January 17 - Dr. Mulder's Office - 8:40 a.m.
When Mulder got in to work at his normal arrival time, he found the door to his reception area already unlocked. He wasn't too disturbed by this fact because Libby had been known to start her day off a little earlier than usual in order to catch up on her billing or transcripting. When he stepped inside of the waiting room and called out her name, he received no response. He shrugged it off, thinking that she had stepped out to the ladies' room for a moment. Reaching for the handle of his office, he froze when he heard voices coming from inside. He put his ear closer to the door and strained to hear what was being said and by whom. He easily recognized one voice as his own. The second one he came to realize belonged to his newest patient. He was listening to the recorded tape of his session with Dana Scully. Unfortunately, someone else was listening to it too. Occasionally, he had Libby transcribe some of his sessions so he'd have a hard copy from which he could refer. However, Libby had never taken it upon herself to snoop about in his patients' private records without consent. He pushed opened the door and rushed inside, ready to give his soon to be ex-employee a good chastising. He froze again upon coming face to face with a complete stranger. A blue-suited, dark-haired man old enough to be his father sat comfortably on the far end of the couch, smoking a cigarette. The man eyed Mulder with mild interest, blew out a long funnel of smoke, then pointed to the stereo tape deck nestled on a shelf of the oak bookcase.
"I'd like to get a copy of this tape."
"My father died last year," Dana Scully was saying on the tape.
Mulder switched it off before she could say another word, then turned his attention to the stranger with more gall than manners. "Who the hell are you and how did you get in here?"
Ignoring his question, the man flicked an ash onto the carpet and said, "I've a proposition to make you, Dr. Mulder."
Mulder stood behind a chair adjacent to the couch and studied his uninvited visitor. He was a shady character, that much was for certain. From the steeliness of his eyes and overconfident posture, Mulder sensed that the man possessed a cold, calculating nature and was probably very used to getting what he wanted. He was also apparently beyond the laws of good etiquette.
"This is a non-smoking office," Mulder informed him. "The cigarette will have to go."
The man considered it for a moment, then casually drew one last long drag before dropping the butt to the carpet and stomping it out with his foot.
"On second thought," said Mulder, "the cigarette can stay. you get the hell out."
"Soon enough," said the man as a final billow of smoke flowed from his nostrils. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a stack of greenbacks which he tossed onto the coffee table in front of him. He said nothing at this point. Only looked to Mulder for his reaction.
Mulder picked up the money and thumbed through it. The stack consisted of one-thousand dollar bills; at least twenty of them. He placed it back on the table, then sat down. "Okay, you have my attention. What do you want?"
"The tape in that deck and recordings of all future sessions with Agent Dana Scully."
"Why? What is she to you?"
"Agent Scully is the daughter of an old friend. I have only her best interests in mind."
He didn't believe that for an instant. The man was a snake in the grass and definitely up to no good. "Of course, you realize that what you're asking me to do isn't exactly legal or ethical."
The man took out another identical stack of bills and tossed it onto the table with the first. Again he waited silently for the doctor's response. Even if he was desperate for money -- and luckily he wasn't -- Mulder would not betray the confidence of a patient. He still wondered why the words of one petite redhead could be of such a high interest to anyone. It occurred to him that perhaps she didn't remember certain things in her past for a good reason and that the black-lunged devil in front of him wanted to keep it that way.
"If Miss Scully wishes for her private sessions to become public, that's entirely up to her. I suggest that you contact her directly with your request. Now, if you don't mind, I've got a busy day ahead of me."
Mulder stood and walked over to the door, holding it wide open and waiting for the visitor to use it. The man took his own sweet time collecting the money and getting to his feet. Instead of heading straight for the exit, the tall, enigmatic stranger crossed over to Mulder's desk and innocently picked up the framed picture of him and his sister.
"There's a strong family resemblance," said the man, admiring the two happy faces in the photo. "I understand that the ex-husband is up for parole in a few months."
Mulder stared at the man incredulously, wanting to know how he knew about his incarcerated brother-in-law, but too stunned to get his mouth to work so he could ask the question.
"You know, often when a wife abuser and stalker is set free, one of the first things he does is go back and finish what he started. He did attempt to kill your sister, didn't he? Yes, it would be a shame if that parole went through and he got out of prison before he's had the time to fully rehabilitate." He returned the picture to its place on the desk and pulled out a fresh cigarette.
"I suggest you wait till you're outside to light that," said Mulder.
He wanted to say so much more and he knew that the fear and anxiety must have been written clearly on his face. This man had just threatened his family. It was an indirect threat, but a threat nonetheless. Mulder already saw that the snake had money, but now he was displaying his power; the power to influence a parole board which could conceivably affect the safety of his sibling. "I strongly suggest that you not mention our little conversation to Miss Scully," said the man as he paused in front of Mulder before leaving. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her." That too, was a thinly veiled threat. "I'm sure we'll meet again, Dr. Mulder," said the lethal-looking older man as he finally made his exit.
