Chapter Two
Indianapolis International Airport, Indianapolis, IN
April 24th, 2001, 5:18 p.m.
"Mulder, will you please stop pacing back and forth? I'm trying to finish up these field notes," Scully lamented. She looked up from her laptop at him impatiently.
"How can you even work on those?" he spat and ran a jittery hand through his hair. "Our son has been taken from us, and-"
"I need to work. You know it's the only thing I can put my back up against at times like this," she returned quietly and saved her document before shutting the computer's screen.
"Scully, please. I'm not expecting you to fall into my arms crying your eyes out for hours, but could you leave work alone?"
Oh, how times have changed, she thought to herself.
"One of Kersh's stipulations for me to remain out in the field was that I supply him with reports. I'm really surprised that he approved of my working out here alone and on a conspiracy case."
"Maybe he knew how little you'd truly get done."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing bad--just that maybe he knew about Will being kidnapped. Agent Doggett does have his suspicions about the Deputy Director's loyalties, and for once, I think his premonitions are probably right on target."
"Why do you always have to warp everything into the conspiracy theory?"
"Come again?"
"Practically everything everyone in the FBI says or does has to do with you, aliens, or a covert agenda. There are some people there that actually do their jobs every now and then," Scully miffed. "It bothers me that you always think someone's out to get you. Well, they're not--you don't work there any longer, so you can't hurt them."
"But they can still hurt you, and you're in my life. My son is gone...oh God..." Mulder began to chew on his lip in thought. "Scully, what if they take him away like they took Samantha? What if we never see him again?"
"At least you saw him yesterday." Her anger was swelling, and it took all of her inner strength not to lash out at him. She was almost about to continue, but her cell phone interrupted their argument. "Scully."
"Dana, this is Jarod. I was wondering if you'd be able to come down to my office and the morgue to venture forth some of your opinions."
"Is this regarding Campbell's exsanguination?"
"Yes, and well...the body count just rose. Detective Cooper's dead, and so are the police officers that were with him in Dr. Kovach's apartment."
"What! They're dead!" Her face wrinkled with confusion, and Mulder sat down next to her. She covered the phone's microphone with her hand and mouthed the word 'Cooper' to him.
"Mmhmm, that's right. They were killed in an explosion. Thankfully, it was in an apartment complex, so the fire department got there quickly thanks to a 911 call. I'm on my way to the scene of the crime right now. Where are you?"
"Right now, I'm in Indianapolis International Airport. My son was kidnapped, and I'm afraid I'll have to withdraw myself from this case...at least temporarily."
"I understand. By all means, go home," Jarod said empathetically. "I was hoping to put an end to this twisted mystery soon with your help, but nothing is more important than family."
"I...um...I'm sorry to hear about Cooper. He was a very nice young man," Scully commented.
"He was a conscientious investigator, and I'm finding out those are more rare than Siberian tigers nowadays."
"Oh, were you an animal trainer, too?"
"Uh, no, but I...uh..." his voice became nervous.
"Jarod, I don't completely understand who and what you are. As I'm sure you aware, it is illegal to jump in and out of professional careers without the proper credentials and education. I'm still not sure if I entirely believe that you're able to do such a thing."
"Just know that I'm endeavoring just like you to bring the truth to light," he cleared his throat.
"Indeed you are, which is why I'm keeping my mouth shut and pursuing other matters of greater importance. If you truly can do what Mulder suggests you can do, that's...phenomenal. You're practically a breakthrough in science."
"Dana, I have a few acquaintances in the FBI. They might be able to assist you if you'd like. They're located in the Atlanta Regional Bureau."
"Um, thank you, Jarod, but no. I've already been informed that the Bureau in D.C. will be very much involved on the case. And I must get back there as soon as I possibly can. My mother will probably be tearing herself apart," her voice faltered as she held back some tears.
"Might I ask if you have any suspects?"
"I...um...have some premonitions and suspicions, but they're fairly poor ones."
"Please tell me."
"Look, that's very kind of you to be concerned, Jarod, but you don't need to worry about it," Scully rebuked him.
"Attention, ladies and gentlemen. Flight 105 non-stop from Indianapolis International to Washington, D.C. Dulles' International will begin pre-boarding in five minutes. Thank you for choosing to fly with us," a service attendant announced into the speaker system.
"You were kind enough to help me. Now let me return the favor," Jarod remarked.
"I've got to get going with Mulder."
"Just a name. It's all I'll need. I promise, if I learn anything, I'll send the information straight to the FBI."
"All right," Scully soughed and opened her laptop case up. "One of the members of the Consortium had ties with the Department of Defense. That's all I can remember right this second. I've got to go."
She hung up tersely and turned the phone off without saying goodbye.
Brooksgate Apartments, Indianapolis, Indiana
April 24th, 2001, 5:49 p.m.
The crime scene was chaotic. With all the answers modern science had to offer, the crime scene investigation team was littered all around the duplex still flagging items to be checked. No one seemed to be leading the investigation; three police officers were rushing around the apartment complex knocking on doors and asking questions.
