Chapter Three
Inside Hoover Building, FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.
January 4th, 2000, 11:13 p.m.
"He's still losing blood. I need to get him to a hospital," Mulder said to his captor and turned halfway around to make eye contact. He eyed the tie that was hugging Doggett's arm tightly. And he was beginning to go into shock. Mulder knelt down, stripped himself of his leather jacket, and covered the ex-cop with it.
The man just stared at him with complete hatred and pointed with Doggett's gun at the two cleaning ladies, who had been chattering away in their own language. "Recuerde, yo le puedo entender los dos, (Remember, I can understand you two)" he shook a finger at them, and they immediately stopped.
"Look, would you mind telling me what you want from us? It's obvious that you're not angry with them. Why not let them go?" Mulder patronized him.
"So that your snipers can get in a clean shot? Hah. No way. I know how you feds deal with hostage scenarios. No one shoots until the civilians are out of the way," he sneered back. "Besides, this glass is three inches thick. Even if the bullet should penetrate the window, it'll get stuck in the process."
"What's your name?"
"Why should that interest you? You just wanna get outta here so you can go home and either get drunk, watch that basketball game, or screw your missus. Am I right, buddy? You don't care about what happens to anyone else but yourself afterward. Selfish, conniving bastards. I trusted guys like you."
"Well, maybe I'm not like anybody you've met before. Talk to me. Can I call you Tyler? That's a nice name."
"I'll let you call me Arnold Schwartzenegger if you bend over and kiss my feet. Now shut up."
"You feel upset because you feel misunderstood," Mulder started.
"G-man, you don't know the goddamned half of it," the assailant leered and went towards one of the women.
"Wait! If you want somebody to take your frustrations out on, don't do it to them."
"You got a better idea, huh? Wanna be their savior, eh? Offer yourself up on the altar of humility? Well, you got it wrong. You aren't worth Jack shit to me!" Mulder suddenly remembered the last time someone shouted that close to his face; it had been coming from Duane Berry. It was also the last time he had felt truly terrified that he would never see Scully again without a wooden overcoat. "Wo sind die papieren? (Where are the papers?)"
Uh no. Not again with the German.
The man swiveled the gun away from the Hispanic cleaning staff and slapped Mulder across the face with his left hand. "Wo sind die papieren?" he yelled again.
"What papers?"
"Die briefen! (The letters!) Wo haben sie die briefen versteckt (Where did you hide the letters)?"
"I'm not wearing any. Boxers," the former FBI shrugged and winced as the man's hand came up to smack him once more.
"Ach...Gott verdammen es. Genug! (Enough!) Ich weiß, dass Sie Deutsch sprechen. (I know very well that you can speak German.) Erzahlen sie mir, wo sind die briefen jetzt. (You will now tell me where you have hidden the letters)."
"Could you go back to Spanish? I think I could understand you a little better."
"Wo ist dis? (What are you talking about?) Sie sind ein narr. (You are a fool.) Ich spreche Spanisch nicht, und ich werde nie. (I don't speak Spanish, and I never will.) Aber es ist nicht, als von einer Sprache anekelnd, als Englisch. (But at least it's not as disgusting of a language as English is.)"
In some strange way, I think he just insulted me, Mulder thought.
"I just heard you speaking it a minute ago. Are you telling me that you don't know one word of it?" The janitors broke out of their terrified postures to glance up at the man that supposedly had just told them to be careful in their native tongue not two minutes ago. Now he admitted that he did not know the language.
"Bromea usted (Are you joking)?" one of them inquired, and the gun came back to their faces.
"Schweigen sie! (Shut up)"
"Es usted un hombre disetento? (Are you a different man)" He seized his head with his hands and sank down to the floor. Mulder saw the opportunity and pointed to the two women.
"Go find help!" he commanded, and they scurried away as mice would from a predator. He wondered if they actually comprehended what he had said, but they probably knew from enough TV to know what to do. "Doggett, are you with me? You've got to protect them."
"I'm...I'm freezing..." the ex-cop stammered.
"I know, but the women are on their own now. You go, and I'll distract him."
