A Familiar Heart
Chapter Sixteen
No broken bones.
That was the first thing she realized when she
woke up. That, and she had the most awful taste
in her mouth. The aftereffects of chloroform,
most likely.
Chopped, guttural words filtered through the
ringing in her ears. Eyes still closed, she
listened, trying her best to understand the
language. It sounded familiar, but not. Not
Japanese. Chinese.
She groaned, knowing exactly what was going on
without understanding a word of the conversation.
Chang. She'd been taken by Mulder's nemesis, who
obviously intended to use her to lure Mulder into
a trap. But why not just shoot him on the street,
if he wanted to kill him so badly? Chills ran
down her spine; this wasn't payback of the normal
variety. Mulder, from what little she'd learned
from him and Charlie, had apparently decimated
Chang's holdings - in a big, bold statement of
hatred punctuated by the middle finger of
arrogance. An Asian like Chang, even though the
most ruthless of gangsters, lived and died by his
honor. Embarrassment of the scale Mulder had put
him through called for a statement of his own.
Torture. Dismemberment. Mulder's body hung in
effigy in a very public place, where Chang's
enemies - and his friends as well - could catch
wind of just how ruthless he'd been in his
revenge. Nothing else would satisfy him.
She should have it stamped on her forehead in big
bold, letters. BAIT.
She had to get out of there before Mulder came.
She would not be used as a pawn in Chang's game,
nor would she stand by helplessly as Chang carved
Mulder up into little pieces.
It was dark where she was, and she was lying on
the floor in a fetal position, her head resting on
something dank and musty, though soft. She
brought one hand up and felt of it... a mop.
Jesus, they'd locked her in a closet!
No, no, nononono...
Arms and legs suddenly spread wide, she struggled
with the suffocating blanket around her face,
whimpers of distress trickling up her throat. The
darkness seemed to swallow her whole, a black
expanse of nothing before her wide eyes. Her
nostrils filled with the smell of dirt and cloudy,
hot air.
The hole, God no... not the hole.
A scream trickled up her throat as she gasped for
breath...
The sharp bark in Chinese pierced her panic, and
suddenly, her face was blessed with cool, clean
air.
"Ni hao, Miss Scully."
**********
"It's me he wants, Charlie, not her. You know
it's Chang as well as I do."
Mulder paced the kitchen at the Scully house,
finally alone with Charlie for a few minutes. Her
parents, her sister and Ellen - even Frohike -
were all congregated in the living room with the
police. The party had come to a screeching halt
when Mulder had burst in after scouring the
neighborhood for her. He'd even looked in the
hotel room, hoping against hope that somehow,
she'd just dropped the key from her hand as she
crossed the street. No luck. No one had seen a
sign of her, though there were several witnesses
who saw a black Rolls screech away down the alley
by Mike's about the time she'd walked outside.
Mike and her relatives had fanned out in a wider
circle with the help of the police, who Mulder
later found out, contained a healthy contingent of
distant Scully cousins. He would have laughed at
the presence her family seemed to have in
Annapolis, had he felt like it. But he didn't;
later, he'd tell her later when she was back safe
and sound. If she came back at all.
He made a face at his thoughts, reaching for the
coffeepot. He poured a cup, then set it down, not
wanting it. The pacing began anew.
"Mulder, we don't know it's Chang. I phoned
Skinner - he hasn't heard a damn thing about
Change being back in the states, but he's checking
every available resource. If it is Chang, we'll
find him."
"No you won't," Mulder replied. "He'll find me
first. He'll dangle her out as bait to make me
come running."
He knew his old boss wanted him badly. Just as he
knew he wouldn't get off easily once Chang got his
hands on him. Neither would Scully; she would
most likely die as soon as Mulder walked in
Chang's door. If Chang didn't use her as an
example of what he was planning to do to Mulder.
God, no, he prayed. Please don't let her body
turn up floating in the Severn River. He knew
then he'd walk up to Chang with arms wide open.
Mulder would have nothing left to live for if she
was dead.
The ringing of the doorbell startled them both.
