Season Six:
Episode 16

A Hotel Room
Downtown Manhattan
10:45 pm

Cigarette Smoking Man had survived the meeting of the full Consortium. It had been far more enlightening (and entertaining) than he had imagined that it would be. Alex Krycek had been busy. The boy had caused quite a stir. He had taken a gamble, and it had paid off. More or less. Well, it would pay off if Alex could jump one more hurdle. If he could do that, Cigarette Smoking Man's decision would be easier.

Careful consideration dictated that there was no reason for delay in testing the young man's confidence and arranging what he'd been asked to arrange. As a result, Cigarette Smoking Man picked up the telephone and dialed a number. It was answered on the third ring, with an impatient "Yes."

"Hello, Alex. Is this a bad time?"

After only a very slight hesitation, Krycek answered Cigarette Smoking Man's question with a question. "How did you get this number?"

"Come now. With all of the resources at my disposal, surely I'd be able to locate a single cellular telephone number. Of course, the choice of whether to share it with others is mine. Convince me that I shouldn't." There was a pause of more significant length this time. "Taking a moment to get himself under control and consider his response," Cigarette Smoking Man thought with approval.

"What good would it do? I can buy a hundred new phones. Cut the crap. What do you want?"

"Very nice, Alex. Reasoned answer spoken with mild impatience. Connoting that you have more important things to do than waste time on the phone with me. If the two of you were alone, I'd have you give my best to Jeff. Had you been alone with either of the ladies, I'd have politely waited until morning." Cigarette Smoking Man actually smiled into the silence at the other end of the line. He knew Krycek hadn't expected anyone to be aware of exactly where he was and with whom. Cigarette Smoking Man suspected that Krycek would, in short order, realize that he would be keeping tabs on Jeff. Alex' paranoid mind would then consider whether the Consortium was also. A review of the options available to him in the event of Consortium retaliation at his present location would follow. Cigarette Smoking Man magnanimously decided to save Krycek the trouble. "Alex, the Consortium still views Jeff as a pawn. They've assigned no one to him."

"Are you sure? Given what they know?" Cigarette Smoking Man heard the self-recrimination in the younger man's voice. His lapse in concentration obviously troubled him. Attention to detail was crucial. Alex understood that.

"I've established systems for monitoring certain of their activities. If they had a twenty-four hour per day interest in him, I'd know. They do monitor him at the office. I assume that you anticipated that and have taken it into account."

"There have been some unexpected disruptions in the monitoring of Assistant Director Skinner's office. I imagine the sound system was back on line relatively quickly though." Krycek and Cigarette Smoking Man both knew that cleaning staff often had interesting ways to supplement their income.

"Then you're fine. For now."

Krycek didn't bother to hide his sigh of relief. "Message received. I ask again. What do you want?"

Cigarette Smoking Man wholeheartedly approved of Alex's tone this time. Proper respect. Wrist slap accepted. Cigarette Smoking Man also knew that Alex wouldn't put himself at that particular disadvantage again. It was rewarding to work with a young man who paid attention. "A very influential man wants to meet with you. If he's satisfied with what he hears, I wager you'll get some room to maneuver and ... more. Potentially a lot more."

"When?"

"Tomorrow night. The usual drill. Location 51. 9:17 pm. Come alone."

"I'll bring a modest entourage. Will you be there?"

"No. Be careful Alex. He's clever. Been at it a long time. Don't get cocky."

"Anything else?"

Cigarette Smoking Man was surprised. Pride was standing aside for pragmatism. A sign of maturity. "Don't overplay your hand. You know what they want. They think they know what you want. Be reasonably predictable."

"You don't understand!" The statement was made in a dark room. There were no windows. No interior lights were illuminated.

The voice was male, although pitched higher than normal as a result of rising panic. Only the barest trace of what had been intended by the speaker to be defiance remained. There was no response. Uncomfortable with the silence, he began again. "He's had a run of good luck. It can't last. I've got a number of operations ready to go. You only have to say the word, and your troubles are over." Unsure of the reception that his words were receiving, the speaker paused. Despite his efforts to the contrary, his panic and burgeoning fear were communicated by his restless movement and rapid shallow breathing. The silence and absence of visual stimuli were unnerving. "Why wasn't anyone saying anything? Why couldn't they see that he had done nothing wrong?"

Suddenly, the man was aware of the sounds. Furtive scuffling noises. Images of rats scurrying across the floor leapt to his mind. Once those mental pictures were in ensconced, he couldn't dislodge them. Ever since seeing the movie Willard as a child, he had a fear of rats. A fear he had not shared with anyone. "How could they know?" he asked himself. He yelled, startled and frightened, as he felt what seemed to be a small creature running over his right foot. The line between imagination and reality had blurred into invisibility. He was overcome with relief when the noises ceased, unable to hold back tears and attendant sobs.

