"Snapshot 22:Icarus Examined" Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and any other tangentially mentioned characters were created by Chris Carter, and remain the copyrighted property of him, TenThirteen Productions, and Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. All characters are used without permission, and no infringement is intended. Archivists : Sure. Just make sure to keep my email address and this entire text as is without changes. Feedback : Please. Positive, negative, what have you. Address is drambbo@sonic.net Classification : MSR Rating : PG Geographical Note : There is no Court County in Montana, to the best of my knowledge, nor is there a town called Pave Creek. Readers that hail from Big Sky Country, I have created the entire town, it's population and customs out of whole cloth for the needs of this story. I have put Pave Creek in a place where there is no city, or if there is one there, it doesn't show up on my Rand McNally map. :) Enjoy! ----------------------------------------- "A truth that's told with bad intent beats all lies you can invent." -- William Blake "There's none so blind as those who won't see." -- English Proverb 22 Mon Bar Road Pave Creek, Montana 1045 Hours The telephone rang as Mulder was settling down in front of the television. Reaching over to the coffee table, he thumbed the cordless receiver into the ON position and lifted it to his ear. "Hello?" "Mulder?" "No," Mulder said. "This is David Edwards. Who is this?" "Cut the smart-ass shit, Mulder. This is Stone." "This is an open line," Mulder said circumspectly. "And it's been swept four times a day for the past month. It's clean. Now, for God's sake, tell me that you have a bona fide emergency. Tell me you had a reason for paging me." "Well, Deputy Stone...I was wondering when and where we could meet for a little more discussion about...our mutual friend. I met him today and there's...something about him...I can't place my finger on it..." "Odd little shit, isn't he?" "Odd would describe him pretty well, I think," Mulder agreed. "Basically, I want everything you can give me on Zack. Or, Ike, as he wants to be called." "Yeah...Icarus. I remember now. What's up with that?" "Icarus...wore wings made of wax, flew too close to the sun, the wax melted, he fell to his death." "That the short version?" Stone asked. "Very," Mulder confirmed. "So...what do you say?" "Mulder," Stone sighed, "I told you everything I know at the airport." Mulder nodded, even though he knew Stone couldn't see him. "I'm aware of that. What I want is what you don't know...officially at least. I want to know what your gut tells you. I want to know what you think, what you've managed to dig out by asking those discreet questions all good cops, and especially Federal cops, learn how to ask after about a week on the street. I want to pick your brain, Stone." There was a very long pause. "I guess I can assume that if we don't meet, you'll be calling my bosses...and, or, making a total nuisance of yourself?" "I think that's a very good way to describe it, Deputy Stone." "Aw, shit, Fox...call me Dan." "I'll call Dan if that's what you want, but please call me Mulder. Even my parents call me Mulder." Mulder winced as he remembered that he didn't have parents. He had parent. "Fine...I'll give you an address. It's about ten miles up the road. Meet me there in three hours." Mulder wrote the directions down. "See you there," he said, and hung up. Scully appeared in the living room, holding her embroidery bag. "Who was that?" "Deputy Daniel Webster Stone, who has agreed to meet with me so I can pick his brain about our friend Zack...whoops, I mean Ike." Scully nodded. "Hmm. I figured he'd be a little more reluctant." Mulder nodded. "So did I, Scully. So did I." John F. Kennedy International Airport Brooklyn, New York 1250 Hours EST (1050 Hours MST) When it comes to foreign bodies entering the United States of America, there are two primary agencies charged with making sure that the laws of the land are enforced completely and without exception or question. By legal statute, Immigration and Naturalization service is responsible for all persons entering the United States from abroad. When it comes to material, however, the United States Customs Service, a division of the Treasury Department, is responsible for enforcing the applicable laws. However, there is another agency in the United States government concerned with both people and materials entering and leaving the United States, and this is the US State Department. Persons traveling under Diplomatic credentials do not suffer the same indignities to their persons and their belongings that normal tourists and business travelers do. Diplomats merely wave their credentials in the general direction of an INS or Customs agents, and they are quickly ushered through the immigration and customs inspections stations at all the international airports in this country. But even higher on the list than your normal, politically appointed diplomat were the couriers. It is a little known fact that the Israeli government had quietly inked an