CHAPTER 8
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 1999
LANSBOROUGH MOTEL
ROOM 17
6.59am
Mulder sighed as he watched the thin shaft of sunlight leak through the drapes and seep its way across the ceiling, highlighting the cracks and unevenness in the artexing, shifting slightly as a draught from the badly-fitted window stirred the drapes. He hadn't slept much, even though Scully had decided to share his bed rather than take the other double.
What if she was right?
He had believed it was over with the death of the Syndicate. His latest cases had been uncomplicated. Straight-forward.
Boring.
He was settling into a routine, and he hated it. It scared him to death.
And now Krycek had resurfaced after so long, speaking of still deeper conspiracies yet to be uncovered. Conspiracies that may yet hold the power to destroy him, and evidently Skinner too. Or was this, as Scully believed, just another trap? A cleverly devised attack on his already critically wounded faith in himself and his whole belief system. He was risking everything for this. His life, his future. His relationship.
Why couldn't he just walk away? Go home; just take Scully's hand, lead her to the car, and just drive back home.
But he could never do that, and they knew it.
So did Scully.
Choices.
Why couldn't she understand? Why couldn't she accept who he was? Why couldn't she be happy with things the way they were?
What frightened him more than anything was the thought that, if forced, he wouldn't choose her.
What did that mean for them?
He sighed again, his heart so heavy it was difficult to breathe as the sunlight outside grew stronger, but didn't touch him.
He reached over Scully to get his watch from the nightstand. 7.15am. He didn't want to wake her just yet. She had slept even more fitfully than him, her brow furrowed by nightmares that quickened her breathing and caused soft moans to escape her lips. He hoped that their argument hadn't ignited them. He gently stroked her hair away from her face to see the bruise that had developed just about as far as it was likely to. The delicate skin around her eye had been darkened by the blow, but even so, she was still so beautiful. He didn't deserve her. Whenever he looked at her, the inevitable choices that he knew loomed like a nuclear shockwave on the horizon seemed so uncomplicated; the decision so easy to make.
And yet…
He ran the back of his fingers over her bare arm and kissed her cheek before slipping out of bed and was about to head for the shower when his cellphone rang. He dived for it, but it was too late. Scully was already awake.
'Yeah,' he answered.
'Agent Mulder, they know where you are. You don't have much time. You have to get out of there.'
'What? Who the hell is this?'
'Someone you should trust.' The phone clicked, then went dead. He ran to the window, carefully pulling the curtain aside to look out.
'Mulder? What's wrong? Who was that?'
'We have to get out of here, Scully. Now. They know we're here.'
'Who does? Mulder, who was on the phone?' But she was already out of bed and pulling on her black pants and boots.
'Someone who wants to help us.'
Nothing stirred outside apart from the constantly shifting trees. Even so, he wasn't going to take the chance. He gathered his clothes from where he'd dropped them last night and started dressing as Scully brushed her hair.
'Who was on the goddamned phone, Mulder?'
'I don't know! I'm...I'm not sure,' he admitted with a guilty sigh.
She stopped, watching him in the mirror. 'What do you mean? Who do you think it was? Someone we know?' She paused. 'Knew?'
He declined to answer. Again. She watched him pocket the device and holster his gun as she pulled on her jacket and followed him outside.
'We didn't tell Skinner where we were. He's going to want to use my hollowed-out skull as a soup bowl,' he babbled, but she was beginning to get irritated by his evasion and decided to bite her tongue. Instead, her eyes were drawn to the early morning sky; a beautiful, fresh baby blue, dressed in dusky veils of mist, touched with gold where the sun enflamed them. She wondered when they might ever be able to just sit an enjoy something as simple as a sunrise together, without constantly having to move, to worry, to fight.
There it was again. The pinch of time. Life passing her by.
'You remember what room they were in?' he was asking her.
She sighed. '29.'
ROOM 29
7.41am
Skinner hadn't slept either. Partly because he was afraid that Krycek would make a run for it, and partly because his mind was racing after the things he had been told.
Krycek seemed to have slept, but he was one noisy bastard. Whimpering and groaning all night like a five-year old being chased by a bogeyman. Skinner couldn't even begin to fathom what horrors could possibly disturb a mind already as sick and dark as Krycek's and he wasn't sure that he ever wanted to. He was just satisfied that at least the bastard had suffered a small discomfort; it wasn't much, and certainly no-where near enough, but it would do for now.