Struggling for control, he whispered, "Please." Realizing that he sounded like a frightened child, but desperately wanting to fill the silence, he begged, "Let me outta here. I understand that you're displeased with the results so far. I really do. There's no need to explain further. I'll do better. I promise. I'll attend to matters personally. Myself. You have to admit. My track record on individual ops is outstanding. There's none better. I'll deal with ..."

What interrupted his monologue and provided a healthy adrenaline rush was a sensation. The room suddenly felt like the calm before a storm. Perhaps a sudden rise in barometric pressure. Maybe an increase in electric charge. The man didn't know how it was done, but he felt the mixture of anticipation, awe and fear he generally associated with impending thunder storms. Intellectually, he knew that he was indoors. Rain, thunder and lightening were not in the offing. Inevitably, he began to speculate wildly about the sort of storm that actually was approaching. Those speculations he could do without. An active imagination was a curse at times like these.

The door to the room opened. There was no one there. An unnaturally bright light emanating from beyond the doorway now illuminated the room. Ambition Boy, with his hands and feet individually joined by four sets of handcuffs to the chair in which he was seated, wanted to look away from the light. He couldn't. The sense of impending ... something had reached a new height. Believing the threat would approach from the light, Marten used his feet to propel himself, and his chair, backwards. The movements were awkward. He braced his toes on the ground, lifted himself and his chair up slightly and pushed backwards. Each movement halted abruptly as the chair moved the distance between the cuffs attached to the two front chair legs and those attached to Marten's ankles. The skin on his ankles had broken. Blood was flowing. Marten didn't notice. His entire being was focused on moving further from the light.

"Please," he pleaded. Not caring about image or power or politics anymore. "I'll do anything. Anything you ask. I swear. What do you want? Tell me what the hell you want. Whatever it is, I'll ..." The abrupt halt to Ambition Boy's backward movement startled him into silence. Reaching back with his right hand, he encountered a wall. He had gotten as far from the light as possible. Giddy with his success, he laughed and reached back with his left hand. What that hand encountered was not a wall. Puzzled, Marten turned his head in that direction.

Upon seeing what appeared to be a man at his side, he looked up quickly in an effort to identify his companion. He found himself staring into the eyes of an alien bounty hunter. As the morph-capable being reached for him, Marten launched himself sideways, tipping his chair over. Both he and the chair clattered to the floor. Marten grunted and focused on moving away from the alien, regardless of whether that motion took him toward what he had begun to think of as the evil lighted doorway. He'd deal with one thing at a time. Ambition Boy was relatively pleased with his quasi-slithering progress ... until he came face to snout with a large rat. His scream was piercing. Marten didn't realize that he'd scared the rat away. He had already fainted.

The alien approached the man/chair combination that had finally ceased its, from the alien's perspective, senseless movement.

Dana Scully moved in close to Alex Krycek, who appeared to be lost in thought after breaking the connection of the cellular telephone call he'd received. He seemed to be staring at the short computer program he'd just finished writing to allow his disk with 1994 DEFCON missile launch codes to interface with Spender's data.

"Cancerman?" she asked softly, speaking so only he could hear. His startled look rendered his affirmative nod unnecessary, but she acknowledged it anyway.

Krycek activated his program. "Now we wait," he announced as he stood and stretched, avoiding Scully's gaze determinedly. Undaunted, Dana took Alex's arm, gently but firmly steering him a bit further away from Spender and Katya. Concluding that resistance would merely attract the attention of the others, Krycek allowed it. Not willing to concede complete control of the situation to Scully, he spoke first when they halted.

"How'd you know it was Cancerman?"

"I'm not sure. I think it's the combination of antagonism, annoyance, respect and ..."

Krycek felt his level of curiosity go up a notch at Dana's hesitance. She had proven to have useful insights and excellent powers of observation. "And what?"

"Fear?" Dana made her final assessment a question in an effort to avoid an assault on the fragile male ego. His brief laugh surprised her.

"Agent Scully, a condition of my continued breathing over the last few years was an understanding of my situation. No self-delusion. No smoke or mirrors. I'd say there's something wrong with anyone who doesn't fear him ... a little."

"Agreed, but let's come to the point, Alex. What did he want?"

Many possible answers to her question were considered and rejected. The process took only seconds. Uncharacteristically, Krycek was having trouble assessing the plausibility of those replies from Scully's perspective. The concern for him in her blue eyes was distracting, as was her encouraging smile.

Scully was cognizant of the delay in Krycek's response time. That did not bode well for her chances of getting a straight answer out of him. She needed to act. "Out with it Alex."

Amused by her commanding tone and accepting his dissembling difficulties, Krycek said, "A meeting tomorrow night with some bigwig. Alone. That means that my efforts to attract attention haven't gone unnoticed ... or unappreciated. It'll be interesting to see the reaction."

"What about back up? Mulder and I could ..." Scully paused with a stubborn set to her posture. Alex was shaking his head "no." "Why not?" she demanded.

