TITLE: None So Blind (3/5)
AUTHOR: bcfan
FEEDBACK: bcfan@shaw.ca
RATING :strong NC-17 for disturbing content. Please heed the warning.
SPOILERS: post-episode, Fallen Angel
CATEGORY: X (casefile), M/S UST
SUMMARY: Child sexual abuse cases leave Mulder and Scully struggling 
for resolution.
NOTES at the end.



Ramirez waited in his office at the back of the house. He heard a hum from the private
elevator the Boss had insisted he install, and stood and paced nervously.

Fuck this, he thought. My family's been in the business for generations, and our partnership
with the Boss and his kin has never been a problem. That easy five hundred? A big fat
nothing, and anyway, Ramirez was sure he had it covered. The Boss would never know.
Ramirez knew exactly why he had a chill the size of a glacier in his gut whenever he had
to deal with the Boss, though. He'd seen that shark-like look directed at him once when 
he was little and had immediately pissed his pants.

He could still remember his father's words. "He doesn't touch us or ours. That's the bargain, 
and the Boss is a man of his word."

"Ramirez." The Boss stepped into the room, his voice as deep as the rumble of thunder 
before a bad rain. Black man, black trenchcoat and gloves, black hat, black sunglasses. 
Black smell, like tar pits in hell. Ramirez didn't offer his hand. You didn't touch the Boss.

"Please, have a seat."

The Boss sat, hands on knees, staring at Ramirez until he looked away.

"I need product." Blunt demand. "New product, not used. Was Richie used, 
Ramirez?"

His poker face had never been more important. Ramirez stared straight into the black 
depths of the Boss's sunglasses. "No. You know we'd never break your rule."

"Don't lie to me, Ramirez."

"No, boss, I swear on my family."

A dark rumble of humour. "Your family. I'll remember that."

Ramirez picked up a paperweight to hide his shaking hands, began to toy with it 
as he casually asked, "It's only been a week since I saw you last. Can I help you 
with anything?"

"Richie didn't last as long as I expected."

Shit. First the Parraz brat, now this. The little ones were so hard to get ready, too. 
Teaching them not to gag, pushing things into them so they opened up better. It was
a lot of work and took a lot of personal time. And time was money. Even if they couldn't
be used, the product was a good hook for customers.

Ramirez prided himself on his business smarts - he was in it for the cash, plain and simple.
Maybe he could work out a compromise.

"We're, ah, a little short of product in your age group, Boss. Could we give you something 
a little older, keep the one we got for another week or two?"

"No. I'll be leaving soon, giving this area a rest. Bring me the one you've got now. I'll wait
here."

"Yes, Boss."

Fucking bastard. Ramirez wanted some return on the dollars and time he'd spent, and now
 he would never see the product again.

***

Mulder walked with Scully into the stakeout from a block away. He moved more easily 
with his cane this evening - Scully's treatment had really helped.

He spared a moment to reflect on the woman by his side. It was getting harder and harder 
to think of Scully as a spy. Every instinct told him that Scully was the real deal; every past 
experience warned him to not trust his instincts. Scully tugged at his heart, and in matters 
of the heart he'd been wrong before.

Captain Ortega consulted with a man in a dark suit and tie, then waved them over and 
spoke into the walkie-talkie. "We're all here. Five suspects have entered the house in 
the last twenty minutes. On the count of three, men."

Scully put her hand on his arm and Mulder nodded. He was here for one reason only - to try 
and find out what had happened to those kids, and determine if the occupants of this house 
were connected to their disappearances. The task force could - and would - handle whatever 
else was going on.

Mulder leaned against a patrol car to ease the pressure on his ankle, heard the familiar 
shouted warnings from Ortega and the INS suits, and watched their choreographed group 
surround the building.

They entered, grim efficiency written on every face. Then uneasy silence.

He straightened when a single gunshot shattered the calm. It sounded from the upstairs 
window, and Mulder's hand jumped to his weapon. He tensed, feeling the press of Scully's 
shoulder as she stepped to his side.

