EMXC 1st Year fanfic- October 1, 1994 thru October 1, 1995 Archived: 10/01/95 ============================================================== DISCLAIMER: This original story is based upon the characters and situations created by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and the Fox Broadcasting Company. The author also wished to acknowledge writer and artist Mike Grell, creator of "John Sable: Freelance." No infringement of copyright is intended. (This story takes place prior to the episode "3".) THE FBI'S MOST UNWANTED by Arkkannan@aol.com (With special thanks to the Thursday night X-Files Sim) (© 4/30/95) *********** Mulder: Sorry, nobody down here but the FBI's most unwanted. "The X-Files: Pilot" ************ Upper Floor J.Edgar Hoover Building, Washington DC July 17th, 1994 10 am EST "Another one," said Scott Blevins's secretary, tossing the paper on his desk. The Section Chief of the FBI's Violent Crimes Unit grunted and looked at the headline SKID ROW SNIPER STRIKES AGAIN. "This is DC police territory." He started to fold up the paper, disinterested. "You didn't read the text, sir," said the young man. Blevins frowned, but then began to read: The mysterious serial killer called "the Skid Row Sniper" struck again last night. His latest victim: Victoria Demetre, social worker and step-daughter of Maryland Representative Conrad Thomas(D)... "Damn," he muttered. "Damn, damn, damn." The phone rang. "Hello?" Blevins straightened in his chair. "Yes, sir, I've just been reading.... Yes, sir. Yes, sir. But it's the police territory, sir, they won't like it if... Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I will, sir. Good-bye, sir." He hung up the phone and rubbed his temples. Spin control, that was what was needed -- one screaming _Democratic_ senator just when the Contract With America was hitting the battleground of the House and the President got involved. Therefore the FBI had to get involved. But there was no sense annoying the Washington DC Constabulary, or the Agency would get suddenly swamped in a wave of Parking tickets and Moving Violations, which would not look good on the budget sheets. Who could he dump this on? Blevins rubbed his chin. A slow, evil smile crossed his face as he thought of his answer. ************* Basement J.Edgar Hoover Building, Washington DC July 17th, 1994 3 pm EST The door-is-open bell failed to ring for his floor, so Agent Fox Mulder ended up hastily juggling the folder he had been trying to skim on his way down as the door to the elevator slammed into his shoulder. The manilla cover tumbled, spitting papers on the air conditioning floor duct and causing a small flurry down the hallway. The tall, lean agent swore under his breath, cursing Life, Fate, Section Chief Blevins, Assistant Director Skinner and the Skid Row Sniper all in one breath as he grabbed and crammed the pages back into their envelope. Since his partner's disappearance, Mulder suspected that the Bureau was trying to find him "make work" to "get his mind off it." Skinner had verbally re-activated the X-Files, but apparently never got around to putting anything on paper. Blevins had "borrowed" him to head this Investigation Team. Mulder had just finished getting all his papers lined right-side-up as he stumbled into the small meeting room. "Ok, people," he said, not looking away from the pages. "I suppose we all know why we are here..." "Yes, suh," drawled a woman's voice. Startled, Mulder looked up. There were three people sitting in the room; two women and one man. They were all looking at him with varying degrees of resignation and Mulder's heart sank. He knew them all, mostly by reputation. The slim brunette wearing the denim suit in the corner, gaging him with a poker face and frigid emerald eyes was Abigail Beck. A Psychology major like he was (Harvard instead of Oxford). She was the top marksman on the pistol range, but was under disciplinary action for the accidental shooting of a civilian. Her ex-partner (and ex-lover, if rumor rang true) had tagged her with the sobriquet "Icicle." The shorter, curvaceous blonde in green tweed toying with a winged Isis pendant was Drami Jonson. She had been tagged as being a genuine "Southern Belle" soft-spoken and presumably right of center -- a generalization which proved wrong when she had been paired with Agent