*XXVII*

4:30 P.M., George Washington University, Washington, D.C.
Tina glanced out the window at book-weary coeds huddled in dusk at the student union's 
bus stop. Slight, steady pressure on the gas and there was that homeless guy cocooned on 
the air vent by Jackie Onassis Hall. The emergency lights of the stalled VW bus with the 
Hole and Primus stickers still blinked, made her fingertips drum the wheel.

"Okay," Hill sighed. "I'm going to drive another loop and if Dana isn't on the curb I'm 
leaving her....No. Strike that. I'm pulling over and dragging her ass out and driving to St. 
E's. This is all nuts. It's just so fucking fucked up, it's--it'--oh, shit. Now I'm talking to 
myself."

She rolled the Escort through the intersection of 22nd and K and hung a left onto J street. 
Honked when a cab in her lane suddenly chose to double park. What a day. Asshole deep 
in paperwork on sex toy and antique shops, hours on the road, not one decent meal, a few 
crappy hours of sleep. Tina smacked the steering wheel, felt her silver bracelets jump, 
heard them jingle as she wrenched the wheel and maneuvered around the cab.

On-coming headlights hurt Hill's eyes as she turned onto 20th Street and rolled past 
Foggy Bottom Metro. Took a right onto L Street to review the facades of GW Hospital 
and dorms, then to reach the corner where she had begun. "Dana. Yes!" There she was, 
outside at last--hair wild in the wind, coat blown back flat against her thin body, hanging 
onto her briefcase like a lifeline. Hill watched her dash into the street and open the 
passengerside door.

"You just about lost your ride," she told her. "Even hourly wagers don't take this kind of 
crap."

"Sorry." Dana slid inside, slammed the door. "Only Byers was there and I had to explain 
everything to him, make sure he knew what kind of connections we're trying to make."

"Who's Byers?"

Her seatbelt clicked. "He's an... associate of Frohike's."

Tina stared at her, then blinked a few times. "And just what connections ARE we trying 
to make, Agent Scully?"

"Shut up and drive. We're not starting this again and you're blocking traffic."

"Okay-dokey." Tina stepped on the gas, heard Dana thump against the seatback. There 
was an engine-noise cone of silence as Hill looped the car around Washington Circle, 
then headed toward the Whitehurst Freeway. "So," she finally spoke as the Escort 
climbed the ramp onto the elevated roadway. "I guess if our Mystery Date bombs we 
make phone calls to 
businessmen? 'Excuse me for calling so late, sir. We understand you own the Posh Old 
Junk Antique Mall in Caucasian, Virginia. Would you happen to have an FBI agent in the 
trunk of your car?'"

"What did the caller sound like?" Dana asked.

"I told you three times: he sounded like an average white male. Maybe fortyish. Maybe a 
bit of a great white north accent--like Minnesota or Wisconsin."

"I don't recognize that description."

"Of course you don't. If you did he wouldn't be a Mystery Date."

The freeway ended in a hairpin turn that spilled the car onto Key Bridge. Rosslyn's office 
towers loomed across the Potomac River. Dana fidgeted, shifted, spoke, "Oh god, Tina," 
I hope...." she trailed off.

Hill's heart went tight. She reached over and grabbed Dana's hand. "I hope, too, Bunny." 
Smiled when Dana squeezed her fingers and released. Maybe it was a good time to try 
again. "Don't you think one of us should check out escapees and parolees--?

The small woman stiffened. "It's not that simple. I told you that. It's not Props or--"

"Look," Tina interjected, "from what I know of Mulder's early career, he put a lot of 
vicious sonsofbitches behind bars and--"

"Well, if you knew a damn thing about profiling," Dana cut her off in turn, "then you'd 
know that these guys don't come back to stalk the law enforcement agents who stopped 
them. They return to their old killing patterns. They can't help it--it's what they HAVE to 
do. That's not what's happening here."

"Oh yeah?" Hill scoffed. "Well, what about that fuckwad who killed Reggie and tried to 
shoot your ass off, too, just to get back at Mulder?"

"That was--Barnette was abnormal." Dana said quietly.

"And other serial killers aren't? Maybe this is another exception to the rule."

"No."

Hill blew out a breath as she slowed the car in the face of brake lights. She turned toward 
her friend. "Okay, look--you really think he went with these SOBs because they might 
have information on his sister?"

Dana crossed her arms on her chest and stared out the windshield. "I'm sure of it. That 
digital tape of Samantha--"

"That even a jack-stupid Lakota knows can be faked."

"Stop it, Tina.... But you're right. And Mulder's certainly smart enough to have known it, 
too. They must have given him something else. Something that cinched it in his 
mind....Something we haven't found."

"Maybe we should be looking for that something," Hill suggested as the gridlock broke 
and she shifted her foot from the brake to the gas.

There was quiet again as Dana pondered. Heard nothing but road-rumble and the swish of 
passing cars until they neared the Pentagon. "Mulder has a safe deposit box. I've got a 
key. I wonder...." 

Hill glanced at her, then back to the highway. "You wanna head over there now?"

She saw Dana shake her head from the corner of her eye. "No. We won't make it before 
they close. The bank is out in Springfield. I'll see if I can't get someone to meet us over 
there late tonight, if nothing better comes up."

"Let's keep our fingers crossed."

Tina piloted the Escort through Crystal City's concrete monoliths and they hit the home 
stretch to Alexandria, moving at fifty-five along Route 1 as it ran parallel with an 
abandoned rail line on the left. Strips of autobody shops and small, service-oriented 
businesses lined the right. Just as they reached the overpass into Old Town, curiosity 
killed Tina Hill. "Why do you have a key to Mulder's safe deposit box?"

A short silence, then Dana shifted in her seat. "I'm his next-of-kin."

"Oh." Then Hill's forehead wrinkled. Naw. They couldn't be--could they? "You two 
secretly married, Dana?"

"Tina, honestly."

"Hey, I'm asking a sincere question here!" She shot Dana a glare.

"Look, I've been his legal next-of-kin for a couple years." The explanation was tense, 
tired. "Mulder and his father were estranged and his mother is wiggy. The rest of his 
family-- well, I know he had an aunt he was close to, but she's dead and there doesn't 
seem to be anyone else who gives a damn about him. So, it's me. I'm what he's got--just 
his partner and Frohike and a few others."

"Stray dog syndrome, huh? Do you let him hump your leg?"

She felt Dana's eyes bore into her profile. "Does Andy Vanderbilt hump yours?"

"Uh-huh." Hill nodded, trying to smile. "But just my leg. So, do you and Mulder--"

"It's none of your business."

"I know that, but I want to know." Hill put on the blinker and passed an old man in a 
brown Buick. "C'mon, Mutt. We're supposed to be bonding--getting all intimate and 
buddy-buddy again. You can't not tell me. It's-- it's just not politic."