"H...how?"
"Leave that to me."
"If I weren't in such pain right now with this one, I'd pop you one," Doggett mumbled and headed for the door. Unfortunately, right at that time, their abductor decided to break out of his psychological seizure and fired his weapon. Thankfully, the shot did not directly nail Doggett; instead, the bullet only grazed the side of his thigh. The man's jitters had curved his accuracy, but that was not enough to stop Doggett from grabbing his leg and hobbling after the women.
Mulder snagged hold of the terrorist and tried to use his momentum to tackle him onto the ground, but all he received was an elbow crashing into the eye for his efforts. He staggered backwards but still managed to keep his grip onto the legs. "Stop," he coughed as the criminal kicked him in the ribs. "You're only wasting bullets on them. You came for a purpose, didn't you?"
The man considered Mulder's plea but still kept his gun fixed upon Doggett, who had just thrown himself across the elevator's opened doors for protection. "You. Get back in here," he ordered in the thick Germanic accent. Doggett waited until the doors had closed and limped at a moderate pace back to the office.
"Steigen sie von mir ab, schwinehounde, (Let go of me, you pig dog)" he told Mulder and struck him again. This time, Mulder let go once Doggett was across the threshold. But their kidnapper decided to turn the tables on the ex-FBI agent and snatched him by the t-shirt. He brought Mulder so close that when he spoke, he spat into his face. "Genug von irhen spielen. (Enough of your games) Wo sind die briefen? (Where are the letters)"
"It's obvious that he doesn't know what you're talking about," Doggett huffed and covered himself again with Mulder's jacket. "And you're annoying the hell out of me. So why don't you do your business with us right here and now?"
"It is my business to retrieve the letters that dis man occupies and is lying about."
"Okay, well, you could've done that at his apartment. Why'd you come here?"
"Wer ist dieser man? (Who is this man) Ich habe gedacht, dass sie nur allein gearbeitet haben, Granger, (I thought that you only work alone)" he rasped into Mulder's face once more.
"I think you've mistaken him for somebody else. His name's not Granger, it's Mulder," Doggett answered him and winced as he accidentally moved onto his gash.
"That's what he keeps telling me."
"He's right," Mulder rasped. "I don't have any letters, except for the bills that I don't pay. And those are at home. I don't even work here anymore."
"Was ist dieser ort? Wo sind wir?"
"English, please," Mulder begged.
"What is this place? Where are we?" the captor queried.
"I don't believe it. This guy bumped off our security, knocked out our telephones, and now claims he doesn't know where he is!" Doggett screamed. "I suppose you don't know whose weapon you're carrying either?"
"No, I know it is yours. I took it from you. But it does not look like a standard American automatic weapon," he studied the gun.
"It's German," Mulder responded. Before he knew it, he was being dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes and right onto a very sore spot.
"German? You would steal our own weapons right from underneath our noses, you schwine!"
"Not exactly; they're standard FBI issue," Doggett replied.
"Wer ist die FBI? (What is the FBI)" the man inquired and repeated the same acronym that Doggett had spelled out. "Ach...bedenken sie nie. (Oh never mind) Filthy Americans."
"Well if you don't like us so much, then you can just get out of our country," Mulder snarled.
"So I am in America," he mumbled and grinned to himself. "Then we must have taken it over. Ha, I was wrong to doubt his power."
Doggett leaned over to Mulder. "I'm gonna start callin' him a freakin' Nazi bitch to his face in about five seconds if we don't learn his name." Mulder already guessed who would receive the brunt of the punishment if Doggett resorted to his insult and tried a different approach.
"Okay, if I'm Granger to you, whom does that make you to me?" he asked.
"Never heard of him," the man responded back without a hint of German. "But if you're desperate to know who I am, mister g-man, I'll tell you. The name's Craig. Craig Barnes."
"Doesn't sound very German to me," Doggett muttered.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Barnes shouted.
"Craig? Craig, let's calm down," Mulder made eye contact with him, and although there was much fear inside of himself, he knew that he had at least with Doggett's help, freed the civilians. Scully would be outside soon. Scully would be worrying about me. I wish I could let her know that we're okay.
