Title: En Pneumati Akatharto
Author: Mortis
Email: fanficcorner@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17 for language and sexual situations
Type: Mytharc, MSR
Thanks: To Kim and Nancy for being such great friends.
Disclaimer:They don't belong to me - never have. I'm just
borrowing them without profit.
En Pneumati Akatharto
+++++++++++++
“Come in, Agents.” A.D. Skinner’s bark cut through the crack in his open door.
Scully glanced at Kimberly’s vacant desk, looking up at her boss inquisitively as she passed him to enter
his office. Mulder followed close behind, shrugging into his suit jacket which he’d just tossed on the couch
in the outer office seconds before Skinner’s summons.
“She’s at lunch,” he said in answer to Scully’s unspoken question. He retreated behind his desk waving a
hand at the chairs before his desk. “Have a seat,” he said. They took their places and he began. “I realize
you were on your way out, but this is a matter of some importance. Mulder, you knew Senator Matheson,
didn’t you?”
“Yes, sir,” Mulder answered, “He offered himself as a benefactor shortly after I graduated the Academy.
He was a trusted colleague until he became – compromised.” Mulder nodded almost imperceptibly as
Skinner’s eyes bore into him. Both men knowing the exact nature of that compromise.
Skinner continued without missing a beat. “The late Senator had a daughter, Kaitlyn,” he said placing a
dossier on the desk before him. Attached to the front, was an 8” x 12” photo of a comely dark-haired, dark-
eyed woman of about 30. “The Senator’s brother, Marshall Matheson came to me this morning, requesting
our assistance in locating her. It seems that she’s disappeared. For the past ten years, she has been working
on an eyes-only research project at Zyvex,” he said glancing at Scully, “she’s a specialist in micro-robotics
and a medical doctor. It’s been 24 hours, yet no ransom has been demanded, nothing to indicate an
abduction for profit. Mr. Matheson is very concerned for his niece. He believes that she’s in grave danger,
but he doesn’t believe she’s been kidnapped. He indicated that she had begun exhibiting some – unusual
changes in personality.”
“’Unusual’, sir?” Mulder asked.
Skinner lifted a silencing hand indicating that he was about to elucidate. “Until recently, Dr. Matheson was
grounded and rational, not given to episodes of radical behavior. Then, about a month ago,” Skinner
cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, “she became increasingly withdrawn and
frightened. Frequently, in the early morning hours, she would be found wandering the grounds in her
nightgown, terrified and nearly incoherent, convinced that she was being pursued by some invisible and
malevolent force. She became more and more nervous, agitated. Then quite suddenly, according to Mr.
Matheson, his niece became another person altogether, someone dark and sinister. He hinted at specific
incidents, but wouldn’t go into any detail. I, uh,” he paused looking at Mulder, “he believes that she’s been
possessed.”
Mulder’s ears perked almost visibly forward. “There have been documented cases of possession in recent
memory,” he began, “William Blatty’s The Exorcist, was based on a well-documented factual case from
1949. She may have been sensing a paranormal presence attempting to gain entrance to her body.”
Scully eyes shot skyward as if looking for common sense somewhere on the ceiling. “It’s more likely, sir,
that she’s mentally ill,” she suggested. “Her altered behavior could indicate the acute onset of
schizophrenia or even drug abuse.”
“That might be the case, Agent Scully,” Skinner growled, “but the Senator’s brother was most insistent that
her life was in danger, as was the Director, when he came to me with this case.” He slid the manila folder
across the desk to her. “If you’ll take a look at the photos, you’ll note that concerns for this woman’s safety
may not be completely unfounded.”
Scully glanced at the photos and passed them over to Mulder who had leaned in to get a better look. The
photos showed an enormous room, furnished in great taste and expense, in complete disarray. One photo
showed that a bureau had been overturned and all the contents of its drawers spilled and scattered across a
nearby California king-sized bed. The others showed more of the same; expensive and beautiful items
knocked akimbo on a large antique dresser, jewelry scattered across the expensive Persian rugs from an
upset jewelry chest. Clothes lay strewn about the room as if the closet had exploded. Scully scanned the
brief police report. “Mr. Matheson was unable to determine if anything was missing. Hmmm,” she mused.