"Whatever, Tina."

"Okay," Hill shrugged, accelerating the Escort. "You don't have to tell me, or tell me 
whenever."

"All right!" Dana's voice hiked. "You know, I'm getting pretty sick of bonding-- if that's 
what we're doing. Seems more like we're ripping each other's throats out."

"Nah. We're just slicing our palms and mingling blood. Look, it's bullshit to think this 
could happen any other way. We've got a lot of emotional baggage and we've changed a 
lot. But we'll come to a new smooth place, Bunny."

"Yeah, I guess."

"So...?" Hill glanced toward Dana, eyebrows raised. "Do ya?"

"Well, what do you think?" A little sparkle in the eyes, maybe even a leer, if Tina was 
seeing correctly in the dim light. 

"I think you're both virgins." She grinned and Dana harumphed. "Kidding.... But what do 
I think, Mutt? Let me tell you what this crime scene says to me: I think you've both seen 
each other naked and you like what you see. I think that you go down on each other when 
you're feeling safe. But I don't think you've ever popped the metaphoric cherry 'cause 
both of you are too damn scared of what sex symbolizes, or that it will get you split up-- 
which it won't, by the way. If you played with the rest of us you'd know Freeh's pulled a 
Clinton-- no ask, no tell." Hill tossed Dana another glance as she swung the car left onto 
North Wythe.

Her companion looked out the window, hands clasped in her lap. "You're a better profiler 
than I thought."

"Hey, I've read Patterson's best seller, too."

It was just a few blocks until the right turn onto Pendleton. Hill eased the car to a stop in 
front of the townhouse, close against a plowed-up snowbank. Dana squeezed out, hefted 
up her briefcase and several reams of Xeroxes and headed up the unshoveled drive. 
Grunting, Hill lifted the second pile of copies off the back seat and followed-- her big feet 
trying to fit inside Scully's Cinderella-sized footprints, obliterating them instead. She 
shrugged her coat off in the vestibule as a tinny voice echoed from the kitchen.

"Dana, it's Mom. I picked up Queequeg but I couldn't find his leash so I went ahead and 
bought a new one--the kind that stretches out and retracts. I think he likes it. Anyway, 
call me, honey, when you find Fox. I--I can come sit with him, like I did last time. 
Well...bye-bye, sweetheart."

Tina heard the click of the rewind then Scully's footsteps moving into the dining room. 
She walked quietly into the kitchen to catch a glimpse of Dana looking down at the 
oriental carpet. "Tell me when it's time to go, Jeff. But right now, I need to be by myself."

"I'm just getting my Ben and Jerry's," Hill kept her voice soft. "You take your I-time."

"What's I-time?"

"You know, Myers-Briggs. You're an introvert. You recharge alone."

"Hmmmm."

Tina watched Dana wander off toward the back of the house with her suitcase. Heard the 
washer start while she made a cup of instant coffee. The dryer cranked up as she pulled 
her ice cream from the freezer. Well, Dana'd always been the only one on the fitness 
course with clean sweats.

Hill walked back to the living room to drop onto the pinstriped couch. She shoveled in 
Rainforest Crunch and surveyed the Pike's Peak of paper. wondering how to begin to 
make sense of the documents-- of any of this fucked up mess. Nothing made sense. Not a 
damned thing. She wasn't a lawyer. The Bureau paid lawyers and legal investigators to 
look through crap like this and translate it into the vulgate.

Okay. She scooped at the contents of the perspiring carton. She'd start simple. She'd make 
piles.

Half an hour later, Tina sat on the floor surrounded by stacks. Rubbed her eyes and 
looked at her watch and decided that Dana could hide for a few more minutes. It was 
better than sitting in the damned car watching Dana watch the clock. She lifted another 
sheet of paper, skimmed through its contents, and placed it on the proper pile. Ophelia 
here. DT there. At least after the sorting was done then the cop stuff could start. Names, 
leads, interviews. That was familiar; that had a comfortable, grinding forward 
momentum.

Hill took another peep at her watch. Six-twenty-five. "Dana!" she called. "It's time to go!"

In just a moment, the redhead was standing under the arch between the living room and 
dining room, tugging on her coat. "Okay. Let's get moving. I'm ready. Let's meet this 
guy." She strode across the room, toward the vestibule and front door. "C'mon, Jeff. Get 
off your ass and let's go."

Get off her ass? Get off her ASS? Hill rose and slipped long arms into her black coat. 
"Hey, am I allowed to talk to you yet?"

"Yeah. But don't start on me." Her friend moved out into the December night.

Hill followed, passing her to thud down the steps into the snow while Dana locked the 
front door. "I wouldn't dream of starting on you." 

"Sure," the redhead muttered. "Right."

"Mutt, I would not dream of starting a damned thing." Hill's eyes skimmed along the row 
of townhouses. The cheerful yuppie neighbors were home and Christmas lights glowed--
little twinkley points of goodwill toward men that coated the front porch posts, edged the 
rooflines and seemed like they belonged in someone else's universe, not the Twilight 
Zone that Dana inhabited.

Hill heard car keys jangle in Dana's hand as the small woman kicked through the calf-
deep snow to where the Escort sat parked on Pendleton. "Tina, if you start on me, I swear 
I'll--"

"Shoot me?" Hill tramped along to the car. "Hey, I heard this rumor. Maybe you can tell 
me the real poop. Andy says you shot Mulder. Is that true?"

Dana glared over the roof of the car. "You better believe I shot him, Tina. Now get in."

The auto-unlock tripped and Hill gripped the cold door latch. Popped it. Squeezed herself 
between the snow bank and the body of the car to slide inside. The Escort jiggled as Dana 
climbed in and slammed her door. "So? Why did you plug him?" Hill prompted. "Mulder 
living up to his rep and you just couldn't take it anymore?"

A long-suffering sigh from Dana and a growl from the engine as it kicked over. "I shot 
him, Tina, because he was being an asshole. Of course, he was drugged with an exotic 
dopamine at the time. You don't have that excuse."

"So, you gonna shoot me and shove me out of the car?"

Dana sighed and slid the driver's seat forward until it bumped the end of its track. "I 
probably won't shoot you unless you're going to fuck up and kill someone you shouldn't. 
That's why I shot Mulder. Can we talk about something else now?"

"With a teaser like that? Are you out of your mind?" Tina clipped her safetybelt and 
snuggled in her heavy coat against the cold seatback as Dana eased the car away from the 
curb, took the Escort down the slushy street. "Why was Mulder going to shoot this perp?"

"He wasn't exactly a perp. He'd been Mulder's temporary partner and he killed Mulder's 
father."

"You're kidding? I heard Mulder's dad died in some botched robbery or something."