It had been a couple of hours since Scully had
gone missing - had they found her already? Was
she dead? He ran to the front door, Charlie hot
on his heels.
It wasn't another round of police. It was
Skinner, flanked by two of his assistants.
"Bill." He addressed Scully's father, ignoring
Mulder and Charlie for a moment. "I'm sorry to
intrude."
"Walter," Bill Scully nodded. "What brings you
here?"
It made sense that the two knew each other; they
were Navy through and through, both Old Guard and
patriotic down to the bone. Skinner hadn't come
to offer sympathy to Bill Scully. He was here for
a different reason, and the proof was in his next
statement.
"Bill, I need to speak to my men," he said,
glancing at Mulder and Charlie. "Alone, if at all
possible."
Dana's father didn't hesitate, turning to his
wife. "Maggie, could you get us some coffee,
please?" His wife huffed a bit, but he was
adamant, turning to Frohike. "Melvin, please
escort the women to the kitchen."
"Of course," Frohike replied, offering his arm to
Maggie. Displeasure written on her face at her
dismissal, she took it, and they departed, Melissa
trailing behind with a similar scowl. The
policemen faded out the front door with Skinner's
assistants, and the men found themselves in a
tight semi-circle, Mulder itching to speak.
"It's Chang, isn't it?" he rasped, jumping right
into the fray, uncaring that Scully's father would
soon know the whole sordid business of his past.
Skinner sighed, hands in his coat pockets. "We
thought he'd left the country, Mulder. He was
seen in Hong Kong just a few days ago -"
"Who's Chang?" At last, Bill Scully got in a few
words.
It was Charlie who answered his dad, saying
softly, "Mulder worked undercover in Hong Kong for
a man named Chang. This man was a major source of
information from the Japanese. He was also bad
news. Very bad news."
"What does he want with Dana?"
Mulder stood still, facing Dana's father. "It's
not her he wants, it's me," he said quietly,
regret making his voice sorrowful. "He's just
using her to flush me out." He waited for the
inevitable tirade; after all, he'd heard it all
from Scully before. Why should her father react
any differently?
His father looked at Charlie for confirmation; he
got it in a short jerk of Charlie's head.
Sighing, he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
"Don't say anything in front of her mother." He
gave Mulder a nod, adding, "I don't blame you,
Mulder. You were just following orders. It may
not even be him behind this."
Mulder groaned, turning away to pace once more,
his hand pressing against his pounding head.
Skinner stopped his sure attack of guilt with a
terse, "We're pretty sure it's him, Bill."
"Damn it!" Mulder turned, intent on wearing a
hole in the rug, just like he had in the kitchen.
"I should have known better than to trust your
intelligence, Skinner."
"Mulder!" Bill Scully admonished. "You're
speaking to a superior officer, son. Show some
respect."
Walter Skinner sighed, "He's right, Bill. We
should have been more on the ball with this. But
we never dreamed Chang would have the guts to get
so close."
"Yeah, well, you don't know him like I do."
Worrying the back of his neck with his hand,
Mulder knew this crying over spilled milk was
useless. "That's all you came to say? If it is,
then get out."
Skinner's face tightened, but he held back his
anger, saying, "We think we have a lead to his
whereabouts."
"A lead?" That was Charlie, who, other than
explaining about Chang to his father, had simply
absorbed Skinner's news like a sponge. "Where is
he?"
"I've had my men check out all points of entry
into Annapolis. No one matching Chang's
description has been seen at the airport, train or
bus stations. But - several ships have docked on
the Severn and South Rivers the last few days. We
can't get hold of anyone with the Port Authority -
the administrative offices have closed for the
holidays. I have people tracking down the
director and his minions, but we may have to wait
until business hours tomorrow to actually scour
the docks -"
"No, you don't," a voice broke in.
All eyes darted to the small man in the doorway.
"Just point me to the telephone, gentlemen,"
Melvin Frohike announced. "He may not like being
interrupted with his mistress, but the Port
Authority Director owes me a favor."
**********
"Dana, be still."
