CHAPTER 3

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Watch yourself- stupid bitch!"

Alex Krycek glanced up from the glass of whisky that he was nursing and glanced across the seedy dockside bar toward the sound of the commotion. An American sailor was sitting in the middle of a gaggle of prostitutes, pissing away the half million dollars that he had blackmailed out of his employer, one shot of tequila at a time. The man was a blowhard, expounding on his ocean adventures in a booming voice, pausing occasionally to insult one of the whores and to contemplate aloud which one of them he was going to take to home with him that night- assuming that he made it home at all.

Krycek was there to insure that he didn't.

Alex smirked into his drink as he watched the man slap one of the girls on the bottom and send her back to the bar. As a general rule, Krycek shied away from pure money jobs these days. He wasn't going squeamish. Considering the circumstances of most of the people he gunned down- present company included- he was doing the poor bastards a favor- but he had come to hate playing janitor for other people's mistakes. Luckily, this current mark didn't attract a lot of sympathy.

Krycek glanced again at the tableau of debauchery taking place in the corner booth and scrunched his nose in disgust. A redhead girl was straddling the sailor's lap, pushing her breasts in his face. One of the sailor's fat hands, still clutching a shot glass, was wrapped around her waist, while the other pinched a cigarette. Krycek glanced down at his watch.

It was four fifteen in the morning. The sun wouldn't appear for another two hours, but Alex was in a hurry to wrap things up. He was tired, dirty and hungry. He planned to finish the job, choke down some breakfast, and then scurry back to a cheap hotel where he had holed up to catch a few hours of sleep until it was time to slink away again. This wasn't the life he had bargained for. When he started, it was with the understanding that he was only going to be in the game for a few years- just long enough to acquire the money and influence to obtain a pretty house in the suburbs and a job behind a mahogany desk. Krycek had expected to be calling the shots by now, to be one of the men directing the actions of others and then returning home every night to his wife, his dog, and a house full of kids.

Alex choked back a bitter laugh. His mind automatically flashed to the rosy fantasy that he had clung to in the early years- back before hazy promises of knowledge, money and power had lured him into a web of conspiracy that he couldn't have imagined at the start. It made him sick to recall how naïve he had been, how easily he had been manipulated into believing in the illusions held out before him like carrots on a stick.

He had been young. That was a reason, if not an excuse.

After graduation from High School, his options were limited. He knew that he wanted an education, but fresh out of foster care, with no relatives or friends to speak of, college was out of reach. The Army seemed like a good solution. He wouldn't have to worry about food or shelter, he'd have a chance to see the world, and they would pay for four years of college as soon as he was out. He signed up and shipped out. By the end of basic training, it was clear that he had made a very good choice.

Whether by chance or divine design, the Army turned out to be a perfect match for Krycek's skills. He was smart, athletic and tenacious. He made a top score on the ASVAB, graduated first in his BASIC class and was recruited for Special Forces as soon as he was eligible. He put in for Ranger School- but the powers that be had other plans.

In retrospect, Alex had to admit that the selection committee had been right. The Army Rangers- with their hooah pride and slavish devotion to the tenet of "No man left behind" were the blonde-haired, blue-eyed poster boys of American pride. They were the Army that people wanted to believe in: soldiers who followed their principles fearlessly into the yawning jaws of death. Alex could never quite bring himself to buy in to the cult. He finished the first month of training before he was jerked out and informed of his reassignment to Delta Squadron.

If the Rangers were the shining public face of the U.S. Army, Delta Force was the dark, hidden corner of its soul. Delta was a unit organized around the uncomfortable reality that sometimes it was necessary to take actions were necessary that no one could be proud of. Delta acknowledged the unspoken truth that wars weren't won by a willingness to die for what you believed- it was the willingness to kill.

For sixteen months, Krycek's mind and body had been hammered relentlessly into the mold of the perfect soldier. The mental training had been just as intense as the physical. He learned how to perform low-altitude drops, hostage and information extractions, sniper missions, surveillance, espionage and all of the technical skills of soldiery, but he had also been taught how to numb himself to pain and fear. He had been encouraged to stifle his conscience. He had been trained to believe in the mission at all. Looking back, Alex wondered how much sooner he would have surrendered his soul completely if fate had not granted a brief reprieve.

As a final training operation, Alex and his squadron had been sent to Washington D.C. with instructions to retrieve a file from the Office of the Secretary of Defense. It was a "hot" mission- no one at the Pentagon had been warned of the exercise. If anything went wrong, the bullets would be real and the Army would deny all knowledge of the incident. If the mission failed, the entire team would be summarily dismissed. It was the first time that Krycek fully understood just how far they were being asked to go, but he didn't shy away. It was much too late for that.

He was conducting pre-mission surveillance on a member of the Secretary's staff when the man ducked into a corner café. Standing on the sidewalk, waiting for him to emerge, Alex was surprised to realize that he was standing on the same street where he had lived as a little boy.

"My God…Alex?"

It had been five years since he had last heard Ekaterina's voice, but the circumstances of their parting had etched it forever into his memory. Krycek recognized it instantly. He spun around, expecting to find the skinny little girl that haunted his memories, but discovered a grown woman instead.

"Katya?"

Inside the café, his mark was waiting in line for expresso. He would be leaving soon and Alex ought to have been paying attention, but he permitted himself a moment of distraction.

"They said you were in Texas."

