Date: Thu, 22 Jun 1995 18:59:44 -0700 Reply-To: Naomi Hayashi Sender: Highlander TV show stories From: Naomi Hayashi Subject: X-File #A274-D33 part 8 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 8 of 17 by Albert Low Mulder yawned and looked out the window to see that dawn had arrived. It would be a while before Scully would be up and about, so he decided to go out for a jog. First, though, it would be a good idea to check on the weather. He opened the door and looked up to see a relatively clear sky. As he did so, he noticed a newspaper on the ground in front of the door. This wouldn't have caught his attention but for the fact he hadn't ordered one. He picked it up and went back inside, noting it was a local paper. He unfolded it, but nothing fell out or was circled on the front page. Then he noticed something written in pen in the upper right corner, a letter and some numbers, "W 297 3 19." Mulder stared at the symbols thoughtfully, then put the paper down and opened a drawer. He pulled out the white pages, turned to page 297 and scanned down the third column until he reached the nineteenth entry which was a listing for a toy manufacturer. He memorized the address, showered, and got dressed. Thirty minutes later, he stopped the car in front of a warehouse located near the waterfront. A large sign informed the public that the company had gone out of business, and no other cars were in sight. The first door he tried was locked, but the second opened. He stepped inside, closing the door behind him, and glanced around. The diffuse light coming through the windows illuminated a large cavernous space filled with discarded pieces of machinery. Mulder slowly walked through the warehouse, head turning from side to side. "Agent Mulder." He whirled about to see a tall black man, with more than a touch of gray in his hair and beard, emerge from the shadow of a large machine. Mulder didn't know much about the man he occasionally thought of as Mr. X. His true name, occupation, indeed, virtually everything about him was a mystery. All he knew was that he had access to various secrets of the government, information he doled out to Mulder to aid him in certain investigations. "You know, we've got to stop meeting like this. People might begin to get the wrong impression." Mr. X's somber expression didn't change. Not that Mulder had expected it to. He thought about his former source of information, the man he had called Deep Throat. He had been as mysterious as Mr. X, but he had also been more accessible. The two of them had shared a passion for sports, particularly baseball, and Deep Throat had had a sense of humor, as well. Even though the man had lied to him on at least one occasion, Mulder had trusted him. But Deep Throat was dead, killed while making an exchange to save Mulder's life. Mr. X had appeared offering his help, a few months later. But his reasons for aiding Mulder were as much a mystery as the man himself. Mulder remembered something the man had said during their first face to face encounter, "You think I want to be here, Agent Mulder? I don't want to be here." And in a later conversation, "You're my tool! I come to you when I need you!" But Mulder had to admit Mr. X had helped him, so he trusted him to a certain degree, more than he trusted anyone but Scully and a few others. Mr. X removed a thick manila envelope from the inside of his overcoat and held it out. "I believe you'll find this to be of use in your current investigation." Mulder took it but made no attempt to open it. "What's in it?" "Among other things, a classified report about the decapitation of a man known as Mako here in Seattle about a year ago." "Wasn't he a bounty hunter?" Getting a confirming nod, he pressed on. "Why would the government be interested in this particular murder? What's really going on here?" "I don't know." Mulder didn't say anything, but judging by Mr. X's next words, his disbelief must have been evident. "Despite what you may think, Agent Mulder, neither my predecessor nor I know everything. There are limits to my knowledge. I can tell you this; to the best of my knowledge, _no one_ knows what is going on. "Once you've read the contents of that envelope, you will know as much about this case as I do, possibly more. There is a truth to be found here, Mr. Mulder, but you'll have to find it on your own." Then he turned and walked away. Mulder considered what had just been said, then called out, "Wait." Mr. X stopped and looked back at him. "I just wanted to thank you for your help. I know the risks you take when we meet." The other man didn't say anything or even nod; he just looked at him for a moment, then turned away again and resumed his exit. "It's been fun," Mulder called out, "we've got to do this again, soon." Mr. X didn't stop or even slow down, but Mulder thought he heard something resembling a chuckle. Then the other man disappeared around a corner, leaving him alone. Mulder checked his watch and silently swore. He'd have to wait until later to look into the envelope. Scully was probably out of bed by now. "I've got the information you wanted, MacLeod, and I'm afraid it's not good." MacLeod and Richie looked at Dawson curiously. The three were in MacLeod's apartment where the two immortals had been talking about Richie's encounter with Stocker. "How so?" "Mulder and Scully work with something called the X-Files, which our man in the FBI says consists mostly of unsolved cases," he paused, looking somewhat self conscious, "cases which may have extraterrestrial or paranormal causes." Everyone was momentarily silent. Then Richie spoke out. "Extraterrestrial...You mean, as in aliens?" "Yeah. Apparently Mulder has a reputation for being obsessed with aliens." Richie laughed. "I don't think we've got anything to worry about, Mac. They probably think Martians killed Franklin." MacLeod wasn't so easily satisfied. "Don't be so sure, Richie." "MacLeod's right," Dawson said. "Our man says Scully and Mulder have a good record of solving cases. Not," he hastened to add, "that they've found aliens or anything, but they've solved cases that have stumped everyone else." "C'mon, guys," Richie said, "they chase little green men. How dangerous can they be?" "You're overlooking something," said the Watcher. "If they have the imagination to believe in aliens..." "Then it's possible they could accept the possible existence of immortality," MacLeod finished. Richie still looked dubious. "I still think you guys are overreacting. Even if they found out about us, who would believe in immortals?" MacLeod said nothing. He just looked at Richie, then at Dawson. The young man looked at Dawson sheepishly. "Oh right. I almost forgot." MacLeod resisted the urge to smile. "Thanks for the information, Joe. I'll watch my step around them." "You do that," Dawson said. Then he turned and walked into the elevator. After the Watcher's departure Richie got up and stretched. "I'll see you later, Mac. I'm going to do some speed runs with a couple of guys I know. We're thinking about entering a race." MacLeod nodded, still a bit preoccupied with what Dawson had told them. Richie had just entered the elevator when he called out to the younger man. "Watch out for Stocker. I don't think he'll come after you again, but anything's possible." The other immortal nodded, his face showing some of the fear he'd expressed when MacLeod had found him earlier. "You don't have to tell me twice." Then he disappeared, leaving MacLeod alone with his thoughts and worries. =========================================================================