In the instant away from total insanity, she
calmed. "Mulder?" she whispered, cracking open
her gritty eyes, though she couldn't really see
anything in the sudden bright light. It hurt, so
she slammed them shut once more, realizing the
voice was very familiar. No, please no. Just
hearing his voice meant he'd been captured with
her. They'd never get out now. Still crying, she
laid her head on the concrete floor and curled up
into a tight ball, wanting him to go away.
"It's all right," he said softly, just above her
ear.
The light pierced her closed eyelids and she sat
up, wincing at the glare, one hand raised to the
figure standing before her. No, swaying slightly.
A ship. She was on a ship.
"Get up!" the man barked, waving his gun. "Get up
now!"
She looked around, dazed. Mulder wasn't there;
had she been dreaming? She shoved away the
blanket she'd been wrapped in with leftover panic,
not wanting the thing near her.
"Get up, I said!"
The staccato shout, delivered with a definite
Chinese accent, finally registered in her panic-
dulled brain. Get a hold of yourself, she
thought. Be courageous. Don't let your guard
down this time; don't make Mulder pay for your
cowardice. She rose on stiff legs, smoothing down
her skirt. The man before her stepped aside, and
she had her first glimpse of her host.
"Ni hao, Miss Scully." He was a small man, seated
in the captain's chair of the bridge, his suit
impeccable but his smile evil. Black, slick hair
matched the dark, beady eyes, and a cigarette hung
loosely between two fingers. "Sit, please. Allow
me to introduce myself..."
"I know who you are," she said, her voice hoarse.
"You're Chang."
His smile became satisfied, and he lifted an
eyebrow. "My reputation precedes me, I see. I
hope you haven't yet formed an opinion, Miss
Scully. Rumor and innuendo follow me everywhere."
He sighed. "Though it seems you aren't enamored
of my world-famous hospitality, Miss Scully. I
asked you to sit."
A strong hand clamped on her shoulder, and she was
pushed into a chair directly across from Chang.
"Mulder won't come for me," she spat out,
wrenching her arm from the gorilla's clasp. "We
are nothing to each other."
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, Dana. I
believe he will." Chang took a deep drag on his
cigarette, saying through the haze of smoke, "I so
enjoyed hearing about your telephone conversations
yesterday - oh, *day* before yesterday, as it
happens now. Silly to the extreme - do you
Americans value nothing but material goods? Too
bad I didn't arrive a day earlier - I seem to have
missed some big scene with your brother."
"You listened in on my telephone?" Geez, did the
man have his fingers in everything?
"The Stuarts leave a key under their mat. But you
knew that, didn't you, Dana?"
She breathed a short sigh of relief; at least he'd
picked a neighbor gone for the holidays, and not
one at home. His kind of persuasion would surely
include death, and she shuddered inwardly at the
thought of her neighbors falling under his knife.
So Chang knew she and Mulder were close. He'd
probably even guessed they were lovers. And he
knew Mulder would have no choice but to come for
her. But she wasn't going to make it easy for
Chang. "What do you need me for? Why not just
kill Mulder?"
"That would be too easy, Miss Scully. No, you're
coming back to Hong Kong with me." He killed his
cigarette and lit another, adding, "I assume
Mulder told you what kind of work he did for me in
Hong Kong?"
"He said he ran the China Moon." Distaste
sharpened her tongue. "A brothel, from all
appearances."
"He was really good at it, you know. The girls
liked him... so did the boys."
For an instant, she allowed sheer contempt to curl
her lips and nausea to roil in her belly. But
knowing Chang expected his comments to stir her to
anger, she tamped down the sick images his words
evoked, lifting a brow as she said in a cool
voice, "The boys?"
"Surely you can't believe that everyone's tastes
run to the heterosexual, Miss Scully." He grinned
at her discomfiture. "You will do well there,
Dana. You are young, pretty and white. I can't
think of better revenge on my friend Mulder than
to make you into what he despises most. A whore.
*If* he even makes it out of my twin traps alive."
God, it was worse than death. She'd once thought
back in Los Banos she could withstand anything, as
long as she was alive. It wasn't the thought of
her servicing men that scared her. No. It was
the fact Mulder would be forced to return to such
horror. He hated what he did in Hong Kong, said
it had made him into something he couldn't live
with any longer. He would simply go mad if forced
to go back there, and Chang knew it. She had to
find a way out.