“You have an insight, Agent Scully?” Skinner snapped, sounding piqued even to himself. “I’m sorry, I’ve
had four calls in as many hours from concerned and connected friends of the late Senator Matheson and
one from an official in the DOD. The latter call, I suspect, is at the root of the Director’s concern.” he said
softly. “Given the sensitive nature of the research in which Kaitlyn Matheson was involved, it is
imperative that she be found as quickly as possible. I appreciate your immediate attention to the
expeditious resolution of this matter. That’ll be all.” He looked at his desk and shuffled four files that he
made sure Kimberly always left on his desk for just this purpose, dismissing them. Mulder and Scully rose
in unison in response to the well rehearsed cue. He looked up and watched them make their way to the
outer door. “I’ll expect a preliminary report by this evening.”
“Yes, sir.” Scully closed the door behind her. She looked up at Mulder, standing in the hallway like a
race-horse in the starting gate. “You don’t really believe that Kaitlyn Matheson is possessed? Mulder, this
is the twenty-first century. No one in his rational mind believes in that mumbo-jumbo,” she chided. “I
don’t even think that the Church performs exorcisms anymore.”
“Scully, you of all people should know that while it admits that a large number - an overwhelming number
- of these cases are indeed, hoaxes or mental illness, the Church still investigates the claims and has, in fact,
performed exorcisms in this century after having ruled out all other possibilities,” he lectured.
Scully thought back to Sister Spooky and all the lurid tales with which she’d regaled her and her young
classmates. She stifled a shudder. She had spent her entire life studying science; learning to rationalize the
religion in which she’d been raised. She had chosen to believe it as symbolism and had lost her faith as a
result. She suddenly realized it had been months since she’d been to Confession.
Mulder interrupted her guilty thought, gently taking her elbow and guiding her down the hallway to the
elevator. “I suppose that we’d better pay a visit to Mr. Matheson,” he said smiling, radiating that boyish
charm that both annoyed the hell out of her and endeared him to her all the same.
++++++++++++++++
Scully looked out the window of their requisitioned sedan as Mulder drove on auto-pilot. She watched the
homes become larger and more expensive with each passing block. Ahead and to the right, she saw Sen.
Matheson’s house rise out of the landscape. Mulder slowed and put on his turn signal even though they
were completely alone on the street. He turned into a short section of drive and came to a halt before a set
of wrought iron gates. He rolled down the window and had to climb half out of it in order to reach the call
button on the intercom. Scully smiled quietly at the site of Mulder, hanging out the window. Her slightly
raised eyebrow was the only outward indication of the appraisal she was giving his backside as he
unconsciously presented it to her in his awkward pose.
“Yes?” A disembodied voice asked.
“Agents Mulder and Scully with the FBI. We’re here to speak with Mr. Matheson.” Mulder slid back into
his seat. The gate slowly swung open in silent answer to his announcement. “Thanks,” he said quietly to
the box. He put the car in gear and they covered the remaining quarter-mile of the driveway to the house.
Mulder parked, and they proceeded to the gaping maw of the magnificent edifice.
Mulder sashayed up to the enormous double-hung doors as if he owned the place. She silently envied the
ease with which he accepted the obvious excess of wealth standing before them. She knew that he had
grown up in the tasteful affluence of Martha’s Vineyard, but was certain that he would be as intimidated by
this overt display of privileged circumstances as she was. Scully had grown up on military bases. As a
captain’s daughter, she had enjoyed a certain amount of affluence herself, but this much luxury made her
uncomfortable. Mulder rang the bell next to the doors as she caught up to him.
A few moments later, the doors swung open revealing a woman in her mid 50’s wearing the starched gray
uniform of the household staff. She smiled warmly at them and showed them into a magnificently
appointed library. “I’m Magdalena,” she said. The skin around her eyes crinkled into little obsidian-
centered suns. Scully liked her immediately. “Mr. Matheson should be with you shortly. Can I bring you
anything, coffee, tea?” They both demurred and after obtaining their promise to “just shout” if they
changed their minds, she closed the French doors behind her and left.
“A little light reading?” Mulder joked running his finger along several bindings and pulling out a
monstrous, leather-bound tome that looked as if it hadn’t been dusted since it had been published a couple
hundred years ago. Scully waved her hand in a feeble attempt to shoo the dust from the air in front of her
and cracked a rare grin.
