Chapter Eight
Office of Dr. Anne Gossamer, OBGYN, Greenwich, Connecticut
September 25th, 2000, 11:30 a.m.
Scully tried to take in her surroundings as her poise began to slip through her fingers like sand. The office itself was filled from wall to wall with shelves of medical journals, reference books, and oddly enough, philosophy. Among the alphabetized authors packed back to back were Carl Jung, Nietzsche, and Benjamin Franklin. The books themselves were so neatly and finely compacted that it made her own library at home seem like Mulder's chaotic X-Files cabinets.
She had once made it a point to go through the drawers herself in the past few months and try to make some sense out of his mayhem, but every time she laid one finger on the drawer, she felt guilt creep over her shoulder like Mulder was right there demanding to know why she had to give his systematic turmoil a makeover. It made sense to him how they were organized. As long as he could find the X-File he wanted within two minutes, he had explained to her one day six years ago, there was no reason to disturb the system. He was coming back soon, she reasoned, so there was not a need to change his chaos into her order.
The numerous diplomas and awards that occupied another wall of the office was another point of interest. Gossamer was a complete Yale graduate, of course, at the top of her class. Various photographs of her accepting her awards accompanied each just below the honor. She had also founded three different hospital wings dedicated completely to inviterofertilization.
She was not losing her confidence because of Gossamer's accomplishments; Scully was not a flatterer. Truth could spew forth from her mouth like water from a fire hydrant, but when it came to compliments, her mouth immediately evaporated. There were always things that people needed to hear and wanted to hear; for her, there was no line to be crossed except in extreme situations. In that respect, she could never be a salesperson, and it seemed like an impossible task the more that she thought about it. She had to sell Gossamer a story about research and development that could only be completed by herself. No one else could be more brilliant, she told herself in a mantra to remember her stinger.
"Please do sit down, Dr. Scully," Gossamer broke her train of thought as she entered and gestured to a client chair.
Scully had thought it best when introducing herself to the receptionist not to draw attention to her federal status. Especially since she was admonished by the Well Manicured Man to keep a low federal profile. She addressed herself simply as a doctor that consulted at Georgetown University Hospital from time to time, and that seemed to satisfy the executive assistant.
"Thank you for seeing me, Dr. Gossamer," Scully began courteously. "My work concerns me with a Dr. Shannon Bowman, who is a geneticist at Georgetown University. Right now, he's involved in a brand new project that needs some further analysis."
"Mmm. R and D?" the woman's fingertips brushed her desk as she sat.
"He's past that stage, actually, and is into the...production aspect."
"Really? I've heard of Bowman before, but I was under the impression that he was cutting back his experiments due to the incredible amount of students that the University had clumped into his classes this year. In fact, he made no mention of this project in his column last month. How long have you been working under him?"
Scully might have been more upset if she were conversing with a man; that comment could be construed as a huge insult to any female doctor. But she knew that Gossamer was from an older generation and thought nothing of the phrase 'working under him'. She cleared her mind of any negative comebacks and politely rebuked her. "I've been working with Dr. Bowman, not under him, for two weeks."
"How long has this 'project' been going on?" The woman made Scully feel diminutive; it was flagrant that she was self absorbed and was used to being told how intelligent she was during her entire life. She wasn't interested in how she came into Bowman's research or even what her specialty was.
"He's been very shrewd about the whole thing, actually. It's so hush hush that he only keeps me on a need to know basis, which is why I assume that he sent me out here today to speak with you instead of one of his students."
"Perhaps he thought you could explain it best."
"I suppose. But he's run into an obstacle; that's why I'm here to see you."
"Why would he want to keep this matter under wraps? All the rest of the projects he's been involved in have been publicized in every medical publication on the East coast...each one of them have been rather groundbreaking in the field of genetic science. You know that boy that had been hit by a drunk driver on his bicycle and lost his complete right hand?"
"Where was this?" Scully probed. The story was firing off a few synapses.
"Falls Church, Virginia. There of course, were various other injuries to the poor boy, but Bowman was focused only on the loss of his appendage. He wondered if it would indeed, be possible through some tampering, for the boy to regenerate his hand."