"Jeff, if I tell you will you shut up and let it drop?" Dana rolled the car to a red-light stop 
and turned toward her.

A quick Cheshire Cat grin in Dana's direction. "Sure. Just making conversation, Bunny."

Dana's eyes slid shut. Reopened. "Okay," Dana sighed again. "Short form. The forces of 
evil drugged up the water in Mulder's building so he'd act crazy and discredit himself."

Hill snorted. Saw her friend's mouth go tight. "It's true. He decked Skinner and was 
suspended and was really feeling paranoid-- ahhh!-- say it and you're out on the 
pavement."

"With or without the bullet?" Tina sniggered.

"Don't push your luck," Dana warned. "So-- anyway-- Krycek shows up to do who knows 
what--"

"Krycek? That's the former partner?"

"Alex Krycek. Right. Krycek shows up and Mulder knows he killed his dad and he goes 
berserk. I thought he was going to vent the little weasel."

"Well, I'm siding with Mulder on this one. I'd have plugged him good if he'd killed my 
dad."

"Yeah, yeah, Mankiller. And cut out his beating heart and eaten it, too, right? But Mulder 
would have gone down for his father's death and Krycek's if he'd done that. So I shot him 
in the shoulder to make him drop his weapon. I just didn't have a choice. Come on, 
damnit!" Dana laid on the horn at the traffic light, still stubbornly red.

"It can't hear you, bunny.... So, what happened then?"

Her friend huffed through her nose. "Well, I drag him to New Mexico and he gets himself 
dry-roasted in the desert; we all think he's dead; Frohike shows up at my place drunk, 
then makes the moves--"

"Holy hell! Did you shoot him, too?"

"No. I did not." Pupils glimmered at the sides of Dana's eyes. "You want to hear more?" 
Hill affected a clownish frown. Nodded. "Okay, so shut up.... Next Mulder pops up alive 
in the middle of a Ruby Ridge between Skinner and me. Before we blow each other's 
heads off, we figure out that we're all friends. Somehow we find the goods to clear 
Mulder's name, then we're back in business. The end." The light finally turned green and 
Hill felt her weight press back as Dana floored the Escort.

"You're really not shitting me, are you?"

"No. I'm not."

"Um-- who are the 'forces of evil'?" 

"If I even knew, Tina, I wouldn't tell you."

"Whatever," Hill whispered, rolling her head away to gaze out the window at holiday 
bulbs and snowmen glowing in the night. They were leaving Alexandria's outskirts, and 
there was a short pass through the dregs of a swamp that had once been as large as the 
city. Sped by National Airport against the flow of rush hour traffic. "This is all too 
crazy," Tina finally spoke. "I don't know how you expect me to believe it."

"Right now I really don't care."

"Yes, you do. You want me to believe. And I can't believe you even want me to believe 
it! Okay, Mulder's a nut case. Everyone agrees on that. But Dana Scully isn't--.at least not 
the Dana I knew."

The tall office and apartment buildings of Rosslyn loomed again on their left as the road 
curved, hugging the form of the river. "Look," her companion sighed, "I know it sounds 
like a James Bond movie--"

"No." Hill shook her head. "It's more ridiculous than that. I keep thinking I should 
experiment-- like ask about the JFK assassination to measure how whacked out you've 
become."

She watched Dana scowl. "Lee Harvey Oswald shot Kennedy. Screw you."

"Very funny. But do you really believe that?"

"You know," Dana said softly, "I don't think I want to tell you what I believe. I think I 
just want you shut up and back me. That's what I need: back-up, not mouth."

"Fine," Hill crossed her arms. "I always knew you loved me for my body, not my brains."

It wasn't far now. Man-made lights vanished as the car sped down the GW parkway, 
highbeams reflecting the white of snow and the tangle of denuded tree limbs. Salt-melted 
slush puddled along the sides of the road and lay in pools in the parking lot of the scenic 
overlook. The thick lakes parted in waves for the tires of the Escort as Dana pulled the 
car in. There were no other cars in the small lot, no overhead glow. Just satiny, natural 
darkness. "Shit. Do we have to sit here and play this waiting game again?" Dana 
wondered.

"C'mon. Get your flashlight." Hill popped the passengerside door and the dome bulb 
suddenly illuminated the redhead. Tina watched her squint, pulled the cool metal tube of 
her flashlight from her pocket. "He said he wanted to star gaze. Maybe he's down the 
footpath a little."

Dana dug around under her seat as Hill stood up, slammed her door, switched on the 
sharp shaft of bluish light, and aimed it at the curtain of skeletal trees. Dana's beam cut on 
and danced with her own. The impact of their soles against asphalt ended abruptly at the 
curb, turned to soft crunching as they made their way through snow. 

Hill broke through the treeline with Dana at her side. The sweep of the Potomac beneath 
the shore of the District stunned her. Tina had never stopped here before. Never known 
just how far down the river really was-- it must be eight hundred feet to the ebony water. 
Lights from houses on the opposite bank twinkled on liquid black. Lights from above, 
too. Hill's eyes drifted heavenward as she heard Dana mumble, "My God, it's full of 
stars."

Tina chuckled, looked away, pointing her light along the path by the edge of the drop-off. 
The metal safety rail glinted as the beam struck it. "I didn't know you were a sci-fi fan, 
Mutt."

"I wasn't-- I'm still not really a big fan, but with Mulder it's been learn or die."

"That which does not kill us makes us stronger?" The soft, unexpected voice so close to 
Hill made her jump, reach into her open coat for the gun in her shoulder holster. Dana 
had jumped, too, lost her footing, and the beam of her flashlight skittered as she landed in 
the snow. Hill clicked off the safety and aimed dead-drop at the shadow, the gun held 
one-handed as she turned the ray of light on the unknown entity.

Auburn hair sparked. "What's the problem?" The man put his hand up to shield his eyes, 
emitting puffs of vapor as he spoke. "Haven't you seen 'Conan the Barbarian'?"

"Sure," her voice quavered a little. "Just don't quote the bit about the lamentations of the 
women and we'll get along just fine.... Mr. Right, I presume?"

"I'll be the Late Mr. Right if you pull that trigger. Just ease off." The man's wide mouth 
turned up a bit. He leaned forward slowly, the color and detail of him lost as he moved 
out of the light to extend a hand to Dana. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."

Hill smirked as Dana struggled to her feet on her own, ignoring the outstretched palm, 
and shook off her coat. "Who are you?" she demanded.

He squinted as Hill re-angled the light to shine in his face. His hair was fire-brown, his 
padded coat a brilliant peacock blue, but his face was cool and wan. There were dark 
circles under his eyes. A pinch around his cheeks. "Well, I suppose I could tell you. I 
suppose it doesn't make any difference if I do."

"Doesn't make a difference to whom?" Dana asked.

