Chapter 19

Fletcher grinned at Harlow as he covered her with his gun. They both knew his experience with firearms was limited: he was a conman; his personal weapon of choice was his ability to twist a situation to his control by using his nemeses' desires against them but the gun was loaded and Harlow was unarmed.

But it didn't make her any less dangerous, Fletcher reminded himself. The gun and the Professor, he flicked his gaze to the bound scientist, were his insurance policies until Krycek returned with the box of gears.

And speaking of the F.B.I. agent, where was he? Fletcher glanced toward the door almost willing the man to appear with gears in hand. He wanted this fiasco with Harlow over and done with.

"I can't feel my hands."

Fletcher smirked at his captives, turning his gaze on the longhaired man. "My apologies, Professor," he said with a false empathy in his voice. "What are your plans once I allow you to leave? A long bath?" Fletcher wrinkled his nose. The man definitely needed one. "A hot meal? Or maybe…" His grin widening, thinking of how the man had spent the previous night tied up. "… a good night's sleep in a soft bed?"

Langly glanced at Yves who nodded her head slightly. "Yeah," Langly muttered, "All of that but not necessarily in that order."

"You might want to reconsider that." Fletcher tapped his nose and laughed. He enjoyed goading the man. He made it so easy. "Hey!" he yelled when he noticed Yves inching away from him. She was probably trying to get the drop on him while he was busy with Langly. "Don't even think about it, Sweetheart."

Yves merely smiled contemptuously. "I have no idea to what you are referring, Fletcher."

She took another step to the side and he turned with her, keeping her in his line of sight, ignoring his bound captive. She was up to something. He just wasn't sure what and that made him nervous.

"You're getting paranoid." She made a show of holding her arms out, palms up. "I'm unarmed as you can see."

And he could see. Her black clothes molded to her body; accentuating every curve. There was no room for a weapon, not even a knife.

"You have the gun, the professor," she continued smoothly with just a touch of annoyance in her voice, "and now the Enigma." She grimaced, her next words bitter. "You've won."

Fletcher laughed, delighted. Harlow had just admitted defeat; that he had trumped her. He heard soft footsteps entering the warehouse. Finally! Krycek had returned with the rest of his prize.

"I wish I could be there when you explain to your superiors how you lost the Enigma…again," Fletcher said, letting his satisfaction ooze through his words. "Tie her up, Alex."

"I don't think so, bub," a hauntingly familiar voice said.

Whirling in surprise, Fletcher came face to face with the last person on earth he expected to see at that point. "You!" he squawked at the man in the trench coat and fedora who stepped out of the shadows.

Moving quickly, Yves neatly disarmed Fletcher who, in his shock, offered no resistance.

Frohike sneered, keeping his gun aimed at the center of Fletcher's chest. Reaching into his coat with his free hand, he pulled out a set of handcuffs. "Here you go, Sugar," he said tossing them to Yves.

"How did you…who told…when?" Fletcher blubbered as Yves bound his hands behind his back. He'd been so certain, so confident of his assessment of the situation.

"You're such an arrogant bastard," said Frohike, distain dripping from his words. "We knew there had to be a reason for you to be in my office on a Saturday night." The picture of Maggie's still form lying on the gurney in the morgue popped into his head. He closed his eyes against that image but this only made it clearer.

Frohike felt the same uncontrollable rage that had caused him to beat that child murderer unconscious. Once again, it threatened to overcome his common sense, his reason. His heart began to race as adrenaline pumped through his body. His breathing grew deeper and quicker. He could feel his finger tightening unbidden on the trigger of his gun. It would be so easy, so quick. He would rid the world of not only a conman but a traitor and a murderer. Would anyone really blame him?

Noting the tension in his body, Yves knew that Frohike was fighting his own battle at the moment but she kept her primary focus on Fletcher. "I found your hidden microphone shortly after we got to his office," she told him. Flashing him a rare genuine smile, she asked, "Did you honestly think I wouldn't check: that I would be so stupid as to walk into a situation knowing you'd been there first without taking some precautions." She cast another quick glance at the private detective hoping that it would not be necessary to forcibly disarm him. If he didn't relax soon, she knew the outcome would not be pretty.