"Your twin traps?" Keep him talking, she figured.
Kill some time.
"Two ships besides this one, Miss Scully. Red
herrings, if you will. Naval Intelligence will
home in on them first, believe me." He cocked his
head to one side. "So heroic, these men. And all
for naught, as I will soon be away with you.
Mulder will follow me, I'm sure. But by the time
he finds you, Dana, you will be well used. If he
finds you at all. I don't have to kill him, my
dear. The knowledge that you are lost to him will
do that most effectively."
"You bastard," she snarled, stopped from rising by
the same hand as before. She struggled, but was
pulled up out of the chair on Chang's nod.
"Enough talk. From what I understand, they're
making slow progress at your father's house. It
will be quite a while before they figure out where
I am. And by that time, Mulder's friends will be
too busy picking up the pieces of the other ships
to notice us chugging by." Eyes narrowing, he
continued, "Yell all you want, my dear. There's
no one around to hear you." Turning to his man,
he snapped out a command in his native language;
Scully knew it wasn't a pleasant farewell, as she
found herself dragged out of the bridge.
The corridor was narrow and dim, and she heard the
faint sound of water. As her captor shoved her
along, she looked right and left, up and down the
hallways that branched off the main. She faltered
at the sight of an open door at the end of one
such hallway, pretending to lose her shoe. The
man behind her grunted, and she looked at the
escape route from under her lashes, taking her
time slipping the shoe back on.
The river, it's night-blackened water rushing by
beyond the railing. They were on a boat on one of
the nearby rivers, or in Chesapeake Bay itself,
possibly. No, not on the bay. They were docked
along the riverbank; she could see clearly across
the river at the numerous, lighted warehouses.
Another smaller boat was tied to the rail, a
speedboat, from the looks of its sleek outline.
An Asian drifted into view, his cigarette hanging
from a mustached mouth. He stopped, his machine
gun hanging from one arm, his glare menacing.
Nope. No escape route there. The man behind her,
tired of her tarrying, gave her a shove, and she
continued forward. They went down a short flight
of metal stairs at the end of the corridor, and
she was forced into the nearest room.
Which turned out to be a closet. Dark and so
small, it made her freeze with apprehension.
**********
"We've got two good possibilities, gentlemen, and
one not so good." Frohike hung up, satisfaction
lacing his voice. "The Sheilong, docked below the
Naval Academy on the Severn, and the Desheng,
anchored on the South River. Both putting in a
couple of days ago, offloading goods from Hong
Kong."
"Chang wouldn't be so foolish as to dock so far up
the Severn from the Bay," Bill Scully said. "He's
got to be on the Desheng. Easier access to open
water."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Mulder said,
worrying his lip. "He's an arrogant bastard."
Besides, Chang would know they'd eventually get
this far. He'd know Skinner would hit the Desheng
first... just as he'd know that Mulder would
insist they hit the Sheilong. "He's on neither."
"What?" Skinner was incredulous, voicing the
question before anyone else could, though they all
looked at Mulder like he was crazy.
"He's on neither boat," Mulder insisted. "My
guess is, he's laid a trap on the other two.
Explosives, most probably. Believe me, he's
smarter than you think." Turning to Frohike, he
asked, "You said there was another on the list.
Where?"
"The Meifeng. But it's docked above the Naval
Academy, and it sailed out of Taiwan -"
"That's it!" Mulder ran for the foyer and his
coat, Charlie and the others lagging behind.
"What makes you so sure, Mulder?" Charlie asked,
eyeing him with skepticism.
He paused, stealing into the holster of a nearby
policeman for a gun. The man blustered, but fell
silent at Skinner's glare. "The Meifeng... in
Mandarin Chinese, it means 'beautiful phoenix'.
He wants me to know he's risen from the ashes."
