Jamal nervously shuffles his feet from side to side as he stands in front of Mulder and Scully while Gibson sits off to the side observing and listening. He had contacted the NYP Security and in turn, they had contacted Gibson.
"I don't know if this will help or not but I had to say something."
"Jamal, you're not in any trouble, we're glad you came to us. Please tell us again what you saw." Scully does her best not to threaten the young man. He's come forward after hearing that Will and Petie have come up missing.
"Nick and I were out, we were on our way to the Dining Hall to do our afternoon chores when I saw this guy. Whenever I see someone I don't recognize I take an interest, you know what I mean? He was like creeping around, looking all nervous and shit and I told Nick I was going to check it out, I'd catch up with him at the Dining Hall." He says with an earnest look on his face.
"I followed the man and saw him go toward the landscaping shed, he was like walking around looking all suspicious."
"There must be a lot of people on campus you don't recognize, what made you think he was suspicious?" Mulder asks.
"Well, I never saw him before, he was dressed in this old school looking black leather coat and no one wears funky black leather no more, he was looking all around, he was out of place. I couldn't hang out because I needed to go back to work, but I know the dude had something going on. Like he was a drug dealer or something. Anyway, I saw his car, it had those nice rims, it was tricked out, and I know it was no rental. I got his I.D. and plate number before I want back to the dining hall." Jamal hands Scully a piece of paper with his scrawled writing on it.
Scully's face morphs to hopefulness when she considers what Jamal has just given her. "Was this the man you saw?" She shows him a digital print from the FBI building surveillance camera.
"Yeah, I think that's him. Mos def. You know he's wearing the same coat. You think this man has something to do with Will & Petie? One of the counselors asked me if they would have run off by themselves, but I just don't see it. There's not a lot out there to run to, ya know." Jamal takes a deep breath and continues on. "So why you trying to track Will down?"
"We knew William briefly as a child and haven't seen him in a very long time. We thought we might reconnect." Mulder and Scully exchange glances, the lie isn't a lie, but it isn't the truth either.
"You've been really helpful. We appreciate you coming forward and telling us what you saw." Gibson contemplates the young man for a moment, he doesn't mind intruding on someone's thoughts when he can use it to their advantage. "Jamal, I think you should do it. The FBI could always use a smart young man like you."
"Really? Thanks!" He gets a slightly confused look on his face as Gibson's words sink in and he looks like he wants to say something, but stops himself. He shakes Gibson's hand, then Mulder's and finally Scully's before leaving.
"He wants to pursue a career in law enforcement, he has good instincts, I think he's a natural. Let's see if we can get a trace on this vehicle I.D."
He's been with the Bureau for over four years, and for the last fourteen months, Special Agent Allen Nelson has been assigned to the Boulder field office under SAC Aimee Paulson's supervision. He's in his mid-thirties, six feet tall with a strong build and dark coloring. At the moment, he is apprehensively perched on the couch in her living room, a shot of bourbon in his hand, and looking quite distraught.
Paulson paces the floor of her condo and considers her actions and choices. He was the only one who she trusted to send out to escort Marita Covarrubius and Miya Praise and get them safely from the airport to John Doggett's location… and fail.
"I think I lost them. Listen, you'd better have my back on this one. Aimee, that ex A.D., he knew I was lying. I staid with the script, but the son of bitch definitely knew something was up." Nelson throws the shot of alcohol back and grimaces.
"For God's sake Allen, get a grip. If they want to find you they will. Don't forget, I have more to lose than you do, if you go down you'll take me with you."
"Is that supposed to be comforting? If it is, you got a lot of mothering skills to master." He says sarcastically.
"They have nothing on you, nothing except for your guilty demeanor." She scoffs at him. "Listen to me, soon this will all be over and when it is, we'll be fabulously wealthy. We can move on out of this dead end assignment. I'm not waiting until I'm sixty to get someplace with this fucked up Bureau." The look on Paulson's face is determined as she bitterly spits out the words.
"Yeah? Say it again, the part about getting rich. I like how it sounds." Nelson smirks.
She laughs out loud and gets a wicked look on her face. "Don't worry Allen, we have friends in high places. Places without limits."
"Gibson, where does your GPS tracker have him?" Monica asks. "We held back on Fourth Street and lost him." Skinner presses a key on the console of his car and the FBI agent comes on the screen.
"His vehicle was left in front of the Chertof Building, at 75 Lansing Avenue. The building has 800 addresses. I've got a database searching for a likely match, I want to cross reference it with some information we obtained from a classmate of Will's." Gibson's voice sounds tinny over the speaker's in Skinner's car.
"What information?" Monica asks.
"Jamal King. He saw our perp on campus and had the wherewithal to follow him. He got a plate and I.D. number."
"Are you alone?" Skinner's voice is somber.
"Yes, what do you need?"
"The truth. I want the truth, I want to know what you know." His question is pointed, abrupt and he can't hide the serious edge to his voice.
There is a hint of hesitation before Gibson's reply comes through the car speakers "Miya says they are all alive, no one is hurt. We don't know where this is leading, but she's trying to find out."
"Gibson, you've talked to her?" Monica asks anxiously.
"Not exactly."
"Agent Mulder…"
"Not any longer, who is this?" Mulder asks warily as he and Scully drive away from the NYP campus toward Boulder. His cell phone is balanced on the car's cradle and the voice coming from it sounds vaguely familiar.
"Let's just say I'm a friend of a friend…"
"Alex Kycek?" Mulder raves. "Whoever you are, you bastard! What the hell do you want?" Scully's head snaps around looking at the phone and then Mulder.
"Alex Krycek is dead. You know that, I understand you were there when it happened." The voice on the phone responds.
"What do you want? Do you know where John Doggett, Marita Covarrubius or Miya Praise is? What about William van de Kamp and Petie Reynolds? Where are they?" Scully demands.
"Your friends are not hurt. Please tell Agent Mulder that the tracking device on his phone will not work." Alexi advises.
"Whoever you are… God Damn it! Tell that Son of a Bitch it's over. He's lost and if he had his sanity, he'd know the game is obsolete. We are through with this." Mulder's anger is evident.
"Why are you doing this? What is it that you want?" Scully questions him again.
"Everyone keeps asking me this. Why? What? It should be obvious." He sighs "Keep this line open, we'll talk again."
Mulder pounds his hands on the steering wheel, he remembers this ruse and he's not happy about it.
Alexi hangs up his phone and takes a moment to ponder the stilted conversation. He should be concerned about the position he's been placed in, but he doesn't care.
He extracts a cotton handkerchief from his pocket and wipes the grime off of his face as he reflects on the many words he's heard over the last few days. …failure is not an option …no excuse …or else …find your human side …emptiness you're feeling …the game is obsolete …his sanity...
The voices get louder and overlap as they swirl around in his head. He has to stop and lean against the wall for support as he presses his hands over his ears trying to shut out the noise. He emits a low moan as the voices subside and are replaced by the pounding of his heart. Alexi regains his footing and takes a few deep breaths before heading down the corridor toward the adjoining rooms were his prisoners are being held.