Conway, an evangelical known un-affectionately as "Holy John." Their battles had been the stuff of gossip monger epics. Mulder wondered if she really had drop-kicked "Holy John's" bible out the tenth floor window before she broke his nose. She was now being called "the Witch." The frowning baby-faced man with them was Jonathan Meyers, called "the Kid." Currently under discipline because he'd disagreed with his senior partner on an investigation and had been brushed off as "green." Meyers then used his considerable computer talents to publish a list of the man's last ten video rentals on everyone's modem. Mulder had read the memo with some surprise and a great deal of amusement, while his occasional choices fell under the range of "questionable" -- this agent's titles were "fetish specialties". Considerable hell had broken loose when the list came out. The agent involved was supposedly still getting anonymous packages with women's shoes in them. "Icicle," "the Witch," "the Kid" and "Spooky," Mulder thought grimly. "Right," he said. He put the folder on the desk. He glanced around. "Bluntly people, we're here because this isn't the FBI's jurisdiction, but we're keeping a senator happy." The expressions on their faces didn't change. They knew better. It was unspoken. They were here because the Bureau expected them to mess up. "We're also," Mulder added, "here to catch a killer." He paused, "and I believe we can." That got their attention. Mulder pulled the coroner photos out of the folder and passed them around. "Five homicides. All homeless individuals except for Ms. Demetre -- all committed with a .45 caliber revolver -- current speculation is that this is a gang initiation." "How do they figure that?" asked Meyers. "Ballistics turns up different striation patterns on each bullet." After a moment's searching, Mulder found the sheet and passed it over. Like dealing cards, he passed out the copies of the police report. Papers rustled and duplicate sheets exchanged. Mulder gave them a few minutes to skim. "Okay, people, talk to me." "Well," said Drami thoughtfully. "They were all shot at varying distances -- various angles -- two at real close range. Maybe someone these two knew?" "Possible," Mulder leaned forward. "But given the blood alcohol levels in the two close-range victims, it's a safer bet that the individuals were passed out when they became targets." "Still can't be ruled out," Drami argued. "Are they so certain it's not one weapon?" Abigail looked at the striation patterns upside down as Meyers examined them. "Someone with military training could be changing barrels." "Why do that?" Drami wondered. "Serial killers sometimes go to elaborate means to fool the police. A way of saying 'see how clever I am'." Abigail frowned. "Were there any markings on the shells?" "That's another thing," said Mulder. "There have been no spent shells found at the scene." "None?!" Abigail exclaimed. "None have been found, even after intense sweeps." "So the killer or killers are not only cagey, they're neat." Drami remarked. "That might point to just one crazy." "But if it's a gang operating, they could be sweeping the area themselves," Abigail argued. "Oh, come on. You see a gang yet that was that smart?" "This social worker breaks the established pattern -- maybe she knew or the killer though she knew who he or she was?" Meyers broke in. "According to the police, they have been able to find no connection between Ms. Demetre and the victims." "Doesn't mean there's not a connection there," Meyers argued. "I agree," Mulder nodded. "The connection might not be obvious." "So where do we start?" Abigail sat back and folded her arms. "Three guesses, sugar," Drami drawled. "First two don't count." "Damn. I hate undercover work." "You two can back me up," Mulder turned. "Meyers, I need you to plug in and scout down some more of Ms. Demetre's background and match it to the victims." "Like what?" asked Meyers. "Oh, I don't know. Credit cards, ATM transactions -- what are the last ten videos she rented? Maybe she's got a thing for men's shoes?" Mulder gave Meyers a lop-sided smile. Meyers grinned back. "Will do." Mulder turned back to the women. "What's it going to be, bag ladies or hookers?" Drami and Abigail looked at each other. ************ Corner of Hudson and 15th, Washington DC July 17th, 1994 11 