“Have you ever seen so many books?” she wondered aloud. She walked the circuit of shelves slowly,
taking in the richness of the décor. Everything was done in burgundy and gold, in leather and wood. The
sofa and several matching wing-chairs looked like priceless antiques sitting on the equally old and
expensive Persian rug done up in the same color scheme. Her eyes finally came to rest on a statuette in
bronze standing above on a fireplace that stood as tall as she did. It was set on a heavy marble base and
depicted a Native American mounted on a horse. Both the man and the animal had their heads bowed as if
in defeat or exhaustion. The sculpture stirred a poignant emotion in her and she idly wondered to herself if
it was an original. “I never realized that being a public servant paid so well,” she said, her voice dripping
with sarcasm.
“It doesn’t,” Mulder grinned, “at least not for an honest one. Senator Matheson came from an oil-
producing state. His great-grandfather gobbled up several large tracts of land and his grandfather knew
where to drill.” Scully made her way to the bookcase where Mulder was standing. Most of the titles were
in foreign languages, some were even in different alphabets. There were a few ancient looking medical
texts and anatomy atlases. There were also several very old texts on the occult. Scully pulled out one
particular volume, “Malleus Maleficarum,” she read. “Here you go Mulder, all the evidence you’ll need to
get an arrest warrant for the Devil.” She let out a mirthful snort, her breath puffing out across the top of the
book creating a mini dust storm. Mulder’s nose twitched and he sneezed. Scully couldn’t hold back a
giggle.
“Those are priceless,” Marshall Matheson’s soft low voice cut through the room, cutting Scully’s giggle off
in mid breath. He looked sad and tired. He stepped into the room leaving the glass and wood doors
standing open to the foyer. “Agent Mulder, I presume? Thank you for coming so quickly,” he said with a
gentle smile. He stuck out a hand and took Mulder’s in a firm, dry grip. Scully quickly replaced the book
in its spot on the shelf. “And Agent Scully,” he said, his hand releasing Mulder’s and reaching for hers.
She shook his hand, instantly sober and a little embarrassed. Without any further pleasantries, they got
right down to business.
“We need to talk to you about Kaitlyn, Mr. Matheson.”
“Please,” he gestured, “won’t you sit down?”
***************
The three of them settled into a grouping of wing chairs. Mulder and Scully took the two chairs flanking
Mr. Matheson. He picked up a phone sitting on a small table to the left of his chair, spoke briefly in hushed
tones and a few minutes later, Magdalena entered the room with a large pot of coffee on a silver tray. She
poured three cups and silently left the room. Scully reached forward and splashed a bit of cream in her cup
and sat back, attentive, while Mulder began to question Marshall Matheson about his niece.
“Mr. Matheson,” Mulder began gently, “on what do you base your suspicion that Kaitlyn is possessed?”
“Mr. Mulder, I know it sounds crazy,” he shook his head, “hell, we’re not even Catholic, but I swear that
Kaitlyn isn’t Kaitlyn any more.” He looked at Mulder for signs of scoffing, but he projected only attentive
curiosity. Assured by his reaction, or rather lack of one, Matheson continued. “I have been close to
Kaitlyn since she was a baby. My brother didn’t always have the time to devote to her, and after her
mother died, I stepped in to help. I was recently divorced,” he looked down at his hands, “and I didn’t have
any children of my own. Being a consultant, I was able to do most of my work from here and we became
as close as any father and daughter.” Scully saw the tears standing in his eyes and felt her heart breaking
for the man. “I was the father to her that Richard didn’t have time to be. I was the one who went to school
functions; I was the one that cheered her on at the science fairs; I was the one she came to when she was
troubled.” He choked, “Excuse me,” he said turning away and reaching for his handkerchief.
“I know this is difficult for you, sir,” Scully said reaching out to gently lay a comforting hand on his arm.
“We’ll do everything possible to find her.”