"Now Craig, what can we do to help you? How can we work this out?" he continued and kept his voice steady. "We don't want you to get hurt. We want to understand you."
"You sure did help me, mister g-man. I'm already here to work everything out."
"What did I do to wrong you?" Mulder frantically shuffled through his memories and tried to recognize Barnes' face from his past but was coming up with nothing. Unfortunately, before Barnes could answer, Mulder's cell phone went off. Barnes stepped in between the two other men, seized the jacket, and removed it.
"Mulder, is that you?" Scully's voice came from the speaker.
The man suddenly held the phone away from himself and began to look over it incredulously. "Was ist dieses ding? (What is this thing)" he interrogated Mulder.
"Mulder, are you there?" Scully continued.
"You'll get what you're looking for if you talk to her. She's right there."
"I don't see any woman," Barnes jeered and his eyes plunged into Mulder's.
"But she's on the phone. Tell her what you want."
"Dies? (This) Ist dies ein telefon? (This is a telephone) Sie mussen scherzen. (You must be kidding)" Barnes shoved the device into Mulder's face and shook it back and forth.
Scully overheard the German and although she was utterly confused, she decided to speak with the suspect. "Nein scherzt nicht er. (No, he's not) Ist dies ein telefon, und mit wen spreche ich? (This is a telephone, and to whom am I speaking)"
When Barnes recognized her voice, he immediately flew into a tantrum. "Es scheint, als wenn ihre plane, verrater nicht gearbeitet haben. (Looks like things didn't go as you planned, traitor. Ich bin noch lebend! (I am still alive)" With that, he threw the cell phone onto the nearby desk and headed for Mulder.
Outside the Hoover Building, 11:36 p.m.
That was a very strange conversation, Scully told herself. Not only had she just been screamed at in German but also told that she was a traitor to her country. And second of all, why in the hell wouldn't this guy know what a cell phone was?
But there was a silver lining to every cloud. Barnes did not hang up; he left the line open, and now she could hear everything that happened in the office. Unfortunately, her phone was beeping the familiar 'call waiting' tone, and the screen told her that it was Skinner. Scully shuffled over to the squad car, opened the door, and reached over to the radio. "This is Special Agent Dana Scully. Can I speak with Assistant Director Walter Skinner, please?"
Seconds later, Skinner's baritone came through to her very clearly from the dashboard speakers. "Is there a reason why you didn't answer my call, Agent? Over."
"Yes, sir. The man, whoever he is, did not end the call. He's left the line open. So now I can hear them. Over."
"I called because I only heard half of that conversation. His half, to be more specific. What exactly was he talking about? Over."
"My German is a little rusty, I'll have to admit, sir, but from what I could make out, he accused me of being a traitor. And that my plans didn't work...whatever that meant. I don't even know anybody that can speak German! Over."
"Did you catch anything else? Over."
"He didn't know what a cell phone was. And um...that he was still alive. That's still not firing off any synapses, sir. Over."
"Hmm...well...see what you can find out about the man...said his name was Barnes. Craig Barnes. Oh, and Agent Hale will be here shortly. He just called me five minutes ago before you did Mulder's phone. Over."
"10/4, sir. Scully out." She kept the phone close to her ear and next traveled over to a pay phone about twenty feet away. Thankfully, it was in a luminous and well protected area. Scully patted down her pockets and withdrew two quarters.
"Lone Gunmen," Langly answered.
"Langly, it's me."
"What can I do for you, Agent Scully?"
"Turn off the freakin' tape machine."
"Why, Agent Scully, we never record any of our conversations with you."
"Oh, brother," she rolled her eyes. "Just turn it off now."
"Fine." She went silent until she heard the clicking sound of their ancient reel to reel and then continued. "It's off."
"Don't you guys ever go to bed?"
"One of us always is up...just in case we're needed. Come on, Agent Scully, what's the sitch, have you got a hot tip for us?"
"I only wish. I need your help...Mulder's in trouble."
"Uh-oh. What's he gotten himself into this time?"