pm EST Every city has its dark side, and the nation's capital is no exception. The tall drunk wove around the legs of another vagrant propped against the delivery door for a Blockbuster video and wandered out to where a pair of streetwalkers; one blonde, one brunette, waited next to a lamp post. The blonde whistled at a passing car. "Hey, honey," she called. "Why not make a pit stop? Hey, sugar, I'm lonely..." "Good God," the brunette shuddered, self-consciously tugging at the hem of her hot pants. "Y'all got to play the part, sweet pea," Agent Drami Jonson retorted, hiking up one spaghetti strap on her black mini-dress. She surveyed her partner critically. "Better unbutton another one, Abbe, you've got at least _look_ like you're advertizing." "I don't suppose," said Abigail Beck, not touching her blouse. "That you've considered what to do if any of those cars actually _stopped_ do you?" "Sure I have," Drami grinned. "We get him into the alley, knock him over the head and steal his wallet." "Will you be serious?" "What makes you think I'm not?" A tall unshaven man in a grimy raincoat, a baseball cap jammed backwards on his head came slouching up behind them. "How's tricks, girls?" he deadpanned. "Woo - ee, Mulder!" Drami took two steps back. "What did you do to yourself?" "New aftershave, sour milk and cheap beer," Mulder grinned. "Got to get into the part." "Mah feet hurt," Drami rubbed one ankle. "That's what you get for wearing spike heels." "Like ah said, sweet pea -- y'all's got to _look_ as if y'all's advertizin'..." "Hey, I'm impressed." Mulder commented wolfishly. "Well, shucks, honeychile, why don't y'all just buy a lady a drink and..." "Oh, drop the cornpone --" Abigail began, then stiffened. "There's someone on the fire escape!" "Where?" Mulder turned, back straightening. The second vagrant from the alley had wandered to the sidewalk. A dark figure on the metal framework just above him suddenly pointed downwards. Mulder was sprinting towards the vagrant as the shot rang out. "FBI! FREEZE!" he yelled. The vagrant dropped and the suspect leaped from the fire escape, throwing two shots behind him as he dove into the back of the video store. Mulder was on his knees next to the victim. "Go - go!" he shouted at the women. Agent Beck, with her flats, made it to the door first, yanking her gun out of her purse as she burst in. Drami stumbled and kicked off her shoes in pursuit. She dove in behind Abigail. The suspect fired again, sending late night patrons diving for the floor. He sprinted up the center aisle for the front door. "You got a clear shot!" Drami screamed at Beck. Beck just stood frozen, her gun out. Drami shoved her aside and ran to the outer door. She paused on the sidewalk -- and bit off a brief obscenity because the suspect was nowhere in sight. She came back, waved her badge at the hysterical clerk and went after Beck with fire in her eyes. "What were you playing at, girl?" she sputtered and abruptly looked down as she stepped on something. It was the brass casing from a bullet. She quickly picked it up and dropped it in her purse as the D.C police arrived. "Whoa, boys, We're on your side --" she said showing her id as two police specials pointed in her face. Mulder appeared in the delivery door. "Get an ambulance!" He shouted at the officers. "We got a shooting victim back there. He's one of your undercover people!" ******************* 7th Precinct House, Washington DC July 18th, 1994 12:30 am EST "Damn," said Mulder. "I hate undercover work." Drami favored him with a glare as she leaned back in the chair. There had been only two chairs in the police's interrogation room, so Mulder politely leaned against the wall. The light was too bright and there was no air circulation. Mulder's new aftershave and the cheap Avon cologne Drami had splashed on hung like Cuban cigar smoke in the small room. Abigail was sitting clenching and unclenching her hands. She had said nothing since the video store. The two detectives came in and handed the trio their badges. "Detective Czesmy is in stable but critical condition," said the taller of the pair. "Now, what happened out there?" It took over an hour before the detectives were satisfied. Agent Beck said very little. Mulder let the matter rest until he was driving the women home. "Talk to me, Abbe," he suggested gently. "I