Marshall Matheson, sniffed. He nodded his head and continued, “After Kaitlyn finished her doctorate, we
saw less of each other. She was very busy with her new job and since it was classified, she couldn’t discuss
it with me and I never asked. But we always managed to have lunch together at least twice a week and we
regularly played tennis every Saturday afternoon. We stayed close. About a month ago, Kaitlyn confided
to me that she was frightened. When I asked her what had frightened her, she said she couldn’t tell me. I
assumed that it had to do with her work. But she became more and more paranoid, jumpy. Last week, I
walked up on her having an argument with the air in the hallway. I walked up to her and lay my hand on
her shoulder, I tell you, she nearly jumped out of her skin. It was then that I began to have serious concerns
for her mental health.” He looked Scully in the eye. “There is no history of mental illness in our family,
Agent Scully. Not even eccentrics,” he smiled fleetingly. “But, Kaitlyn is adopted,” he admitted, the regret
evident in his voice. He was loathe to continue, but knew that he needed to be completely open. He took a
deep breath and went on. “She stood there in tears, tearing at her hair, saying over and over, ‘No!! Go
back to hell!’ I didn’t know what to do, I called our family physician who recommended a psychiatrist
with whom he’d worked before. She was supposed to see Kaitlyn next week. I didn’t think that Kaitlyn
would harm herself and I certainly didn’t think she was a danger to anyone else… perhaps I should have
taken her to the hospital,” his voice trailed off. He was lost in the pain and guilt that only a parent can
experience.
“Do you now contend that Kaitlyn is mentally ill, sir?” Mulder asked.
“No – I don’t know anymore,” he said, confused. “Agent Mulder, there’s more. After I found her having
that ‘argument’, Magdalena and I got her calmed down and convinced her to rest. I had seen her to her
room and asked her to join me for a quiet dinner. She seemed rational again, if shaken. She said she’d
have a nap and would see me later. I don’t know what happened,” he said looking anxiously from Mulder
to Scully and back. “She may be mad,” he admitted, his voice filled with tired defeat, “but the person that
joined me for dinner that night was not Kaitlyn.”
++++++++++++++++
Marshall Matheson proceeded to detail the appalling transformation of the woman he had, for all practical
purposes, raised from infancy. “She didn’t even look like herself,” he continued. “She was wearing this
slinky dress that looked like it had been poured on.” His discomfort at the memory was evident. He
shifted in his seat and looked away. “I remember when she acquired this particular dress. It was last year,
she had sent her assistant out to select an evening dress for a Hollywood fund-raiser. She had refused to
wear it. She called it obscene.” He looked at his hands as if they were something he’d never seen before
and didn’t know what to do with them. “She made crude sexual suggestions to me,” he said looking for the
shock in their eyes. “She would never have done that. I tell you, she was some other being, but that was
not my Kaitlyn.” He put his face into his hands and collected himself enough to continue though his
cheeks burned. “That was only the beginning. She became exceedingly aggressive. As the week
progressed, her advances became more and more overt – even physical. When I refused her, she turned on
me like a wild animal. She screamed and flew at me. I thought that she would scratch my eyes out. I had
Magdalena call the doctor. It took all three of us, but we were finally able to restrain and sedate her. That
was the night before last. Dr. Kim concurred that she needn’t be hospitalized yet, given her position, we
thought the publicity…” he trailed off, silently thrashing himself for his choice. “When we went in to
check on her yesterday morning, she was gone and her room had been ransacked. Please,” he implored
with pitiful eyes, “find her. The Director thought I was mad. He agreed to investigate this only because of
Richard, as a kidnapping. He did, however, tell me that you have a certain – expertise – in these matters,
Agent Mulder.”
“I don’t mean to sound skeptical, sir,” Mulder began surprising Scully, “but this behavior in and of itself
doesn’t support your claim of possession.” He watched Matheson closely for his reaction. But the older
man merely looked at him without apology. Matheson was certain that everyone involved thought he’d
completely lost his mind and didn’t care who thought so if it would only help his niece.
“That isn’t the extent of it, Agent Mulder,” he said. “Kaitlyn is a tiny thing. She’s not even a full five and
half feet and weighs less than 130 lbs., but she threw the three of us around that room as if she were a titan.
And she also began to,” here he paused again, looking for the words, “she claimed she was able to read
people’s thoughts. I thought I’d test that assertion and asked her – you know, in my head without words,
what was wrong with her. She laughed, looked me in the eye, and said, ‘En pneumati akatharto.’ Kaitlyn
speaks a dozen languages, agents, but I don’t. Does this mean anything to you?”
Scully caught Mulder’s eyes at this statement. She said nothing, but Mulder knew that she understood what
Dr. Matheson had said. He also knew that she didn’t want to divulge that information in front of her
distraught uncle. He acknowledged her unspoken communication in the same fashion.