"Mulder isn't good at back up, Dana. You know that. He doesn't have the context for the conversation that'll take place, but he'd try to dominate it anyway. I need to control the information flow carefully. Especially now. There's a lot at stake. No Mulder. Not yet." Alex Krycek silently willed Dana Scully to understand his position. He really didn't want to argue about this. That could lead to a discussion of the nature of his activities over the last week or ten days. He wasn't ready for that. And he didn't think Scully was either.

"Just me then." Scully saw Krycek open his mouth to protest. Most likely vehemently. Then shut it and take her chin in his hand gently.

Meeting her eyes, he spoke softly but with intensity. "Not this time. I've said that I'll bring a small contingent. It'll be safer for me, and more disconcerting for them, if they can't find anyone. I need them to be looking, Dana. Everyone he brings with him. This conversation has to be private."

Dana Scully didn't like it. Alex saw it immediately. First, it was simply anger in her eyes. Next it was the abrupt movement of her head to release her chin. Then, with a final glare, she turned away to stare out the window. Krycek's initial reaction was to check up on the progress of his computer program and leave Scully to her anger. His instincts, however, suggested that retreat would be suboptimal. "Dana," he began tentatively as he moved behind her. "I'm not shutting you out. I just need to do this my way." He paused, trying to assess her mood. Her body language gave nothing away. To gauge how he was doing, he put his arms around her and pulled her close. She allowed him to do so, but the tension in her muscles and the stiffness of her posture betrayed her continuing anger. "I'll even wear a wire, if it'd make you feel better. C'mon, Dana. Don't do this."

Scully refused to relent. She was angry and frightened. A bad combination. She did smile briefly, when Krycek again began speaking to fill the void created by her silence. She had him off balance. Exactly where she wanted him. A situation she didn't seem to be able to create often enough.

"Look. I think we can agree that Mulder wouldn't be an asset at this stage. Right?" Scully relaxed marginally, but otherwise did not react. "Grunt if yes. Squeak if no." Krycek smiled as Scully tried not to laugh, but was unsuccessful. "If you'll be there, you couldn't keep him away. Same with Skinner and Spender."

Scully moved restlessly. Krycek released her, and turned her toward him, encouraged by his ability to make her laugh. "Skinner's protective Alex, but he can be reasonable." Scully looked stern when Krycek rolled his eyes, eloquently expressing his disbelief. "But Spender ..."

"Agent Scully, I regret to inform you that Special Agent Jeffrey Spender has one serious crush on you, although it may've been downgraded to mild to moderate in Katya's presence." His smirk was maddening. Scully was annoyed, but a brief mental review of her interactions with Spender did not reveal evidence sufficient to refute Krycek's assertion. Watching her closely, Alex registered his victory and her tacit acknowledgment of it. Changing the subject suddenly seemed prudent. "We should probably get back." He gestured toward Spender's laptop.

Scully nodded, but moved closer. Uncertain of her intentions, Krycek simply waited. "Alex I think we should ..." Her pronouncement was interrupted by the ringing of her cellular telephone. She smiled an apology and answered it.

Alex Krycek listened to Dana's series of short declarative sentences with the word "sir" in them. "What's Skinner up to?" he inquired as she hung up.

"He has a visitor. Who's injured somehow. I think you should come with me."

"I'll pass, Dana. I've got some unpleasant memories of Assistant Director Skinner's apartment." Krycek's memory was nearly one hundred percent. His time on Skinner's balcony was vividly recollected.

"Don't make me get rough with you, Krycek," Dana ordered as she closed the short distance between them. "You're coming with me," was delivered in a more provocative tone, while she slid her arms around his waist. "We can do this the easy way ... or the hard way. It's up to you." She paused, smiling a challenge at him. Krycek smiled back ... wickedly, upping the ante.

"Ahem," Spender interrupted. Dana and Alex directed their attention to Spender, reorienting their relative positions slightly but otherwise remaining in close proximity to each other. "The program looks like it's done. But the output makes no sense."

All present returned to the computer screen. The descriptions of paranormal phenomena had been "translated" into an account of a set of serial murders and some other facially incomprehensible information. "Print it out," Krycek ordered.

"Looks like we've got more work to do," Scully added with a sigh.

Marita Covarrubias was uncertain about this. She liked to be pampered as well as the next woman, but having these two men bringing her juice and then waiting for her next request was ... unsettling. Walter Skinner she instinctively trusted. He radiated strength and competence. She also approved of his no nonsense manner. His strong moral code and sense of ethics and fairness could also be exploited, if necessary. She hoped not. Such genuineness, if real, was rare. Before the others had arrived, he'd offered to heat up some canned chicken soup for her, and had seemed pleased that, although she declined, she'd demonstrated her appreciation of the gesture by smiling and taking hold of his hand.

Then Mulder arrived. Relaxation became impossible. Contentment unattainable. Such things did not exist in Fox Mulder's world, which expanded to encompass those in his presence. Mulder served as an excellent contrast to Skinner's quiet strength. Marita sensed that he would rather be alone with the woman who had accompanied him. Diana something or other. Covarrubias admitted that she had been attracted to Mulder once upon a time. When she was providing him information at the Consortium's or Cigarette Smoking Man's or Alex's behest. He had a somewhat endearing little boy quality. Underneath that exterior lurked another kettle of fish entirely. Marita now believed that her superiors had been correct. Mulder was ruthless. Not in the violent sense. In a more emotional or intellectual way.