Jarod parked the Marion county SUV across from the exploded apartment building and removed his own crime scene kit tackle box from the trunk. He also donned his spring jacket with the identifying word 'coroner' stitched on the back of it so that he would not be disturbed in his work. "Pardon me," he tapped one CSI on the back. She turned and gave him a withered expression.
"Oh, it's you. Farkas, the Chief Coroner's here," she raised her voice and went back to her job.
A black man about six one with blue eyes and a goatee made his way toward Jarod and signaled for him to come over to one of the dead police officers. "Farkas is my name. You must be the Chief that's been making these extraordinary discoveries all over town."
"How do you do? My name is Jarod," Verne extended his hand toward Farkas, who gladly accepted it. "Yes, well, I seemed to have uncovered a lot of strange things occurring around here. And from what I see here, I'm going to have to be very cautious about my work as well."
"What do you make of all this?"
Jarod bent down and examined a few pieces of rubble surrounding the body with his eyes. He put on his prophylactic gloves and lifted a charred piece of drywall to study it closer. "Hmm...I'm not on the bomb squad today, so I can't expound too much further on this theory..."
"What're you hypothesizing, Dr. Verne?"
"This explosion was pre-meditated and executed nearly as flawlessly as a military operation. Cooper and his other officers were lured inside into a false sense of security and then eliminated before they could discover any more evidence against Dr. Kovach."
"Yeah, well, I must say that whoever these people are, they sure are keeping my teams busy during the day and night. You remember that drug dealer, what was his name..." Farkas scratched the back of his head, "uh...Campbell?"
"Very well. He was murdered by a nine year old girl."
"Say what?"
"You didn't see the surveillance video, then."
"No, I didn't. Like I said, we've been collecting evidence and analyzing it as fast as we possibly can, but I tell ya, we're startin' ta get backed up. You get me?"
Jarod nodded in understanding and tossed the piece of drywall down haplessly. He then set his tackle box down next to the body and removed a few neatly folded yellow body bags. "Please, go on, Farkas."
"Here, lemme give you a hand." Farkas helped Jarod fit the first body into the bag and carry the police officer back to the Ford Expedition marked "Marion County Coroner".
"Now, you're tellin' me that some girl stabbed this crook in the neck and bled him to death? How's that possible? We found trace evidence of some long hair on the bed that didn't belong to Campbell," Farkas continued.
"Well," Jarod paused as he opened the back door, "umph, okay, let's get him as close to the backseat as possible. Good. First of all, she didn't kill him with one stab wound. She missed his jugular the first time--she only nicked a few muscles around it. The second piercing was correct; she hit her mark while they were struggling on his bed."
"I don't understand, unless she was really small and young." He pursued Jarod as they returned to the refuse for the next corpse. As Jarod began to fit the next body into another bag, Farkas snapped his fingers. "She must have been...she could've fit through those bars and finished him off. We didn't find any latent fingerprints on the body."
"I estimate her age to be about eight or nine from what I saw. She signed in to see Campbell under the guise of being his daughter," Verne stated. "But she clearly made contact with him in their struggle on the bed. You're telling me that you didn't find any fingerprints on his body? I observed her grabbing his hand, rather forcefully, I might add, and then giving him the fatal stab."
"We found none, but...I do know that the oils secreted or left behind in latent finger or footprints do not develop fully until a child reaches the age of approximately twelve. I think it happens in one of the earlier stages of puberty." They heaved the second police officer back to the Expedition. "That would probably explain it all."
"She knew that. She looked back up at the camera and waived to it like she was playing some game and having the time of her life. Then she stuck her hands in her coat pockets and walked out of the jail like nothing was wrong," Jarod realized. "Nobody would have realized anything was wrong because they figure that she's just some little girl. Amazing."
"How in the hell would a kid know how to...I mean, kids know a lot more about violence these days, but..." Farkas trailed off as they went back for Detective Cooper's body.
"I don't know. Do you have any idea of who will be taking over the investigation now?"
"There's been some talk about the head of homicide, Simon Webb, overseeing it, but I'm not sure because I've been out of the precinct all day."
"The people causing this chaos seem to be one or two steps ahead of us. I would suggest backing off for a little while and letting them move first for once."
"Why? Someone's got to pay for these crimes. Dr. Kovach is definitely a high suspect, as well as the former chief coroner, Dr. Ward. That reminds me to go back to the lab and start that analysis of those shoes the FBI agent brought me. Where is she, by the way? I'd think she'd want to be out here with us."
"Yes, well...she had to go back to Washington rather unexpectedly. Agent Scully had a family emergency to attend," Jarod declared as they lifted the last body into his SUV.
"I'm sorry to hear about that. I heard that she was really nice."
"Yes, she was. Now, what I meant about the investigation was that I think that there's an insider here, in the police department."
"What? Who?"
"That's up to the department to find out. But someone who's been working with Cooper gave Kovach or someone else information that was only privy to law enforcement officials. I believe that that's how these people have been keeping themselves slightly ahead of us. There's got to be a dirty rat informing them of our actions."
"I'll keep that info in mind. Will you need help getting those bodies out?" Farkas inquired as Jarod shut the back door.
