Chapter Seven

Jones' Bar & Grill, Washington, D.C.

April 23rd, 2001, 10:01 p.m.

"I'm glad you could meet me here, sir," Doggett thanked his superior as Kersh joined him at his table.

"This had better be worth my while, John."

"It will be, sir." The FBI agent slid a khaki envelope over to Kersh's waiting hands.

"Might I ask why you couldn't give this to me tomorrow morning officially or at least send me an email?" Kersh inquired.

"With all due respect, sir, I don't trust too many people at the Bureau. And the guy who gave me these reports wants it done this way, or else he'll stop sending them. I figured I owed it to him since he's trusted me with this much information so far."

"And Mulder had nothing to do with this, you say?"

Doggett hesitated before blatantly lying to Kersh. A waitress in her early forties brought a club soda to the table, and she gave the black man a half-grin. "Somethin' I can get for ya, honey?"

"Plain water, please," Kersh responded, and her smirk disappeared as she exited. "Answer the question, John."

"Should it matter?"

"Yes, it should, Agent Doggett. Fox Mulder was fired from the Bureau because of his treachery and frequent insubordination. He embarrassed the FBI more times than I care to remember, and I don't want to see that happening anymore."

"Are you going to dismiss the case based solely on that information?"

"Only if I think you're lying to me."

Doggett wrestled with himself. On the one hand, he didn't know how well he could trust Kersh. On the other hand, just how well did Kersh trust him? If he lied, could he pull it off? If he told the truth, well...Kersh just might throw away the whole ordeal because of Mulder.

Their server came back with Kersh's water and left without a word.

"Yes, sir. Fox Mulder did bring it to my attention," Doggett finally said. He prepared himself for Kersh's sledgehammer to fall. "But he will have nothing to do with our investigation."

"What's on this disc?"

"A lot of videos of what this Centre place is capable of--documents, too." A few seconds later, Doggett went on. "I received a message from Agent Scully this evening on my voice mail asking me to speak with you regarding another case. As you know, she's out of town on a convention for pathologists. Well, she came across something rather unexpectedly."

The ex-cop proceeded to tell Kersh most of what Scully had told him, and after he concluded his narration, he took a huge swig of his club soda. "So, she's asking for your permission to stay in Indianapolis and investigate these deaths."

"What do you think, John?" Kersh inquired.

"I think I'm glad that it wasn't me. I probably would have called for her help--or Agent Reyes."

"Let me re-phrase that. Is Agent Scully asking for a legitimate 302?"

"In my opinion, yes, sir," Doggett answered immediately. "The case is a definite X-File."

"Is she working in conjunction with the local police out there in...Indianapolis, you say?"

"Yes, sir, she is...on both counts."

"You know who Tony Capricci is?"

"No, sir, I don't."

"He's an SAC of the OCS Division. And he'll be working with you and Agent Reyes starting tomorrow morning." Kersh drank half of his water, scooted his chair backward, and got up.

"Don't you want this?" Doggett picked up the envelope, and Kersh shook his head.

"I don't need to see it to know that you're being honest with me. You can give it to SAC Capricci in the morning."

"And sir? What about Agent Scully?"

"As long as she sends me daily field notes via either email or fax, she can continue. I have been known to make mistakes about judging people from time to time. Maybe she's not as much of a lost cause as Mulder was."

"What if some of her findings are inconclusive?"

"Frankly, John, that wouldn't surprise me a bit. And I will be the one deciding what's conclusive and inconclusive around here." Kersh pointed at himself. "Why isn't Agent Reyes here?"

"She's trying to quit smoking, sir, and she felt the temptation would be too great here."

"By the way, SAC Capricci will be meeting you in your office tomorrow morning--at 8 o'clock sharp."

"Thank you, sir."

The X-Files Office, FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.

April 24th, 2001, 8:00 a.m.

"So Agent Scully's not coming back yet, huh?" Reyes asked Doggett as they stepped off of the elevator.

"Yeah, she's still in Indiana. Are you still getting those headaches?"

"I had a little episode again yesterday after you dropped me off back home. In fact, I almost blacked out from the pain."

"Monica, you shouldn't be here. Go to your doctor."

"I made an appointment to see him this afternoon. I'll be fine, John. I took some Excedrin this morning, and I've got some more on me just in case."

"Well, if you feel the slightest bit out of sorts, feel free to just walk out and leave if you must. I'm sure SAC Capricci will understand."