The other agents and officers quickly framed the front door, waiting for the all-clear. When 
it came, Mulder wiped his palm on his trousers as he and Scully walked into the house.

"Everything okay, Captain?" Mulder asked.

"We got 'em. We have our own guardian angel on this one - it appears someone cut the 
wires on their alarm system. It's pretty ugly, though."

"Any kids, sir?" Ortega looked disgusted and nodded.

"Where are they now?"

"The oldest girl asked if they could go down in the basement to join a group of half a dozen
 other kids. We've got an emergency phone call in for a Social Worker."

Mulder looked around. The atmosphere was closed and stuffy, and the sharp tang of sex was 
strong in the air. Bedrooms were furnished in the kind of maple sets he remembered from his 
childhood, lending a perverted veneer of comfortable respectability. The bathroom door was 
missing. Nothing was private in this house.

"Careful, Rob," Captain Ortega warned, as an officer shoved one of the handcuffed men his 
group was leading through the door. "We're going to treat this scum nice and gentle - we
 don't want them complaining about violating their rights when we nail their asses. Sex with 
a minor - Jesus."

Mulder nodded. "And the people running this?"

"One bitch was playing hostess. She's with an old lady upstairs, waiting for transport. Granny
 fired a shot at us." Ortega sounded shocked. "What looks like the main perp was caught fleeing 
from the back. Some kind of outside elevator. Right, Steve?"

An olive-skinned officer stepped over. "Mike and I nabbed him, but it was the damnedest thing.
We just finished cuffing the perp, when the elevator opened again. It was empty, but so dark
it was freaky."

Mulder stepped forward. "What do you mean, freaky?"

"Dark, but kind of shimmery. And there was a burning smell." Steve scratched his head. "I joked
'let's adjust the set' to Mike, but then it was gone. Never seen anything like it."

Mulder chewed his lip, then shook his head. A problem for later. He glanced at Scully.

Her face was bloodless, expressionless, lips pressed in a thin line. She spoke quietly. "Captain, 
did you recognize any of the children you found?"

"Sorry, Agent Scully. They were too old to match your missing victims."

"Do you mind if we go into the basement to question them?"

Ortega shrugged. "No problem. The basement's been secured. Would you like an officer-?" Ortega 
glanced at Mulder's cane.

"Agent Scully and I will be fine, Captain." He headed for the basement door and Scully followed. 
Mulder stopped as he opened the door, stepped back. He pointed to the stairs.

"You first."

Scully nodded.

Mulder carefully manoeuvred one step at a time.

The first thing he noticed was the walls. Unpainted plasterboard was covered in childish scrawls. 
Stick figures, teddy bears. A house with sunshine. Next, the oppressive bars framing high, narrow 
windows. This would be bad.

Scully paced ahead, and he carefully stepped through the maze of sleep mats laid haphazardly 
on the floor.

Scully turned the corner. "Mulder."

Mulder caught up and spotted a group of pale, malnourished kids, huddled together against the 
back wall. A dozen sets of frightened faces stared up at him. A young girl began to whimper, and
was immediately hushed by a pre-teen. None of the children were young enough to be the victims 
they were seeking, but they were victims, none the less.

Mulder holstered his gun, touched Scully's rigid back with his palm, leaned close, and whispered, "Are 
you okay?"

She tried to smile at him. "Yes. I'm fine. Do you have the photos?"

Mulder handed her snapshots from the victims' files.

Scully held them up. "My name is Dana and this is Fox. You're safe now. We are looking for these boys. 
Their names are Richie, Jimmy, and Tomas. Have you seen them?"

A low buzz of Spanish, then a thin boy in filthy cut-offs and overlarge t-shirt was elbowed to the 
front of the crowd. He stood and pointed.

"The one boy, gone a long time. The other, a little bit of time. But this one," he pointed to Jimmy's
 photo, "he was taken upstairs just tonight. He didn't come back."

Scully sounded faint. "Mulder?"