"Of course, indeed, I have." Now I remember where I had heard that name before, Scully thought.
"Do you recall the result?"
"Bowman was able, through a mutation, to do it. Has there been a followup to the story since then? I believe that was five years ago."
"Yes, indeed, there has. It took two full years for the boy's hand to develop fully, and now, he's completely dexterous with it again. So my point is, Dr. Scully, what's he got hidden in the closet?"
"Human cloning through inviterofertilization."
"I see. That's reason enough to remain under the AMA's anal radar. What's your problem?"
"We must fulfill these clones to the expectations to our project sponsors. Right now, with what little we know, we can't. And we've heard of your leaps and bounds with the process. No one else could be more brilliant." There. I said it.
"What makes you think I would want to assist you? My practice is fairly successful; I've got a large number of patients."
"Dr. Bowman's got a cause that's even bigger than our grant suppliers. He won't share it with me; he said that if you came, he'd tell you and only you. It apparently matches what you've been trying to do."
"And just what exactly does he think I've been trying to do?"
"I said he won't share it with me."
"Then why are you working under him?" There it was again. This time, Scully was positive that Gossamer was trying to infuriate her. Either that, or pump her for more information. But the only thing that was working was the anger swelling up inside of her now--due to the fact that she had to convince a Dr. Frankenstein to go work with a Dr. Mengele to recreate the immoral, nightmarish Litchfield experiments. I don't know how much longer I can keep up this facade before I break.
"Because of his genius. I see good things coming out of this; for instance, we can use it to help reduce fatal diseases to children. Perhaps we could design a child immune to cancer."
"So you're an altruistic type, not an opportunist. Interesting." Gossamer's intense gaze made her seem as if she were staring down at Scully from a fifty foot platform. She tapped her fingertips together as she pondered her decision. "Do I need to physically be there?"
"Dr. Bowman didn't mention it, but that's probably because he assumed you'd want to come...to inspect the work being done."
"He's never met or communicated with me before. It's an awful lot to assume." Scully did not say anything else; she had had enough of trying to rope the arrogant obstetrician in. Gossamer leaned back into her chair and pointed to her bookshelves. "Dr. Scully, you're obviously a keen scientist, and before I ever work with another doctor, I always consider the stakes. Number one, of course...is that I could lose my license. But that I am not worried about. Number two, is...what I get out of it should we succeed. I already have a successful practice like I said, so money and fame don't matter. Number three...is that I could be walking into a trap."
"A trap?"
"Yes. You see, there was an obstetrician much like myself, named Dr. Sally Kendrick, that worked across the country involved in what I do now. But I've come miles from where she was seven years ago. She...unfortunately, walked into her own trap and was killed...but I don't blame the girls that did it. No, no. I blame the FBI agents that were following her."
"I assure you, Dr. Gossamer, there's nothing going on like that. We don't even have..." she stopped herself because she was about to let on more than she was supposed to. "We don't have much time. The grant sponsor wants to see some results in a few days, and we've hit rock bottom."
"You were looking at my collection as I came in. How much do you know about me, Dr. Scully?" Her query shocked Scully, and she ran her tongue nervously across her upper lip.
"Just...that you spent all of your school years at Yale as the valedictorian. You won the Humanitarian of the County award, and you alphabetize your books by name rather than by author or subject."
"I see. You managed to remember that without looking at the wall or bookshelf. You don't have a photographic memory, do you?"
"No," Scully admitted and a slow panic was rising in her. The Eves were homicidal sociopaths. They killed without fear or remorse. And she had left her weapon under the dashboard.
"Neither did Sherlock Holmes, but he was an exceptional observer. As was the norm of the culture, he consumed cocaine regularly. Makes you wonder how clear of a thinker he really was as that toxin flowed through his bloodstream up to his brain."
"I suppose, except for the fact that he was a fictional character."
"Yes. You're right. Makes me wonder what's on the mind of an investigator these days." Gossamer spoke as though she were in a trance through the last few sentences and then clapped her hands together once. "Very well. I'll make arrangements with my patients and accompany you to Georgetown U."
Outskirts of Edison, New Jersey
September 25th, 2000, 3:17 p.m.