She smiled ruefully as she considered her recent past. She'd convinced herself that she should trust Mulder with the boy Dimitri. It was better than delivering the boy infected with the black oil to the Consortium. Better for Mulder. Better for her. Even better for Alex, although he'd never understand that. Partly because he wouldn't try. Fox Mulder espoused a "Trust No One" philosophy. Alex Krycek lived it. Attaining the trust of such a man took time, effort and a little luck. Once lost, it could not be regained. Or so he claimed. Marita looked forward to testing that particular premise.

"Marita," Special Agent Mulder began tentatively. He didn't miss her "Here comes the inquisition" look. He merely chose to ignore it. "How did you escape the Consortium?"

"What makes you think I needed to escape from anyone? Much less this ... Consortium."

"We received information establishing beyond any doubt that you were involved in an incident at an outdoor location that ended badly for most concerned."

Covarrubias looked at Mulder speculatively. He was watching her closely, his face unreadable. Marita didn't know what Mulder actually knew, compared to what he merely surmised. She also knew that he was savvy enough to prevent her from ascertaining the facts of that matter. A little further analysis of her situation convinced her that honesty, or near honesty, would not be hugely detrimental.

"I called in every debt I was owed and then some, Mulder."

Assistant Director Skinner was impressed by this woman despite his vow to maintain his neutrality. She was in pain, but answered Mulder calmly.

"The two men that helped me may talk, but I doubt it. I made it worth their while. And they're afraid of Alex Krycek." Marita smiled at the slight tightening in Mulder's jaw. That was almost exactly the reaction she'd gotten from Alex when she'd extolled Mulder's virtues. She wondered if that look indicated jealousy, as Krycek's had, or something else. She also concentrated on looking wide-eyed and earnest as he waited for her to continue. If he wanted more information, Marita intended to make him ask.

"What's Krycek have to do with it?"

Marita's attention shifted to Skinner in surprise. She'd assumed that Mulder would handle the questioning. She knew she could lie to him at will. She suspected Skinner might prove to be more of a challenge in that regard. "Alex and I were lovers. Until recently, we kept our personal relationship separate from our professional association. Things changed. Our colleagues found out about our alliance, and we ... grew apart. Only a few knew that the past tense was the appropriate way to describe our situation. Knowing that I could rely on his reputation to avoid most unwanted attention, I didn't publicize the change in circumstances." She wondered if Skinner would remember their earlier encounter and pick up on her use of the word "most." His placement of a supportive hand on her shoulder indicated that he might have.

"What might our Alex have been reputed to be?" Mulder was watching Marita Covarrubias closely, noticing her reluctance to shift her attention from Skinner to him and Skinner's frown of disapproval at his tone. "Curiouser and curiouser," he thought.

"Fearless. Amoral. Violent. Possessiveness was assumed based on those traits." Marita saw Mulder and his lady friend exchange a glance that she couldn't interpret. "Have you been in contact with him?"

"Haven't seen him," Mulder answered.

"Yes," Skinner replied near simultaneously.

It amused Marita to watch the two men glare at each other angrily. She wondered if things would've escalated to fisticuffs had Agent Scully not arrived at that moment. Sensing the tension in the room immediately, Scully moved toward the bed, posture and demeanor communicating "I'm a doctor, please stand aside." Covarrubias smiled when Scully chosen route to her destination brought her between Mulder and Skinner. The two men reluctantly turned their attention to Scully.

"Marita?" Alex Krycek had gotten two steps into the room before he got a look at the patient. His path to Marita's side was around Skinner, keeping as far from Mulder as possible.

"Surprised, Alex? I am. I think maybe some of your survival skills rubbed off." What also surprised Marita was that Alex was grinning. He actually looked happy to see her. Maybe he'd seen enough death that day in the woods.

"Ok, everyone. Give us some room. I'll need time to examine Ms. Covarrubias and she needs some rest. Reunions, inquries and any other activities can wait until tomorrow." Dana Scully's tone made it clear that she would brook no argument. No one tried.

Fowley, Skinner, Mulder and Krycek retreated to Skinner's living room, looking at one another somewhat awkwardly. Mulder watched Krycek casually put his hand in the pocket of this leather jacket. "Freeze, Krycek. Put your hands where I can see them. Slowly."

Alex Krycek sighed, looking from the gun in Mulder's hand to the fierce expression on the agent's face, but made no move to comply. "I just activated a sort of scrambler, Mulder. To keep the conversation private."

"I don't intend to repeat myself, Krycek. Do it!"