"I'll double check." Mulder clenched his jaw, could feel the muscle twitch. They had missed Jimmy
by an hour.

xXx

Jimmy wasn't in the house, and Mulder was sure that the shimmering blackness described by the 
young officer was the reason why. Thinking back on their conversation with the kids, his heart 
broke a little more for their plight. He and Scully had offered to lead them upstairs and into the 
fresh air to wait for transport to Children's Services but, as a group, they shrank back. The image 
burned into his retina was of prisoners of war, savaged for so long they were afraid to come into 
the light.

Mulder's nails bit into his fists when he realized that the young ones trapped inside would be 
able to listen through the windows as neighbourhood children played outside. Emotionally, they 
would slowly dissolve. He deliberately slowed his breathing to get himself under control. He would 
need all he could muster.

They walked by small groups of gawkers on the way back to their rental and the police station. 
Mulder ignored a shouted question of "What's going on?" and shrugged in frustration.

Scully echoed Mulder's feelings. "This is a nice neighbourhood. Why didn't anyone question what
was happening on their own block?"

"People only see what they want to see, Scully. And you know what they say."

"What do they say?"

"'There are none so blind as those who would not see.'"

xXx

Mulder opened his laptop while waiting for the prisoners to finish being processed and
 interrogated by the INS. He rubbed his chin as a message came up, and scanned avidly 
before turning to Scully, a bubble of hope lodged under his breastbone.

"Danny came through for us, Scully. Five children mysteriously disappeared from this area 
fifteen years ago, and fifteen years before that. That's as far as the records go - for now."
He forwarded the message to the Gunmen, and began to scan the names.

"You're right about a connection, Mulder, but it's not necessarily a connection of the supernatural
 kind. This could be a human crime ring with a long history." Mulder nodded absently, then gently
 elbowed Scully as he pointed at a name. "Elizabeth Landow?" Scully looked puzzled.

"Yeah. I think she's- " His thought was interrupted by an INS officer calling them. He snapped the
 laptop shut and headed for the interrogation room.
Mulder glanced at his partner as she seated herself and they waited for the suspect. The harsh 
light of the interrogation room accented Scully's grim face and icy glare.

"Scully, can you lose the cane for me? I'm afraid I might hit someone with it."

"I'd be tempted to let you."

Mulder blinked, surprised.

When she slipped back into the room, he spoke quietly. "Are you ready for this?"

She nodded. "I just keep thinking of the victims. Especially Mary's son."

"I know." Mulder quickly caressed the back of her hand with his fingers. "Ortega and another
 detective are outside, ready to start a round of bad cop, worse cop. I'm going to play it a 
little differently. Follow my lead."

At Mulder's request, Betty was escorted through the door first. Mascara lines marked exaggerated 
tear tracks down her face. Her nose was running, and she ineffectually daubed a wadded tissue 
up to it.

As she sat, she started crying again. "I didn't do nothin'. Paulo was in charge!"

Mulder kept his voice as even as he could, biting back sarcasm. No adult was innocent in 
that house.

"Betty, my name is Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully. We're with the FBI. We want to talk 
to you about some specific children, and see what you know about them. Okay?"

Betty nodded, her eyes showing their whites like a spooked racehorse. He was sure Captain 
Ortega already realized that she would be the one to bring down the entire operation. She 
had the backbone of a jellyfish.

Mulder placed the first photo on the table. Tomas Parraz stood grinning, the soccer ball in 
his arms dwarfing his small frame.

"Betty, what can you tell us about Tomas?"

Betty started shaking her head. "No. No no."

Mulder glanced at Scully. "We're trying to find three missing children, and if you know where 
they are, and can help us, it would look good for you."

Betty wrung her hands and began to slowly rock. "Can I ask Paulo if it's okay?"

Mulder soothed, "We'll talk to Paulo later. Why don't you tell us what you know, and then 
Paulo can back you up."

"The Boss. The Boss took him. And the other two. He took the three littlest kids."

Mulder gripped the edge of the table, cleared the harshness from his voice. "You mean 
Richie," he slapped down two photos, "and Jimmy were taken by the boss too?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I don't know where they are. The Boss took them. Can I go now?"
Betty twirled her hair, batted her eyes.