While Gossamer went to the bathroom at the rest stop, Scully took the opportunity to pull out her cell phone and the business card that the Well-Manicured Man had given her. "Hello, I'm trying to reach Dr. Bowman, please? He's in class now? Well, my name is Special Agent Dana Scully..." she kept an eye on the public restroom as she spoke. "He knows who I am? Good. Then tell him that his expected companion has consented to come to D.C., and that I'm bringing her with me. Yes, he'll know what that means. Thank you."
Gossamer exited the building and scrutinized the FBI agent from head to toe.
"Problem?" she questioned Scully.
"No, I was just letting Dr. Bowman know that we are on our way." She hung up and pocketed the cell phone.
"How considerate of you. Does he make you check in to report where you are?"
"No, I..." she tried to change the topic. "He's very excited to be able to meet you finally."
"Shall we go on our way or do you need to go use the women's room, too?"
"Not right now." Scully quietly slid back into the car along with the doctor and vitalized the engine. Her mind raced through several different matters; the first one she worried about was that Gossamer could see right through her and possibly become hostile, and the next was what action she would take if that came into play. She couldn't draw the gun first...that would be a dead giveaway that she was a law enforcement officer--but decided that deadly force with the gun would be her only advantage with this woman for two good reasons. Number one, they were in a car and now on the interstate, and if Gossamer got the upper hand, she could lose control of the car and hurt lots of people. Number two, she remembered after reading through the restored X-File that the Eves had exceptional strength. Scully knew that the self defense training she had been taught in the Academy would not be enough to stop the likes of Gossamer. She probably knew enough to take Scully out in two moves or less.
Scully took a quick glance in the other woman's direction; Gossamer's eyes were planted on the road ahead of them and concentrated on nothing else. In some ways it was easy to see in assassin in her, but Scully had to admit that had she not known that all of the Eves were identical, she would not probably have picked Dr. Anne Gossamer out of a lineup to be a murderer. The design was brilliant; she appeared to be a middle-aged woman and no more harmless than a typical housewife. Nor was she meant to attract attention to herself; her looks were certainly nothing more than ordinary. It was obvious that Gossamer groomed and maintained her femininity well, but she had made no attempts to correct her aesthetics or ill-proportioned symmetry.
Gene therapy, doctors called it. Scully was in favor of pushing the envelope of discovery and experimentation in science just like any other doctor, but when it came to 'playing God', she drew the line. There were just some things that you didn't mess with, she decided long ago. Her mother would have bought the proverbial farm if she had heard that Scully had tried to have a child via invietrofertilization two years ago--it didn't work, anyhow.
"When are you expecting, Dr. Scully?" That question hit her out of the blue like a militant ambush.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me."
"I don't remember telling-"
"Oh, please, like you have to tell a woman that makes her living off of the creation of life that you're going to have a child. After a certain number of years of being in the business, you can tell. It's a bit akin to a mortician 'smelling' death."
Scully hated how cold and indifferent the obstetrician sounded. The very fact that she profited off of these women and didn't care about how they felt burned her up.
"I prefer not to think of my future child like a cataclysmic event, thank you," she said with dismay.
"I don't view it that way, either, seeing as how I make it happen every day. In my promotional videos, I call it a miracle of production. Hah. Miracle. It's a purely scientific production constructed in a sterile laboratory. I find that people who believe in miracles are far too caught up in the fantasy of romance. Or the belief of an all-powerful God that controls the universe."
"February." Scully found herself struggling not to say it with contempt.
"I'm relieved to hear that. That's another reason why I asked you how long you've been working under Dr. Bowman. I notice there's no diamond or gold band on the significant finger, Dr. Scully. I suggest you buy some kind of costume jewelry to make him think twice. He's something of a...no...excuse me, he is a womanizer."
"How'd you find out about that?"
"Some of the lab technicians I hire come from Georgetown. I like to keep the nurses and interns strictly from the Yale med. program. Room for less marginal error, you see." Gossamer turned her eyes back to Scully's, whose now kept straight to the interstate. "They say that there's no differences between the ivy league schools, but I beg to differ. Harvard Med. is no longer at an acceptable level. I once made the mistake of hiring a Harvard intern for a semester three years ago, and she proceeded to destroy five of my patients' samples. I know it was an honest accident, because of the fact that she couldn't concoct a story that would convince a five year old to tell me otherwise."