froze. There's nothing more to say," Beck had retreated into the corner of the seat and seemed to be trying to hide in the shadows. "Oh, yes, there is," Drami argued, her drawl becoming vivid. "That could've been mah neck or the necks of them civilians -- y'all only get one chance to choke, dahlin' and y'all just had it!" "Leave it," Mulder adjusted the rear view mirror to try and pick up Beck's reflection. "It's done." "It is not --" "Agent Jonson." "All right, y'all the boss," Drami tucked her feet up. "Ah lost mah shoes and mah feet are cold." "That's what you get for wearing spike heels," said Mulder. The chirp of the cellular phone cut off Drami's retort. "Mulder." He negotiated the ramp to the beltway with one hand. "Good, Meyers, meet me at my apartment." "You take all your partners home on the first assignment?" Drami asked. "Only if you'll respect me in the morning." He'd said something similar to Scully when they'd first been assigned together. Drami promptly blew him a very similar raspberry. His smile tightened at the edges. His hands shook slightly on the wheel. He missed Scully. ********* Mulder's apartment, Alexandria VA July 18th, 1994 3 am EST Meyers sat down at Mulder's computer and plugged in his Power Book. "I noticed something about Ms. Demetre's videos -- she not only rented and returned her videos to the same Blockbuster, she would return them at approximately the same time; right around 9 pm." Meyers's fingers clicked at the keys. "So I accessed the personnel records..." "I thought those were confidential," Mulder exclaimed. Drami, wearing a borrowed pair of Mulder's socks over her stockings, handed cups of coffee around. Beck had found a seat near the window. "They are, but you can always find a backdoor," said Jonathan cheerfully. "There. Victoria Demetre always returned her tapes when Karl Longrin was just finishing his shift..." "What made you pick Longrin?" Drami leaned over Jonathan's shoulder. "There's three other names on that shift." "Kuchanski and Addison are girls, O'Brien is forty years old and married." Jonathan eyed her cleavage appreciatively, "and here's Longrin's photo from the License Bureau." "You're not supposed to do _that_ either," Mulder remarked, wincing at the taste of the coffee. "The Bureau figured it was easier to recruit me than to leave me running around loose." Meyers said smugly. "You'd be surprised what I can do." "I'm sure I would." The photo that came up was of a blond haired man that might be considered handsome, at least Drami found him attractive and said so. The driving record that followed was unremarkable. "Victoria was returning her tapes at the end of his shift," Mulder repeated. "He's nothing," Meyers did a two finger fork to clear and save the records into Mulder's computer, "but he has a big brother." Meyers tapped out a code. A similar blond man digitalized on the screen, this photo was a prison mug-shot. "Nels Longrin," said Mulder. "Reputed strong man for the Judiciary Coalition of White Supremacists. Convicted of assault and vandalism last year. He disappeared from a prison work detail nine months ago." "Nice package, but nothing inside worth keeping. Well, now we know Ms. Demetre had bad taste in men." Drami commented. "Hey, maybe ol' Karl there got contacted by his brother when he and Victoria were out on a date." "But what's the connection?" Mulder leaned back. "Why all the different guns?" "Want me to poke around in the J.C.W.S?" asked Meyers. "These guys always use the same passcodes: Hilter's birthday, the day of the Bunker, the release date for "Birth of a Nation" or the birthday of John Birch." He brightened, "maybe I could even go undercover as a new recruit." "No, no," Mulder shook his head. "The police might be doing that -- we've got to look at this from a different angle." "What other angle?" Drami sat down on her purse. "Ouch! Oh! That reminds me." She fished around in her bag and brought out the brass casing. "Found this in the video shop." "Looks like someone stepped on it." Meyers saved the files. "I did." "Firing pin was off-center," Mulder remarked, studying it. "Say, Meyers, can you call up the ballistics file on the latest bullet?" "No problem," Meyers's fingers danced the tarentella. "If it's been scanned into their computer I can find it." "Good, make yourselves comfortable. I'm