He shielded his eyes again. "To me, mostly. I mean, if they find out, then they find 
out....Excuse me, Agent Hill, but can you get that light off my face?" Tina lowered the 
beam to focus on his chest, marking his heavy jacket with a bulls-eye of white.

"Okay." Hill nodded. "So...?"

"I'm Carl Handford. I'm the assistant special agent in charge of the Forensic Accounting 
Unit."

Hill felt her eyes widen. "Now why would we stumble across an ASAC out here at--"

"Hush, Tina." Scully suddenly stepped in closer, cutting across the beam of Hill's 
Maglight, raising one hand to silence her while the other leveled her own flashlight on 
Handford. "We don't have time for games. Sir, if you are who you say you are, you know 
we don't have time. What have you got for us?"

Hill watched Handford slip his hands into his pockets. His head dipped, sliding bangs 
down his forehead. "Don't call me 'sir'. I'm not carrying my badge."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm here because Fox Mulder and I are kindred spirits."

Hill saw Dana draw up, stiffen.

"How so?" Tina inquired quickly, stepping up to nudge her friend to the right, to form the 
third side of a triangle with Handford at its zenith-- his back against the precipice and the 
starry sky.

"Agents, turn off the flashlights, please. That way we won't be such clear targets."

Her scalp prickled, hair lifted. Hill turned, aiming her weapon and light in a sweep of the 
night void around her. The beam bounced from tree trunk to scrubby evergreen. Nothing. 
"A target for who? What are you pulling here?"

Handford's voice was calm in the dark behind her. "I'm not setting you up. I don't think I 
was followed, but I'm not sure you weren't."

"Why should we be followed?" she questioned, eyes still straining, looking for 
movement, for the reflection of eyes.

"Because they know you're trying to get Fox Mulder back," he said softly, "but they don't 
know I'm talking to you, unless they followed Dr. Preftakes the other night."

"Preftakes? He sent you?" Dana asked.

Hill pried her eyes and the light away from nothing and put them back on Carl Handford. 
The adrenaline was quick in her veins-- adrenaline and sugar. Her crystallized breath 
hung in air. "Come on. You brought us out here to talk, so do it."

"He asked me to talk to you, yes. But the decision was mine," Handford brushed back his 
bangs and looked up at the tiptops of the trees. "Now turn off the goddamned flashlights."

Dana hit the off button. Tina sighed and took her cue. The darkness settled in, wrapping 
around them like a deep shroud. Hill heard her friend's voice waiver just perceptibly. "All 
right, ASAC Handford. Go on." Tina couldn't see his face now, but the man's silhouette 
shifted back and forth in front of the field of stars. "This is not the time to get cold feet, 
sir," Dana warned.

"I know, I know." he made an outrush of breath, then said, "Your partner is in a real mess 
right now and I don't know if you're too late to help him or not. He's been gone for four 
days, right? It's got to be over by now--"

Hill felt her stomach drop. Dana moved uneasily beside her, interrupting, "What do you 
mean? Mulder's dead?"

"No, he's probably alive."

She gulped at the frigid air as she heard Dana prod, terse, "Go on!"

Handford sighed again. "He's already broken. Hell, he was probably already broken when 
Preftakes came to me. They've got to be teaching him the rules now--"

"What rules?"

"Well, rules like how to please, how to keep from having the shit kicked out of him 
anymore."

Pleading-- nearly-- Dana prodded, "Give me details, sir. You're here to talk to us. Don't 
yank us around."

"I can only tell you what happened to me, Agent Scully," Handford replied.

"All right-- do it."

"Okay. Okay." He lifted his hands, palms open. "I'm a paperhound and I followed a trail. 
I found things that...well...." Hill heard him swallow. "Things that shouldn't exist. Mulder 
must have found something a lot like I did. Have you two ever heard of 'purity control'?"

"No," Hill snapped as Dana gasped, "Yes!"

Handford laughed quietly. "I'm glad one of you is still in the dark."

Tina bumped against Dana's small form, leaned in to ask in her friend's ear, "What the 
hell is he talking about? What haven't you been telling me now?"

Dana shook her head. Soft ends of hair brushed Tina's cheek. "Not now." Louder: "Go 
on, ASAC Handford."

"Dana--"

"Leave it!" Dana barked. "We'll discuss it later. Now go on, sir!"

Handford's shape shuffled in the dim. "Like I said, Agent Scully, I went too far. I thought 
I was doing what was right. Whatever that really means....I forwarded some of what I was 
finding to someone I knew in the White House. Then I got a package at the office--" 
There were small thuds as the toe of his boot churned up snow. "It was a packet of photos 
of my kid on the school playground and my wife coming out of the Safeway. Shots taken 
with a long-range lens. No message, just their faces circled."

The man paused and Hill heard him take a deep, slow breath. "A few days after that I got 
an e-mail. An animation file showing pictures of my house going up in flames and of my 
wife with a bullet exploding her head. Pretty clever stuff, really. She was morphed in this 
really wild way with Kennedy in the Zapruder film."

"I just love synchroncity," Hill muttered.

Handford paused. She thought for sure he'd raised an eyebrow. Then Handford went on, 
calmly, "Things started escalating. I think next I got a call at work telling me it might be 
prudent to arrange for some personal time off. Then Narin-- my wife-- a day or so later 
she called me from the emergency room. My son had been clipped by a car when he was 
riding his bike. Broke his leg. And then," another pause to breathe deep again. "I guess 
you can imagine I was getting kind of spooked?"

"I'm sure, sir. Go on." Dana's voice was as millpond flat.

"So I got another call. This guy told me that I had made some serious errors and that I 
required correction-- that I should send an e-mail to such-and-such account so the 
arrangements could be made--"

"Correction?" Hill interjected. "What does that mean?"

"I'll get to it, Agent Hill. Just hang on."

Beside her, Dana shifted. "What happened? Did you send the e-mail?"

"No. I told the guy to take a flying fuck, then hung up. Wouldn't you? The next day, the 
guy me called back. This time he told me that I must accept correction or my wife and 
child would be removed. I asked him what the hell that meant and he said they'd be 
unharmed if I cooperated-- that if I didn't accept correction my family would be taken as 
hostages for my good behavior. I--I lost it. I threatened to call in the cops, the feds, 
whoever. That evening, my little boy Joshua-- he was eight then-- he was playing in our 
yard with our dog, hugging the dog-- and someone shot it--s hot the dog right in his arms 
and killed it. Josh was covered in blood. I thought--at first, I thought--I mean, maybe they 
weren't trying for the dog...."

Hill's mouth felt dry. The ASAC's shadow shoulders hunched. Silent pause. "So, when 
the fucker called me back again, giving in to correction seemed like the best thing to do. I 
loved my family. I couldn't let them be hurt. They were everything to me. So I met them 
and they took me away."

