Date:         Sun, 25 Jun 1995 21:44:13 -0700
Reply-To:     Naomi Hayashi <nhayashi@MERCURY.SFSU.EDU>
Sender:       Highlander TV show stories <HLFIC-L@PSUVM.PSU.EDU>
From:         Naomi Hayashi <nhayashi@MERCURY.SFSU.EDU>
Subject:      X-File #A274-D33 part 13 of 17

This is being posted for the author, who currently doesn't have internet
access. Please direct all comments you want to be passed on to the author
or requests for missing parts to nhayashi@sfsu.edu


X-File: #A274-D33
Part 13 of 17
by Albert Low


    "We're going to a smithy?"
    "That's right, Scully.  It's possible that those metal fragments we
found are indicative of severe damage, in which case the sword will have
to be reforged.  And, even if the damage is relatively minor, our killer
might reforge it anyway."  Seeing the puzzled expression on her face, he
explained.  "If our killer fits the profile I've formulated about the
others, he'll repair his weapon as soon as possible.  These immortals
value their swords greatly.  Look at the case histories.  One sword in
New York was over seven hundred years old, worth over a million dollars.
Mako's sword was six hundred years old.  And, according to the lab, our
killer's sword is three times as old and in excellent condition.  Their
swords are not just weapons; they're prized possessions.  And," he said
before she could object, "even if my theory is wrong, and some sect or
serial killer is behind all the murders, he'll fix it anyway, if only to
restore the value."
    Scully looked at him dubiously.  "Mulder..."
    "I told you it was a long shot.  But I can't think of anything else.
Can you?"
    She sighed.  "I think you're crazy.  And I'm crazy to be going along
with this."
    Mulder chuckled.  "Welcome to the club, Scully."  Then he became
serious again.  "I checked the phone book and found only three
blacksmiths or metalwork shops in Seattle.  Two of them haven't had any
unusual requests or recently scheduled appointments to use their forges.
The third smithy hasn't gotten any recent customers and is closed today.
If our man hasn't repaired his sword yet, he'll be there, or will be, soon."
    Scully was obviously still skeptical, but she didn't say anything, a
fact for which he was grateful.  He drove as quickly as he dared, not
wanting to be delayed by some conscientious police officer.
    Less then twenty minutes later, they pulled up before the small
metalworks shop and accompanying warehouse.  It was located at the end of
a road lined by factories, most of which were either closed or out of
business.
    The shop front was dark, with no sign of activity within.  "Let's
look around," Scully suggested.
    He nodded his assent, and they walked around the building, looking
through the windows and trying the few doors they passed.  The thick
walls and windows made it hard to see or hear anything in the building,
if indeed there was any activity within at all.
    They had just rounded the corner to the rear of the building when
Scully pointed out the lone car in the rear parking lot.
    "I think we might be on to something," Mulder commented.
    "It's possible someone just left their car."
    He smiled.  Scully provided a slower, more thoughtful balance to his
fast, instinctive analyses.  It was something he'd come to appreciate,
realizing that sometimes he did come to conclusions without enough
evidence to support them.  *Not this time, though.*
    They were moving along the wall to the rear door when Scully stopped
and peered intently through a window.  Mulder joined her and, a moment
later, saw a faint light near the middle of the smithy.  "Good work,
Scully."  Then he paused, certain he'd heard something.  He pressed his
ear against the wall and felt the vibrations, a steady pounding.  He
gestured to Scully, and she imitated his actions.
    After a moment they pushed away from the wall.  "Like I said, no
one's supposed to be here," he said.
    "It looks like you were right," she acknowledged.
    He gave her a slight grin, and they moved along the rear to the back
entrance, the only door they hadn't yet tried.  Once there, Scully bent
down to examine the lock, pointing out to Mulder faint scratches that
indicated it had been forced.
    They could now hear faint pounding from inside.  Mulder tried the
knob, but it was locked.  He took out his gun and looked meaningfully at
Scully.  She took out her weapon and nodded.
    He took another look at the door which didn't look particularly
sturdy.  Then he took a step back and counted off slowly.
"One...two...three!"
    He leaped forward, kicking open the door with an effort.  It slammed
open, rebounding off its hinges noisily.
    Mulder and Scully entered the building, Mulder calling out loudly.
"Federal Agents!  Come out immediately with your hands in the air!"
    The only sign that anyone had heard him was a halting of the