"Actually, it wasn't his fault. An assailant...well...I suppose there could be more but I've yet to hear of them...broke into the Hoover building," Scully kept her hand cupped over the cell phone's receiver and cradled the landline between her shoulder and neck. This multi-tasking was giving her neck more trouble than ever before, so she switched the pay phone over to the other ear and tried to balance the two phones.
"If the cops are all there with the bureaucrats you're always pressed under, what's the deal? You probably can run him through any of their computers and get the 411 on him quicker than you can say "Mulder's porn collection". Not that I don't want to help you out, Agent Scully," Langly added.
"That's just it. He's not in their database. And you can guess how much access I have to the Internet and FBI's files right now outside the Hoover building," she was on the borderline of snapping at him.
"Okay, then, I don't imagine that you have a fax machine anywhere in the vicinity...so what's his name?"
"Craig Barnes."
"I'll run him through our channels to see what I can find."
"Good. Thank you. Oh, and Agent Reyes will be stopping by in a little while with his picture should you be needing it. You know, just in case that's an alias or something."As Scully made her way back to Lt. Raines' car, she noticed that the mobbing media had gotten noticeably closer, and now he was answering their questions. Ugh, that was the last thing she needed right now...were thirty microphones being shoved into her face. She rolled her neck from side to side and when she heard popping noises, she grew rather irritated with her aging body.
"Wanna get rid of that nasty crick in your neck?" a younger man with an FBI ID on a lanyard hanging round his neck questioned her. He reached into his breast pocket and handed her a small headset. "Go ahead. I got the audio all set up for you now."
"You're Agent Hale?" she wondered and he nodded. "Thank you." Scully finally press the 'end' button on her cell phone, slipped it away, and attached the earpiece to herself. After she had done that, she glanced at her watch and saw that the time only said '12:03 a.m.'. "Hey, how'd you do that so fast?"
"I had the whole device set up before I left and brought it with me assembled. What can I say? I had all my work done for the night, but my sup was just being a prick to your boss."
"I'm surprised that you didn't get a ticket on the way over here."
"Oh ah...I've got an IR node modulator. I'll never get any speeding tickets...from a radar gun's readout anyhow," he shrugged.
"But, the transmitter is...-"
"On top of the Hoover already." He noticed her jaw drop and shuffled his booted feet around the gravel. "I used the fire escapes, Agent Scully. There's no magic involved or anything."
"But what about video?"
"Ah...that'll take a little doing. The audio was the cinch. But don't you worry, you'll be able to see what's going on in there...oh...maybe in about fifteen minutes or so. Depends on my buddy. I borrowed him from the Sarah McLachlan concert load-out...production manager was a little pissed that I took him, but once I told him that it was a federal matter, what could he do but give me a nasty look?"
"That's right. Skinner said that you used to be an...audio engineer...was it?"
"Mmm...yeah. The Union pays good...the benefits in D.C. are lousy, though. So that's when I decided to get into the government work. Man oh man, do we have it good as feds," Hale chuckled and picked up his phone as it beeped twice. "This is Spiderman."
"Hey, Spidey. What kind of a hookup do you got comin' down to your end?" the voice replied.
"What kind of gear did you manage to finagle your way into? I got a shitload of TV vans from here to Hawaii hangin' out down here probably just bustin' out miles of digital triax."
"Well, I got a digital amp, a wave-form monitor, a VTR, and a basic three way switcher. But there ain't no way in hell that I'm doing that hang without proper fall arrest equipment, man."
"Just set it up on the roof, and I'll do it myself. It's gonna be a bitch to do the installation of the camera upside down, but...-"
Scully had been tuning them out and listening to the intercourse going on inside the building, but when she heard Hale say the last sentence, she flinched. "Did you just say upside down?" she asked him.
"I'll meet you up there, Surfer," he ended the radio discussion and handed it to her. "Would you mind keeping this stuff until I get back down here? I'd hate to drop my phone onto some poor reporter's head. Course, it'd be kind of funny at first, but then I'd hate to lose my phone to such a waste of space." Hale also emptied his pockets, which included a set of keys and a couple of things that looked like remotes. She was still stupefied as she took them and emitted a brief sigh. "Guess you figured out how I got that nickname, huh? Aw, don't worry yourself. I've done this lots of times."