Mulder stood, drawing the interview to a close. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Matheson. I promise
that we will do everything in our power to find her,” he said clamping his hand gently, but firmly, on
Matheson’s bicep in a masculine gesture of sympathy and reassurance. “If we may, we’d like to examine
her room.”
“Yes, of course,” he said, relieved that the agents hadn’t suggested that he seek out mental health
counseling himself. “Right this way.” He pointed and led them up a large curving staircase that spanned at
least three storeys. At the second floor landing, Matheson turned to the left and led them down a wide
hallway to another set of double-hung doors. He opened them and moved aside to let the two agents enter.
“You’ll forgive me, if I don’t join you,” he said. The pain of seeing the room evident in his gaze. “I’ll be
in the library when you’re finished, if you have any more questions for me.” With that, he left the two of
them standing at the open door, free to look around unhindered.
The room had been straightened and cleaned. It looked ready for Dr. Matheson to occupy, no hint of the
complete destruction captured in the photos. They entered the room and began to poke about into Kaitlyn
Matheson’s private life.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
They split up at the door. Mulder headed for the closet, while Scully went straight for the desk tucked into
an alcove featuring a large bay window. The desk was of simple design in heavy wood. It sat facing the
rest of the room, putting its user’s back to the window. The window was hung with several lace panels
flanked on the sides by heavy drapes that could be drawn to block out all the light from the enormous
window. The window’s seat was topped by a thick upholstered pad that was piled with several plump
pillows. The latest Patricia Cornwell novel lay on the seat with a tasseled book-mark denoting its reader’s
progress.
Built into the walls flanking the desk were two matching five-drawer file cabinets, the contents of which
Scully scrutinized briefly. They seemed to be filled with two parallel rows of CD’s containing multiple
computer files. The bottom two drawers were locked. She took a seat at the desk. A very nice ThinkPad
sat closed on the desk. Scully pulled it to her and flipped open the lid. She sat through a fairly prolonged
boot-up sequence until the system asked for Dr. Matheson’s password. Scully wasn’t surprised. She had
taken similar precautions with her own. She had even ceased keeping written journals in favor of
electronic ones after their sanctity had been violated and they had been read against her wishes. She shut
down and closed the computer and made do with probing through the desk drawers. The center drawer was
locked as well. Scully ran her hand on the underside of the drawer and felt something taped there. She
pulled loose the tape and pulled out an ornate key. She slipped into the lock on the center desk drawer and
was rewarded with a quiet click. In the drawer were several files containing what seemed to be birth
records. Had Kaitlyn Matheson been trying to find her birthparents? She tucked the files aside on the desk
for closer examination later.
Mulder had finished his survey of the rest of the room. He walked over to the desk and parked himself on
it directly across from Scully. “Anything useful?” he inquired with a glance at the files.
“I’m not sure,” she began, “I’ll give them a closer look this evening. I’d like to talk to Dr. Kim, maybe he
has some insight into her behavior.”
Mulder glanced at his watch; 2:30. “If you’re all done here, we can swing by his office on the way back to
the office. Maybe we’ll have more to tell Skinner after that.”
Scully nodded her ascent. She tucked the files into her briefcase.
Mulder remembered her look at Dr. Matheson’s explanation for the change that had come over her,
“Scully? What is ‘en pneumati akatharto’?”
“It’s ancient Greek,” she began reluctantly, hesitant to feed the possession theory, but unwilling to lie. “It’s
from the Gospel of St. Mark. It means, ‘with an unclean spirit’. St. Mark uses that phrase when he
describes the exorcism of a man in the synagogue at Capharnaum. But that doesn’t prove a thing, Mulder,”
she said waiting for him to argue the opposite point.
“She has exhibited several of the behaviors associated with possession; change in personality, moral
depravity, unusual strength, possibly even telepathic abilities.” Mulder’s brows came together, “But I’m
not sure I believe that she’s possessed.”
Scully pushed the chair back from the desk. Her foot slipped on something wet on the floor. She bent
down to see what it was and let out a small gasp. “Mulder!” she whispered, “look at this!”
Mulder moved to her side and bent down to examine what had shaken his partner. There on the parquets
rested blackish oily residue. “At least not in the conventional sense of possession,” he amended. They
looked at each other with the shared understanding that this case had just become a lot more complicated –
and dangerous.