Fletcher could feel it, too. Frohike stared at him, unblinking, his head cocked to one side keeping Fletcher in his sights. "Tell him to put the gun down," he begged Yves. "You've got me cuffed. What can I do now? Look at him! He's crazy!"

"Can you blame him?" was all Yves said in response.

Frohike was only marginally aware of this conversation. The urge to shoot the man was almost too strong to ignore. Jail would probably be inevitable this time. His newfound amiable relationship with the DA would not make any difference. He knew like he knew his own hat size that Byers wouldn't hesitate to toss his ass in jail for shooting an unarmed man.

Then somewhere, in the back of his mind, he heard a voice: soft and indistinct at first but growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment. "Mel, please." He blinked, raising his head a bit. "Come back to me." He closed his eyes again. This time it wasn't Maggie's dead body he saw but Dana's concerned face as he remembered it from their last parting. "There's still so much I don't know about you and so much that I want to tell you." He'd reassured her that they had the upper hand, that Fletcher's planned ambush would be turned against him. "Promise me you'll come back alive." He had laughed a little at her concern but she was not satisfied until he promised.

And a promise made to a lady was not to be taken lightly.

Yves watched as Frohike lowered his gun and saw the tension begin to drain from his body. Dropping his gun arm to his side, he stood up a bit straighter.

"HEY!" Langly yelled to get their attention. "Remember me, the kidnap victim? Can I get some help with these ropes or are you all just going to stand around chitchatting all day?"

"Just a minute, Professor," Yves said in a reassuring voice. "Are you all right?" she asked Frohike whose breathing was beginning to return to normal.

"I got him," the private detective said holstering his gun to step up beside Fletcher. He grabbed the man by the arm. "If he even twitches, I'll shoot him in the foot." He snorted at Fletcher's gasp. "Don't worry," Frohike reassured him as Yves went to untie Langly. "It won't kill you but your dancing days would be over."

Fletcher said nothing. He still harbored some small hope of escaping. Krycek was out there somewhere, probably hiding, waiting for his chance to strike.

John Byers brought a cup of tea to the lady ME. She sat calmly in a high wing-backed chair near the fire in Byers' living room. He noticed how often she would glance toward the front window.

"Thank you," she said absently as he took a seat in the matching chair on the other side of the fireplace. They sat in silence for a while, Byers casting occasional glances at Scully, her elbows on the arms of the chair with her fingers wrapped around the teacup that was held near her face. Although she hadn't taken a sip, she breathed in the aromatic steam rising from the cup. She appeared to be intently watching the flames but Byers knew her thoughts were miles away with their missing friends.

"He asked you to stay here with me, didn't he?" she finally said.

"Yes, he did," Byers admitted, not needing to ask who 'he' was. When she said nothing in response he continued. "He was relieved when you agreed to come here with us." They had moved everyone to Byers' house once it became obvious they could no longer continue to occupy the morgue.

"He didn't think it would be safe for me to go home." Scully suppressed a sigh as she set her teacup in its saucer on the small table next to her. "And with the day shift arriving at 5 a.m., I couldn't stay at work either. It's my day off and the assistant ME knows I attend Mass early on Sunday mornings."

Yet another passing car's headlights lit the sheer curtains of the front window. Leaning forward slightly in her chair, Dana's eyes followed the light across the curtains. When it became obvious that the vehicle was headed farther down the street, she settled back into the cushions of the chair.

"It was nice of you to let everyone come here," she continued, hoping the conversation would help the time pass more quickly.

Byers shrugged. "It was the only place that made sense," he said. "Frohike told me that Miss Harlow's house had been torn apart by the FBI and whoever else is after that Enigma machine. They obviously know where Jimmy lives as well as Mel's office so we would have to assume they know where he lives also."