going to shower." Mulder peeled off the raincoat and dropped it into a corner. "It's about time." Drami started to investigate his video cabinet. "You should talk. Oh, and you don't want to see the videos in that locked cabinet. They aren't mine." "Hmm..." said Meyers as Mulder left the room. Drami reached into her bag and came out with a lockpick. "Wait until he gets the water running...." Meyers hissed, setting his Power Book to search out the files by itself. He joined Drami at the cabinet. Beck made a disgusted noise and left the room. ************ Mulder's apartment, Alexandria VA July 18th, 1994 3:45 am EST Mulder came out of his shower wearing a towel around his waist and using another one to dry his hair. Three bouts with Lifebouy and Prell had returned him to his natural odor, which made _him_ a lot more comfortable. He entered his room and flicked on the light. Abigail Beck, who had been sitting in the dark, jumped off the bed. She gave a little shriek and turned her back. Mulder gave a startled squawk and dove into the closet. "I didn't realize..." He began. "I shouldn't have..." She said at the same moment. Both paused. "I'll leave." Beck said. "No, no, I won't be long," Mulder fumbled about and yanked on his jogging pants. He grabbed a tee-shirt and tripped over his sneakers. "There. All done. You can turn around now." She did. "Everything I needed to know I learned from Star Trek?" Mulder hadn't looked at the shirt. He did now. "Yeah," he said sheepishly. "A present from my partner." "You're lucky. You had a partner who stuck by you." Mulder sat down on the bed, keeping his expression neutral and his body language open. Beck paced back and forth in the room, running her fingers through her dark hair. "I always valued Dana's trust," said Mulder quietly, "and she valued mine." "I wish I could say that." Mulder did not respond to that, only leaned forward a little. "In the video store..." Abigail began pacing again. "I choked because I saw _him_. The boy I shot. It just seemed like he was right there and this time I could see him clearly and I couldn't fire. I couldn't!" "Ok," said Mulder. "You had a flashback. It happens." "You're not like Robert." "Tell me about Robert." "Robert..." Abigail stopped pacing. "My parents died when I was small. I was raised at St. Peter's Christian Orphanage. The nuns were wonderful people. Despite all the Catholic jokes, they were sincere and dedicated women." She bit her lip. "I was ... lonely. It isn't easy being gifted. I entered Harvard when I was sixteen -- everyone else was so... grown up. I was still very young and naive when I joined the Bureau and Robert..." she paused, "was there. But even Robert did not ease my loneliness. I stayed with him, I thought, to be _with_ someone. I thought I cared for him, the way he said he cared for me, but I didn't. I let those feelings get in the way, and Jimmy Folston died. Twelve years old and he is dead by _my_ bullet. Instead of moving up the promotion ladder as I hoped when first joining the academy, I ended up facing a disciplinary hearing ... and then reassigned to the basement." "And Robert hung you out to dry." "I wasn't an asset anymore. I might slow _his_ chances." She sat down on the bed. Mulder considered his next move. One wrong word and he would either drive her into retreat -- or into an intimacy that neither one of them would benefit from. "We all have to face our demons," he said finally. "We all need the strength to stand up to them. You have to realize the next time you are under fire, this could happen again." "I know." "Well, you have to decide what you're going to do about it." Mulder stood up. "Right now, the team needs you." "So we're a team?" She smiled wryly. "Hey, it's us against them, what else could we be?" Her smile was genuine this time. She followed him out into the living room. Drami and Jonathan were snickering over a tape. Mulder paled. "Those aren't mine..." he began defensively. "We know." Jonathan grinned. "Whoever's got these has great taste." "Which one is that?" Mulder started to blush. "Dennis/Denise Does Detroit," Drami announced. "I _love_ his dresses." The main character came on the screen. Abigail did a double-take. So did Drami and Jonathan. Jonathan hit pause. They all looked at Mulder. "He does not!" Mulder turned bright red. "He doesn't look