**********
"No, don't put me in there - please!" She
struggled against the man's hold, fright making
her tremble. The closet beckoned with dark
menace, and before she could say another word, she
found herself locked in, suffocation closing in
around her like the tentacles of an octopus. She
slapped her hands against the walls, looking for a
light switch. But she felt nothing but cold
steel. There wasn't a string hanging from the
ceiling, either, and her legs gave out as she
realized she was trapped without promise of light
and air.
Falling to the floor, rocking against the screams
that threatened to consume her, she told herself
not to cry out. She would not give him the
satisfaction of hearing her scream. Chang not
only wanted Mulder, he wanted all of his
associates. Surely Charlie, her father, and
countless law enforcement and military police,
would go up in flames when they boarded the other
ships. Then Chang would be on his merry way,
smiling all the way back to Hong Kong. It would
take forever for the US government to find him
once he'd made it out to sea. He could debark at
any port and find sympathetic friends. Cuba,
South America, Africa. Just because he said he
was going home didn't mean it was so. A man like
Chang had interests all over the world. Mulder
would never find her.
Oh, no. No. Sweat broke out on her face, and she
stifled the urge to yell.
"Miss Scully?" A knock on the door startled her
and she looked up into nothing. "I just wanted to
know if you were comfortable? Do you have enough
air?"
She could tell from his tone he was prodding her
into madness. Somehow, he'd gotten hold of her
records at the hospital, knew of her fear of
enclosed places. Of course, that wouldn't be too
difficult to do for a man like Chang, who had
money to burn and connections with the Mafia
worldwide.
She didn't answer him, tears streaming down her
face as she fought to hold in her panic.
A muffled laugh reached her ears, then, "Too
spacious for you? Let me see if I can find a
crate... I know how you love to re-live your days
at Los Banos." His laughter faded away.
Scully began to hyperventilate almost immediately,
falling back to the wall in a rigid pose of
absolute terror. A crate. Even smaller than the
closet; most probably set in the hold, where no
one would hear her. Infinitely dark and cold as
the bowels of hell.
"Dana."
Caught up as she was in the impending evil of
Chang's plans, she barely heard the call of her
name.
"Dana."
Louder now, the voice - it couldn't be Mulder, it
just couldn't - called to her. She squeezed her
eyes shut, willing her illusions of safe harbor to
leave her so she could concentrate on staying
calm.
"C'mon, Red. Open your eyes. I wanna make spring
training next year, you know. And this delay is
gonna make me late."
**********
"You serious about this, Mulder?" Charlie
crouched beside him, the both of them concealed by
huge crates some twenty yards away from the
Meifeng.
"As a heart attack," Mulder replied, the memory of
Scully saying those words to him back at Mike's
tearing a searing hole in his chest. He tamped
down the ache, checking his gun. He would not be
distracted at this stage by should-have-been's.
Yes, he should have left with her. Yes, he should
even have walked out on her family that day at the
train station, then *none* of this would have
happened.
But that was all water under the bridge. No use
thinking about it, especially now, when he needed
all his wits about him.
"Chang's on that ship," he stated firmly. "The
only way to get Dana out alive is to go in with
all we've got. Shoot anyone who isn't wearing a
navy dress and heels. Got it?"
"Got it," Charlie answered. Mulder noticed his
face was pale, and he grabbed Charlie's shoulder
in reassurance, knowing the younger man had never
faced down an enemy in his life. "I can do this,
Mulder. Don't make me stay behind."
Mulder sighed. He'd had a hard enough time
convincing Bill Scully and Frohike to stay with
the women. For on thing, Frohike wasn't a
soldier. And though Mr. Scully was well-seasoned,
Mulder didn't want his possible death on his
hands. It was bad enough he'd gotten Scully and
Charlie involved in this mess.
Looking around behind him, he saw Skinner wave a
couple of men to the left, and he knew they were
almost all in position. He closed his eyes,
saying a quick prayer for success, though he
wasn't a praying man. His hand touched his chest
through his cotton shirt and his fingers curled
around his dogtags, feeling the cross dangle
between. He prayed to her to stay alive. He
prayed to her angel, his brother, to keep her
safe. He prayed.
**********
She opened her eyes slowly, disbelief acting as an
anesthetic of sorts, her breath coming easier now
through her lax lips. "Sam?"