agreement between itself and the United States government that allowed Israeli couriers the right to travel armed not only on their own El Al airline, but on any American-flag carrier as well. Couriers, usually strapped to a briefcase, or carrying vitally important diplomatic or intelligence documents on their person, needed that extra security that only a fully loaded firearm and the will to use it carried. Thus it was that Avi found himself on an El Al flight landing at JFK on this lovely morning, with a stainless-steel briefcase not handcuffed to his wrist, but secured to his body just the same. The plastic-sheathed steel cable was anchored to the briefcase on one end, and trailed up his arm, and was shackled around his torso. A determined person could get it away from Avi, but only after putting a bullet into his brain or killing him in some other fashion. Avi was carrying his weapon of choice, a Browning HiPower 9mm single-action pistol. He'd learned how to use it by a training officer who'd been a member of Britain's Special Air Service. In other words, Avi had learned how to use the pistol from the people that had perfected its' quick, deadly, in-your-face use two dozen years ago. He felt reasonably sure that if anyone tried to take the briefcase from him, he'd be able to defend himself and it's precious cargo. As he felt the plane yaw from side to side while performing the final flare-out on approach to runway 15-Right, Avi admitted to himself that he was more scared than he had ever been in his life. It was not so much what was in the briefcase that scared him, although the contents did leave him very uneasy. It was not so much the person the contents were intended for that made his stomach turn in slow, moist flips that seemed to match the action of the plane in perfect harmony, although Avi would admit, privately, that the person he was scheduled to meet in less than six hours was perhaps the single most frightening man he had ever met in his life. It was not the intended purpose of the contents, once married to the receiver, that caused Avi to constantly wipe his brow free of nervous sweat. It was all three of those items combined. The meeting in Tel Aviv had not lasted very long after the photographs had been received. Avi's contact had excused himself for a moment, and had returned a short while later, holding the device Avi now carried in his briefcase. Instantly recognizing it from a briefing he'd attended four years ago, Avi felt the blood slowly draining from his face. "You know what this is?" the man had asked. "Y-yes," Avi had stuttered, angry and ashamed that he had shown his fear in front of the Mossad. The man had smiled warmly. "Do not worry, Avi. The damn thing scares the hell out of me, too." He'd put it on the table. "You will take this back to the United States. It has been decided that another...resource of ours will take over your portion of the assignment." Seeing the look on Avi's face, the man held up a comforting hand. "Do not worry, my friend. This has nothing to do with you. It does not reflect on you in the least. You are a military officer, Avi, a man of courage and honor. No one here doubts that." The man had paused, letting his words sink in. "But what we have to do... what has to be done for Israel, some times, is not as honorable as we would all like. Some times...bad, dirty, nasty things have to be done in the name of preserving what we have built here, what we continue to build each day Israel continues to exist in the jaws of its' enemies." The contact paused again. "You will give this device to Scimitar." At the mention of the legendary Mossad agent's name, Avi felt a burning in his chest like never before. The man had been a legend for over thirty years. It was rumored that he could not be killed, that he had survived literally dozens of suicide missions in Iraq, Iran, Syria...it was also rumored that he had been in a tank that had been hit by an Egyptian artillery round in 1967, and had walked away without a scratch. Avi had met about two dozen people over his military career who had claimed to serve with Scimitar. Each had given a different physical description. He was reported to be just over five feet, and towering well over six and a half. Blonde hair, black hair, even red hair had been attributed to the man who had, over years, become the Mossad's number one "fix-it" man. One thing was for certain, and it was one thing that the normally secretive Mossad was not at all upset to discover had become one of the more widely-circulated international rumor. Scimitar was rumored by more than one national intelligence agency to be the most deadly, the most accurate, the most successful assassin the world had ever known. And Avi was going to be meeting him in...he checked his watch ...less than five hours. Taking a deep breath, Avi looked out the window at JFK International Airport. He wondered if he would ever see him beloved homeland again. Joe's Good Eats Route 121W and Highway 33 Court County, Montana 1330 Local Time Mulder pulled the Expedition into an empty parking space and killed the powerful