"Where?" Dana demanded. "To where?"

"I didn't know, Agent Scully. To a house. To a house with a dungeon in its cellar."

"You mean, like in 'Dungeons and Dragons'?" Hill blurted, feeling cold, feeling sick 
because the question had been flung at her own horror, to shield.

"No, no, Agent Hill." Handford chuckled again. "Think Torquemada instead."

"They tortured you?" Dana's stepped up toward Handford. "That's what correction is--
torture?"

"In part, yes. They messed me up pretty bad. Beat me, raped me quite a few times. Tried 
out some other interesting shit. They were creative guys-- I'll give 'em that. I'd never felt 
anything like I felt in that room. It knocked all my pins out, you know?" Hill felt her 
mouth drop open, felt her color leach away. "And the whole time they were torturing me 
and screwing me, and in between, they were....How can I possibly make you 
understand?"

"Try," Dana whispered.

He drew in a deep breath and exhaled gently. Hill saw him lift his face to the sky. "I was 
changed. My mind...me. I was-- I don't know the right word-- altered. Modified into what 
they wanted me to be." A tiny hint of disgust. "They made me what their employers 
wanted."

"What did they want?"

"A slave," he answered Dana, quiet. "Someone who works close to sensitive information 
and knows better than to tell a presidential aide who turned up dead in a park just a few 
miles from here. You know who I mean. I don't need to say the name, do I?"

Beside her, Dana swayed. "N-no."

Tina reached for her friend as her mind spun three-sixty. "What? What body in the park? 
What...? Oh holy shit." It clicked and Hill looked back to Handford. "You're saying 
YOU'RE the reason President Bubba's buddy ate his gun? You told him about Purity 
Control? What the fuck is-- what the fuck...?"

Handford and Dana said nothing. "Is that what they're doing to my partner, sir?" Dana 
shrugged off Hill's arm. "They're torturing him and changing him?"

Handford's head bobbed up and down. "Odds are he's going through the same thing I 
did."

"Where is he? I've got to get him out of there. Please tell me where he is."

"I don't know for sure, Agent Scully. I know where the place is in vague terms, but I don't 
know the exact house and I don't know if it's the right house."

"You don't know where they took you?" Hill challenged. "You mean these bastards 
fucked you silly and beat you shitless and you never tried to hunt them down? What did 
they do, cut your balls off?"

"Tina!" Dana snapped.

But Handford was laughing again-- gentle, bemused. "Agent Hill, 'never give in' is a 
crock of shit when you're hopelessly out-numbered."

"Listen, if it was me--"

"If it was you, you'd snap just like I did. It wasn't a choice. It isn't a choice. It just 
happens and you can't stop it."

"I--"

"Be quiet, Tina." Dana's voice cut through misplaced outrage and left Hill huffing. "Sir, 
what do you mean, 'it may not be the right house'?"

The ASAC sighed. "He may be with other breakers. He might not be with the same men 
who had me."

"Does this go on so often that these breakers have their own Union?"

"I don't know just how often it happens, Agent Scully. But I do know there is more than 
one place where people like me are taken."

"So just tell us where they took you," Hill told him, jaw tight. "We'll find the fuckers."

"But what then?" Handford seemed to smile. "You may get Agent Mulder back for a few 
days, but I guarantee he'll be a car wreck statistic in a week. You might be, too-- both of 
you. The people behind this don't take interference lightly. But then, you lost your sister 
recently, so you already know that. Right, Agent Scully?"

A dark pause, then Dana sounded tired. "I'm willing to take the risk. Just tell me where 
you think they held you."

"Near White's Ferry." Hill's ire rose when Handford shook his head. "But I can't tell you 
more than that. I mean, I won't. I won't let you go there unless you're prepared to win. 
Otherwise, I'm going to be responsible for more deaths. And you're not going to win with 
a sig sauer and a boot heel through the front door."

"How about the boot heels of a swat team?" Hill was angry, indignant.

"No. You don't get it, do you?" Handford's voice inflected, yet stayed far from 
emotionality. "You need to be smarter than that. That kind of shit will only get you killed. 
The people who have Agent Mulder don't play by any rules but their own. You want to 
live? You want your families and friends to live? You want to get that man out--then 
trade him out. It's the only way. Get a nuclear card and trade him out. Otherwise, just 
hang tight and they'll give him back when he's learned his lessons."

"I can't leave him there-- I can't just let him suffer!" Dana protested.

"Agent Scully," the voice was very, very kind. "They've probably already stopped hurting 
him. As soon as he breaks, they'll stop."

"How long did it take until they stopped hurting you?"

Hill saw Handford's shadow shrug. "About three days. I'm told I was one of the tough 
nuts to crack. Pardon the pun."

"So now they're messing with his mind?" Hill asked.

"Only if Mulder has broken," Dana replied.

"Look, I know it's cold comfort," Handford assuaged, "but I'm sure he has. Once you 
stop fighting, they stop hurting you." 

"And if you don't stop?" The direction of Dana's voice had altered. Hill saw she was 
looking up again at the deep of the universe. "What if your whole life has been one big 
fight? What if that's all you know how to do? What if you can't stop? Please, sir, please 
tell me more specifically where you think they took him."

Another headshake from Handford. "You get yourself a bargaining chip and it won't be 
hard to find out. You won't need me to tell you. If I had the nuke, I'd give it to you, Agent 
Scully. I really would. But I don't.... Now, if you ladies will excuse me, its a long way 
home. I'd appreciate a head start. Goodnight." Handford pushed past them and 
disappeared into the darkness, the crunch of his footsteps loud, then fading, as he moved 
through the trees dividing the overlook from the parking lot.

"Well, what the fuck to we do now, Bunny-Bunny?" Hill mumbled, holstering her gun 
then slipping her arm around Dana's small, stiff shoulders.

"We start looking for that nuclear card," she sighed.


9:02 P.M., Pendelton Street, Alexandria
The key's click hung in quiet cold air. Tina could almost hear the electric buzz of the 
neighbor's Christmas lights. "Dana...." she said, then her voice trailed off leaving a puff 
of frozen air.

"Don't." Dana pushed the door open, moved into the yellowish vestibule light. "I'm too 
tired."

Hill snorted, then dropped her eyes when Dana turned to glare. Kicked a lump of soggy 
snow off the hardwood onto the doormat.

"C'mon." Dana turned back, headed into the living room. "We've got a lot to do tonight." 

"Turn the lights on, will you?" Hill dropped down on the settle to yank off her boots and 
toss them away from her, making twin thumps. She heard Dana's receding steps and the 
snap of the light switch that brought up a soft glow under ivory shades.