Dana nodded. "It's very comfortable here. Mel and Yves really needed the sleep. Both of them were nearly dead on their feet and with the injuries they sustained…" She had insisted on examining their assorted wounds and found it necessary to do some restitching on the deep cut in Frohike's leg. But Yves' shoulder was healing nicely. Dana was also pleased to note that none of them showed any sign of growing infection.

But these three patients were not the one she was the most worried about. "I hope they bring the professor back here before Yves takes him off to England. I seriously doubt she'll take him to a hospital as I suggested."

"I think you're right," Byers said. "She's operating in this country without the government's knowledge and their official stance of noninvolvement with the war in Europe makes it impossible for them to be of any real assistance. Agent Doggett told me his superiors were more interested in why an MI 6 agent was in Washington DC then in what she needed help with."

"I figured as much," Dana said thoughtfully. "That's probably why she kept insisting on making the exchange on her own." She paused for a moment remembering the argument between Frohike and Yves over that assertion. The corners of her mouth turned up in a slight smile. "But Mel is even more stubborn than she is."

Byers chuckled. "He is pig headed, isn't he?"

Dana's smile deepened. "He can be persistent." She picked up her teacup and took a sip. "I was relieved in many ways when she finally relented and told the others the truth about when and where the exchange was set to take place." She paused again, setting her cup back down. "I just wish…"

Doggett was down: pinned to the unyielding ground by Krycek. The rogue agent knew his only chance was to get Doggett's gun and turn it against him. If he lost this fight, his freedom and his life would be over.

Doggett's arm was going numb: both from the pressure from Krycek and his own death grip on his weapon.

Gravel bit painfully into his wrist.

His chest heaving and heart thundering in his ears, Doggett pressed his feet flat against the ground and bucked but Krycek held his ground, his own ragged breaths matching his opponents.

For one terrifying moment Doggett believed he could actually lose this battle: that his life would end with a single bullet from his own gun.

And Krycek would walk away from it all with no one the wiser.

That knowledge infuriated Doggett and he struggled more frantically. Keeping a desperate grip on the gun, he strained to push his other arm up in a frantic bid to shake off his assailant.

It became a wrestling match neither man could afford to lose.

Doggett knew if he was going to shake Krycek off he would need both of his hands. It meant releasing his grip on the gun. He would have only a few precious seconds to take control.

But then Krycek went flying as a blur slammed into the agent. It was Mulder. Doggett scrambled to his feet as the two men landed in a crushing heap mere inches from him. Doggett trained his gun on them, ignoring the pain arcing through his wrist. The fleeting thought that his wrist might be sprained was pushed aside as he focused on the two men stirring on the ground.

"Don't try anything, Krycek" Doggett shouted as Mulder got to his knees.

Mulder fisted the back of Krycek's jacket then stood, yanking the agent to his feet. Krycek moaned, clutching his abdomen. The police officer jerked the other man around to face him and that's when Doggett saw the intense hatred in Mulder's eyes. The memory of Maggie's still, cold body was driving him. Doggett knew he needed to defuse the situation or the officer would be facing far graver charges then conduct unbecoming.

"Mulder." Doggett kept his voice firm, authoritative. "I have him covered." When the Mulder didn't respond, he tried again only louder. "MULDER!"

"I heard you the first time," Mulder barked in response.

"Then cuff him and let's take him in. He's going to prison for a long time."

Emotions warred within Mulder but the cop side won out. Without taking his gaze from Krycek, he snagged his handcuffs out of his back pocket and roughly dragged the suspect's arms behind him causing the injured agent to curse under his breath.

Krycek gasped. "My ribs are broken, you stinking son of a whore!" he said through gritted teeth.

Mulder stared at him a moment then relented, binding the man's hands in front of him. He leaned toward Krycek and hissed so only the rogue agent could hear, "You're lucky it's only your ribs that are broken."

Their captive between them, Doggett and Mulder led Krycek around the corner to Frohike's car. There, waiting for them, was Jimmy Bond. The young photographer watched them a moment before raising his camera to take a picture.

Krycek ducked his head as the flash went off.