Scully took out latex gloves and a small sterile sample container from her briefcase. She scraped up a small
amount of the residue, sealing it inside for later analysis. She didn’t have much doubt about what the
substance was, but it would be good evidence – provided they could hold on to it this time.
Once that was done, they retraced their steps to the library where Matheson waited for them. He allowed
them to take whatever they wanted if it would help them find Kaitlyn and told Scully he would phone Dr.
Kim to encourage his cooperation. They left with Dr. Matheson’s files, her laptop and troubled minds.
They headed out of Arlington towards the 395 and back to D.C. Mulder found Dr. Kim’s office building
with no trouble. The receptionist didn’t seem concerned that they didn’t have an appointment and soon they
were ensconced in a small private waiting area. They sat side by side on the leather couch to wait for him.
Scully picked up the latest “Lancet” and began to scan the pages without much real interest. Mulder
reached for a copy of “People”. He wasn’t any more interested than Scully, but it gave him something to do
with his hands. Tasteful classical music quietly wafted through the room from speakers over-head. They
didn’t have long to wait. Dr. Kim emerged through a door to their left and invited them into his office.
Dr. Kim was a handsome Oriental man somewhere between middle-aged and old. He extended his hand.
“Dr. Scully, I’m please to make your acquaintance. And Agent Mulder,” he said shaking hands with him as
well. “Marshall called me and asked me to help you in any way I could.” His dark brows knitted, “I am
happy to cooperate in your investigation, although, I’m not sure what help I could be.” He shrugged and
shook his head slowly.
“How long has Dr. Matheson been a patient of yours?” Mulder began, taking one of the seats before the
doctor’s enormous desk. Scully followed suit, while Dr. Kim waited for her to sit.
He took his seat behind the desk. “Since she was a baby,” he smiled. “I’ve been the Matheson family
doctor for more years than I can remember.”
“What can you tell us about the adoption?” Scully inquired.
“I’m afraid not much,” he began, “Richard and Christine tried for years, unsuccessfully, to conceive. I
believe that Richard arranged it through connections that he had in the government, but I was not involved
in that.” His face clouded with a frown momentarily, but it cleared as quickly as it had come, leaving
Scully to wonder what memories were associated with it.
“Do you know, sir, if she had begun any sort of search for her birth parents?” Scully asked.
“She had spoken of a desire to know more about her birth parents, but I am unaware if she ever took
measures to find them,” Dr. Kim shifted a bit uncomfortably in his chair.
She quickly continued, “Had Kaitlyn exhibited any unusual behavior before?”
“Well,” he hedged, “that would fall under the auspices of doctor/patient confidentiality, but Marshall asked
me to be as candid as I could with you. No, Kaitlyn never showed any unusual behavior until recently.” He
hesitated a moment, weighing his options. “Where I come from, things like possession are not tossed away
lightly; even by medical professionals. I have been in this county for many years, but I guess somewhere in
the back of my mind, I’ve never let go of the superstitions of my homeland. It sounds quite mad, but I
believe that she may actually be possessed.” He looked at them with his head down, waiting for the
laughter that would surely follow.
Instead, Mulder piped up with a question, “On what do you base that belief, sir?”
Dr. Kim looked up. He examined the man’s face for signs of sarcasm, but found none. He decided that they
might be open to non-conventional ways of thinking after all and relaxed visibly. “Apart from her obvious
behavior changes, Agent Mulder, I saw something that alarmed me. Something I’ve never seen before.
After I had sedated Kaitlyn that night, I examined her eyes.” He paused leaned in confidentially and spoke
in little more than a whisper, “I saw the evil literally swirling black within her eyes. It looked like the very
clouds of hell were contained within the orbs themselves.”
Scully sat back in her chair. Mulder wore a grim look. He stood and Scully joined him. “Thank you for
seeing us on such short notice, Doctor,” he began, “We may have more questions later, if that’s okay?”
Dr. Kim rose and again offered his hand. “I’m glad to see you both, anytime,” he said with a sincere smile.
He led the way to the outer door of his office, depositing them in the hallway by which they’d entered.
They exchanged final pleasantries, then headed back toward the elevator.
“Mulder,” Scully said quietly, “I think I should get this sample to the lab before we see Skinner.”
He silently nodded his agreement as they got in the car and made their way through heavy traffic to the J.
Edgar Hoover Building.