Fowley and Skinner watched the two men stare each other down. Mulder was breathing hard, looking more and more murderous. Krycek appeared increasingly irritable. Finally, Krycek broke the standoff. Shrugging and muttering, "If it means that much to you," he complied with Mulder's request. Mulder closed the distance between them quickly, yanking the neck portion of the leather jacket backwards roughly to remove it. Alex could've stopped him, but didn't. Despite the pain that the harsh treatment caused his broken left arm. "Be careful with that Mulder. It was a gift."

Agent Mulder realized that the jacket in his hand was new. It wasn't the weathered and worn one that he was accustomed to seeing. Dismissing the fact as irrelevant, he examined the contents of the right front pocket. There was a small device, that bore no resemblance to any weapon that Mulder had ever seen. Then again, so had the device that he had found in the lamp at his family's cabin. Until he had examined it more closely. A careful inspection of this device revealed nothing. Wordlessly, Mulder handed it to Diana, and turned his attention to the other pockets of the jacket, daring Krycek to protest. A glance revealed that Krycek wasn't pleased, but he didn't complain. The left interior pocket held a sheaf of papers. "What's this Alex? Chapter 1 of your autobiography?"

"The modified uplink information, Mulder. It needs further work."

"Of what sort?" Diana Fowley inquired. The tension level between the two men was escalating again. Best to focus them on something other than each other.

"The material appears to be from two different sources. Very different. One part of it, at first glance anyway, only requires some research. The other seems to call for some further manipulation. I'm not sure how yet."

"You have any plans for the rest of your evening, Mr. Krycek?" Diana Fowley was smiling winningly. She was very interested in the uplink information.

Krycek responded to her smile in kind, curious about her motives. Making a mental note to ask Scully about Diana, since his information only included the basic facts of her earlier association with Mulder, Krycek replied, "I was intending to get some sleep, but I might be persuaded to change my mind. Particularly if you promise to call me Alex or Krycek, if you prefer. This "mister" stuff, I can do without."

Fox Mulder wasn't sure that he liked the way this conversation was going. The last thing he wanted was Diana becoming chummy with Krycek. Then Diana turned her smile on him, restoring his faith in her and some of his confidence in himself. "Pay a visit to the Lone Gunmen, Fox?" Matching Krycek's casual manner, Mulder shrugged noncommittally. She glanced at the other man, asking, "Alex?"

"Sure. Can't be out too late though. Big day tomorrow."

Mulder looked at Krycek suspiciously. Did Alex know who the Lone Gunmen were? Was he just playing along with Fowley? What was going on tomorrow that he had to rest up for? Determinedly pushing the questions aside, Mulder intoned, "Let's do it."

"What kind of computing power do the ... ahh ... Lone Gunmen have access to Mulder?" Krycek asked.

"Enough. More than enough. Let's go."

The First Elder was in a contemplative mood. Things were spinning out of control. His colleagues, with the exception of Strughold and Eldest, were frightened. Although they wouldn't admit it. That, in the First Elder's opinion, was not healthy. The Consortium had not been threatened so overtly in a very long time. His colleagues weren't used to it. They had forgotten how to do what needed to be done. They relied too much on others to do the "real work" and even the thinking behind it for them. That was fine in the days when men like Bill Mulder were available to carry out the necessary leg work as well as the underlying research and planning. That was fine when the man Mulder referred to as Cancerman was dedicated to the same cause and the same methodology as they were.

That was then. This is now. Action was required. Action would be taken. William had taken action personally. As did Strughold. And now Eldest. There was a lot of truth to the old adage "If you want something done right, you should do it yourself." But what did this latest foray into direct involvement connote?

"May I join you?"

The First Elder turned at the sound of Marleton's voice and nodded. The man had not once brought up the fact that he had counseled against releasing Scully and Krycek. That was good and prudent in view of his vocal support of using Gibson Praise to put Krycek in his place. They had both made errors in judgment. They couldn't afford many more. His thoughts were interrupted by Marleton clearing his throat.

"At the risk of appearing mutinous, the alliance between Strughold, Eldest and our cigarette smoking acquaintance disturbs me. A meeting of the minds between our most conservative and our new and most liberal member seems unlikely ... without external influences." Marleton watched the First Elder's reaction with interest. The specter of external forces had haunted the Consortium from time to time in the past. Men used to wielding power, absent higher rungs in the chain of command, did not like to contemplate any hierarchical change.

"We are the conspiracy within the conspiracy. A more central node, while possible, appears unlikely." The First Elder's answer was measured. Designed to draw Marleton out. To determine what he knew or suspected ... or feared.

"A union of those three could serve any interest well. And they would respond only to a dominant interest."

"They might also make a play to secure their place within a new structure were their efforts successful. All the while hedging their bets by maintaining their status here."

"The meeting ...," Marleton looked at his watch to determine the time relative to midnight, "... tonight with Krycek. If they could recruit him as well, what would that mean?"

"If the three are allied with interests adverse to our own and Krycek can be convinced to subordinate his agenda, serious trouble. That cannot be permitted." The two men stared at each other before moving as one toward the bar. Such things, as they both believed they were about to discuss, could not be contemplated sans beverage. "This is where we may be required to draw our line in the sand."