Hill wandered into the living room on stockinged feet, stepped on slush left by Dana's 
progress to the kitchen and cursed quietly as the cold wet spread along the arch of her 
foot. "I'm going to make coffee," her friend was saying. "You want anything else? Or did 
you get enough junk food to keep you running?"

She shrugged her coat off onto the couch. She didn't have to raise her voice in a house 
where they could hear the clock on the upstairs landing. "Hey, Bunny?"

Dana looked back, eyes blue and fathomless over the shadows of exhaustion. "What?"

Tina had to say it. Jesus, sometimes a battle was the only way. Sometimes, when death 
was inevitable-- but was it so here?

Probably.

'Truth is light, Nothing good can grow in night.' her mother's goofy doggerel rhyme came 
back. "Look, you can't keep me in the dark, Dana," Hill spoke on a lift of resolution. 
"You need to tell me the truth about what Handford found--and about some other things, 
too."

She watched a little more color go from an already pale face. Dana hesitated, then asked, 
"Like what?"

"Like where you were for those three months when no one saw you. It had something to 
do with all this shit, right?"

The topaz eyes stared, blinked. "I'm making coffee, Tina. We've got a lot of work to do." 
Then she turned and walked away. Hill frowned and bit her lip, creating a mental image 
of Monty Python's big cartoon foot smooshing Dana. She made the rasberry sound aloud.

Hill unclipped her holster and set the heavy gun down on the coffee table, then rubbed at 
the familiar sore spot where its weight pressed her skin. She stretched, sucking in her gut 
and her temper in at the same time. The howl of the coffee grinder drew her into the 
kitchen to breathe the earthy richness of coffee, to watch Dana carefully measuring it and 
pouring cold spring water from the jug in her refrigerator. The ritual was comforting: 
each point made sense, each motion was defined, each item right where it should be. 
Finally she had to break the peace, to reach out her hand, and turn her friend around. 
"Talk to me, Dana. You didn't say a word in the car. What are you thinking, Bunny? 
What are you thinking?"

She saw Dana swallow, lock her arms over her belly. "What? What do you want me to 
say?"

"Tell me what you heard out there, for a start."

"What did I hear?" Dana's final word squeaked up. "You heard it too."

Hill nodded, trying for a monotone, trying to keep the volume low. "I heard it. I heard 
what Handford said. But what he said and what you heard and what I heard may not be 
the same thing."

Dana's jaw worked. Her eyes glittered. "I heard him tell me my partner is being tortured. I 
heard him tell me Mulder's running out of time."

"Anything else?"

"WHAT?" The shout was loud and made Tina squeeze her friend's shoulder reflexively. 
"What do YOU think he said? What are you fishing for here, Tina? Looking for more 
codependency stories? Want to know how often Mulder and I do it in the road?"

Oh, for Pete's sake... "No," she answered simply. "I want to know about Purity Control."

The percolating water in the coffee pot bubbled and hissed as Dana drew herself up 
another half inch in height. "I'm not putting your life in jeopardy."

"Goddamn it, Dana, according to Handford, my life is in danger just meeting him--just 
knowing Mulder and you!...Okay. Look," Hill snapped. "If you won't spill the boo-
spooky secret of Purity Control, then I want to know where you were for those three 
months."

"You do? Why?" Dana pursed her lips. Hill didn't answer, just watched Ol' Blue Light's 
gaze slide to some focal point in the distance. "Tina, you won't believe it. You don't 
believe anything I say." Tina heard a finality there and thought about Stonewall crossing 
the river to rest in the shade of the trees.

"Dana," Hill sighed the name. "I don't think you're lying. I am just questioning your 
interpretation of the facts."

Words hung on her friend's lips, half-formed. "I--I..." Tears pooled up now in her eyes. 
One dripped down a white-paper cheek, singed Hill's heart like hot lead as it dropped. 
She'd never seen Dana cry. God, in the old days they'd spent all their time laughing.

The little body was resolute in Hill's embrace, shaking stiffly. Her sobs were loud and 
harsh. Hill burnished cinnamon hair, kissed the top of Dana's head. "What is it? Tell me, 
Mutt. What happened?"

"I-I can't remember. They took it." A little jagged voice, inspiring a slow-spreading fear. 
"I can't. Oh hell, Tina. They took all of it. They just keep taking everything and you never 
get it back. I'm so scared. I'm so scared...."

Ice ants ran over her skin as Tina pulled her friend around, tugged and led her into the 
living room. "Here. Sit down, Bunny. Here." Dana sniffed and grabbed a pillow from the 
end of the sofa, wrapping herself around it. Springs creaked as Hill settled her own bulk 
uneasily at the other end of the couch.

"There's no time for this." Dana shook her head.

"There's time. There's gonna have to be time." She tried to sound firm. "What did they 
take from you? Tell me." Dana drew her knees up, snugged around the pillow in her 
arms. "Go on," she urged again.

"Oh, you know." Saw Dana's lips tremble, trying to smile. "Just.... things. Like... like my 
memory and Mulder's sister and--" She sniffled again, rubbed her nose on her sleeve. 
There were tissues on the end table. Tina wisked a few from the box and stuffed the soft 
paper into Dana's hand.

"And what?"

She sounded creaky and raw. "They took my memory away, and they killed Melissa. I 
mean, they tried to take the X-files away and when they couldn't stop him, they took me 
and his father and Melissa and now they've taken him." She blew her nose loudly.

"So 'they' keep taking things-- people--?" Tina kept her voice carefully neutral. She had 
to. This was no act. Her friend believed it. Christ, she didn't want to have to really listen, 
didn't want to think that Dana lived with this creeping fright. "Tell me a couple of 
things?" Dana nodded. "What memory did they take?"

Dana's mouth pulled into a mockery of a smile. "If I knew that, they wouldn't have taken 
it would they? They...there was this man. Duane Barry. And--oh God. There were so 
many things, but he broke in and took me and--"

Jesus. "Took you?"

"Yeah." Dana hesitated. "Not--not like rape or anything. He didn't assault me. He tied me 
up and threw me in the trunk of his car and I thought I was going to die. A state trooper 
did die, but me....He took me up to Skyland Mountain. He said the aliens kept taking him 
and hurting him and...well. He was going to buy them off. Give them me in his stead. I 
remember this light, and then....God. Nothing. Nothing at all. Not until I woke up in the 
hospital and three months were gone and I've never remembered except-- except a little in 
nightmares, maybe."

Dana rocked, pillow clutched tightly. Hill stared at her. "And did you ever try?"

"Yesyesyes!" More sobs. "What do you think--that I LIKE having a three month hole in 
my life when my mom put up a goddamned tombstone? Tina, listen--Mulder's the only 
one who believed I'd be back. He's the only one who ever really just-- just expected me to 
come-- to come back." She shook her head and moaned. "I....You know, sometimes even 
I don't believe all of it. I'll never believe like Mulder does. He believes in everything, 
Tina. I have to rein him in and make him see all this rationally."