God, Mulder thought, she's trying to be coquettish.

"Can you describe the boss to me, Betty?"

"I only seen him once. He's big, with really black skin. He was wearing sunglasses and 
gloves. And he smelled funny."

"Funny?"

Betty appeared lost in thought, and Mulder wondered if he'd have to snap his fingers 
under her nose. She's not all there, he realized.

"Like when I'm using a curling iron on my hair and burns it a little bit. He - he gives me
the creeps." Time to confirm what he already suspected.

"Are you Elizabeth Landow? Is that your real name? Are your parents Miriam and 
Phillip Landow?"

Betty's face went grey. She wrapped shaking arms around herself and began to rock, 
appearing to regress before his eyes. Little girl voice, so soft Mulder had to lean across 
the table. "Can't tell. Can't never tell. Can't." Words slurred into nonsense.

"Mulder?"

He braced his arms against the table and shoved back, sliding his chair. "Take her away," 
he spoke quietly to the one way mirror, "and bring us Ramirez."

As soon as they were alone Scully spoke again. "How did you know?"

"She has the look and attitude of someone who's been numbed to all experience. And it's
part of the pattern - victims are totally cut off from their past, isolated, abused, trained 
to victimize others."

Scully shook her head. "This case is more disturbing by the minute."

"It certainly is."

Five minutes later Ramirez was led into the room, guards holding each of his arms. Ramirez 
snarled as they shoved him into a chair, his handcuffs scraping the table.

"Mr. Ramirez. I'm with the FBI, as is my partner. We're looking for these three boys. Do you 
know where they are?"

Ramirez shot a bored glance at the row of photos. "Never seen 'em."

Mulder held up Jimmy's picture. "Witnesses say he was at the house today. Where is he now?"

"How the hell do I know. I can't keep track of everybody. I live upstairs, mind my own
business."

Mulder stood and fanned the pictures out like a deck of cards. He spoke quietly, pinning 
Ramirez with his eyes. Ramirez shifted, looked away. "We are going to hunt until we find 
the boys - or their bodies. If you think they're dead, better speak up, because unless you 
can point us in the right direction, you'll be considered, at best, an accomplice. Or you'll be 
charged with murder. Do you want that?" Ramirez's bravado suddenly crumpled like a spent 
balloon.

"Look, I don't know nothing, but if those kids have croaked you can't pin it on me. Last I 
saw, they were healthy. After the Boss takes them, I'm not responsible, am I?"

Mulder took a small tape recorder out of his pocket, placed it carefully in the centre of the 
table and switched it on. He sat back down, nudged Scully with his foot, and closed his eyes 
against the walking scum across from him.

Scully began. "Mr. Ramirez, any testimony you give tonight to help us will lend credence to 
your claim of innocence during future investigation as to the whereabouts of three missing 
children - Tomas Parraz, Richie Andros and Jimmy Findlay. Mr. Ramirez, do you understand 
that this issue is separate from all other charges being laid against you?"
"Yeah, yeah."

"Please tell us what you know."

"Okay. This is the deal. I'm giving you the straight up, because that fucker must have been 
the one to cut the alarm wires. The Boss is the only one been in my office besides me, the 
bastard."

Mulder blinked, glanced at Scully. She caught his question. "Why do you think the boss 
would do that, Ramirez?"

Ramirez eyes shifted and he shrugged. "I dunno. I been on the up and up. The Boss was 
around since before I was a kid. He's, like, connected to family interests around the world. 
He ain't been in this area for ten or fifteen years, and he said he was leaving soon. I don't 
know where he lives and I don't know what he does."

"Go on."

"All I know is he comes, he wants a choice of the finished product from what he brought us, 
we give it to him. Always the lowest age range. What happens after that - he ain't saying 
and I ain't asking. It's out of my hands."

Mulder barely heard Scully's whispered, "Product?" but he could imagine the horrors racing 
through her mind. Mulder's measured, "Get him out of here," immediately brought in the 
guards.