"We'll encounter resistance, if we propose another violent reduction in our membership. Particularly one or both of those men. Their influence permeates everything." Marleton sighed as he contemplated their predicament. There were no readily apparent solutions.

The First Elder added to the analysis, his voice betraying no emotion. "I'm not sure we're in any better position with regard to the others. Lung cancer is a slow, albeit effective killer. And we may well have to wait for nature to take its course. Other efforts at eliminating him have been unsatisfactory in the extreme."

Marleton had been wondering whether to suggest an alternative. He had hesitated for many reasons. However, the First Elder had provided a perfect set up for broaching the subject. "Perhaps we should adopt a different strategy. One of blocking, rather than tackling."

"That won't work long term."

"The danger is in the short term. Obviate that and the long term will take care of itself."

The First Elder considered Marleton's words carefully. It would be interesting to see how he proposed to handle the other problem. "And young Krycek. That boy has more than nine lives. And many rocks to hide behind."

"And under."

"Indeed. Do you propose blocking him as well?"

Marleton's hackles raised at the First Elder's suspiciously mild tone. "Yes. But not in the same way. Alex's interests and attention span are very different." Marleton spoke earnestly, self-preservation was a very strong motivator.

"Regardless of how we handle those four, the key to ultimate success may be identifying the overseer that we have postulated. The one who we suspect is trying to bring these individuals together. If we could do that, a straighter path to a resolution acceptable to us may become available."

"We've been speculating about the existence of an overseer for years. The evidence in support of those theories is entirely circumstantial. Has something happened to persuade or even convince you that it's true?"

"Do you, Marelton? Do you believe there is an overseer? Not just some bogeyman invented by William in an effort to keep us in check. As a goad to push us to his point of view."

"Yes." The word was spoken into deafening silence, which was broken by the heater coming on. The sudden sound startled both men.

"So do I," the First Elder intoned reluctantly. After coming to this mutual conclusion, both viewing it as a point of no return, they each took a few minutes to consider the implications. The First Elder shifted to practicalities. "Do you have people you can trust to look into the overseer problem?"

"I believe so. I'll have to give some thought to how I actually pose the question. We don't want a panic. The remaining issue is how to proceed, if we can't make an identification."

The First Elder furrowed his brow in concentration. A solution presented itself. It was a high risk option. The Consortium as a whole had become intensely risk adverse over the years. The First Elder had not. He understood that he couldn't afford to be.

Mulder was pounding on the door of the Lone Gunmen's office/hangout. Fowley stood by his side. Krycek leaned casually against the wall next to the door, invisible to whoever might answer it. Frohicke opened the door slightly, after unbolting three deadbolts and unhooking two chains. "Long time no see Mulder," he muttered. Frohicke was not particularly pleased to see Diana, and was not being subtle about trying to look past the pair to see if the beauteous Agent Scully was present. His sigh of disappointment was oddly poignant.

"Can we come in? We've got some potentially hot material for you." Mulder's impatience was evident.

Frohicke couldn't imagine what could be hotter than Agent Scully, but kept his comment to himself, as he stood aside to admit Mulder, Fowley and .... "Oh my God," he breathed, shifting between glaring at Mulder and watching Krycek warily. "You bring him here? Are you crazy?" When Mulder didn't speak, Frohicke decided that he didn't want to face these three alone. He wanted the odds evened up. Now. "Byers. Langley. Get out here. We've got company."

Mulder glanced at Krycek, who was wearing a decidedly neutral expression. The Special Agent guessed that his former partner was trying not to laugh. Byers and Langley appeared with alacrity, Byers pulling on his suit jacket. "Visitors at such a civilized hour must demand formal attire," mused Mulder. Both Langley and Byers stopped short, focused on Krycek. Accusing looks were then directed at Mulder. Then the Lone Gunmen looked at each other uncertainly.

"Gentlemen, Mulder informs me that you're proficient at data acquisition and analysis. I need to know what you think of this." Alex Krycek had adopted a professional no nonsense tone, trying to engage the frightened and angry hackers in the matter at hand. Langley took the papers, while remaining as far from the man that offered them as possible. "I've got it on disk, too."

Despite himself, Langley was intrigued by the documents. They were like nothing he'd ever seen. The code was made up of symbols that were unfamiliar to him. He wasn't even sure that they could simulate all of them. Surrogates might have to be used. "Code," he began tentatively. "Military?"

The question was put to Frohicke and Byers. The latter responded. "I'd say civilian government, given the arrangement of the information. Military coding is more succinct and rigidly formatted. Private stuff is generally more free form."

"I don't recognize these symbols," Frohicke stated with annoyance. "Where'd you get this?"

Frohicke's question was addressed to Krycek in a tone indicating that he expected an answer. Forthwith. Not knowing how Mulder worked with these guys, Krycek looked to him for guidance. Seeing Krycek's deference, Mulder spoke. "It was uplinked from a ... military?" Krycek nodded. "A military base in North Dakota."