He was nothing but a glow against the door, a
disembodied soul without face or form. She
squinted in the darkness, and heard him chuckle.
"Sorry about that." Suddenly, he stood before
her, albeit a bit skimpy on the solid side, as she
could literally see through him to the door. "I
still don't have the hang of it." He was dressed
as she last saw him, in fatigues, but his face was
clean and so Mulder-like it took her breath away,
with a brilliant, warm smile.
"Oh, Sam," she whispered, beginning to cry anew.
She couldn't help it; he was really there with
her. Unbelievable.
"I'm not your angel, Red." His smile faded into a
serious look. "I'm only in your mind. Tell
yourself that."
"You're only in my mind," she repeated after him,
knowing it was a lie. "Why are you... why do I -"
"See me?" Off her nod, he said, "Because you
think you need help. But you don't. You can do
this alone."
"I can?"
"Stand up, Dana. We have to get going."
"But how?"
"Use your hairpins to pick the lock. All hell is
about to break loose and we have to be gone before
it does." He became brighter, more intense,
lighting up the closet. "Come next to me. All
you have to do is open the door. You can do it,
Red."
On the strength of his words, she stood, reaching
into her hair. Her fingers trembling, she moved
to stand beside him. "This is not going to work."
She had no idea how to pick a lock, and even if
she did, Chang's men were right outside the door.
But the lock opened easily, on the first try. She
sucked in a breath of surprise and looked up at
Sam, who nodded. "Go on. Jump overboard then
find a place to call home. But be careful,
they're still listening."
Right. Chang had a man listening from the
Stuart's place. "But how will I get to someplace
safe?"
"Trust me, Dana. I still have things to do here."
He faded away into nothing, though his voice still
hovered in the air. "I may have been a hero, but
his heart was always better and stronger than
mine, Dana. Don't let a ghost stand between you
any longer. You have nothing to be sorry for,
either of you... just be happy."
She stilled at the soft words, turning around.
"Sam?"
But he was gone. She shook off the lingering
goosebumps the visit had stirred and opened the
door a crack. Her guard, minutes before pacing
outside her door, laid in a heap in the corridor,
dead to the world. Quickly, she pulled a
handkerchief from her pocket, sniffing the scent
of chloroform in the hall. Someone had snuffed
him out with the same stuff used to nab her. Was
everyone else unconscious as well? She didn't
wait to find out, stealing down the corridor to
the next hallway, and freedom. She paused, giving
a quick look down its dimness. The same man she'd
seen before was also down, his limp form half
inside the open door. Should she take the boat?
No, too noisy. Sam had said to just jump, and
jump she would.
Her steps were silent, and as she came upon the
unconscious man at the railing, she looked at him
closely, catching sight of something sticking out
of his jacket pocket. His wallet! Quickly, she
stuffed it down her dress into her bra, feeling
its weight. More than enough money to hail a cab,
even if she was going to be wet and bedraggled.
She could blame it on the rain that seemed to have
stopped for the time being, though the clouds over
the river hung heavy with more inclement weather
approaching.
Making it to the railing on tiptoes, she looked
down into the freezing water and grabbed hold of
the rope hanging down. The icy water threatened
to take her breath away, but she sucked up her
courage and swam around the stern of the ship.
Then another fifty yards or so, to the next ladder
up. By that time, she was almost numb, but she
made it up the ladder, and to freedom. It was
dark, and she was cold, but she was alive.
Walking on stiff legs, she disappeared into the
night.
**********
The Rolls pulled to a stop by the boat, and Mulder
saw Skinner wave his men down as a skinny man ran
out from behind the wheel, his words carrying over
the dock. The warning in Chinese was precise and
to the point, telling Chang's men the police were
on the way. Damn, Mulder thought. They must have
listened in on the party line somehow. In
moments, Chang would pull anchor and leave.
"Now!" Mulder hissed, signaling Skinner. They
could no longer wait for Skinner's reinforcements
to travel upriver and surround the boat. What
little men they had moved forward as a group,
their guns ready. The ping of gunfire greeted
them immediately, and they dove for cover.