"Understand what?" a voice questioned them from behind. Reyes and Doggett spun around to face an average build man with brown eyes and dark hair. He slung his suit coat over one shoulder and held out his hand. "I'm Tony. You must be Agent Reyes and Agent Doggett.""How do you do, sir?" Doggett filled Capricci's hand with his and shook it warmly."Aw...let's get that outta the way. Please don't call me sir. I know I'm an SAC and all, but it's just a title. I'd really prefer Tony."

"Sounds just fine to me," Reyes greeted him with a smile and also shook his hand.

"So this is what the basement looks like," Capricci commented as he watched Doggett wrestle with keys in the door. "That lock looks like it needs to be oiled. Did you put in a request for it?"

"Yeah, last week. But nobody seems to be in a rush to fix it," Doggett replied and finally jangled it open. "Our garbage hasn't been taken out in a month, either. The three of us have been out of this office so much doing other assignments, so none of us have had time to make a complaint yet."

"Remind me when we're finished here, and I'll get right on their asses."

"I'd appreciate that, thanks."

"What do you mean, doing other assignments?" Capricci pressed him as they filed into the office and gathered around Doggett's desk.

"Kersh likes to lend us out to other divisions occasionally."

"Occasionally? John, we haven't physically been inside this office for a week!" Reyes exclaimed. "Deputy Director Kersh doesn't really see a need to investigate the paranormal, and so he sends all three of us out to where he thinks we'll serve best."

"I'm aware of that. Kersh is a prick--I needed some extra agents to help me once in a kidnapping case. I actually asked him for Mulder when they were under him three years ago, but he wouldn't give him to me. That really pissed me off, too, 'cause I was looking so forward to meeting him."

"Agent Mulder, you mean?" Doggett wondered.

"Yeah. He was my idol, back when I was at the Academy. He's a brilliant guy, that Spooky Mulder. He was so under-appreciated here, and I was very disappointed when I heard that they fired him."

"What's your story, Tony?" Reyes inquired and arose to the coffeemaker.

"I wanted to join the X-Files Division--it was a goal for me when I was at Quantico. So I studied all the harder. Then I got put in the Atlanta regional office, spent three years there, and requested to work in the X-Files Division upon my return. But unfortunately, the powers that be closed the division, and I was denied entry. So instead, I got moved to OCS. It took me six years to be able to set one foot into this office. And now that I finally do, neither of the original agents are here."

"Oh, I beg to differ." Reyes signaled towards the desk in front of the door that used to be Mulder's. The nameplate above it read 'Special Agent Dana Scully'. "She's out of town right now, actually."

"Too bad. I kind of would've liked to see her in flesh and blood," Capricci grinned at Doggett and winked.

"What do you mean by that?" Doggett pried.

"Oh come, on, Agent Doggett," Tony stated and rolled his eyes. "Any man that didn't turn his head when she walked by was either blind or gay. No offense intended, Monica."

"None taken," she laughed and started the coffeemaker.

"So, did Deputy Director Kersh fill you in on anything?"

"He said that the case had a typical Mulder flavoring. It made me kind of wish for a seven o'clock meeting. But before we start, I'd like to do something, if I may," Capricci crossed one leg to the other.

"You're the senior agent," Doggett remarked and shrugged.

"I worked with the Violent Crimes Task Force in Atlanta, and some of those cases were so dark and gruesome, we almost dreaded the thought of coming to work on Monday to start a new one. So, each team member told a joke. They got so popular in the Atlanta office that they were tagged the name "Monday gags"."

"You told jokes before starting to work on a violent crime?"

"Well, just one. It was the rule--but sometimes it helps cut the stress and sometimes guilt over the ones we couldn't bring to justice or save," Tony told them. "Would it be okay with you?"

"It is a Monday," Reyes announced. "Why not?"

"It's a quickie today, because I'd like to begin to hear about this case ASAP. All right, I'd kind of been saving it for Mulder when I met him, but...I think you'll get it just the same. How many psychologists does it take to change a light bulb?"

"How many?" Doggett questioned him.

"How many do you think it will take?"

Reyes chuckled immediately, and even Doggett cracked a smile.

"Yeah, he'd like that joke. Maybe you'll meet him someday," he suggested.

"I hope so. There are a slim few of us that think of him as the legendary Spooky in a good sense. Hey, is that coffee ready yet, Monica?"

"Yes, I believe it is." She pulled out three mugs, poured the coffee, and served the men as well as herself.

"Thank you very much. I didn't offend you by not getting up, did I?"

"No, not at all. Why do you ask?"

"It's a rare occasion nowadays to be brought coffee by a woman in the FBI. Everyone has to be so PC about male chauvinism and equal rights, so most of the time, I just do it myself."