"Context?" asked Byers, moving toward a computer with the disk.

"Don't know," Krycek replied, following him with a somewhat incredulous look on his face. About two minutes ago, these guys were treating him like the devil himself. Now Byers thought nothing of Krycek standing behind him, looking over his shoulder. The other two had crowded in as well, vying for position to see the screen.

Mulder moved in behind Krycek. It took all of Alex's self-discipline not to react. His self-preservation mechanisms were fully engaged. He couldn't turn them off or ignore them in the face of an interesting problem, like the Lone Gunmen appeared to be able to do.

"Looks like you're one of the boys, Alex," Mulder observed.

Before Krycek could thing of a suitable retort, Frohicke interrupted. "Hey, Krycek. Anything else about this we should know?"

"It was tacked on the end of another set of data that decoded as standard text. May have been an afterthought. May have been a fortuitous addition. I don't know."

"Could well have been blind luck," Langley added. "If these symbols at the beginning mean what I think they do."

"This was an incoming message that was intercepted inadvertantly," Byers concluded. "The other stuff's truly uplinked from a remote computer." Langley and Byers grinned at each other and looked at Krycek and Mulder for kudos.

Mulder complied. "Great. Now who's it from and what does it say?"

"Pushy isn't he," Frohicke commented, glancing at Krycek for confirmation. Surprising the former FBI agent.

"Yeah. Sometimes gets physical about it too." Krycek couldn't help chuckling, when Frohicke nodded solemnly in agreement. "You get rough with these guys, Mulder? Shame on you."

Mulder studiously ignored Frohicke and Krycek's conversation, pointedly looking away. In doing so, he noticed Diana Fowley at a laptop computer on the other side of the room. Researching the serial murder angle undoubtedly. Good.

"What's he doing?"

Although Krycek asked the question of Frohicke, Langley answered, "He's running simple checks first. Ascertaining whether the symbols represent letters of any known alphabet. The program can, in most cases, deal with numbers also. If the symbols seem to correspond to letters, we're golden. If not, we've got a more difficult task."

"No matches," Byers informed all present. "Some near misses, but no luck."

"What now? Symbols for letters and proper names?"

All three Lone Gunmen looked at Krycek. "He's done this before," they informed Mulder in unison.

Scully left a sleeping Marita Covarrubias, satisfied that with rest, nutritious food and a course of antibiotics, she'd be fine. Seeing Skinner asleep on his couch, Scully opted to leave a note to that effect. She didn't have the heart to disturb him. He'd had a rough few weeks.

Tiredly, Scully walked toward her car, glancing at her watch. 2:30 am. As she reached her vehicle, she found herself wondering whether Alex or Spender had done any analysis of the uplink information. It wasn't hard to convince herself that it wasn't too late to call and ask or to decide which of the men to risk waking. Krycek had given her his cellular phone number when he presented her with a new cell phone over an extravagant room service meal at the Plaza. That was before she had given him the leather jacket he'd been wearing lately. Before they had watched that ridiculous movie about giant bugs attacking the earth. Before ... Dana derailed that train of thought, picked up the phone and called the preprogrammed number.

"Yeah."

"Alex. It's me."

"Hi. How's Marita?"

"She'll be as good as new, or nearly so, if she takes care of herself. Any progress on the uplink?"

"The ... um ... Lone Gunmen are working on it as we speak. They seem to know what they're doing."

Scully was surprised. She didn't think Alex would give Mulder his copy of the uplink information. She also wouldn't have anticipated that Mulder would take Krycek to see the three hackers. However, she tabled reassessment of her suppositions when she heard Frohicke's unmistakable voice in the background. "Who's that?"

"Don't tell him, Alex," she warned, at the same time as she heard Krycek's response.

"Scully."

"At least he didn't say, Dana," Scully thought, as she listened to sounds of a struggle.

Frohicke's reaction was instantaneous ... and futile. Krycek dodged the wild punch easily and blocked the second. "What the hell's wrong with you?" he asked as he pinned the smaller man. Krycek sensed that things could get out of hand. Mulder was approaching. Fast.

"What are you doing, Krycek?" Mulder used his best menacing tone.

"Nothing!" Krycek asserted, releasing Frohicke with a slight push to put some distance between them.

"Alex," Scully shouted into the cellular phone. Hoping that he could hear her.

"What?"

Scully recognized the tone. Annoyed. Irritated. Getting around to angry. She wanted to forestall that. For Frohicke's sake. "Put Frohicke on."

"She wants to talk to you," Krycek informed Frohicke, offering him the telephone.

With a glare at Krycek, the hacker took the phone. Frohicke took a deep breath and smoothed his thinning hair with his free hand, before speaking into it. "Agent Scully, why've you deprived us of the pleasure of your company? What've we done? Surely, you don't blame us for your kidnapping, merely because it occurred when you were en route to our premises. Say it isn't so." Scully couldn't say it wasn't so, she was too busy laughing. "If you grace us with your presence, we could ... perhaps ... forgive your communication through a ... suspect channel.