While Doggett helped Krycek into the car, Jimmy asked Mulder, "But where are Yves, Frohike and the professor?"

"They must be in the warehouse," Doggett surmised. "Did you see anything around the other side of the building?"

Jimmy shook his head. "No, nothing. It was really quiet back there."

"And Krycek here," Doggett hitched a thumb at the man in the backseat, "came out of the warehouse to look for that extra box." He glanced at the other two men, his worry evident in his face. Something must have gone wrong.

Quickly, scanning the area around his feet, Doggett backed up to try to see beneath the vehicle.

"What are you looking for?" Mulder asked.

"Keep an eye on him," Doggett said meaning Krycek. He got down on his knees and reached under the car feeling around for something the other two couldn't see. "Got it," he proclaimed.

Standing up, he showed them what he'd found. It was a pistol. "It's his," Doggett said meaning Krycek. "We'll need it as evidence," he said. "It might be the murder weapon." Mulder nodded not needing to hear anymore.

Doggett handed the weapon to Jimmy. "You stay and make sure our friend here doesn't decide to go for a little walk. Mulder and I will go see how the others are doing."

A creaking sound made them spin around and Mulder leveled his weapon at the warehouse door. It opened further and Frohike stepped out cautiously, his own gun drawn. Seeing the assembled group, he nodded, giving them a thumbs-up then turned and spoke to someone still inside the warehouse.

Frohike stepped back as Yves emerged, leading Fletcher out. Langly brought up the rear, clutching the Enigma in a vise like grip.

Fletcher was shoved unceremoniously into the back seat of the car. He and Krycek exchanged a look but neither said anything.

Jimmy let out a whoop of delight startling the others. "We did it," he exclaimed. "We got the bad guys!"

Yves frowned. "Not quite."

Noting Jimmy's puzzled expression, Frohike added, "Someone was pulling their strings," he said pointing to the men in car. "And that mystery person is still out there."

Langly sent a fearful look toward Yves but it was Doggett who spoke. "We'll question them at headquarters." His expression darkened, his voice confident. "I'm sure I can get one of them to spill the information."

"Please keep me informed," Yves said. She had a vested interest in making sure the mystery person got what he deserved but at that moment her main concern was the professor's safety.

Doggett nodded, reaching into his pocket. "Mulder," he said holding out his keys, "Do you mind?"

The police officer held out one hand neatly catching the tossed keys. He trotted off without a word. While they waited, Jimmy gladly handed Krycek's gun back to Doggett.

Mulder returned in less than five minutes with Doggett's car. While they waited, Jimmy and Doggett located Krycek's second gun, which had gotten knocked away in the two agents' initial struggle. After transferring the suspects into the back seat of the other vehicle, he and Doggett headed out to book and interrogate their two suspects.

The rest of them watched the retreating taillights for a few moments almost stunned that the whole ordeal was nearly over. Yves planned to take the professor out of the country within the next 24 hours. He would be safe at Bletchley Park where security was tight. There he could continue his work on the Enigma with other scientists and help end the Nazi threat.

"Let's get you under a roof," Yves said, guiding her charge towards Frohike's car.

When Jimmy called her name, she stopped and turned, as did the professor. The bright light of a flashbulb lit the entire area. "I'm blind," Langly complained, blinking his eyes to rid himself of the spots obscuring his vision. "First I get kidnapped and beaten up and now I'm blinded."

Yves paused. "Mr. Bond, do I need to remind you that you will not be able to publish those photographs?"

She started to turn away when Jimmy called out. "Guess you'll just have to steal them then."

Yves stared at him for a moment but when he grinned and shrugged, she laughed softly, shaking her head. "Perhaps I will," she murmured, opening the car door for Langly to climb in. She slid into the back seat next to him.

Frohike got into the front finding the keys in the ignition where Yves had left them.

Jimmy snapped another photo of the three of them in the car before Frohike growled at him, "Enough already! Get in or I'm leaving you behind."

Running around to the passenger side, Jimmy jumped into the front seat. "Let's go then," he said.