"The thought never entered my mind, actually. I've just gotten into the habit of making the coffee since John's is so terrible."

"Is it really?" Tony inquired.

"Yeah--as long as I keep being a good shot and my mouth shut, I get the best damn coffee made in the FBI by its two smartest agents in heels."

"All right, John, hit me with everything you've got. I'm all yours."

"Well first, we start with a little movie." Doggett loaded the disc into his computer's tray, closed it, and opened up a file. He turned the monitor around to face Capricci and Reyes then joined them in front of his desk.

"Cree craw toads croak, geese walk barefoot," a five year old boy sang and paced around a skyscraper made completely of Legos. "Cree craw toads croak, geese walk barefoot."

Behind him was an image of the Empire State Building. "I've finished my building. I'm finished," he sang in a louder voice.

A man in his late twenties approached the camera and looked directly into it. "This one's only been with us for thirty-six hours, and he's already demonstrating more talent than any of our others."

The youth walked up to the glass and knocked on it. "Hey, I'm finished," he called.

Seconds later, the man entered the room.

"Hi, Jarod, my name is Sydney. I'll be taking care of you for a while," he stated.

"Why? Where are my mom and dad?" Jarod asked innocently.

The file ended and returned back to the window Doggett previously had open.

"How old is that footage? I heard a reel to reel being used to project that Empire State Building film," Tony observed.

"It's from 1963," Doggett answered. "That was the beginning of their experiment."

"Whose?"

"We're going to be investigating a place called the Centre. It's located in a small marine port called Blue Cove in Delaware," Reyes informed him. "Our informant is the boy you saw on the screen--we know him only as Jarod."

"And just what did they do?"

"It'd take me until next Christmas to recite every little piece of data we've gotten so far from this guy. But to sum it all up, they kidnapped a boy for his brilliant mind and have used his thoughts to hurt many people. Our interest in this case is to protect the United States as well as bring justice to those that stole this man's life. Apparently, they do deals with governments that are openly hostile towards America."

"And we've got the proof, huh?"

"It's all purely circumstantial and subjective at this point, but, that's what I'd like to get as soon as humanly possible," Doggett corrected him.

"This might be a stupid question and all, but I have to ask it."

"Go ahead."

"Did this boy...Jarod know that he was hurting people?"

"No--he claims that he didn't know until he heard a part of a deal being discussed. Jarod says that it was only out of pure curiosity that he happened to stumble upon their plans--that was when he was an adult," Reyes said.

"Did he send you a paper trail of any of these deals?"

"No, but he gave us an idea of where to look. Do you know anyone in the Cyber Division?" Dogettt asked Capricci.

"Yeah, I do," Tony grumbled. "We'll be looking for EFTs, right? Probably with international banks?"

"All we've got is an account number. I'm not sure if it belongs to the Centre or someone within the organization. Jarod just sent it to our source when we requested some more information."

"Okay. Let me have it...I'll take it down to CD myself."

"Would you mind if we tagged along?"

"Uh...sure. She's just...let me put it this way. She's better with machines than she is with people--just to give you a fair warning. And, well...I don't even know if she'll do it for me," Tony stated gloomily. "This is great coffee, Monica. Maybe a full mug of this stuff will perk Sabrina up," he enthused and arose to refill his mug.

"Well, if you're ready, let's go visit the geeks in the CD," Capricci offered.

Cyber Division, FBI Headquarters, Washington, D.C.

April 24th, 2001, 9:07 a.m.

A few heads popped up from their cubicles as Doggett, Reyes, and Capricci strolled into the office space. The Cyber Division was known as the quiet floor in the Hoover Building; all that could typically be heard were keyboard strokes and humming noises coming from America's most powerful computers. The occasional phone conversation occurred; but it was nothing compared to the hustle and bustle of the bullpen floor.

As the trio approached the third row of cubicles, Doggett could have sworn that he heard someone whistling the tune of "Darth Vader's theme". His head spun around to localize the whistler; the action ceased immediately afterward. Unfortunately, he had kept walking and plowed right into Capricci, who spilled some of the coffee right onto himself. "Aw, shit," Tony whined.

The entire third row of cubicles had witnessed the entire accident and broke out into peels of laughter. Capricci's eyes narrowed, and he marched straight towards his target angrily. His final destination, however, was not laughing with the rest of the group. Her auburn hair was held together with a pencil; another rested between her teeth as she stared obliviously at the screen. "Hello, Sabrina," he greeted her sincerely.