A pounding on the door jarred him just as he was beginning to doze again and startled Krycek awake. He grabbed for his gun, momentarily panicking Krycek when he must have thought that he was the one about to be on the business end of the barrel.
'You can put that away, Rambo,' Krycek muttered, but with a slight trace of relief. 'When they come for us, I doubt they'll knock first.'
Still, Skinner's hand never wavered while he peered through the window. He relaxed his finger from the trigger when he saw Mulder and Scully standing outside.
'You're early, Agents.'
'Sir, we have to go,' said Mulder. Then his eyes fell on Krycek sitting up on the bed, wearing his freedom like a victory robe as he rubbed his hand over his face and smiled.
'Morning, Mulder. Sleep well? Or did you find…other…things to do?'
Mulder's expression changed to one of barely restrained fury. 'What exactly is going on here?' he demanded, pushing past Skinner. 'Why isn't he cuffed?'
'Take it easy, Mulder,' replied Skinner, bracing him back with a hand against his chest. 'I took them off for him to get some sleep. As you can see, he's still here and I'm okay. Let it go.'
'Let it go? How'd you know what he might have done while you were sleeping? Taken the bullets out of your gun? Put a bomb under the car? Injected you with more of whatever shit he can get hold of? Or maybe he just called his smoky friend and told him where to find us!'
'I said settle down!' Skinner barked, punctuating the command by pushing his forearm into Mulder's throat as he started towards Krycek, forcing him backwards and pinning him against the wall. 'That's enough! Alright? Enough!'
Mulder's partially vented anger forced him to struggle, but he was no match for the older man's strength and stature and soon held up his hands in surrender. His vision was swimming and a dull throb had started in his temples.
'Are you done, Agent?' Skinner loosened his grip, but still held him back.
'Get the hell off me,' Mulder spat, finding his breath and hitting him away.
'I never thought I'd live to see the day when Skinner would defend me,' Krycek laughed. 'I have to tell you: I'm touched.'
'One more word out of you and Mulder can tear your head off if he wants to.'
'Look, we don't have time for your testosterone-fuelled pissing contests,' said Scully. 'Mulder received an anonymous phone call this morning that warned us to get out of here because they know where we are. We have to leave right away.'
Skinner took the news like a sharp slap to the face and spun to face Krycek.
'Did you call someone?'
'No!' he said, his amusement fading. 'You can check the phone logs. Why the hell would I call them when they're trying to kill me?'
'I don't know yet,' Mulder spat. 'I'm still trying to figure that out.'
'You can work on blaming each other when we're in the car. You need to hurry, sir,' said Scully.
Mulder had opted not to wait for her. She had to jog to keep up with him.
'Hey, Mulder!'
He stopped, lowered his head for a moment, then spun around to face her.
'Pissing contest? Were you trying to make me look like an asshole?'
'Oh, come on. That was for their benefit, not yours. Don't take it so personally.'
He turned away from her and continued to walk to the car. She allowed him to wallow in the self pity that he obviously felt justified in feeling for a while, but when they were back under the cover of the tree where they had left the car, she decided that he'd wallowed long enough. He kept rubbing at his throat while he fumbled through his pockets for the keys.
'Are you okay?'
'I'm fine. Don't know if the same could be said for my male pride, though.'
'Maybe it was a little karma coming your way, you know. Maybe you should read it as a sign to stop antagonizing each other.'
He rolled his eyes and kicked at the wheel like a child being scolded.
'I expect it from an asshole like Krycek because he has no principles or conscience, but I do expect more from you. You're better than this. I tried to tell you that last night.'
'You said a lot last night, Dana.'
'Yeah…well…now's not the right time to discuss it, okay?'
'No, I know.' He stepped forward to caress her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I just don't want to fight with you anymore. I hate things being like this.'
'So do I. But Skinner and Krycek will be here any second. Let's just get going. Later, okay?'
Their timing couldn't have been better. Skinner and Krycek appeared a second or two later, and within five minutes they were back on the Interstate without even checking out. They'd lost their security deposit, but that was a small price to pay. On the other hand, he had also neglected to pick up a copy of the phone records. It was too late now. He was sure that Krycek had probably made that call, but without the documents to prove it, he knew he would never be able to convince anyone.