engine. He could see Deputy Stone in one of the booths, already talking with the beehive-haired waitress. Mulder often wondered if they bred those waitresses in the same place... Nah, he thought. Don't go there, Mulder. Locking the truck, Mulder quickly walked to the steps and took them two at a time, letting the blast of warm air dance across his face as he stood in the doorway, letting his eyes get accustomed to the light. Stone saw Mulder and waved him over. Sitting down opposite from the towering US Deputy Marshal, Mulder an opportunity to study the man as he shrugged out of his jacket and played with the menu. "Yer usual, Dan?" the waitress asked. Her name tag said "Fifi." "Sure," Dan said, closing his menu and handing it to her. The waitress turned her attention Mulder's way. "Fer you?" "I'll have what he's having," Mulder said, eager to get the conversation going. "Two double chili-cheeseburgers, extra onions," Fifi confirmed, writing on her green and white receipt pad. Mulder grimaced at the thought of having to explain to Scully why he was going to be next to impossible to be near for the next day or so. Jeez...onions chili. She waddled off, calling out to the t-shirted chef to hurry up and get his 'damn buns out of the oven.' Mulder watched her go. "Don't know how much I'm gonna be able to tell ya," Stone started. "Tell you what -- I'll tell you what I know. If you know anything more, you can fill in the blanks after I'm finished." Stone chewed his lips for a minute and the nodded. "Zack was seconded to the US Marshals by another federal agency. We don't know, officially, who or why. All we know is that we're supposed to watch him until told otherwise. He's an incredibly bright kid, who fears being abducted by aliens. He likes the nickname 'Icarus,' or Ike for short." Mulder finished and held up his hands, shrugging. "That's what I got. You?" Stone shrugged. He was playing with his silverware with one hand, the huge, sausage-like fingers dancing over the cheap stainless-steel. "Officially, I don't have dick. What you got, maybe a tiny piece more." "What?" "Kid's brain...you were right. He's smart, all right. Off the chart. I grabbed a quick glance at his file on my boss's desk back in Billings. Kid's IQ was tested at over 200. He's some kind of math and computer genius." Computers. That was another piece of the puzzle. "Any idea why he's in WITSEC?" "Nope. Nothing official, anyway." Mulder sat back, spreading his arms along the back of the vinyl booth. "Tell me," he said, making a 'come-on' motion with his hands. "What do you feel, Stone? What's your gut tell you?" Stone held up a hand. "Let me ask you a question first. Do you believe in that shit? UFOs?" Mulder thought a minute. "I have a lot of experience talking to people who claim to have been abducted. My work with the FBI is why I'm here, Stone. I have experience dealing with people...like Zack." "Ya didn't answer my question, Mulder." "I'm not sure how to answer it." "Yes or no seems like a damn good choice." "Yes." The pair fell silent for a long minute. "Good," Stone finally said, "because it'll make the rest of what I'm about to tell you go down a little easier." The waitress arrived with the coffee pot, looking at Dan's eyes to see if he wanted more. He shook his head, using his chin to indicate that she should check with Mulder. He waved his hand over his coffee cup. She moved off. "The kid...he's a good kid. A little mixed up. Little paranoid, if ya ask me. But here's the thing...when we first picked him up, he had twenty-four hour hard protection. Marshals in full assault gear all over his house, night assault, the whole shooting match. Kid looked at me and started asking these...questions. About the penetrating power of the rounds we were using. He explained to me in about three sentences how my night vision scope worked...not only that, but he explained it in such a way that an ex-jarhead Marine like myself...understood. I mean...this is gonna sound totally loopy, Mulder...but when he was explaining it to me, he asked me to see the rifle, and I handed it to him. I handed this kid a fully loaded CAR-15, with an AN/P-7C night assault system, a twenty-round mag of FMJ .223 rounds, and with the damn safety off!" Mulder felt something inside himself start to tingle. "Tell me more...why did you do it?" "Mulder...when that kid talks to you about something he feels is important...he can make a believer out of anyone about anything. If that kid ever decides to go into sales, he'll be the next Bill Gates, you mark my words." Stone let out a deep breath. "Bottom line? My gut is that we're watching the kid for either the military, the spooks, or both. I think the kid knows something about something that the military or the spooks want. I think the kid has not only seen this...whatever it is, but might have actually even made it. Designed it, built it... something. He's great with his hands, his fingers. He can design and build things like no kid his age I've ever seen." "What do you think he built?" Mulder asked. He knew where this was going, had known the moment Skinner had given he and Scully the assignment. But he had to hear it from Stone's mouth. "I think the kid might have built something to...talk to whatever is up there," Stone said, jerking a thumb towards the ceiling. "Up there...out there...whichever you like. "I think the kid has actually had contact, Mulder. And he knows they're coming for him." "Aliens?" "No, Mulder...I think the military and the spooks are sitting on this kid until they can convince him to show what he did, how he did it, and how to do it again. And the kid ain't budging." 