"Well, just in case I forget to say this later...thanks."
Hale beamed proudly and began to stroll to the opposite side of the Hoover edifice. Skinner came through the squad car's radio again. "I thought I saw a couple of figures on the roof. That's Hale, right? Over."
"Yes, sir. He'll be installing the camera soon. How're you feeling up there? Over."
"Let's just say that I have a very good view of you and everyone down there. Maybe we can get an idea of whose office he's in once the camera's installed as well as see what the situation is for the police snipers, over."
"They're not honestly thinking of shooting at them, are they, sir? Over."
"Well, Agent, the two cleaning women, as you can probably hear, aren't there anymore. Thanks to Doggett and Mulder, they escaped and are probably in that sea of people you're practically in. So now that we don't have any civilians to worry about, they're going to try to incapacitate him, over."
"I don't like this, sir. Is this the Lieutenant's idea? Over."
"I believe it is a secondary plan, but the SWAT team leader's been quite reluctant to share any more information than a need to know basis with me. All things considered, they've been more than cooperative with us, over," Skinner reasoned.
"There's got to be a reason why that man's in the FBI building. He didn't come to kill Mulder and Doggett, that's for sure. Maybe his intentions, although his morals are a bit askew, are good, over."
"I understand, Agent, believe me, I do. Don't go jumping the gun yet, though. I'm just repeating some of what I hear from them talking to one another, over."
"How many of them are up there with you? Over." Scully inquired and shifted her weight so that some of her balance was proportioned onto the car's door.
"Three, and the leader makes four. Listen, Scully, my cell phone's ringing. I think it might be Kersh, so I gotta go. I'll call you back when I'm finished, over. Skinner out." She replaced the microphone back onto the dashboard, leaned forward, and used the door to support herself as she arose. Before she could take even one step towards the Lieutenant, who had just finished making his comments to the public, her cell phone chirped its paramount interruption.
"Scully," she answered.
"Hey, Scully, it's Langly. I've got some information for you about your inquiry."
"You don't have to be so oblique, Langly. I'm in a secure area."
"Hmm...well...if you say so. Craig Barnes is a dead man walking, so to speak. Did you hear about that car bombing that occurred out in Reno, Nevada? It was about three months ago."
"I don't recall it, no."
"Maybe these details'll refresh your memory. Craig Barnes practically got blown to smithereens in that car bombing. It was a miraculous survival, that's all I have to say. He should have died. The article goes on to say that there's a couple of pieces of shrapnel stuck inside of his head. Doctors couldn't take them out because of the fact that they'd kill him instantly if they tried to dislodge them."
"That would explain why he's got a few screws loose," Scully deadpanned.
"In more ways than one, I guess. I also did some more checking. He's got all the usual legitimate government documents: driver's license, U.S. passport, birth certificate, and a hunting license. He's also got a license to carry a handgun, but I didn't find any official records of his purchasing one in the last five years."
"Well, go back farther."
"I would, Agent Scully, but that's just the thing. He's got no more records...at least not on our unofficial channels. Which means his history's probably on 'the official channels'," Langly commented.
"Did the authorities ever find who planted the car bomb?"
"Hmm...there was an investigation made...but it didn't last very long because he didn't die. So, no, nobody found out who did it."
"There's only one probable explanation for this, then. He's part of the WPP."
"Come again?"
"Witness protection program. So he's come back now to right the wrong that the FBI did to him."
"Kind of an ironic situation, isn't it? I mean, the whole point of the witness protection program is to protect the witness and the FBI. Yeah, I know everybody says that it's for the witness' own good, but the FBI gets something out of it, too. Funny how it failed to protect the witness and now also the FBI from danger, too."
"The system isn't flawed, Langly. It's the mechanisms in the system that keep it from functioning properly--those are the flaws."
"What?"
"There's a dirty agent somewhere within either the WPP or well...it's either got to be our fraud division or organized crime."