"See what rationally?"

"Whatever this is.... I know that didn't help. Sorry." Dana grimaced. Then from out of the 
blue: "Did you know that I'm going to die?"

Tina gaped at her. "What?"

"Yeah. When they took me, they did things to me. Put an implant in my neck-- maybe 
there's more of them in other places....We still don't really know what all they did. But we 
know a batch of other women just like me are dying of cancer. I don't know when I'll get 
it. Hell, I can't remember why, but I'm going to die and, you know-- I really want a 
chance to hit back. I don't want to die, I don't even know who I am or what I believe and 
the only one who believes is Mulder and they took him and they shot Melissa and they--
they--" her words tumbled to a stop. Dana sniffed and slowly, slowly, leaned forward to 
bury her face in the pillow and weep.

"Dana. Bunny...."

"S'okay. S'okay, Tina. You won't believe me. I wouldn't believe me.... But they took so 
much away. My sister's dead because of them, and Mulder's dad, and so many, many 
people. It's like, everywhere we go, Tina. And no one ever realizes or puts it all together 
because they can't believe people can still do these kinds of things to each other. I mean, 
Hitler was supposed to be the last one, right?" The words were just a hoarse whisper.

"Hitler...? What are you saying?" Tina reached to stroke her hair, but Dana twitched 
away. Hill's hand hung there, trembling. She settled it on the back of the sofa. "Who are 
they, Dana?"

"I dunno. Maybe our government or the military. Maybe it's bigger than that. Like Carl 
said, all those masks-- but you thought he lied, too. All I know is I saw bodies, Tina. A 
whole pit full of bodies. A mass grave."

"Jesus," Hill swallowed. Leaned in closer. "Look, I believe you saw that-- and that those 
people were dead, and your sister's dead, and I don't know who killed her, or Mulder's 
dad, or any of that other shit, but-- but you really believe this stuff is happening? You're 
talking genocide Treblinka-style?"

"No." Dana blew her nose again. Still sounded stuffy. "I'm talking mass 
experimentation."

"Huh? In America? Dana, it's like he's saying we've got goddamn Stasi or some shit like 
that. It's just--just--"

She watched Dana rub her face. "I can't convince you, Tina. You just have to see what 
I've seen. But please, please, Mulder's life--"

"I know, I know. But Dana--"

"You heard Carl Handford!"

"I heard." Tina leaned back. "I heard him. But--"

"Make up all the reasonable lies you want. That's what they want, too. Just help me do 
what we have to do, Tina. Work this case my way."

"I'm afraid he's going to die if we do that, Dana." Hill caught Dana's eyes and tried to 
hold them, to punch through this paranoia and kill the unresolve deep in her own 
stomach. "Please. Think. Yeah, I'm not wild about the guy, but I really do want to find 
him for you. I sure don't want him dead. But this conspiracy shit--"

"Sounds crazy to you. It sounds crazy because it's supposed to," Dana insisted. "How else 
do you think they do it?"

"But they--" The sudden pounding was thunder, startling both women up from their seats.

Dana stared wide-eyed at Hill as it happened again. "It's the back door."

"Jehovah's Witnesses?" Hill snatched her weapon off the table. Heard the crisp slide of 
metal over hard leather as Dana drew her own gun from its holster. They stayed low 
through the dining room, into the utility room where the air was warm and sweetened by 
fabric softener. The back door rattled and they crouched, weight balanced on toes and 
fingertips. White calico curtains blinded them to whoever wanted in so badly. The knob 
turned uselessly, then the door rattled again.

Hill nodded when Dana gestured, pointing with two fingers. Heard indistinct whispers 
with no gender or meaning as she moved to cover Dana. Held her breath and snapped the 
safety off her weapon. Dana crept to the door, reached up to unlatch the chain lock, and 
did it slowly so that the links didn't clatter. Hill hardly breathed as she watched Dana set 
her shoulder against the door and carefully twist the deadbolt's latch. The door slammed 
into the wall when Dana yanked it open, and they leveled their guns at two startled faces.

"Oh. Hi." Dana clicked on her weapon's safety, reholstered it, and turned. "Look, Tina. 
It's not Jehovah's Witnesses; it's Santa's elves."


The dark dapper one, Hill learned, was Byers; the blond hippie type with the butt-ugly 
glasses was Langly. Frohike's compadres. Partners in paranoia.

Hill blew on the surface of her coffee, saw that Byers's hands trembled, wrapped around 
his own coffee cup. "Agent Scully, while I appreciate well-placed suspicion as much as 
the next man, you do have a singularly disconcerting means of answering the door."

"I've already apologized for scaring you." Dana slumped back into her corner of the sofa, 
wadding the throw pillow she'd cried on up behind her. Byers and Langly perched on the 
edges of the comfortable chairs. Tina eyed them with open curiosity. "So where's the 
Hickey? Out waxing the sleigh?"

Byers adjusted his necktie, eyes fixed on the salt-glazed toes of his wingtips. Langly 
fidgeted, watching the windows. Dana rose and pulled the drapes closed. "Thanks, 
Scully. 
You set us to find some really ugly dudes and the last thing I want is them knowing who I 
am. If they don't already." Langly shuddered.

"You've got something?"

"Maybe." Byers glanced at Hill, then back to Dana.

"You can talk in front of Tina," the redhead assured. "If I didn't trust her she wouldn't be 
here."

Tina grinned excessively. "Well, sure is nice to hear it." Pasted on an innocent moue 
when Dana shifted to scowl at her.

"You two usually don't come out of your bolthole." Dana turned back to the nervous men 
sitting across from her. "Do you know who's got Mulder?"

"Not who has him, but we think we know who paid for it."

Langly nodded, heavy glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, do the words 
'your tax dollars at work' mean anything to you?"

"Do you people always play charades?" Hill had leaned forward to glare at them. "I'm too 
tired to play twenty questions. What did you find?"

Byers scoffed, "Agent Hill, we did not simply 'find' this information."

"Tina, just let them talk." Dana commanded her.

"Everybody's an aristocrat." She crossed her arms on her chest. Frowned and sat back 
against the overstuffed cushions.

Langly's mouth pursed. He shoved the thick, black frames back up his nose. "Like Byers 
said, we had to turn over a lot of rocks to find the bugs. We started with Mulder's 
account. Backtracked the CompuServe account he was talking to. It was only created a 
month before Mulder got in touch with it. We found a lot of accounts like that for that 
credit card number. They get started up and they run for a few months, then they're shut 
down. When we cracked a few, we found all this shit about appointments for subs and 
doms. It isn't all through Hellfire or anything, but the accounts are always run by a dom 
and all the contacts get the cryptic instructions for contacting their masters."

