly.
"We're geniuses," they said together, as if the truth in this statement was not merely obvious, but self-explanatory.
"You made a mistake," the one on the left repeated, "and now that we know the location of your entire store of serum."
".you're expendable," the girl on the right finished. She pulled a syringe from behind her back and flicked it malevolently. A burst of liquid issued forth from the needle. They were both laughing as the one on the right plunged the needle deep into Sutherman's arm. It was as if he could actually feel the serum coursing through his veins. As he lapsed into convulsions, he whispered the word that they had been asked on several previous occasions.
"Why?"
"We don't know," the one on the left said.
"You tell us," the one on the right said, "you made us."
"You made us," the one on the left finished.
The darkness took him over as thunder rumbled violently through the sky.
5:13 P.M.
Scully opened her umbrella against the darkening heavens. Wondering silently if the rain would ever cease, she advanced toward her car and pulled the keys from her pocket. She was still fumbling with them when a hand reached out and grabbed her by the shoulder. The keys slipped from her hand as a ripple of fear swept through her stomach. Grabbing for her gun, she turned around to face her attacker.
"Hey, watch that thing! You're going to put someone's eye out!"
Scully put the safety on and pulled the gun back so that it faced the sky. "Jesus, Mulder!" she cried, placing it safely behind her back, "You scared the hell out of me!" She brushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear and bent down to pick up the dropped keys, but was preempted by Mulder who already had them in his hands.
"Thank you," Scully said as he placed them back in her palm, "but, Mulder, what are you doing here? I didn't tell you where I was going."
"I followed Veckman," he told her, taking the umbrella from her hand as she renewed her attempt to find the correct key.
"He's here?"
She turned her attention from the keyring to Mulder's eyes. They were filled with the excitement that always appeared when the investigation began to get interesting.
Mulder nodded. "He pulled in the back about two minutes ago. I was following him when I saw you." A grin spread across his face. "Imagine my surprise."
Her response was interrupted by the sound of tires screeching on the wet pavement. The agents attempted to shield their eyes from the glare of the blinding headlights barreling down upon them. Scully turned her head as the light became unbearable but Mulder was able to just make out the shadowy figures in the car.
"He has them, Scully," he yelled as the car drove off into the night, "He has them."
"Has who, Mulder?" she asked.
"Eves 9 and 10."
A look of horror came over her face as comprehension dawned. She threw the keys back into his hands as she bolted back towards the front door. Mulder followed her lead up the stairs, through the corridor, and back into the lab where she had just departed only moments before. She was the first to enter Sutherman's office and the first to see his lifeless body sprawled in the chair facing his desk.
"Jesus, Scully," Mulder said softly, "what the hell did you do to him?"
5:52 P.M.
"I can't believe he's gone. He was just sitting here a half hour ago."
Scully's body sunk heavily into the plush leather chair that was situated behind the desk of the now former Dr. Sutherman. She threw her elbows on her legs and shielded her face with her hands.
"What do we do now?"
Mulder pulled up a chair next to her and took a seat. He handed her one of coffees he had bought at the local Wawa after placing a call to the police.
"Now we find Veckman," he answered, "Veckman and those psychotic demon twins. I've already put out an A.P.B. on the license and make of the car."
He gave his partner a long and penetrating gaze as she thankfully took the Styrofoam cup from his hand.
"Scully," he asked, furrowing his brows as she took a careful sip, "what's wrong?"
"What's wrong," she responded, slamming her cup on the desk, "is that I should have trusted my instincts. If I had only listened to myself, I would have hauled his ass straight downtown. At least he would have been safe in protective custody."
"It's not your fault, Scully," Mulder told her, "You can't dance with the devil and expect not to get burned."
"I know that inside, Mulder," she answered slowly, "but I can't help feeling that I played a role in this." She averted her eyes as she absentmindedly waved her hand in the direction of Sutherman's chalk outline.
"I think you're upset because you liked him," Mulder said quietly.
"Of course I liked him," Scully responded, "He was young, amiable, and extremely intelligent. Did you know that he discovered that hematopoietic stem cells could possibly be used to circumvent cancerous cell lines?"
She suddenly looked extremely excited, almost giddy. Mulder, on the other hand, seemed less than enthusiastic.
"Yeah, well, whatever. Anyway, you don't need to feel responsibility for something you have no control over. It was Sutherman's connection to Veckman that got him killed, not your inability to stop it." He patted her shoulder comfortingly and then began to look through the room.
"Hey, Scully," he called out after a couple of minutes, "Come here a second." Scully stood up, took a few sips from her coffee, and walked over to where he was standing.
"I don't think the Children of the Corn were making some random hit," he told her.
"Of course they weren't. You, yourself, said you followed Veckman here. He had to have been meeting with Sutherman."
"I know," Mulder replied, "but they didn't kill him for pure sport. They had a better motivation. Look here." He pointed into a safe that he had been rummaging through. Glancing inside, Scully noted the presence of a stack of computer cds, all neatly labeled and color coordinated, corresponding with a key taped to the inside of the safe door. All of the cds were accounted for, with one notable exception. In the space where the cd labeled 'Litchfield Project: Structures and Mechanisms' should have been standing tall, a gaping hole was all that remained.