Mulder pulled the car into the garage. The tires chirped on the pavement as he hit the edge of the down
ramp. He slowed, slightly, and pulled into an unused space as far from the doors as he could manage. He
reached over and flipped on the radio, twisting the knob until it reached a volume sufficient to attract
Scully’s gaze. Her brows knitted, a question in her eyes. Mulder silenced her with a finger to his lips. He
reached out his hand grasping the back of her neck gently and pulled her face close to his. The stubble of
his developing five o’clock shadow prickled her cheek as he spoke softly into her ear.
“How long will it take you to get a positive ID on that residue,” he asked, his breath tickling her ear.
She gently turned her face to his ear. “Not long,” she said, her anger and resentment against all that the
substance represented coursing beneath the ice in her voice. “I can be certain to ten decimal places within
twenty minutes.”
“Good. I’m going to start our report to Skinner. You get the stuff under the microscope and meet me in our
office. I’m going to call some friends,” he said, leaning back as the song ended. “So, what are you doing for
dinner?” he asked with a smile and a normal tone of voice. He killed the engine and removed the keys.
“Work,” she replied while unfastening her seatbelt and getting out of the car as well. “You?”
“Same.” They made their way inside. Mulder headed for the office while Scully caught the elevator. She
clutched the handle of her briefcase, knuckles white. The elevator beeped and several people stood waiting
as the door opened onto the fourth floor. Many of them wore lab coats. She stepped out of the car as they
filed in to fill it. Her eyes swung left, then right as she assessed the few remaining stragglers in the corridor.
She made for a door toward the end of the hallway and let herself in.
She reached into her briefcase and retrieved the sample. Keeping it securely in her hand, she shrugged out
of her jacket and tossed it on a nearby stool. She quickly assembled a pair of slides and went to work,
smearing each of them in turn with the sample residue. She removed her glasses and leaned in to peer into
the microscope’s eyepieces. She began to note her findings, her expression becoming grimmer with each
word and figure she wrote.
Twenty minutes later, she walked into the basement office. “Mulder,” she began. He silenced her with the
familiar finger to the lips, then tugged at his earlobe to indicate that they were not private. She nodded
imperceptibly and continued without a lag. “How about some dinner? I’m famished,” she said with a
pointed glance toward her briefcase.
“How does Chinese sound?” he asked as they exited the office.
They dropped the pretense of the conversation as soon as they entered the elevator, but didn’t speak about
the case. They dropped Mulder’s preliminary report at Skinner’s office and headed out of the building.
They hit the door and Mulder gently tugged Scully’s sleeve toward his vehicle. She followed and they
headed out into the evening throng of traffic.
“What did you find?” he asked. He felt comfortable discussing the case in his own car, but turned the radio
on anyway to confuse their conversation for anyone who might be listening.
“The substance is oil, plain oil, just like the last time, but that’s not all.” She waited for him to look at her
before she continued. “I found several of those carbon machines, nanites, mixed in with the sample. They
are just like what I found in Skinner’s blood when he was attacked.” She paused letting the implication sink
in.
“Dr. Matheson is a specialist in nano-technology, Mulder. She might be very useful to someone who had an
interest in the black oil. We have to consider the possibility that she’s been working with them all along
and has disappeared of her own accord,” she postulated. “Think about it. Her bizarre behavior, the
ransacking of her room – it’s the perfect set-up for her to stage her own disappearance.”
Mulder thought a moment. “I concede that she must have created the nano-technology that was used
against Skinner. But her own father was killed to prevent that technology from being exported, from
leaving the country. What possible motive would she have to kill her own father?”
“You said it yourself, Mulder; to keep her research here, secret – under the control of those who would use
it as a weapon to control whoever they wanted.”
“I don’t know, Scully, I think we need to find out more about Dr. Matheson before we conclude that she
could be capable of killing her own father. She had nothing to gain from his death. She may have been
deceived by the same people who took her when she outlived her usefulness.”
“Well, I think we should get a less rose-colored assessment of Dr. Matheson. We should talk to some of her
colleagues at Zyvex and find out a little more about the ‘sainted’ Dr. Kaitlyn Matheson,” she said dropping
her argument for the time being.
***************
Mulder dropped Scully at her apartment and headed back to his place. He paused at the stop sign at the end
of the block and pulled out his cell phone. He hit the speed dial and a few seconds later was answered by
Frohike’s gravelly voice. “Yeah?” he said with the usual suspicion embedded in the greeting.