Mulder watched him go, then thought quickly. He couldn't just let him walk away without knowing anything about him. Mulder rushed through the reception area and peeked around the corner of the main entrance door, spotting the man as he stepped into a downward bound elevator. Mulder raced to the stairwell and practically flew down the stairs. When he made it to the ground floor, he cracked opened the door and peered out. He had just barely beat the elevator down. The doors slid open but the Smoking Man did not exit. Mulder hit the stairs again and headed for the basement to the parking deck exit.
Barely able to catch his breath, Mulder stopped in front of the door which had a small window insert. Peering through the window, he caught sight of his prey weaving through the parked cars and settling on one to enter. If he were to step out now for a better look at the car, Mulder was sure he'd be spotted. He stayed put until he saw the car in motion. After it pulled out of the parking space and started forward, Mulder dashed out from behind the door and rushed to the hidden safety of a towering pillar. Not only was he able to identify the car and capture the license plate number, but he was also able to ID the driver. He was thoroughly shocked when he caught a quick glimpse of Dana's partner, Agent Krychek in the driver's seat.
Mulder considered carefully whether or not he should discuss the early morning events with Dana Scully. Although it most definitely concerned her, he could possibly be placing her life in jeopardy. Maybe the guy was part of the Mafia and he wanted to find out if Agent Scully had discovered some illegal dealings he was involved in. He claimed that he was a friend of her father's. Perhaps in being a federal agent, she was torn between doing her job and taking down a family friend. But how did Krychek fit into the puzzle? Had he been assigned to spy on her or sabotage her career in some way as she had speculated earlier?
Nearly ignoring the sandwich that Libby had brought him when she went out for lunch, Mulder sat behind his desk, creating doodles on his note pad with the pen from his desk set. He had come to the conclusion to tell Dana all when she arrived for her appointment at three. She deserved to know that something evil was nipping at her heels and that she had a partner who might be out to do her harm. If she was in danger, she had a much better chance of defending herself if she could see it coming.
As his doodles began to become lighter with each pen stroke, Mulder realized that it was time for a refill. He opened the drawer and pulled out a new replacement cartridge, then unscrewed the top from his pen. As he reached for the used plastic ink holder, his fingers froze in mid journey. The outside of the pen looked like his, but the inside of it was completely foreign. He stared at the cluster of miniature electrodes solidly fused to the tiny ink-filled tube of the pen. Realization struck quickly as Mulder figured out that his favorite writing instrument had been turned into a listening device.
The Smoking Man must have assumed beforehand that Mulder's services might not be bought. The planted device would have served its owner well. Mulder started to destroy it immediately but gave the situation a little more thought. If Smoky couldn't depend on his bug doing the job for him, he would likely try another method. The thought of him approaching Libby to do his dirty work made Mulder see red. No, he had to play it smart and give the man what he wanted. He left the pen intact and placed it back into its holder on the desk.
When Scully arrived, Mulder greeted her with a charming smile and a gentle handshake. "Hi, it's good to see you again," he said in meeting her at the door to his office and guiding her to the chair in front of his desk. "How are you?"
"Fine. Except for the usual. I've decided that I want you to hypnotize me. I want to remember what happened when my sister and I were abducted."
Mulder plopped down numbly in the leather chair behind his desk. He hadn't expected the request, and knowing that their conversation was not exactly private, gave him cause for concern. "I thought you were going to take more time to decide. Have you tried the stress reduction techniques?"
"I want to remember," Scully reiterated. "You said you could help me."
"All right. But I need to have you read this form first. It describes a few things you need to be aware of before we even attempt hypnotherapy. I want to make sure you're fully aware of the dangers involved." Mulder handed her a clipboard with a sheet of typed paper on it. "Let me know if there are any questions or concerns. Meanwhile, I'll get the tape recorder ready."
Mulder started fiddling with the tape and batteries of his miniature tape recorder, giving Scully the time she needed to carefully read the document in front of her. She looked at him questionably after taking in the first few lines. His eyes implored her to continue reading and she did so silently to herself. Mulder had explained in simple detail that the office was bugged, a man had offered him money for their taped session, and that she should simply follow his lead. He could tell by her expression that she was shocked and somewhat dumbfounded, but she pulled herself together quickly and gave a slight nod of her head in understanding. When she had completed reading, Mulder drew her attention to his desk. He plucked the pen from its holder in the desk set and carefully unscrewed the top to show her what he had found earlier. After she'd gotten a good look at it, he recapped it, then eyed her purse with a raised, questioning brow. She caught his hidden meaning and searched her purse for her own pen. Uncapping it, she was relieved to find nothing out of the ordinary.
Mulder nodded, then flipped open his notepad in preparation, using a pencil to take notes. "Well, all set," said Mulder as he switched on the tape recorder and placed it in the center of his desk.
"This uh... hypnotherapy...." Scully began as she placed the clipboard on his desk, minus the warning he had written for her. "There's a lot more to it than I first thought."
"Yes, there is. That's why I want you to take more time to consider it. It's not exactly a proven science and it has been known to do more harm than good. Perhaps you've seen talk shows or heard of instances where people are convinced that their father sexually abused them because their restored memories were either misinterpreted or unintentionally manipulated. I feel that you're still under a lot of stress so I'd rather we concentrate on getting that under control first."
"All right. You're the doctor."