like me at _all_!" They didn't believe him. Scully hadn't believed him. _No_ _one_ who saw the video believed him. His computer beeped and the printer spit out a blow-up of the sixth bullet. Mulder grabbed it and compared it to the other five. It was a different set of striations again. He set it next to the other five. All different -- some grooves wider, some grooves narrower, almost like... He leaned forward. No. It was impossible. He all but ran into the kitchen and came out with the coffee can. "I can make more if you..." began Drami. "No," he said. "Look at this. Look!" He turned the Universal Price Code up and set it next to the bullets. "Tell me if I'm crazy." "My God," Abigail paled. "You're right." Jonathan bent forward. "Where's the nearest market?" "There's a Kruger on Potomac..." Drami had the Yellow Pages out. Mulder didn't bother with a jacket. "Come on!" ********** Kruger's 24-hour Market, Alexandria VA July 18th, 1994 4:15 am EST The manager of the Kruger and the late-night cashier observed the quartet of agents carefully. It had taken a few minutes to convince the manager that they really were agents and that this wasn't a late-night fraternity prank. Mulder placed the photo of the first bullet over the scanner. Meyers entered in the resulting string of numbers. "Numeric code," Mulder said. "Every number stands for a letter of the alphabet." He scanned the second bullet. "A message," Drami looked grim. "Who's transmitting it? And who's getting it?" "The Judiciary Coalition of White Supremacists is transmitting it." Abigail answered her. "And who's getting it? Someone in the coroner's office." "Or someone with access to its computer," Meyers didn't look away from the scanner's translator screen. "I got in. Someone else could." "For all we know, it could be the data specialist that enters the reports in the computer," Abigail agreed. "That's the last one." Mulder shuffled the print-outs. "Got it," Meyers stood up. "Accident arranged. Target changing direction. Site chosen. Leak stopped --that was Ms. Demetre's bullet, by the way. Longrin set." "Sounds like someone's being set up," Drami mused. "When we get back to the apartment, call in on the modem, I want background checks on the coroner's office." Mulder said to Meyers as they left the store. Meyers rubbed his eyes and agreed. ************* Parkside, Alexandria VA July 18th, 7:30 am EST Mulder paused a moment to adjust his head phones. His jog had been longer than usual this morning. Too much on his mind -- too many people in his place. After coming back from the Kruger, the agents had sat up discussing and speculating, agreeing on only one thing -- Longrin and the JCWS were preparing for an assassination. The question was, was it an internal or an external target? Meyers left his Power Book plugged into Mulder's computer while it chased information down from within the coroner's office. Everyone had crashed after that; Drami curled like a cat in a chair still wearing Mulder's socks, Abigail in one corner of the couch and Meyers across the desk. Mulder had dragged a pillow from the couch and flopped on the floor. He still woke up at his usual time and went out running to clear his head. "...And soon we will be bringing you a live report from Kevin as he joins the President for his "New Morning for the Children" run. The President will be jogging through Waterfront Park with a group of children from the local Head Start... "Sorry to interrupt you, David, but there's been a change of plans. A traffic accident on Belvue has forced the run to change over to Parkside. The Secret Service is re-directing traffic even now..." Mulder froze. Accident arranged. Target changing direction. _Oh, my God, no!