“Frohike turn off the tape, it’s me,” came Mulder’s standard reply.
Frohike waited a second and said, “Okay, shoot.”
“I said, ‘Turn off the tape,’” Mulder repeated.
He heard the click of the machine being turned off and then continued. “I need you guys to do something
for me.”
“What? You need a date for the policemen’s ball?” Frohike joked.
“I need you to sweep my apartment and Scully’s for surveillance devices,” he said without preamble. “I’m
pretty sure that they’ve had our office bugged for a while, but I need to be certain both our places are
secure. When can you get to it?”
“Right now,” Frohike replied, suddenly serious and sober. “We’ll meet you at your place. Where are you
now?”
Mulder gave the intersection and told him that he was in transit. Frohike assured him that they would be
waiting for him as soon as he arrived home. He hung up the phone and started to gather equipment.
Scully entered her apartment and dropped her keys on the table by the answering machine without turning
on any lights. She dead-bolted and chained the door behind her and moved to close the drapes she’d left
open that morning. She peered out the window through them and noticed a dark blue Ford sedan parked
midway down the street. Its windows were darkly tinted, but she saw a trail of smoke wafting out a crack
in the one on the driver’s side. She blew out the breath she only just realized she was holding and shifted
her mental focus to the now familiar game of cat and mouse. Or was that Moose and Squirrel, she thought
to herself with a sardonic snort.
She moved slowly away from the window. She moved through the entire apartment, checking all the
windows and drawing all the shades. She finally turned on the light in her bedroom and set her briefcase
next to the bed. Her cell phone chirped in the pocket of her blazer and she jumped. “Scully,” she
answered.
“Scully, it’s me.” Mulder’s voice cut through the silence of her apartment. “We need to talk, but not on
this line.”
“Mulder,” Scully cut in, “ I’m being watched.”
“I’ve got to clean up my apartment, then I’m on my way,” he said not wanting to broadcast what kind of
cleaning he intended.
Scully nodded to the phone. “I’ll see you then.”
Scully flipped the phone onto the bed and kicked off her heels. She changed into her favorite soft sweats
and t-shirt. She padded into the kitchen and made herself a pot of coffee, she knew it was going to be a
long night. She headed back into the bedroom and retrieved Dr. Matheson’s files. She left the laptop
where it rested next to her own. She moved into the dining room and dropped them on the table in passing
to get herself a cup of the steaming brew. Coffee in hand, she settled herself at the table with one leg
tucked up under her. She opened the files and began to scrutinize them.
The first three yielded nothing of any real interest, but the fourth one looked promising. It contained
several papers that appeared to be copies of birth and adoption records, but much of the information had
been redacted, the details effectively edited out leaving nothing of any real information. Scully noticed the
witnessing signatures on the birth certificate and the adoption papers and her heart began to pound. CGB
Spender’s name leapt out at her. She began to check all the papers for the same signature and found it on
several of the also heavily redacted papers in the other files as well. Scully whistled quietly. She dove into
the puzzle, trying to make the connection between the documents and the signature and Dr. Matheson.
About two hours later, a knock at the door startled her out of her conundrum. She slipped out of the chair,
wiggling her toes which had fallen asleep. She looked through the peephole and saw Mulder. She undid
the chain and deadbolt and opened the door. Mulder stepped in, gently placing his hand on the outer aspect
of the handle, blocking her from closing it. Frohike, Langly and Byers filed in behind him wearing their
black “funky poaching” outfits and with several high-tech looking devices in tow. Mulder turned on the
TV while they began to scan the apartment whispering an explanation quietly in her ear.
Scully nodded her understanding. She led him silently to the table where she pointed at the files and asked,
“You want some coffee?”
“Sure,” he replied absently as he examined the pages she had indicated. She came back into the room
carrying two steaming cups and leaned in to look over his shoulder. He noted the signatures, but said
nothing.
Frohike came into the room, his face looking like a thunderstorm breaking over the horizon. With a series
of silent gestures he led them to an electronic listening device concealed in one of the power outlets in
Scully’s living room. He then led the way to the bedroom where he pointed out another hidden behind the
mirror over her dresser. Scully’s face was grim and her nostrils flared slightly with anger at the invasion of
her privacy.
*********
end part 1/4