"Georgetown isn't an ivy league school," Scully remarked.
"I know it isn't. But it should be--perhaps it would be a sufficient replacement to the Harvard medical program. They just about let anyone with money and proper achievement test scores in nowadays," Gossamer scoffed.
"So do you only hire women?"
"Oh, yes. I find that it's best, especially in this kind of an environment. When I take my clients around the facility for a tour, I explain to them that the reason why there are only females working in my lab is because 'women take care of their own'. That usually thrills my clients to death, and that's when the checkbooks pop out of those purses like a jack in the box."
That was the end of that conversation, and it wasn't until they were near Philadelphia that Gossamer decided to bring up another matter. It was the unfortunate one Scully feared most. "So why don't you tell me the real reason why you're taking me to see the illustrious Dr. Bowman?"
"I already did." Scully's hand tightened around the wheel, and Gossamer immediately noticed the action.
"You're well adversed in the medical field, I can tell, but you're some type of investigator. I'm not sure if you're a private detective or if you're chained to the pathetic federal justice system, but I know that you, my dear, Dr. Scully, have been putting on a facade. It's time to remove your mask and makeup."
The FBI agent kept her mouth sternly shut.
"All right, fine, give me the silent act, but I know it's true, especially how I observed your actions after my secretary let you into my office. Though everyone's actions are different, here is a typical picture. If it's a client, she waits outside until called in. If it's a vendor, they'll be let in, but he or she usually just sits down if I'm out. Perhaps their eyes will wander around the room, but never to the extent of an investigator. And sometimes, if it's a colleague of mine, she'll pick up a book from my collection and read it. You're afraid to put your fingerprints onto anything, aren't you?" she snickered and waited for a response. "I'm not a criminal. Everything I do is aboveboard."
There was another pause in the discussion as she waited for Scully's interjection, or at least some form of a proper introduction. But Scully remained taciturn and her face was completely disguised. As Gossamer went on, Scully knew that it wasn't long before the accusations stopped and the questions started. "Look, I have to know where we're going. You deceived me, and I deserve that right, no matter what your occupation is."
"I'm taking you where I told you we'd be going--to Georgetown University. Dr. Bowman wants to work with you," Scully finally replied indifferently.
"So whom do you really work for?" No response came from Scully. "Damnit, this is unjust, and you're violating my rights! Do you even have a warrant!"
"You agreed to come with me of your own merit. And besides, it's my day off. I'm not even on duty," she shrugged.
"Then what do you want from me? Do you even know who I really am? I think if you did, you wouldn't be ignoring me. You'd probably be reaching for that weapon underneath your dashboard. Don't think I don't see you eyeing it from time to time."
"Could be looking at the speedometer, too, couldn't I?"
"Very well. I'm good at games, too, Agent Scully, and you just met your match."
Nothing more was said between them even after they arrived at Georgetown University. Scully pulled up to a parking lot's guard station. "Evenin', ma'am," he addressed her as she rolled down the car window.
"Hello. Is this building ahead of us the science department?"
"Kind of. The one on the left deals with non-organic sciences like math and physics, and the one on the right deals with the other stuff. You know, biology, chemistry-"
"I get the picture, thanks," she cut him off. Gossamer took the few moments that she had to get out of the car, and before Scully could stop her, she shouted, "That woman's got a gun!"
"Stop, Dr. Gossamer!" Scully yelled, and as he laid one hand on his telephone, she removed her ID from her sweater.
"Hands up, don't even think about it, lady!" he cried, and Scully had to admit, he was rather foolish to order this command after she had already stuck one hand in her pocket. Poorly trained security guards. Wonderful. He kept his .38 special trained on her professionally, though, as she obeyed and reached for her badge with one hand. "FBI? What're you doing here?"
"Trying to keep the woman you just let escape behind bars," she miffed and lowered her hands as he did his weapon.
"Oh shit. Do you want me to call campus security?"