"Those don't seem like very good odds to me. Just how many people work in those divisions?"
"In the Washington Bureau, just over a hundred. Of course, some of our regional offices like New York, Cleveland, and Atlanta also work in these departments, too."
"What about Las Vegas?"
"It's just a regular field office," Scully sighed and rested her hand onto the squad vehicle's hood. She'd been standing up for quite a while and the extra weight of the child didn't make it any easier on her feet.
"Looks like you've got your work cut out for you there." Langly paused on the line, made a few clicks with his mouse, and the chair he was sitting in sqeaked. "So this Craig Barnes has got Mulder in the doghouse, huh?"
"And Agent Doggett, too. Langly, would you mind doing a little medical research, or should I ask Byers to do it?"
"He's off with a friend on a fishing trip."
"Fishing? Byers? Do I have the right number?"
"I never said what he was fishing for." I will never call Mulder a paranoiac to his face or behind his back ever again should he get out of this.
"I see. Well, I guess you're stuck, and if it horrifies you, I apologize in advance."
"Horrifies me? Agent Scully, you are speaking to Lord Manhammer, three time game master of D & D. And I might add, I gave Mulder's butt a whipping too, every time he played with us! Nothing horrifies me!"
"Except perhaps the details of a post mortem examination." Scully's mouth twitched, and she almost wanted to smirk at him.
"You never told anyone, did you?" Langly's voice lost its confidence immediately. "Not even Mulder?"
"Not a soul. Now, I'd like to see how much you can uncover about the bits and pieces of shrapnel stuck inside of Barnes' brain. A hospital report would be the most accurate and helpful. There is a computer that is hooked up to a network here in the cop's car, it's just that I can't browse the web. If you would be so kind as to-"
"Yeah, I know. Washington's PD's on its own Intranet still. You know, NYPD and the LAPD have hooked up into Interpol now. They're the first police organizations in the world to do it. Sure, I'll email the reports to you. What's the roller's number?"
"I'm sorry?"
"The cop car's dispatch number."
"Oh, uh...42."
"42? Figures. All right, I'll get back to you as soon as I can with that data, Agent Scully. You can trust me. Oh, by the way, when should I be expecting this Agent Reyes character? We kept on hearing about her from Agent Doggett, but have not had the pleasure yet."
"From Doggett, huh? Um, she should be there after one o'clock or so. Depends how fast she drives."
"Does she know who we are?"
"Well, she knows how to find your place, if that's what you're asking." You know precisely what he means, Dana Katherine Scully. Birds of a feather flock together.
"If she doesn't, she'll sure find out. I'm going to try to get some special permission and access for you, Langly," Scully responded.
"Access to what?" Langly questioned her.
"The witness protection program database. Maybe then we'll be able to find out about who Barnes really is. When Agent Reyes arrives, you'll be able to tap into the preliminary encryption, but unfortunately, we need the codes given by someone a little higher up in the ranks."
"How high? Skinner might be able to help you out there. And he's definitely do it for Mulder. And Doggett."
"I hope so...but there are even some rules that Skinner won't break. We have a very stringent protocol; wish I knew what it was, and I don't even work in that department." Scully moved backwards slightly and supported herself almost completely onto the outside of the squad car. "Ooh," she said and clutched her arm over her abdomen.
"Are you okay, Agent Scully?"
"I'm fine. The baby just...gave me a very strong kick."
"Have you found out the baby's gender yet?"
"No, Langly. I'm just going to let it occur the old fashioned way and find out just the same as anyone else used to."
"Oh, I just thought you'd broken down and done it without telling us. Or maybe Mulder casually asked you to so that he could get 'better odds'."
"Odds on what?"
"Uhh...oh nothing. Never mind. If I run into any trouble when Agent Reyes gets here, I'll be sure to give you a call." He hung up without a moment to lose afterward, leaving a very exasperated Scully in suspense. She sloughed off her petulant emotions, deciding that she would shelf them to be utilized later at a more appropriate time, and scrolled down her phone's contact list until she reached Skinner's number.