pounding.  A second later, an overhead light in the center of the
warehouse went out, though a faint light still emanated from the area.
    Scully, standing to his right, inclined her head to her right and
then gestured for Mulder to take the left.  He nodded in acknowledgment
and slowly headed through the maze of machinery to his left.
    The smithy was dimly lit, the only light coming from the open door
and, more faintly, through the thick windows.  As he walked further into
the building, he slowed even more, swinging his gun back and forth to
cover possible hiding places.  But he neither saw nor heard anything out
of the ordinary.
    Finally, he neared the center of the smithy.  The faint illumination
came from the forge and cast bizarre shadows.  The temperature increased
as Mulder neared the forge, even more cautious than before.  He was
almost at the forge when something sailed over his head and landed in
it.  He caught only a glimpse of a glass container before it shattered,
its liquid contents turning to steam under the heat of the forge.
    Hot water and steam flew in Mulder's face as he threw an arm up to
shield himself and spun about.
    He raised his gun as a figure leaped at him.  But before he could
pull the trigger, something hot and sharp cut open the back of his hand,
the sudden pain causing him to drop the gun.  Instinctively, he took a
step back.
    That action saved his life.
    A second slash cut through his overcoat and the front of his shirt,
drawing blood, but not cutting too deeply.
    Mulder's vision cleared enough for him to clearly make out his
assailant for the first time.  A tall blond man, he fit the description
the florist had given the police.  Not that Mulder had much doubt who he
was.  And, if he did, the sword in his attacker's right hand dispelled it.
    The sword was raised for another slash.  Mulder saw that he was
fenced in by the forge on his right and a piece of machinery on his
left.  The sword began to fall...and Mulder flung himself backwards,
landing hard on his back.  But the ungainly maneuver worked, the blade
only slicing through his overcoat.  As soon as he hit the floor, he
rolled to the left, behind some equipment, and got to his feet.
    His attacker was already moving around the machinery.  Mulder looked
around and saw on a nearby table, of all things, a coffee maker.
Ignoring the pain from his wounded hand, he grabbed it and tossed it at
his assailant, more to slow him down than to hurt him.  Then he backed
off quickly, trying to circle around to where his gun had fallen.
    His attacker adroitly ducked to avoid being hit by the coffee maker
and advanced with amazing speed.  Mulder barely evaded two vicious
slashes but was kicked hard in the chest, where he'd been cut.  The pain
paralyzed him just long enough for his attacker to hit him in the jaw
with an open handed blow.
    Mulder fell to the ground, momentarily stunned and helpless.  His
assailant raised his sword to finish him off.
    "Federal Agent!"
    Scully's voice came from somewhere behind him.  His attacker froze
and looked up, apparently at her.
    "Lower your sword slowly, and toss it to the side," Scully ordered.
    The man smiled, looked back at Mulder, and abruptly brought his sword
down.
    The first bullet caught him in the center of his chest.  He was
driven back a step but recovered and tried to lift his sword again.  The
second bullet hit just above the heart and drove him back against some
machinery.
    To Mulder's shock his assailant was still standing.  He took a step
forward but then collapsed and lay motionless on the floor.
    Mulder heard the sound of footsteps approaching as he tried to sit
up.  It wasn't easy now that the rush of adrenaline had faded away.  His
hand and chest hurt like hell, and the pain seemingly quadrupled when he
moved.
    "Mulder, are you all - You're hurt!" Scully exclaimed as she dropped
down next to him and saw the blood on his shirt.
    "It's nothing," he said with a weak smile.  "He was collecting for
the local blood drive and wouldn't take no for an answer."
    She pulled open his shirt to examine his chest wound.  "Yeah, well,
it this cut had been any deeper, he could have asked for an organ
donation."  Mulder tried to get up to his feet, but she propped him so he
was leaning against the side of a cabinet.  "Don't move," she said
sternly as she pressed a clean handkerchief against his chest.
    He opened his mouth to object but subsided when he saw her
expression.  He merely nodded and leaned back.
    "That's better."  Scully pulled out her cellular phone and called for
help.
    "What about him?"  Mulder asked after she had hung up.
    She stepped over to where his attacker lay on the ground and gave him
a cursory exam.  "I think this puts a hole in your theory, Mulder.  He's
dead."
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