The woman's pencil dropped from her teeth to the floor, and she spun around in her chair to see who it was. A fury that Doggett rarely saw in women, perhaps except on certain days of the month, possessed this woman's eyes to fill with rage. In fact, for a moment, he almost considered drawing his weapon in defense. It wasn't until she calmed down and smiled pleasantly that his adrenalin rush subsided. Sabrina then proceeded to slap Capricci as hard as she possibly could on the cheek and swiveled back around with her back to him. "Hello, Tony," she replied serenely.

"I'm kind of surprised that you didn't throw a right hook."

"In front of my fellow co-workers? Surely you don't think that I'd be that unprofessional. I'll leave that action to you," she retorted as her eyes scanned over the monitor in front of her.

"Agent Reyes, Agent Doggett, this is Agent Sabrina Wazir," Tony introduced them."How do you do?" Reyes greeted Wazir with a friendly smile, but Wazir refused to even turn around. Doggett had tried to extend his hand in a greeting as well, but it remained to be ignored and invisible.

"Is there a point to all these introductions?" Wazir inquired as she rolled her neck from side to side.

"Look, Sabrina, just because we used to date, doesn't mean that you have to treat some people I work with like shit."

"I'm not angry because we used to date, Tony. I'd appreciate it if you would keep what belongs outside of work in the same place. There's no need to make a scene."

"There's no need to make a scene? You turned around and smacked me in front of everyone! What was I supposed to say? Thank you, dear, for knocking some sense into me?"

"You're welcome," Wazir smirked and began to type.

Capricci grunted and set the remainder of the coffee next to her mouse. "Can you just put our relationship aside for five minutes and do me a favor, please? This is for you, by the way."

Wazir stopped typing and peripherally glanced at the coffee longingly. It did look rather enticing, but she went right back to her previous task. "I suppose we came to the wrong terminal, Agents. Sabrina wouldn't be able to trace what we're looking for anyhow. It'll be too hard for her to figure out," Capricci commented and motioned to the other two to follow him out. "Enjoy the coffee, Sabrina."

The red-headed woman froze from her work. "You have my attention, Tony. This had better be worth my time. You've got two minutes on the clock to get my interest."

"We've got a bank account number and a couple of countries outside North America. We need to know where the money has gone and get hard proof of it," Doggett stated.

"Oh, please. Tony, after a two year relationship, you think a simple hacking job is worthy of me? I could give this job to a first year student at MIT," Wazir scoffed and clucked her tongue onto the roof of her mouth.

"Okay, well, maybe Agent Doggett didn't provide you with enough details. We want to check this account number without being detected by the banks, trace it to every single transaction made outside of the U.S., and how many times the money has quote exchanged hands," Tony declared. "Think you can do that for us?"

"You're getting warmer."

"Try the coffee," Reyes suggested. "It's getting cold."For the first time in five minutes, Wazir made eye contact with one of them. She gave Reyes a sneer but did try the mug of java. "Hmm...you didn't make this coffee, Tony," she reflected with a satisfied smile. "It tastes too good."

"You didn't like my coffee?"

"Hmm...how should I put it...delicately? It wasn't the only reaction I faked."

"I've had enough of this. C'mon, Monica. Let's take this to the guys," Doggett grumbled and spun on his heel.

"No, wait. I'll get you what you want on one condition."

"Name it," Tony said a little too quickly.

"The testosterone patrol may now exit stage left. I've had more than enough of my share for the morning," Wazir commanded.

"You haven't switched to a different baseball team, have you, Sabrina?" Tony inquired.

"Ha, you wish only because you'd want to watch. Dare to dream, Mr. Italy."

As the two men journeyed back to the elevator, Capricci smiled to himself silently. Doggett shook his head and pressed the call button. "Why're you smiling?" he asked.

"There's hope for me yet. That name's got a good connotation."

"Can I ask uh...uh...what came...?"

"Foolish inhibitions of the younger days, that's what came in between us. I was dating her and then thought I could be slick enough to date two women at the same time. As a matter of fact, both of them were FBI agents."

"Did they find out about one another and gang up on you?"

"Not exactly. I...uh...left messages on the wrong machines, and when Sabrina came into my office to confront me about it...Rita and I were-"

"Comparing notes?"

"In flagrante delecto."

"Ouch. I can see what she meant," Doggett remarked.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." They shuffled into the lift. "I'm a terrible guy. But I paid for it. Rita dumped me right then and there without a finish."

"Was her gun involved?"

"No, but her teeth were."

"Enough said," the ex-cop's eyebrows raised as the doors closed.