Chapter 12: Catch
2330 Darling Street
Hillcrest Heights, Maryland
May 8th
9:34am
"Isn't this just a darling little house now, dear, and on Darling Street!" CeeCee Rhines sang to the rather aloof, redheaded woman wearing a two-day-old black suit.
"Of course," Scully answered briskly, not even looking around.
Looking put off, CeeCee answered, "Well, then, good. I'll call the utilities, do the necessary paperwork—"
"I'd like to move in today, ma'am, right now, if possible," Scully cut in with a wave of her hand.
"Oh, no, no, no, you couldn't possibly do that," protested the realtor with a regal air. "The paperwork—oh."
Scully replaced her badge with the most arrogant expression she could assume.
CeeCee Rhines edged toward the door. "I'll, just, uh, call you, ma'am, heh, enjoy your stay!"
Scully made sure that CeeCee's silver convertible disappeared around the corner before she dashed down the front steps of the wee yellow house to her Nissan parked in the street.
"Cassandra?" she said softly to the prone figure in the backseat.
Cassandra Spender sat up slowly, painfully, and regarded Scully with foggy blue eyes.
"Agent Scully, oh, thank you…"
"Come on," Scully said, smiling kindly. She helped Cassandra out of the car and into the house. "We'll be staying here for a while."
"Okay," Cassandra panted, shaking with the exertion.
Scully led her into the one bedroom and settled her into the bed.
"I'll be back, okay? I'm going to get you some supplies. Here." She tucked the corners of the comforter around the frail woman's shoulders. "Get some rest. I'll be right back."
State Department
May 8th
9:37am
"Sir, she's-she's nowhere to be found."
Davidson glared into his coffee cup. "Where's Spender?"
"In his basement. Pacing."
"He'll be looking for her, too." Davidson rubbed his bloodshot eyes. "What about Mulder?"
"He's, um, still, um, alive." Michael shrank a bit, anticipating the storm.
But it didn't come.
"So everything's gone wrong," Davidson said resignedly. "Watch the hospitals, the Hoover building, Quantico, anywhere she might show up. Piggyback a satellite, tap her cell. And watch Spender."
"Agent Mulder…"
"Let him live. If the operation was successful, he'd be useless anyway."
"Do we, uh, kill her, when we find her?"
"No. Hold her and call me."
"Yes, sir."
107 Marilyn Drive
May 8th
9:37am
He had to find her. She'd taken everything.
He stopped pacing just long enough to slam his fist into the wall.
But he could never kill her.
And he was running out of time.
Lone Gunmen Residence
May 8th
10:01am
"Lonegunnen," Langly garbled into the telephone. He took another bite of his English muffin.
"It's Scully."
"Oh, hey, Dent Zdully, whudda?"
"I need your help," Scully said from the other end.
"Ohay." He listened and chewed, eyes flicking to his fellow Gunmen. "Okay," he said again after a few minutes, before hanging up.
"What'd she say?" Frohike asked.
"We need to go find ourselves a UPS truck," Langly answered brightly.
Carmichael's Pharmacy
Hillcrest Heights, Maryland
May 8th
10:11am
Scully hung up the payphone, staring absentmindedly at the greasy fingerprints on its surface. I hope this works, she thought.
As she entered the pharmacy, her cell phone went off. She snatched it angrily from her pocket and threw it into the nearest trashcan. I'm getting as paranoid as Mulder. Her stomach did a somersault. He's probably not paranoid anymore.
State Department
May 8th
10:12am
"What was that?" Davidson asked, whirling around in his chair.
"A faint signal," one of the technicians responded. "We can't trace exactly where, but…"
Davidson waited.
"Southeast of D.C. Just outside."
"She doesn't live there. What would she be doing there?"
Michael edged his way to the chair. "Maybe she rented a place, you know, to hide from us."
"Maybe she rented a place!" Davidson declared with great complacency.
"So we'll look at recent rentals in that area," said another technician. He had already begun his search.
"Right!"
The phone rang somewhere in the background. Davidson paid it no attention until Michael scurried up to him with the whole set in his hands.
"Davidson."
"Did you recruit Agent Scully as a spy?" the Smoking Man said coolly in his ear.
For a moment, Davidson was at a loss for words. "Of course not," he said finally. "Why would I do that?"
"Well, she's been inside my house."
"No," Davidson gasped melodramatically.
"Yes."
"Was anything…taken?" Davidson waited for the answer, a mad glint in his eye.
"No, no," the Smoking Man said without hesitation, his tone as even as ever.
Davidson grimaced. "Anything I can do?"
"The matter isn't critical, of course. But I'd like it if you could tell me where she is."
"We'll begin looking right away."
"Thank you, Ron."
"We're not going to tell him where she is, right, sir?" Michael asked as he took the phone out of Davidson's hand.
"No." Davidson eyed the red dots on the techs' computer screens. "Send men to all possible locations. I want confirmation before we go in."
106 Marilyn Drive
May 8th
10:59am
The UPS truck backed slowly into the driveway, beeping as it went. When the vehicle came to a stop, a short man jumped out, a parcel under his arm.
"Ma'am," Frohike said politely from beneath his cap.
The door opened wider when Samantha saw who it was. "Package, huh?"
"Yup. Sign here, please."
Samantha scribbled her name, one hand steadying the clipboard. She jumped a little when Frohike dropped the box.
"Oh, gosh, sorry, ma'am," he said, leaning forward clumsily as if he were going to pick it up.
"It's all right," Samantha said quickly, bending down herself. "I'll get it."
Frohike reached forward and plucked a stray strand gingerly from Samantha's long mane.
"Ack." The young woman massaged the back of her head while staring intently at the package. "Thanks," she said, not looking up.
"No problem."
"You didn't have to pluck it," Langly said when Frohike climbed back into the truck.
"What can Brown do for you?" Frohike retorted.
2330 Darling Street
Hillcrest Heights, Maryland
May 8th
12:04pm
Scully lugged three large shopping bags out of the trunk and up the steps. Casting a look about the street before entering the house, she noticed a moving van parked just a few houses down.
"Who in their right mind would drive a bright orange automobile?"
She left her purchases by the couch and peeked in on Cassandra. The woman was asleep, breathing shallowly, as if the air around her was poisoned.
Scully shook her head in anger. Sonofabitch.
"Hello," three voices answered in unison when Scully dialed her new prepaid.
"What've you found?" She heard two clicks as two of the Gunmen hung up.
"Nothin' much, yet," Frohike answered. "There were no matches on the prints we lifted off the clipboard. We're at a buddy's right now, waiting on the DNA results. It gonna be a while."
"Okay," Scully said, not surprised. "Call this number when you get something."
State Department
May 8th
12:05pm
"We found her," the tech said triumphantly.
Davidson nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Let's wait until dark, lure her out, and then go in and search the place. If we find the stuff, we'll keep her alive."
Undisclosed location
May 8th
12:32pm
The man lounged in the very last booth, listening unconcernedly to the babble of the sports fans all around him. His right hand nursed a beer; long fingers wiped the bottle clean of the sheen of condensation. His left hand rested on the seatback, plastic, immobile, like the hand of a Christmas doll.
He took a long drink, interrupted by a ringing cell.
He listened as if indulging a child, his expression bored. He hung up without a word.
Alex Krycek stood up gracefully, sinuous muscles rippling beneath his black garments. He'll play their games. But only by his own rules.
A/N: The cell phone has become a disease, hasn't it?