600 West 57th Street New York City, NY 0418 hours EST Avi glanced both ways before crossing the street. Nervously, he glanced at his watch. He had less than two minutes to make his meeting, and he was still a block away. The address where he was to meet Scimitar was etched in his memory. He would never, ever forget it, no matter how many nights he stayed up trying. He carried the briefcase; it had not left his wrist since Tel Aviv. He was not about to start any bad habits now. He had been very careful since leaving the Israeli consulate. The tradecraft he'd been taught to detect tails had served him well. Four taxis, two buses, and a subway ride had convinced him that he was not being followed. And arriving at this meeting undetected was very, very important to Avi's continued health and happiness, for if Scimitar detected even the faintest hint of a tail, Avi was sure that the man would not hesitate to kill him. There! Avi could see the address ahead. Quickening his pace, he checked his watch. He should just make it. 590 West 57th Street New York City, NY 0419 Hours EST Starke glanced through venetian blinds, the specially-modified binoculars giving him a spectacular view of the street. Originally designed as night-vision goggles, the AN/PRU-12H Personal Recon Unit was perhaps the most ingenious invention Starke had ever seen come out of ARPA. Starke's view through the eyepieces was mostly that of a normal night-vision scope. Most everything was green; the bright orange and red blooms were people, their body heat standing out against the coldness of the background. But Avi was different; he was red, like the others, with a bright purple glow around him, making him easy to pick out, even in the tightly-packed throngs of people strolling up and down West 57th street. Avi had been seated in 3B, the next-to-last row in first class on the El Al flight. Starke had been in 4C, over Avi's left shoulder. It had taken two seconds to mark Avi with the invisible photoelectric dye. He had pretended to be applying cologne, had turned the bottle for one small, silent squirt, and Avi had been marked. All Starke had to do was wait for Avi to do what most men did when they were tired: Run his hands through his hair. Then, one touch of the briefcase, and it, too, was marked so that Starke would be able to see it with his little electronic toy. He watched carefully as Avi ascended the stairs leading to number 600. Starke knew he was only steps away, days...maybe even hours, from Icarus. And then that fucking bitch would get off his back and let him get back to his other project. Starke knew that Mulder was in Montana, waiting for Icarus to do something...anything. Starke also knew that he was going to take a very personal interest in making sure that Special Agent Fox William Mulder of the FBI didn't get a chance to make a report about case. Yes, Starke thought. I will enjoy killing him. ----------------------------------------- END CHAPTER 22 If you're already on my mailing list, or have no desire to be, or are not missing any chapters (and don't want them if you are,) please feel free to skip the rest of this. It's all administrivia. End Note - Missing Chapters & Mailing Lists - If you are on my mailing list for "Snapshots" and wish to be, please send a email from any feedback you may or may not care to give. The SUBJECT of this email should be "SUBSCRIBE" without the quote marks. My thingie will take care of it from there. I'm trying to automate this because I get between 30 and 40 requests for missing chapters every day, and I want desperately to keep up with the volume. So, if you are missing a chapter, I will please ask as nice as I can for you to send a separate email message for each chapter you are requesting, with the subject line as "Request 01" or "Request 03" or "Request 09" or whatever. Please remember to have a TWO DIGIT chapter number. My autoresponder thingie that I wrote myself only likes two-digit numbers. Since there ain't no freakin way I'm gonna be able to write more than 99 chapters, we should be fine. If, however, you don't mind getting a big-ass ZIP file with chapters to date in a single zip file (the zip file expands to 16 separate files,) send an email message with "REQUEST 00" as the subject line, again . The .ZIP file was created with a Unix version of ZIP, but it WILL unzip with DOS PKUNZIP 2.04g or WINZIP. I have tried it myself and it works. Macintosh users, you are currently out of luck as far as the .ZIP file goes unless you have a utility you KNOW works on DOS/Unix ZIP files and want to try anyway. :)