"Damn it," Charlie said beside him. "What now?"
"Skinner has men coming up alongside any moment
now. Chang is pinned down. He's not going
anywhere." But a man trapped was a dangerous one,
Mulder knew. He popped his head over the crate
they'd ducked behind, pulling the trigger.
As soon as it had started, the gunfire ceased.
They heard an engine roar to life, but it wasn't
the massive engines of the Meifeng. No, it was a
smaller boat. Damn. Chang was getting away - and
he most likely had Scully with him!
Mulder stood amidst Charlie's shout of "Get down!"
and he ran toward the ship. Skinner and his men
did the same off Mulder's wave to join him.
Mulder knew there would be no more gunfire from
the ship.
"She's no longer there, Fox. Trust me. She's
safe. Don't board the ship."
The voice in his ear made him stumble, and he
stopped for a second, looking around to see who
had spoken. Skinner stopped as well, and, seeing
Mulder's confusion, said, "What is it?"
"She's not on board," he stated calmly, sensing
the voice was true. Chang must have taken her
with him on the smaller boat.
"What?"
"Just stop the other boat!" He ran to the dock by
the stern of the Meifeng, just in time to see
Skinner's men on the water fire at the small boat
speeding away.
"No!" he shouted, but it was too late. The
smaller boat went up in a fireball downriver. He
felt heat sear his back as the larger ship
exploded as well, and he fell to his knees on the
dock, numb with shock.
**********
"Seems Chang wanted us all to go up in flames,"
Skinner said, grimacing at the iodine Melissa
applied to his forehead. "It was a setup from the
beginning. We had no idea he was listening on the
party line, but we've taken care of it."
Mulder stood at the window and watched the sky
grow lighter. He was numb. Unhurt, but numb.
All the men had returned unharmed from the docks,
and Chang was presumed dead, his boat having been
blown to bits by the Naval bombardment.
No one could have survived the blast, Skinner told
him not long ago, after hanging up the phone with
the police captain in charge of the investigation.
Chang had booby-trapped all three ships, never
intending to make his getaway by anything other
than the speedboat. Several men were captured on
the docks, but there was no sign of Scully. She
must have been with Chang aboard the smaller boat.
But Mulder knew better. Because the voice had
told him so. She was safe. But where? Was she
out there in the cold and rain, trying to make her
way back home?
Her mother and father were dazed, so was Charlie.
They sat in the kitchen, her mother making small
talk and coffee in an effort to keep her emotions
under control. Skinner and Mulder stayed away in
the living room, keeping Melissa and Frohike
company. Melissa hadn't cried once, quietly
watching him stand by the window. He knew she
thought he'd lost his mind, but he hadn't. He was
waiting for Scully to show up. And she would. It
was only a matter of time.
"I've got to check on the kids," she murmured,
excusing herself.
Frohike came to stand beside him. "I'm sorry,
Mulder. I know she meant a lot to you."
"She's not dead," he stated, looking down at the
shocked man with a scowl. "So don't even say it."
The phone rang, and Mulder ran from the room,
reaching it before anyone else. "Hello?" Charlie
stood in the kitchen door, his face hopeful.
"Hello, boy."
His heart sank; it was Mrs. O'Malley. He wanted
nothing more than to hang up on the old biddy, but
she was probably calling to offer her condolences.
The news had spread far and wide in just a few
hours, which didn't surprise him. "Let me get
Maggie, Mrs. O'Malley. Hold on."
"Wait," she said, "I want to speak to you, lad."
Sighing, he murmured, "I'm afraid I can't talk
right now, ma'am."
"Then listen."
He closed his eyes with displeasure, anxious to
get rid of her. "I'm listening."
"I have a couch for sale, Mr. Mulder. I
understand you're in the market for a new one?
This one's a bit damp at the moment, though. The
humidity, all that seawater around here. Tsk.
Makes a body cold... but alive. Yes, indeed, Mr.
Mulder. Alive."
He was out the door before she could say another
word, the phone dangling amidst Mrs. O'Malley's
bewildered, "Hello? You there, lad?"
End Chapter Sixteen
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geocities.com/mish_rose)