Chapter 5: Like a memory
The morning was cool but sunny. A couple of clouds passed through the otherwise blue sky. The agents came across John Jakob Stamp in his front yard. He eagerly typed on a laptop. Obviously he was up to date concerning today's technology.
"Good morning Mr. Stamp. Wonderful weather, isn't it?", Scully greeted the author.
Stamp looked up from his laptop and replied: "It is, indeed. I really enjoy working outside on a day like this."
Mulder smiled friendly and dumb.
"But who are you actually?"
"Agents Mulder and Scully, Sir."
No reaction.
"Didn't your wife tell you we'd come?"
John Jakob shook his head. "No, she didn't say anything. What's it about?"
"Well, she called me because she's concerned about your new book."
Stamp glanced at what he was writing, then asked in confusion: "Assassination?"
Mulder nodded: "Is that the title?"
"For the time being."
Mulder 's look roamed around the well kept yard. "This is beautiful", he noted.
Stamp noticed that this conversation would take a while so he carefully put the laptop down on the grass, took a cane instead and stood up. The author was a lot smaller than Mulder and just a little taller than his partner.
"Why don't you let me show you around?", he asked formally.
"Sure!", Mulder agreed and followed the elderly man, who walked with a limp, toward a little pond.
As Scully followed behind Mulder she noticed a motion behind the kitchen window in the house. As she looked closer she recognized Elizabeth Stamp standing there holding the cat, watching them.
Scully stopped to look back at her. Suddenly Mrs. Stamp walked away from the window. Scully moved on to catch up with Mulder and Mr. Stamp.
They were standing next to the pond. Scully joined them and turned to her partner.
"I'll go inside and talk to Elizabeth Stamp while you're here with Mr. Stamp", she announced.
"Okay", Mulder replied but Scully was already on her way inside. He watched her walking away. She moved gracefully and although he'd never admit it, not even to himself, he enjoyed watching her. He liked the way she moved. As she disappeared behind a corner to the front of the house Mulder turned to John Jakob Stamp again.
"There are turtles in the pond", Stamp explained. "There is one, see? Right there!"
He pointed at a stone that was half inside, half out of the water. Mulder nodded as he spotted the tiny green creature.
"They like that place", the author chuckled.
"Do they get any bigger than that?" Mulder asked. Not that he actually cared, he was just being polite.
"Oh yes. That is a young one, they do get bigger but not too big, you know. They are my hobby."
"You seem to have lots of hobbies, Mr. Stamp."
Stamp looked at him in confusion.
"I saw your model airplanes", Mulder explained.
"The author smiled. "Oh that. Yes, that's another hobby of mine."
Without any further explanation, Stamp turned around in order to return to the wooden bench he had been sitting on. He walked slowly with the cane on his right side. Mulder stayed close behind him.
After he had sat down he looked at Mulder and said: "But you did not come here to talk about my hobbies, did you?"
Mulder took a seat next to Mr. Stamp. "No, of course not."
"Well then, Mr. …"
"Mulder"
"Mr. Mulder, Why exactly are you here?"
"That book you wrote, 'Death of a Princess' it tells the story of Princess Diana and her boyfriend Dodi. In particular, their last evening."
Stamp folded his hands as if about to tell the FBI man something important. "Not really", he responded. "I don't know if you know the book."
Mulder nodded. "I bought it yesterday and I'm almost through."
"Good. Then you know that the Princess' name is actually never mentioned. Neither is the name of her boyfriend."
Mulder nodded again. "I noticed that. But the circumstances are basically the same. You can't deny that."
"I'm aware of that."
"And", Mulder added. "You did mention the names of the paparazzi who chase the Mercedes just before it crashes in the tunnel, which on its own is a remarkable resemblance."
"Yes right, the paparazzi."
Mulder cocked his head to one side. "Those are also the names of the paparazzi who chased Diana."
"Is that so? I'm not familiar with that. I'm just an old man who writes books."
"Books that are predictions of future events", Mulder insisted.
"Mr. Mulder. I want to make this clear: I am not a fortune-teller or a prophet. I can't predict the future. I just get these ideas and write about them."
"I see", Mulder said. "You say you get these ideas. How? Do you have visions?"
Stamp began to lose his patience. "No. Holy smoke! I don't have visions. It's just there. Like my last birthday, or the birth of our son. It's like a memory."
Mulder sat and listened carefully.