"Let's start by looking at how you spent your week. Tell me about it. Starting with when you left here after your session. How did you feel about it?"
"I felt...."
"Yes?"
"I felt like I wanted to turn around and come right back. I had so much more that I felt I had to say. I hadn't realized that I'd kept so many of my emotions so tightly bottled up."
"Have you told anyone about coming to see me?"
"No. I didn't want anyone to know. I didn't even bother to file it with my insurance company."
"Are you ashamed of having to seek outside help?"
It showed in her eyes that he had struck a cord. "I've always been very independent. I don't like having to depend on someone else for strength. I also don't want it on my record that I'm seeing a shrink. It's been a long, hard struggle to get as far as I have in the bureau. Being a woman, makes it tough. I don't need to have anything hovering over my head that the system might try to use against me when I'm ready to advance my career."
"I understand," the doctor spoke in a reassuring tone. He offered her a tiny smile, then moved on. "So, how have you been sleeping this past week?"
Mulder steered her into safe topics, keeping their conversation from being too intimate or detailed. He would arrange for the pen with the listening device to become damaged in a simple accident later, but for now he didn't want the listeners to know that he was on to them.
The Rib Shack - 7:50 p.m.
In his message to Scully, Mulder had written down the location and time for them to meet later so they could talk freely. The planted listening device had produced within him a fair amount of paranoia. He drove about in circles to make sure no one was following him, then finally arrived at the designated spot ten minutes early. Agent Scully had done him one better and had already grabbed them a table. She was practically salivating over the menu when he approached.
"Hungry?" asked Mulder as he took a seat across from her.
"I wasn't until I came in here. I haven't had barbecued ribs in ages."
"Try the babyback ribs. They nearly melt in your mouth."
"I think I will."
Scully placed an order for a plate of babyback ribs and a side salad while Mulder ordered the special which included both ribs and chicken wings.
"This is a pretty interesting little rib shack," Scully noted aloud. "I take it, you come here often?"
"From time to time. Whenever I have a carnivorous hankering for grilled animal flesh smothered in a rich and tangy sauce, accompanied by some of the best little Blues bands the world has yet to discover."
"Blues?"
"Unfortunately, this isn't the right night for it. They have live music bands Thursday through Sunday night. Which is just as well, because otherwise we wouldn't be able to hear ourselves talk."
"Okay, so tell me, the man that paid you a visit, what did he look like?" "I'm guessing he's in his early sixties, dark haired with a little gray, about six-foot-three and slim. He also appeared to be a pretty heavy smoker."
Scully's brows lifted in interest. "Morleys?" she asked.
"Beg your pardon?"
"The brand of cigarettes he smoked. Did you noticed if they were Morleys?"
"You know this guy, don't you?"
"Not really. I've seen him on occasions. He was in the room when I had my interview for my new position at FBI headquarters."
"You mean to tell me this guy is FBI?"
"I've never known his official title or even his name for that matter. But I've seen him show up at department meetings and sit quietly in the back puffing away despite the 'No Smoking' signs. He seems to be someone of importance and power but no one seems to know anything about him or if they do, they're not willing to admit it. I've even asked my supervisor about him and all he said was that I didn't want to know. So I just left it at that."
"Why would he be interested in your therapy sessions?"
"I have no idea," said Scully with a sigh. She leaned forward, crossed her arms and rested them on the table.
"What if...." Mulder had a thought but was reluctant to pursue it. "Never mind. It's probably not...."
"What?"
"I was just thinking. He said he was a friend of your father's. Obviously, you don't remember him now but, what if you used to know him; back when you were a kid, back when your sister disappeared?"
"Are you suggesting that he had something to do with my sister's abduction?"
"Possibly. And he knows you don't remember. Perhaps he's concerned that your therapy sessions may cause you to regain your memories of what really happened back then."
"And implicate him?"
"And if you can implicate him, I'm afraid your life would be in danger."
"You believe he'd want to silence me?"
"And anyone else you tell."
Scully was appalled and virtually speechless. "I... I don't know what to say."
"I've been giving it some thought," Mulder continued. "He offered me forty thousand dollars to turn over to him my recorded sessions with you."
Scully's eyes grew wide at the sum her doctor so casually threw out. Mulder waved his hand in a negative motion as if that amount was completely insignificant.
"Don't worry, I didn't accept it. However, he did make some vague threats involving my family, something about pushing through my brother-in-law's parole."
"Your brother-in-law?"
"In prison for stalking and nearly killing my sister."
"Oh yeah, you mentioned that to me before. And our smoking friend said he'd see to it that your brother-in-law gets out on parole if you didn't cooperate?"
"Personally, I'd love the opportunity to get my hands on that worthless piece of shit -- excuse my French -- but I'm afraid he'd go after my sister again the first chance he got."
"Statistically speaking, he probably would. So, I'm guessing it's probably dangerous for you to even be telling me any of this."
"As a matter of fact, I was warned not to."
"Apparently, you didn't take the warning seriously."
"Oh, I took it seriously. That's why I wanted to tell you my plan."
"You have a plan?"
Copyright © 2019 · All Rights Reserved · Fran Glass