How else could they have found them so quickly?
He thought back, trying to remember the voice. She had seemed so fervent, so genuine.
Could it be Marita? If so, and if Krycek had called her, what the hell was going on?
Judging from the physical condition she had been in when he last saw her, she was taking a huge risk in contacting him. Was that why she had been experimented on, too? Because she helped him? He swallowed over the rise of bile in his throat. He knew that they would take her again if they found out that she had called him. Yet he didn't know where to even start looking for her, but he knew that was the most logical next step in assessing the voracity of Krycek's claims.
'Mulder? Is everything alright?' asked Scully, bringing his attention back to the car.
'Yeah. Fine.'
'You just seem...preoccupied.' She paused to glance out of the side window at endless fields of maize and wheat punctuated every now and again by small, scattered hamlets, expanses of fallow and scrub, all still lightly clothed with morning mist that was beginning to disperse in the rising sun. Krycek had fallen asleep, his head resting against the window. Skinner just stared sullenly at the scenery, apparently lost in his thoughts. He didn't even notice her looking at him. She turned up the radio a little and lowered her voice.
'Who was on the phone?'
He didn't hear her, or at least pretended not to.
'Mulder?'
He sighed, and his knuckles turned white against the wheel. His eyes flickered to the rear-view mirror and he knew that Skinner was watching them, despite Scully's best efforts. He wished she would drop it.
'Mulder,' she said again.
'I think, Agent Scully, you've been given your answer,' said Skinner with a tone of finality that surprised them both.
'Look… I have a duty to protect my sources to the best of my abilities, okay? Particularly in light of what's happened to people who have helped me in the past. Suffice it to say that I trust my source and have no reason to believe I'm being misled.'
Skinner's eyes remained on him for a few seconds more, before he turned his attention back to the window.
The agricultural landscape soon began to break up, yielding to the onslaught of city planners whose latest penchant was for intruding into the more affordable land outside the urban sprawls for their new progressive developments that had all the charm and character of a cardboard box. Density of buildings and traffic continued to build as they approached Richmond, the car slowing inexorably as it hit city traffic.
Mulder pulled into the first gas station he saw just past the city limits. It offered attended service, which freed Mulder to excuse himself to the restrooms.
He crossed the forecourt and headed around the side where the bathrooms were housed in a shingled extension and a phone was hooked on the wall. He fished around in his pockets for a couple of quarters and hoped they would be enough as he dialed Frohike's number.
'Lone Gunman.'
'Hey, Frohike, it's Mulder.'
'Ah, long time, no see. How's it going?'
'Good. Listen, I need a favor from you.'
'Another one?' he groaned with feigned stoicism. 'Man, you still owe me those magazines after the last favor I did for you.'
'I need you to trace a UN Representative for me. She works for the SRSG's office, or at least used to. Her name is Marita Covarrubias. Her last known location was Fort Marlene High Risk Decontamination and Containment Facility, although that may not be official. I need to know if she checked out. This would be around a year ago, give or take.'
'Covarrubias,' Frohike repeated, probably jotting it down. 'Sure, I'll do my best. You okay? You sound a little strung out.'
'Yeah, I'm fine. I'll be out of town for a while, so you can reach me on my cell. Don't call Scully. She doesn't know anything about this and I'd like to keep it that way.'
'I hope you're not messing around on her, Mulder. I'll kick your sorry ass all the way to Cleveland if you are.'
'You know me better than that.'
'Maybe. How's it going with you two, anyway?'
'Great,' he lied. 'I have to go, Frohike. I'm down to my last quarter. Thanks.'
'No problem. Take care of yourselves.'
He replaced the receiver and leaned against the phone. He felt lower than the bacteria growing on the garbage in sewers.
Deserting people who needed him. Hiding things from Scully. Deceiving his friends. Beating on a handcuffed man.
What the hell was his quest turning him into?
'Hey, you done with that?'
Mulder spun around. A young man with a ring through his broad nose, a crash helmet tucked under his arm and an irritated tone was waiting to use the phone.
'Yeah, sure,' he muttered. 'Sorry.'
'No problem,' the man replied, but he still glanced at Mulder as he walked off as though he suspected he were on drugs.
Mulder paid the attendant, checked around to reassure himself that they still weren't being followed, then pulled off.
It was beginning to feel as though it was going to be a long weekend.