Had she always been so sexy? Alex remembered Katya as pretty, but he distinctly did not remember the heavy curve of her breast, or the swell of her bottom- both of which were highlighted by the clingy green sweater that she wore.

"I was." He forced his gaze back up to her face, but he was still distracted. This time, it was by her flashing, almond-shaped eyes.

There was a beat of silence.

"What are you doing back in town?"

"Working," Alex wanted to tell her more, but knew better. He was surprised when she didn't press for more.

"So you won't be here long?"

There was disappointment in her tone, and it warmed him.

"For a little while." Alex glanced inside where the Lieutenant was collecting his coffee.

Katya followed his gaze. "You're waiting for someone- excuse me."

"Work," Alex said again, without pausing to wonder why it was so important for her to know that he was free and single.

She surprised and disappointed him when simply bobbed her head in acceptance. "It was good to see you Alex," she said with a little smile. Then, almost as quickly as she had appeared, she was gone again.

"See you tomorrow night, ladies!"

Alex was jolted out of his memories by a commotion at the far end of the bar. The sailor was finally moving to take his leave. He watched as the other man threw some money on the table and started staggering toward the exit. Alex waited for the door to close behind his prey and then stood up out of his own seat. Moving carefully, making sure that he hadn't captured anybody's attention, he left the bar and stepped out into the night.

The neon signs that lined the road made it almost as bright as day. Alex held back as he watched the other man stumble down the street. After a few blocks, the sailor stepped into an alleyway to relieve himself, unwittingly giving Alex his chance to strike.

It wasn't easy for Alex to shoot since he had lost his arm, and so he was careful lining up his shot. He controlled his breathing as he inched forward into the alley. Closer…closer….

A shrill ringtone shattered the silence: Alex had forgotten to turn his cellphone off. He swore under her breath, but it was too late. The sailor spun around at the sound. His eyes widened in horror at the sight of the gun. He gaped for just a second, but before Krycek could squeeze off the shot, the sailor bolted away.

Alex swore as the other man darted deeper into the alley. He didn't have any choice but to give chase. Luckily, the sailor's intoxicated condition hampered his efforts to escape. He clipped the edge of a dumpster and stumbled. He couldn't regain his balance fast enough to keep his feet and ended up sprawled face-down in a pile of trash.

Krycek was only a few steps behind.

"Don't-!" the man rolled onto his back and started to plead for mercy.

Alex didn't wait to hear it. He squeezed the trigger twice in rapid succession, firing two bullets at point blank range. He nudged the man's body with his foot. Convinced that he was dead, he tossed his pistol into the dumpster and turned to walk away.

The combined effects of adrenaline and the unexpected sprint left him out of breath. Blood was rushing in his ears, which is why he was back on the well-lit street again before he realized that the ringing on his cellphone hadn't stopped.

"Hello?" Krycek snapped, annoyed that the unknown caller had complicated the kill.

"Mr. Krycek…you're up early today."

Alex swallowed hard. This was another voice that he could instantly place. At the first raspy syllable, he could almost smell cigarette smoke swirling through the air.

"Late, actually…What do you want?" he barked, trying to sound more composed than he felt.

"Why do you assume that I want something?" the man said in a taunting tone. He was silent for a moment, no doubt to suck in another lung full of nicotine, before he continued: "Perhaps I just wanted to pass along some information to you."

Krycek grunted in response, unwilling to give his adversary the satisfaction of appearing curious.

"Agent Mulder and Agent Scully were in Virginia today investigating a Doctor Harry Rickman…doesn't that name ring a bell?"

"What about him?" Alex growled. He remembered an assignment to recover a computer disk, but Dr. Rickman had been out of the country at the time and it wasn't a priority mission. It dropped completely off of his radar screen when he left the FBI.

"He has something I want," the man replied calmly. "Something that- I believe- would benefit us both."

"I'm not your little errand boy anymore," Krycek snarled, but couldn't stop himself from asking: "Why should it matter to me?"

"Because Agent Mulder and Agent Scully didn't speak with the good doctor today…they were following up another lead…something else I'm sure that you're familiar with: 2914 Cherry Blossom Lane…Does that ring any bells?"

Alex felt the blood drain from his face. It took a monumental effort to keep his voice strong and composed as he made his reply. "Sorry, I'm drawing a blank."

"That's unfortunate." The man's tone hardened perceptibly. "I'm sure that the woman and little boy who live there would have appreciated your interest. But if you don't care…I'm sure that there are other men who might be interested in…paying a call. I hear there are some people who still need to settle a score or two."

"Listen you bastard! If you-!"

"Deliver the tape to me in 72 hours," the man interrupted. His voice was cold and unyielding. "Bring it to my office- you remember the place."

"You-!" Alex started to shout again, but it wasn't any use. The line had gone dead. He squeezed his hand around the receiver and pressed his eyes shut, forcing back the sense of despair and horror that had started to tighten in his chest.

How had Mulder and Scully found his family? How many other people knew where Katya and Niky were? How was he going to protect them?

Alex leaned against a nearby wall, feeling like dashing his head against the bricks. He squeezed his eyes tight and concentrated on his breathing. It took a few minutes to regain control, but when he did, he knew what he had to do.

Feeling like nothing so much as a man walking toward the gallows, Alex flipped open his phone again. His finger hovered unwillingly over the keypad for a fraction of a second, but finally necessity won out. Alex keyed in the numbers for the phone call that he had prayed he would never have to make.