"No. I don't want to attract attention to her. She's dangerous but wouldn't be stupid enough to harm someone in broad daylight in front of hundreds of witnesses," Scully gestured with her head to the college students that still littered the campus.
"I apologize for interfering, ma'am. I'd help you catch her if I didn't have to stay here."
"Right now, the best thing for you to do would be to raise this blockade and let me into the lot." His fist hit the 'up' button just after she said her last word, and without so much of a thanks, Scully furiously drove into the lot, parked in a 'faculty' spot, and began to scan the area for her renegade assassin. She hurriedly removed the gun and stuck it into the waistband of her pants, cursing herself for not having the good sense to bring her holster today.
Thinking that it would draw too much attention to herself, she decided not to run after Gossamer. Instead, she marched a furious pace down the campus green, and approached a few students with the picture of Gossamer. Two students shook their heads, but one pointed towards a bus stop sign that was in the opposite direction of Scully. "Saw the woman get onto the bus," he told her.
"Is it a university shuttle or the local bus line?" Scully inquired.
"Local. But she couldn't have gotten too far, since I just saw it happen not two minutes ago. It's got two more stops on campus before it heads out onto 38th St. The first one is five minutes from here at the hospital."
"Good. Thank you." Scully walked briskly back to the car, took the parking ticket lodged underneath the windshield wipers, and threw it onto the ground before starting the engine again. Without hesitation, her lead foot took to the gas as she sped down the college parkway and bee-lined into the medical center. Sure enough, the bus had just stopped, and she shoved her way past the exiting passengers. She paid the fee into the machine and just as Gossamer noticed her and tried to escape, the bus' doors closed in front of her. Scully spotted her instantly and made her way back to the rear of the bus. "I have to admit that that was clever, but not above the resources of the twelve year old shouting 'fire' in the theater," she said to Gossamer, who scowled.
"You're obviously not going to arrest me, so what do you want, Agent Scully?"
"For one thing, for this mad goose chase to end. Let's just go see why Dr. Bowman needs you. I really don't know." Gossamer agreed, and Scully secretly used her credentials to stop the bus before it left the hospital. The driver gave her his complete cooperation without one word.
Fifteen minutes later, Scully drove them into the same parking lot. The sentry gave her a huge beam, happy to notice that he had not completely wrecked her day, and let the sedan pull in. This time, Scully chose a visitor's space and noticed that her parking ticket was still lying on the ground where she had thrown it; however, it had gained several tire tread markings.
After finding the appropriate floor, Gossamer and Scully traveled to a door with 'Dr. Shannon Bowman' stenciled on the translucent glass. Scully entered first, and together, they approached the receptionist's desk. "Is Dr. Bowman in?" she asked.
"Yes, he's having his tea at the moment. He usually does not take visitors until afterwards, but...-"
From behind her, a man roughly six foot one with chocolate hair and cinnamon eyes in a lab coat stirred. He held a teacup in one hand, and the other rotated a spoon languidly around the hot liquid. Bowman's eyes flicked over both women but fixated upon Scully. "Do I know you?" was the first question to come across his lips.
"I'm Special Agent Dana Scully of the FBI, and this is Dr. Anne Gossamer. I believe you've been wanting to meet her."
"Quite right. I appreciate your bringing her this swiftly, Agent Scully. Dr. Gossamer, would you care for a refreshment first, or would you like to step over into my lab?"
"No to the tea, but yes to the lab. Just what are your intentions towards me?" Gossamer stayed put, even though he had made a few polite motions with his arm.
"Nothing but great things in mind, Doctor. If you'd please join me..." He headed across the atrium and started for another door, but Scully cleared her throat. "Oh yes, I almost forgot about you. Did you want to come, Agent Scully? I heard you're a doctor and a scientist yourself."
"I don't agree with the ethics of this experiment, so I think I'll have to decline your offer, Dr. Bowman. But I do need to know what's expected of me next."
"Expected, dear? Well, I have no idea of what you're talking about. I was only told that you were locating the final Eve." At this news, Gossamer's head snapped in Scully's direction with defiance.
"So you did know," Gossamer seethed. "No one makes a fool out of us."
"May I call you Anne, or would you prefer to utilize proper titles?" Bowman distracted her while Scully made a hasty exit.