It was easy to ignore the sudden pain in his ankle as he stood. Scully stepped away and 
turned her back. Her shoulders were hunched and her fists were clenched to her sides.

"I think Ramirez made a pact with the devil, Scully. For whatever reason, the devil decided 
to bite him on the ass." He looked away, giving Scully time to compose herself.

"You know," he began, "it's one a.m. I'm tired and hungry. Let's grab something to eat and
head back, get a fresh start in the morning."

Scully's face was flushed, her eyes puffy. She nodded. He ran a tired hand through his hair, 
then held it out for the car keys. "I'm driving."

"But-"

Softly. "I'm driving, Scully. Don't worry."

Scully was asleep, listing against him in her seatbelt, before he'd driven a mile.

xXx

Mulder pulled up outside the motel room. He was grateful they were on the ground floor as 
he manoeuvred the fast food bags, room keys, and laptop while guiding Scully inside. She 
didn't seem to notice as he pulled down the covers, helped her with her jacket, and slipped 
off her shoes. She immediately curled up in the bed. Regret washed over him as he pulled 
the cover over her shoulders and set the bagged salad on her nightstand. Scully's connection 
with the victim's mother was making a bad case even worse for her, and Mulder wished with
 all his heart that he'd come to National City on his own.

"Good night, Scully," he whispered, and switched off her light.

He limped through the connecting doors to his room. He'd forgotten his cane at the police 
station, but his ankle wasn't too bad. Proper care by his own personal doctor, he reflected, 
seemed to help.

Mulder stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers and ate a drive-through burger and fries while
firing up his laptop. Something was niggling at the back of his brain, something Ramirez said. 
Something about family interests.

He sifted through his files and searched through hundreds of possible on-topic sites. A search 
for Mafia-like family connections didn't wash, but the picture emerging was even worse. Ramirez 
was probably talking about Los Lenones - tightly organized associations of pimps based on family
hierarchies. The missing kids from fifteen years ago were a perfect fit. Jimmy and the other 
young kids were only the latest in a chain of victims that went back generations.
His eyes felt sandy from the grit of lost sleep. He dug a city map out of the pile and marked
the homes of the three victims, the park, and the Ramirez place. Mulder swallowed cold coffee 
as he considered the pattern's implications. Two of the young boys lived within six blocks of the
park - and the one that didn't was on a direct route from the park to the Ramirez' house.

Ramirez called him the Boss; the kids called him the boogyman. Either way, someone or something
with a fifteen year cycle of activity in the area was attracted to young children in the park. He 
must have a base in the vicinity, Mulder reasoned.

A place close to the park - or maybe in the park? Someplace private. Besides a playground
and ball fields, Mulder had seen two outbuildings in the park itself, and several boarded-up 
buildings on nearby streets. A sudden noise, and Mulder sat straighter. Again, this time a 
whimper. Mulder pulled on his pants, grabbed his gun, and slowly opened the connecting door.
He swept the room before lowering his weapon. Scully was whimpering in her sleep. Mulder 
froze, then walked to her side and began to stroke her shoulder. Scully's legs stopped 
twitching and she gasped, suddenly awake.

"Mulder?"

"Shhh, it's okay." Mulder backed off and turned on the tap for a few seconds, handed 
her a half-full glass of water. Scully's cheeks were red and she was biting her lip.

"Wanna talk about it?"

She shrugged, looked away. "I'm fine."

"Sometimes this work gets to me too."

Scully nodded, seemed relieved, but said nothing in reply. He smiled and rubbed his bristly 
cheek. "Breakfast?"

"Sure, I won't be able to go back to sleep anyway." She stifled a yawn.

"What time is it?"

"Six o'clock."

She eyed him up and down. "Did you sleep?"

"Not much," he lied. "But I do have some more information we need to sit down and go through."

"Yeah?"

"I think we're both right about this case, Scully. Human beings ran the sex ring, but the entity 
that has Jimmy is not quite human."

"But Mulder-" Scully began.

"How about we meet in twenty? I need to shave and change."

He left the room before she could reply.


Continued in chapter 4