_ He snapped his cellular phone out of the sheath hanging from his waistband, whirled and started running. "H'lo?" came a sleepy voice in his apartment. "Parkside!" he shouted. "It's going down! Dallas! Dallas!" He hung up and ran even faster. Hopefully, the younger agents would be old enough to understand the jargon. __Dallas__ meaning an assassination attempt on the President of the United States. Where, damn it, where? Up high -- mostly residential here, maybe from a car? No, wait -- that office complex. Where? Where? Oh, God, there! That open window on the fifth floor. Is that a rifle? Of course the fifth floor, just like the Book Repository -- Christ, let me get there in time... Lungs burning -- legs aching -- you were always built more for endurance than speed -- run, damn you, Fox, run! He slammed against the front door, pounding savagely until a single security guard in the lobby opened the door. Shouting his affiliation, Mulder shoved the man to one side and bolted for the elevators over the guard's objections. "Call the police!" he yelled, slapping the elevator button. The door opened, and Mulder cursed it all the way to the fifth floor. One door in the corridor of office suits was open. Mulder flattened himself to the wall and reached inside his jogging suit, bringing out his gun. He swallowed hard, fighting to get his breathing under control. He slid one shoulder around the open door frame. He could see the window. The rifle was on a tripod. A man in dark clothes, wearing a cap, was bent over the scope. Mulder kicked the door open with a crash. "FBI!" Mulder shouted. The man whirled. He was reaching for something at his waist. Mulder fired twice. The assassin was flung against the wall by the impact. The corpse slid bonelessly to the floor. The cap tumbled from Karl Longrin's blond hair. Mulder ran to the window. Below, there was a confused crowd circling a tall, grey- haired man surround by a group of mixed-race children. They were jogging down the middle of the street. Mulder leaned his forehead against the window. The steel click of a safety going off made him freeze. "Turn around," whispered a harsh voice. Mulder turned slowly to see the security guard from the lobby. It was Nels Longrin. "We would have struck a blow for freedom," Nels said as the sound of a car horn and shouting came through the open window. "Freedom for the _real_ patriots of America." He pointed the gun. "Step away from the rifle." "No." Mulder said. "I admire loyalty, even if it is stupid." Nels pulled back the hammer with his thumb. Mulder stepped sideways and backwards as if in compliance -- and shoved. The rife and tripod tumbled through the window. Nels snarled in rage. Mulder dove to one side. Three shots rang out. Nels stood with a confused expression on his face. There was blood on his shirt front. He crashed to the floor. Agent Abigail Beck stood in the doorway, her gun held firmly in her hands. "Like Drami said -- you only get one chance to choke." Her voice was shaking. Mulder got to his feet as she holstered her pistol. "You all right?" he asked. "I'll live," she said. "Good," Mulder looked down into the termoil in the street. "How did you get here so fast?" "Never tell Drami it's an emergency when she's driving," Abigail grinned weakly. "The good news is we got here in time -- the bad news is she took out a parked car trying to stop the run. The Secret Service were all over her and Meyers when I jumped out of the back seat -- I saw the rifle in the window and the building's door was wide open." She started shaking. Mulder dropped an arm around her shoulders as a crowd of police and Secret Service agents brust into the room. ********* Upper Floor J.Edgar Hoover Building, Washington DC July 20th, 1994 10 am EST Scott Blevins signed the official case report he hadn't expected to be signing with an expression of deep disgust on his face. He'd pitched Mulder and his motley crew a cow patty and they had turned it into a bottom of the ninth, bases loaded homerun. Mulder had even made good with the police by calling it a "joint investigation" and sharing the credit with an injured undercover officer. Well, "Spooky" was back on wiretap detail and that's where he would stay! Agents Jonson and Beck were going to be re-assigned and as for Meyers... He hesitated and listed the last few movies he had rented in his head. Meyers would stay on special duty. The computer wizard had ferretted out two members of the terrorist group within the Coroner's Office and one within the ranks of the patrolmen. He was busy showing a group of trainees various computer tricks. Blevins's sectretary came in and placed a file on his desk. Blevins grunted acknowledgement and began to read it. His eyes widened. Vampires? In Los Angles? Was somebody playing a joke? The phone rang. Blevins heart sank. Somehow, he knew who it would be. Mulder was going to be off wiretap again... Maybe for good. He answered the phone. "Yes, sir?" END