Langly and Byers traded a glance. "Agent Scully," Byers prodded gently. "If you know 
more about this matter, it would help us in tracking Mulder."

"Or from going missing ourselves." Langly made a nervous twitch, looked at the shaded 
windows.

Dana frowned, the offered, "We met someone tonight. Another one who went missing."

"Who said he went missing," corrected Hill.

She saw Dana make the effort to ignore her. "What more did you find?"

"The net accounts are always paid precisely on time. Frohicke and Langly here managed 
to crack the encryption code for the banks that issued the card," Byers explained.

Langly smirked. "Credit companies have better security than the Defense Department. 
Hell, in America, it's more important to know what the population buys. You wanna 
know how much the Republican candidates pay for 900 numbers?"

"I WANT to know who's paying for my partner to be tortured."

"Ignorance is bliss." Langly shrugged. "Anyway, we traced the card. It was registered to 
an individual one month after his death and were only active for a few months. It got paid 
precisely on time by money orders purchased through the United States Post Office. We 
tracked the numbers of issuance--computer accounting programs are way cool. The post 
offices were located all over the country."

"Then somebody made a mistake," Byers cut in, brown irises glittering. "They got lazy," 
he said. "One of the bills was paid by a check. We tracked it to an account in an offshore 
bank. That's when it got really bad."

"Oh, come on," Hill finally just couldn't keep quiet. "Those banks use cutting-edge 
security technology-- firewalls and private-key encryption and crap. You three stooges 
aren't going to tell me that you cracked them?"

Byers smiled diffidently. "Maybe. Maybe not...." Damn, he had pretty Bambi eyes, Hill 
thought. "Actually, the ones we can't crack at all are the Zurich banks. They use high-tech 
locks on their doors and high-tech scramblers on their phones, but the security 
mechanism that keeps them untouchable is older than Egypt. They still use written 
records."

"Byers, DID you crack the account?" Dana raised her eyebrows, leaned forward with a 
hint of threat.

"Erm...yes. If you look, you'll find that most security systems are built around 
randomizing programs, but there is no computer program that can be truly random. And 
chaos is not as unpredictable as it looks. If you know how to do it, you can set a system to 
gauge the frequency of repetition and to keep hammering away until it arrives at a pattern 
based on mathematical principles. Then it's just a matter of time until you manage to 
match patterns. We matched fifteen hours and thirty-seven minutes after we started."

"Yeah. Whatever." Tina snorted. "If it's that simple, why doesn't everyone do it and make 
some free money?"

"Because, Agent Hill, not everyone has the equipment, or the time. And as it regards 
money, you can look but you can't touch. Take something and you leave traces. We can't 
take that risk. And, although it may seem outmoded to you, we're honest."

"Okay, who owns the account?" Dana demanded.

"We do. The account is funded in U.S. tax dollars. It's a business account administered 
for a hypothetical American business."

"Hypothetical?"

"It's held like the Contra money was. A private company wholly owned by the U.S. 
government. We matched the expenditures up against the 1995 budget." Langly's mouth 
pursed fishlike and satisfied as he nodded a 'so there.'

"They were moderately appreciable expenditures, too," Byers added. "Agent Scully, the 
account that paid for Mulder's...situation has been in existence for decades. Prior to 
computer accounts, payments were made for courier deliveries and undifferentiated 
expenditures. And for mortgages and automobile rentals. Before computer records there 
are payment records for homes. We reviewed them, and found all the homes to be large 
and gracious--"

"Stately Wayne Mannors," the hippie interjected.

"Yes. And none of them are currently held by the same person who operated at the time 
we were able to find records. As near as we can determine, when the records were kept 
on paper the expenditures were more carefully detailed and never accessed under 
subpoena or other discovery method. When the records went to computer and the 
possibility increased for computer snooping, the entries became more cryptic unless the 
party receiving payment was unavoidably identified, as with CompuServe and the credit 
cards. Then, the intermediate layers of the credit card companies were used to shield the 
account. We became privy to our information because the paper records are being entered 
into computer now to allow historical tracking."

"I don't care why--" Dana began.

Langly cut her off. "Yeah. But we looked back at those houses we found the account 
covering. There were big bucks spent to fix the basements of those places before they 
could be sold-- those that weren't torched. We have transmittals from some of the 
contractors. They charged for removal of bolts from ceilings and walls and for cleaning 
up bloodstains."

Tina's eyes widened. "Were you able to track current expenditures?" There was 
desperation in Dana's voice now and Hill reached out to lay a hand on her friend's knee. 
The clock on the landing was chiming ten. Hill thought about a usual Friday night at 
home with Tom, snuggling and watching 'Homicide: Life on the Street'. Ignorance was 
bliss.

"The accounts, yes," Byers was saying. "We found large cash sums withdrawn. But no 
instructions or methods to identify them. They know they can be tracked and they've 
found new ways to mask themselves. We only found them because of that one check paid 
out for the credit card. Because of human error. So far, they haven't made an error in 
paying their ultimate contractors. Whoever has Mulder is receiving payment in cash. 
Probably through a dead drop."

"The numbers on the bills, did they keep...?"

"No, Agent Scully." He shook his head. "We couldn't find any such records, and we 
looked. Frohike's still looking. You said Mulder was being tortured. My guess is that 
security around whomever does the work is very tight, and payment is especially 
clandestine. The telephone pick-ups we found to date were all forwarded and then the 
messages obtained from a number we can't identify. They've anticipated some very 
sophisticated searchers. Whoever they are, they aren't preying on unsophisticated victims. 
They've used extremely effective methods to baffle searchers."

"And this had been going on for years?" Dana's inflection hiked a little too much.

"Decades." Byers set his cup on the coffee table. "I can only extrapolate from their 
security and from Mulder. They've been stopping people like Mulder for decades."

Langly shoved himself onto his feet and stood, hunched, staring at the toes of his Keds. 
"We'll keep looking, Scully. Mulder's a brother, and sooner or later they'll slip and we'll 
have 'em."

Dana stood, too. "I'm not sure Mulder even has 'sooner'. And I know he doesn't have 
'later.'" She gestured at the stacked papers. "I need you to look at this stuff. Maybe 
between us....We've got to keep looking." She swallowed, digging her hands in her 
pockets.

"All right." Byers surveyed the piles.

"I'll go through it tonight," Hill told him. "Then I'll drive it all over in the morning."

"Hey, Scully, we'll find him." Langly gave Dana a grimace. "After all, how else am I 
going to impress Tina enough to get a date?"

"In your dreams, Garth. You know the Hickey's the only man for me."
 
"I'll tell him so....Hey--No," he grabbed Dana's arm as she headed for the front door. "I 
wanna go out the back door, Scully. The front door just wouldn't feel right."