"No, I'll have my assistant give me a hand. Thanks, though."
After Jarod returned to the eastern morgue, he had Carlos unload the corpses from the SUV and adjourned to his office. His desk was littered with manila files just as he'd left them. Verne slid the ink blotter up slightly high enough to reach the two folders underneath it and placed them on top of the rest of the mess. Although he had a few locking file cabinets, he discovered that they could be picked in five minutes with a very minimal effort using a paper clip. Right now, he trusted no one at the morgue.
"Dr. Verne?" Carlos called him from his open door.
"Yes?"
"Whom would you like to examine first?"
"That won't be necessary, Carlos. Just refrigerate them for now. I'll examine them later, and you can go home for the day," Jarod said.
"Yes, Dr. Verne. Good night."
Jarod took out a pen from his left handed drawer, sat down, and started to sketch out an object. During his childhood to wile away the long hours of waiting to be collected from his room or to help himself go back to sleep after a waking nightmare, Jarod often drew. Sydney had taken away quite a few things from Jarod, but he never discouraged him from his art. Perhaps he knew that it helped Jarod focus and relax from a stressful simulation.
As the lines took their form of order on the back of a file folder, the shape grew into the head of a horse. Soon, he formed a rounded base for the head to rest upon. As he began to create muscles and shadows of the chess piece's neck, he started to recollect a treasured memory of the past.
"Sydney? What're those two boys doing?" a young Jarod inquired of Sydney as they passed a pair of twin teenagers sitting opposite one another from a table.
"Oh, they're playing chess. It's a game."
"A game? But aren't those supposed to be sports? I designed a new type of brake pad for the bobsleds last year at the '68 Olympics."
"Yes, but, this game is specially designated for two players. All sports are games of some sort, but not all games are sports."
"I see. So one side has to win and the other must fail?"
"Indeed, that is the object of the game. White is said to be the 'good' side, and black is the 'evil' side. Players try to outwit one another and place each other's kings in check."
"What does check mean?"
"Well, in order for there to be stability in a kingdom, there must be a king. A specific threat upon the king is to put him into check or to jeopardize his life. The ultimate last move of the game is called "checkmate". That is when one player wins and the other loses, like you cleverly observed."
"Could I learn how to play? Could you teach me, Sydney?"
"Hmm, well, I think you're old enough to understand the rules. After this simulation, I promise to do so. We have our work to do first."
"But Sydney, I don't want to do another simulation. I want to play chess!" Jarod whined, and his mentor gently directed him towards a door away from the chess players.
"I gave you my word, Jarod. Trust me. Keep your focus."
"Okay," the Pretender shrugged.
Three hours later, Sydney ushered Jarod into his office and closed the door. "Now, you kept your end of the bargain. It's now my turn. Go ahead and choose a side. Remember, neither is better. It is up to you to empower your army to defend your king and attack mine. However, if you'd like to start first, the white side always goes first."
"Why is that? Wouldn't evil people attack first?"
"Not necessarily so."
Jarod chose the white side and picked up one of his knights. Sydney reached across the table and touched his wrist. "Are you sure you want to do that?" he asked Jarod.
"The knight can jump in an "L" shape over things, Sydney. That's what you told me on the way here, right? Three across, one up? Three over, one down? Three up, one across, three down, one over...-"
"Yes, but the key to being a good chess player is to be able to stay ahead of your opponent. One does not just make one move and wait for the next. You want to try and anticipate what pieces will come into play with one another; in other words, formulate a strategy. Think at least 2 moves ahead of your current one. A more advanced chess player can do three or more, but it's also good not to plan too far ahead. Then you won't know what to do if the other does something completely unexpected. A good chess player knows which pieces need to be sacrificed in order to protect his king."
"What happens if we're just left with kings?"
"That situation is also known as a stalemate, where no one wins. It's like a tie in a race. As you can imagine, that outcome is not a very desirable one," Sydney explained.
"What about those clocks on the table? Don't we need those?"
"Not yet," the psychiatrist chuckled. "After you beat me, perhaps I can arrange for you to play against some of the others. Then we'll see about a clock."
As Jarod finished his drawing, he booted up his desktop computer and smiled. He had lost to Sydney that day, but it was the first and last time at that. The next day, he had Sydney pinned in twenty moves. The number tapered down to a record of six and by that time, he had beaten every single other boy on the block. That's what this situation was boiling down to--knowing his enemy and what to anticipate.
Think at least two moves ahead of your current one. A good chess player knows which pieces need to be sacrificed in order to protect his king.
"Or win the game," Jarod muttered aloud and clicked on the Internet Explorer "E" logo on his desktop. "Hmm...Department of Defense, huh? I was just there a few days ago. Let's see...employee login required. Perhaps they'll let me use the same password..."
He made a few quick keystrokes and was granted access to the entire website seconds later. "Bingo. My, they've gotten rather sloppy with their security encryption. Now let's see if there's anyone here that could be linked to the FBI."
Jarod sorted his way through the department of directories and finally came to an interesting link. "Ah...CGB Spender, Special Liaison to the Federal Bureau of Investigation. And what exactly was your job?"