Part 23.
It was four thirty in the morning and John was about to lose his mind. There had been no sign of Monica. He was really worried and the only thing that kept him from charging up to her apartment to see if she was there was the fact that he may not be the only one watching her apartment. And if he was found out, he didn't want to put Monica in any more jeopardy than she was already in.
He'd been watching her apartment for seven hours now and there had been no movement or light coming through her windows. He kept reassuring himself that it could mean anything. She could have gone on an assignment and the AD just hadn't been informed where that might be. Or she could be with a friend. Or she could be …out.
Jealousy surged through him before he shook it off and picked up a sheet pf paper off the passenger seat. Now was not the time to get jealous. Besides, he had no idea if she was even remotely interested in him…in that way.
He'd worry about this crap once he knew she was safe.
Reading the information he had written down, John wished Mulder was here so he could gloat about his manipulation skills. He thought he had done a pretty good job with sweet talking the landlord into giving him Monica's apartment number and location of her apartment from the streets. This wasn't usually how he operated but he was nearing desperation. He hadn't wanted to enter the apartment building yet, in case he gave away his cover. So some fast talking was needed. He was finally getting the hang of this damn job! He had almost kissed her the time she had said that to him. But they had been interrupted and the moment had been lost. There had been other times he had felt the need to take her in his arms but something had always stopped him. He was almost positive Monica felt the exact same way…but they had never said anything to each other.
Well, that would change. Once she was back in DC again, they would have some serious talking to do.
John perked up in his seat when a dark Mercedes rolled down the street past him. That had been the third time he had seen that car within the last half hour. What the hell was going on? Was the driver casing out Monica's apartment building? Or another one? There were several apartment buildings scattered along the block, with little specialty shops between them. Maybe the car wasn't casing at all. He or she could just be lost.
John doubted it.
He reached behind him in his rental car and yanked his binoculars out of a bag. Then he waited, his eyes darting all over the streets for a sign of the Mercedes.
Sure enough, fifteen minutes later it slowly rolled down the street toward him. John lifted his night vision binoculars and wasn't all that surprised to see who was in the passenger seat.
Special Agent Sean Ryan.
But who the hell was the driver? He recognized that face from somewhere. Mentally cataloging the driver's description, John jotted down the license plate of the car.
As the car rolled by him, John didn't move and kept his eyes forward. He wasn't parked under a street lamp so it should be very difficult for them to see him; much less suspect someone was in the car.
Once the Mercedes had turned the corner, John flipped through the photos of possible Red Guns. On the fourth page he hit a bull's eye.
Terrance Fisher.
"Son of a bitch."
Part 24.
Despite the cold, Monica felt the sun creeping up into the sky and peeking through the trees. With her eyes still closed, she rolled slightly until she found a spot where the sun had already warmed.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning Monica had collapsed with exhaustion. She didn't remember when she fell or how far she had managed to get. Everything was a blur.
Slowly opening her eyes, she squinted around her, trying to get her bearings. Like it helped much, she thought sarcastically. She was still in the middle of some forest and more confused as ever. Everything looked the same and she could have been running in circles last night for all she knew.
Bleakly, Monica stood up and immediately regretted it. She still felt so much pain. Every muscle was sore beyond belief and there were cuts all over her face and arms.
Some, she thought with disgust, which might need stitches.
Looking down, she grimaced at her blood and dirt covered suit. Her feet were tore up and blistered. She had kicked off her heels immediately after running from the house because there was no way she was going to run in heels.
She didn't even remember slicing her feet on branches and rocks.
She was not feeling sorry for herself. She was still alive and that's what counted.
But why was she still alive? And why hadn't anyone come after her? Surely they were at a greater advantage than her. So why let her go? Maybe they thought a few nights running scared in the forest would frighten her to death. Or maybe they were coming after her; they just didn't want her to know it.
Time to get moving. She walked slowly in a circle, listening for anything she might recognize. But she didn't hear any sounds of human civilization.
"Well, Reyes, which way to go?"
Her own voice startled her for a second and she took that adrenaline and began to walk.
She prayed she wasn't retracing her steps from last night. She had no idea which direction she had come from and there was a slim to none chance that she would recognize anything she had passed. She had been in such a daze and it had been so dark to actually notice her surroundings last night.
Monica walked for about an hour. Most of her pain had gone numb and all she could manage to do was look straight ahead and try not to notice how her feet were getting more swollen by the minute. She didn't even falter when little rocks worked their way into the gashes on her feet or the branches that scraped along the open wounds.
She just pressed on with determination.
About four hours later that determination was almost gone. It was late afternoon and the chill was starting to settle in again. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms for warmth, Monica kept moving. The good thing was she probably had picked the right direction because she was no where near the house. The bad thing was she had no idea where she was. She could be walking deeper and deeper into the forest. And further and further away from civilization.
What she wouldn't give for her cell phone right now. Or some food, she thought, rubbing a hand over her rumbling stomach. She hadn't eaten since yesterday morning.
And she was extremely thirsty. She hadn't heard any sounds of water all day and no sign of berries or anything she thought might be edible.
"Well, well, well."
Monica whipped around at the sound of the voice and was shocked to see five men standing not fifteen feet from her. All of them stood staring at her with blank faces. The only who was smirking just a bit was the third man to the right.
He stepped forward and grinned at her.
"So, how has our little paradise been treating you?"
Monica could just stare at him with horror.
He looked her up and down slowly.
"Not very good, from what I can tell. Well, that's what you get for running off."
He took another step closer. And another. And another, until he was right in front of her.
Monica still had not moved. She was so still that she wasn't even sure if she was still taking in oxygen.
He smiled at her again and said in threatening tone, "You didn't actually think you would make it out of here, did you?"
That broke the trance that had come over her.
"And why not? I could have, and all of you would have been left standing here with your feet in your mouths, you no-good, fucking sons of bitches!"
That wiped his grin right off his face.
In a low tone so she could only hear, he said, "Look, you don't know who you're dealing with here. Or what power we hold over you at this very instant. I could snap your neck like this," he snapped his fingers and Monica flinched, "and you'd never know what hit you."
"Then why don't you?"
"Because we have a special project that is in need of someone with your expertise."
Monica stared at him for what seemed like an eternity. Then she stepped back.
"Like hell."
And she turned around and ran like mad thought the trees, not stopping to see if they were right behind her.