The New Haven Police Department was a small red-brick building without windows nestled in a stand of trees just off a busy main road. Clouds rolled across the sky, obscuring color and shadows. To Scully, the air smelled sweet with a hint of mint wafting in despite the two sprawling strip malls that crowded in across the street.
Inside they flashed their badges at the booking officer, who sat in authority at a large desk in an open area room that was dotted with battered grey metal desks. Most sat empty. There were about a half dozen police officers in the room trying to 'look alive' now that suits had entered. An older gentleman in a crumpled suit waded in from a back office. He put a hand out to Mulder, "Inspector Rick Richards." Mulder gave it a one-pump shake.
"Sir, I'm agent Sully and this is agent Mulder." Inspector Richard's large hand folded around her hand. He towered over her.
"F.B.I." Inspector Richard's admired. "Yeah, I didn't get a call from the bureau that you'd be in town."
Mulder's eyes darted around the room. "Inspector Richards…"
"Rick, please." He patted his midsection.
"Rick, what can you tell us about Billy Newbold?" Mulder watched Rick closely. Every detail was being catalogue and analyzed.
Rick motioned for Scully and Mulder to follow. "Well, he's a Caucasian male about five and a half feet tall, small fella, but smart and resourceful." He walked Scully and Mulder out of booking. They continued down a long hall to the detention area.
"How so?" asked Scully.
Rick stopped at the fortified door. He thought a moment. "I don't know. He just seems smart. He sits in his cell cross-legged-like for hours." Rick shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just reading into the situation, but, ya, we don't got much on Billy Newbold. No ID. No records when his name is run. I mean, he seems to exist in the corporeal sense only."
Scully raised an eyebrow. "How long have you been holding Mr. Newbold?"
Rick turned to face Scully. "Well, the judge has ordered us to detain him until we could figure out more information. He doesn't have an apartment in town, so he's a flight risk. Also…" He scratched his chin. "He's admitted to stealing the manuscript and refuses to give it back. So strange."
Mulder's browline raised, "Why is that?" Rick unlocked the door and motioned them in.
They were led into a hallway lined on both sides with six metal doors embedded in crumbling brick work. A fluorescent light at the end buzzed and flickered. The hall was a tight fight for the three law enforcement agents. Rick reached over Scully at the door closest and knocked. "Newbold. Ya got some guests." Scully shuffled aside, so Rick could peer into the small window. Once upon a time there was water damage in these cells. Scully noticed a healthy growth of rust creeping up from the corner of Newbold's cell door. To Scully and Mulder, "He's just sitting there." Mulder nodded.
Billy Newbold sat on the floor in a cross-legged padmasana pose. His eyes were closed. 'Meditation', Scully thought when she entered the rather spacious cell. She looked back at Rick. He winked and said, "He got the deluxe king suite." Scully nodded, not amused. The room was like so many prison cells: metal framed bunk bed with thin mattresses, a toilet, sink and small desk and chair. Scully noted the safety razor and shaving cream. Billy was bald, and, it would appear, freshly shaven. If it wasn't for his dark eyebrows, he would have been completely hairless. He was dressed, Scully assumed, to blend in: solid colored t-shirt and blue jeans. A leather jacket was slung over the desk chair. It was worn with unusual stitching at the seams. Dark tattoos covered Billy's forearms. They appeared to be Arabic in nature, but as Scully looked harder at the symbols, they may have been some form of kanji. Mulder squated to get as close to eye-level as possible. This made Scully uncomfortable. Her hand brushed the bulge of her sidearm. She noticed a deep scar slashed diagonally across Billy's left eye. It opened.
Mulder locked eyes with Billy, who had an extreme case of heterochromia iridium. Mulder blinked at Billy's piercing gaze with the one crystal blue eye and the other black. "The fox," Billy said.
Rick chimed in, "Uh, Billy, this is Agent Fox Mulder and Agent Dana Scully from the FBI. I know it sounds scary, so it's best if you return the manuscript. Once the bureau gets involved-"
Billy tilted his head up Rick's tall frame. "It gets serious."
"Yeah," Rick fumbled. "Precisely, young man."
"Young?" Billy's scarred eyebrow lifted. To Scully, Billy's voice seemed to emanate somewhere in his chest. His lips moved, but not so much for annunciation. It was like watching an old movie with bad voiceover. He took a deep breath and rose to his feet. Billy was a short man, barely taller than Scully, but had broad shoulders and a tapered waist. Scully kept close to her pistol.
Mulder stood up. He turned away from Billy to peer about the room. Impatient, Scully started, "Mr. Newbold, we're here, let's just say, by request. The Voynich manuscript is a valuable piece of history that does not belong to you regardless of your religious or spiritual beliefs." Billy watched Mulder intently as he stepped toward the leather jacket.
"The Voynich Manuscript is the key to everything." Billy said. "It exists to serve a purpose beyond compound interest."
"And what is that?" Mulder asked. He was leaning against the desk, facing Billy. "You say it's the key to everything. How is that possible? The greatest minds in the world have examined it. For all they know, it's a fraud."
"Agent Mulder, you above all else understand there is a battle raging between good and evil. Judeo Christians call it the forces of heaven and hell. Whatever you may label it it ends with humanity's destruction." Scully rolled her eyes.
Deadpan Mulder said, "You know what I understand? You, Billy Newbold, are as big a fraud as the Voynich Manuscript. Let's go, Scully."
"The Cancer Man." Billy blurted out. Mulder froze at the door. Billy continued, "I have seen him in my visions and all of my readings. He comes up over and over again. I do not know who this man is, but he exists as an agent of annihilation. And you, Mr. Mulder, the fox, are a force working against him." He turned to Scully. "And you must be the other." Mulder motioned Rick to unlock the cell door.
In the hallway, Mulder walked with long, contemplative strides. Rick peppered Scully with questions about the encounter. Without saying a word, Mulder exited the station and stood at the car, patiently waiting for Scully. Wind ruffled the edges of his trench coat, as he stood by the passenger door. The trees trembled around the station as the leaves flipped to receive the gift of rain. Rick stopped Scully, "Hey, so what do you want to do with him?" He meant Billy.
"Follow the court order. We'll be in touch."
Scully adjusted the driver's seat to suit her small frame. Mulder had driven to the station. This was how they worked. They anticipated each other's needs. He had to compute, dissect, and analyze the happenings. His face was a blank slate, but Scully could feel the wheels of his intellect grinding through the pathways of assumption and conclusion. As they drove down the main strip, she said, "How did he know about the cigarette smoking man?"
"We need to get back to Washington." He seemed defeated. "We'll head back in the morning." They passed a strip joint. Mulder nudged Scully, "in the meantime."
Scully shook her head. She grinned. "Mulder, what's going on?"
"We were set up, Scully. Billy Newbold is a red herring. His broad strokes conspiracy theory was a shallow rouse. Somebody wanted us out of the way. For what, I have no idea." He looked over at Scully.
"Shit."