"It isn't so, Frohicke. And leave Alex alone. I'll see you both in a few."

"Alex?" Frohicke repeated softly as he broke the connection. Fundamentally troubled, he handed the cell phone back to Krycek without a word.

Special Agent Jeffrey Spender had fallen asleep. He had been working on the uplink information and decided to rest his eyes for just a moment. It had turned into a long drawn out moment. The moment ended with the sound of breaking glass. Jeffrey woke with a start. His momentary disorientation dissipated, as he felt the chill late autumn breeze blowing through his apartment. Moving to shut the window, he stopped short as he stepped on something that crunched underfoot. Glass. The window was broken. Someone had thrown a rock though it.

A brief inspection of his living room floor revealed the rock. It had landed next to the bookcase at the far side of the room. Someone had made a helluva throw. Jeffrey approached the rock and picked it up. there was a note attached to it with a rubber band. Jeff detached the note, noticing that the thin layer of powdery substance underneath. Much of the powder had rubbed off onto his hand by the time he set the rock down to examine the message. The handwritten text in blue ink read:

INCORRECT CHOICES ARE DAMNING.

Spender frowned, and turned the note over. There was nothing on the back. "What's this all about?" he asked aloud as he read the message again. As he did, the letters seemed to move very far away from his eyes. He felt light headed. Dizzy. His fingers suddenly refused to obey the commands his brain was attempting to give them. The note fell to the floor seconds before Jeffrey Spender followed.

Moments later, the front door of his apartment opened. A man in a black suit entered. He approached Spender, checking for a pulse. He then picked up the rock and note and put them in a plastic bag. The surgical gloves he had been wearing followed. A new set of surgical gloves later, he sat down at Spender's computer, inserted a disk and copied the open files. After shutting down the computer and turning off the interior lights, he exited the apartment.

"None of the facts associated with these alleged serial murders check out. Anywhere. I've been in every database I can think of." Diana Fowley's voice was frustrated, as she told the five men of her progress. "What's the point of providing information if you can't learn anything from it?"

"I'm not having any luck here either," Byers commented. "Today hasn't gotten off to a good start."

Fox Mulder and Alex Krycek were both leaning over a single copy of the serial murder portion of the uplink information when Dana Scully arrived. Frohicke, who had been determined to be jealous that the object of his unrequited love had telephoned the enemy, was ecstatic. He forgave her as soon as he saw her, convinced that he had made her suffer enough by looking at her with disapproval for a millisecond. He then offered her a panoply of beverages and light snacks. Fowley was irritated by the copious attention paid to Scully by Frohicke and by the fact that refreshments had awaited her arrival. She noted the latter point was not lost on the men. Scully extricated herself from Frohicke's clutches and approached Mulder and his former partner. Neither of them appeared to notice.

"Let's think about this. Why bother to uplink an account of a series of murders?" Krycek was thinking out loud. "All you'd have to provide is the killer's name. Everything else could be obtained easily."

"If the murders actually happened, yes. But they didn't. Diana's research turned up nothing." Fox Mulder absently put his hand on Krycek's shoulder, as he bent over to look at the pages displayed in front of them again. If Krycek noticed, he gave no indication.

"That's the point, Mulder. The reason they have to be described ..."

"Is that they didn't happen. I know. But what I can't figure out is the connection. The facts have no pattern. They're all distinct. Those acts aren't the work of a single person."

Krycek nodded. "So we're not looking for a serial killer. Fine." The former FBI agent shook his head, as if to clear it. And rubbed his eyes. "How many murders again?"

"Lucky thirteen."

"Nothing rings a bell for you, Mulder? No similarities to your doctoral thesis? No passing resemblance to any profiles you've ever done? Anything you've ever seen? Nothing?"

Mulder slowly shook his head "no," but appeared to be reviewing his mental file folders again just in case. "What if we take the segments separately Alex? Each of the thirteen murders tied to something different. What if this is like ... like ...?"

"An index?" the younger man offered.

"Exactly. Look at murder number one. Takes place in New Jersey. The victim is a white female age 20. She was a student at NYU, majoring in economics. She died on summer break."

"Death by drowning. Kind of unusual." Both men paused for a moment, thinking. Tired and frustrated, Mulder crushed his can of soda. Krycek was absently drumming his fingers on the table, frowning in concentration. On to something. Scully recognized that look, and how it changed when he thought he had it. "Mulder," he began softly, but not quite keeping the excitement out of his voice. "What do we know? You two are supposed to investigate Xfiles. You need me to provide information and experience. I need you to make connections. These are your Xfiles, Mulder. The ones you need to look at again. Death by drowning in New Jersey. Which one is that."

"Flukeman," Scully interjected without hesitation. "Not quite drowning, but ..."

Everyone in the room turned to her with varying expressions of disbelief. Except Krycek and Mulder. Krycek was curious. Mulder seemed proud when he said, "You're absolutely right Scully. Let's look at the others."