Everyone seemed to leave the train at The Square so they nodded to each other and threw their bags onto the platform.

"Hopefully we'll get a cell signal at street level," said Scully as they ascended by escalator to street level.

"Ah, bingo!" said Mulder as they emerged back into natural light. They were standing in one corner of a bland municipal square. Financial buildings lined three sides of the square and older, still imposing blocks filled in the gaps. Mulder pointed up at the distinctive Gothic pillar of the Wayne Building. "That must be the place."

Scully looked up at the hazy cloud at the top of the building. Pigeons circled and swooped in unison like bats in a rotten belfry.

"Why don't you check in at high command?" said Mulder. "I'll take the bags to the district office and then to the hotel. It's only about a block that way."

Scully thought briefly. Although she did want a shower, they had wasted a good chunk of the day already and she wanted to get up to speed with the case with the agents on the ground, even if it was for just a few minutes. "Okay. We'll meet back at the Sheraton. Don't speak to any strange people," she warned. Mulder winked and stopped to arrange the cases around him.

:::

The main entrance to the Wayne Building was now arranged to face The Square, but historically had been accessed from many levels and entrances.

The lot normally reserved for directors' parking, courier delivery and catering trucks was completely filled with investigative vehicles; police vehicles, station wagons, minivans with roof-mounted aerials, longer caravans, free-standing trailers. After a short search, the tactical number on the longest trailer suggested that this was the location of the main coordinating units.

Scully knocked firmly on the door of the trailer. No-one answered. After several seconds she decided to just open the door and enter. Inside, rows of desk computers were squeezed into the long space. The surfaces were covered by leather bound ledgers, stacks of printouts, plastic boxes contain disks and memory cards, newspaper clippings, coffee cups, and candy wrappers. The considerable number of analysts were in the middle of a briefing against the back wall. Thankfully, the air conditioning was working perfectly.

A woman dressed in the smart suit of an agent, was approaching her. She clutched a Psion PDA and a Filofax to her waist. "Sorry. Always meeting. Can I help you?"

"Not a problem. Special Agent Scully. Call me Dana. D.C. Special Delegation. I'm here to help you."

"Ah yes. Agent Watson. Call me Watson. Everyone else does. Even my husband. You're running a bit late, aren't you? Where are the rest of you?" She looked to the door then back to Scully, disappointed.

"Special Agent Mulder is going ahead to the District Office. He allowed for two other agents on the delegation, but I don't think that's going to happen."

Watson seemed amused. "Just two agents? Special Agents, of course. But that's some delegation."

Scully shrugged. "Yes. But it is a 'special' delegation." They both smiled. Scully felt a little like she was trying to bluff her way into a party at college, but Watson did not seem bothered.

Watson showed her to a small upholstered area which promised reasonable comfort. The meeting was dispersing and men and women in shirts and ties returned to workstations, nodding acknowledgement.

Watson pointed to a padded bench. "Have a seat. What do you think of the Dick? We need to tear down all that French-inspired concrete. Get some modern design and materials."

Scully resisted the urge to shrug. "If I notice the airport, it's been a bad trip. I just like my baggage to arrive in the right place."

Watson laughed, her smile revealing well kept natural teeth. "The GCX handlers have a special charm of their own. I think they want to show how badly things could go wrong if they weren't co-operating. But that's for the city to handle. We just have the Wayne Corporation to untangle. In some ways it might be easier to pay bargain with the baggage handlers. At least we can see their faces."

"Surely you are in constant contact with Wayne?"

"He's supposed to be 'contactable' twenty-four/seven." She emphasized the word. "In reality, we get the lawyers and the personal assistants for most of the day. I deal with the White House all the time. It's easier to speak to the President."

:::

Watson kneeled on the bench and pressed a finger against the picture window.

"That one's from Justice, there's an IRS caravan somewhere. G.C.P.D. had to divert the traffic in the streets around the Wayne Building. Near chaos. They just love it when Washington comes to town showing them how to run things."

Scully looked back at the barely organized circus. "I want to roam at first," she said. "Is that alight? Just get a draft of the bigger picture."

Watson nodded. "Do what you want. It's not as if you would be holding anyone back. "She laughed. "Just stay out of my way." Scully smiled too. "Why don't you take a walk around the Wayne Building itself," Watson continued. "Their admin people are up on the second and third floors." She had a thought. "You know. There's a girl up there, Kyle, a bit of a weird cat. She has some low-rent job description like 'xerox clerk' or something like that. But she so obviously knows everything that's going on." Watson caught Scully's skeptical look. "Don't be fooled. Kyle operates intellectually at a level way above our pay grade."

A small buzz emitted from her cellphone. Without looking at it, Watson cancelled the reminder and sighed.

"I have to pick up my kid from childcare now. Can you find your way around from here?"

"Yes," said Scully. "Can I just go straight in?" She pointed at the stone cladding of the building outside the window.

Watson nodded. "Just imagine you own the place."