"Umbra" 23/? By Dawson E. Rambo Disclaimer : Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and any other tangentially mentioned characters created by Chris Carter remain his copyrighted property, the property of 1013 Productions, and the property of Fox Television, a unit of 20th Century Fox, Inc. No infringement of any copyright is intended. Characters created by the author remain his property. Original Post : July 11, 1997 Archive Entry : Book I, Chapter 23 Classification : Action Adventure, MSR Rating : R (Adult Themes, Adult Language, violence) ***************: PLEASE SEE CONTENT NOTES AND CONTENT WARNINGS. Notes : None Casting : Glenne Headly, "Commander Maggie King" : Sam Neil, "Captain Ronald Ebert" : Fred Ward, "Deputy Sanders." : Val Kilmer, "Commander Matt Stone." Antishipper : 6 on a scale of 1-10. Shipper : 3 on a scale of 1-10. Timeline : 4th year, prior to anything having to do with cancer. CONTENT : PLEASE SEE THE CONTENT NOTE AT THE END OF THIS STORY READING IT IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY THE THREAT OF VIOLENCE OR DIRTY WORDS. Enjoy! ------ "The world is a dangerous place to live- not because of the people who are evil but because of the people who don't do anything about it." - Albert Einstein "What counts is not necessarily the size of the dog in the fight...but the size of the fight in the dog." - Dwight D. Eisenhower When we last left our heroes: "Ok, here's the deal. We need a place to go. The motel is out. Graves will probably have someone watching it. We need some place safe and secure, away from prying eyes." She looked at her entire team: Ebert, King, Mulder and Stone. "I'm open to suggestions." Stone stood on wobbly legs. "I know a place," he said softly. "I have...a house...on the beach." "Perfect," Scully said. She knew that Stone was paranoid enough to make sure that it was isolated and secure. "We leave now. Matt, how far away is it?" "About an hour...north." "If anyone needs to use the potty, now's the time," Scully said. She felt it again, electricity, power tugging at her chest. There was something so...free about not playing by the rules. The words she had spoken to Mulder just that afternoon came back to her. It personal, and she was not going to stop until Graves was either dead or behind bars. The rules were forgotten. "We have until noon Sunday to grab this asshole," she said to the room. "The clock is ticking. Let's move." -23- They moved as a unit. Ronald Ebert stopped long enough to locate an afghan and spread it over the slumped form of his wife. The fivesome made their way out to the kitchen, and exited through the rear door. Ebert led the way to the garage. Maggie King and Ronald Ebert climbed into his CJ-7; Scully, Mulder and Stone into the BMW. Stone settled in the backseat with Mulder, who kept his pistol handy. "You can put that away," Stone said softly. "I'm not going to try anything." "Humor me," Mulder said softly. "People say I'm paranoid." Stone just nodded, turning his head to look out the window. Scully seated herself behind the wheel and quickly adjusted the seat forward, wiggling to try and get comfortable. "Directions," she said crisply. Mulder knew that tone of voice and tried to hide a wince. It was killing Scully that she needed this man, that she needed Stone to crack the case. The last time they'd seen each other, Stone'd had his hand around her throat, and she'd had her gun jammed into his eye socket. Mulder sighed, thinking how far Scully had come since then, and how far the both of had come as well. "Take the 5 North," Stone said. "I'll give you directions when we get closer." Scully nodded, not replying, and started the engine. The powerful car roared to life. Putting it in gear, she pulled out, Ebert's jeep following them. It took the two cars ten minutes to find the freeway, and then they accelerated, putting as much distance as they could between the Ebert household and themselves as they could. They had no idea if Graves had someone watching the house. *** Graves did have someone watching the house. The man in the Dodge Caravan noticed the two cars leaving and did a quick head count. As far as he could tell, there were five people leaving the Ebert household. His orders were clear. Observe. Report. Follow if necessary, but do not intervene. He dialed his phone. "What?" "It's me," the man said softly. "Talk to me, dear boy!" "The two FBI agents, Stone, Ebert and some woman just left." "Follow them. Report." "Roger that," the man said, and disconnected. *** "Scully," Mulder called softly. "Hmm? "What's your idea? About the real estate, I mean." "Oh...that." She'd been distracted, thinking about the two men in the seat behind her. One of them represented a future that was almost certain; a future of running from case to case, peering into the dark shadows of existence, uncovering that which was sometimes better left alone. Days and nights and weeks and months spent away from her family, away from the people that she loved, putting herself into danger, into the line of fire, risking it all for the sake of the Truth. Mulder's Truth, as she'd come to think of it. The other represented a future that might have been, once, save for the fact that the man in question was an unmitigated asshole, and that he had little, if any, redeeming qualities. The simple fact that he was trying to do the right thing, that he had been tracking and hunting Graves far longer than she and Mulder had did little to redeem him in her eyes. Stone's One Possible Future had been the old-book kind, the husband and family and kids and houses on bases all across the world, following her husband around... Husband? Dana shook herself. This case was getting to her. All that mattered was Graves, Mike's killer. She had to focus on that, just that. All thoughts of Mulder and nights spent entwined with him after hours of sweaty, naked passion had to be forgotten, pushed aside. All that mattered was avenging Mike's death. She would think about the rest of it later, after she'd had time to put some distance between herself and the situation. "I was thinking..." she said after a moment. "Graves is an egocentric megalomaniac. He might not have purchased all the safehouses though Janet Ebert. He might, however, have been egotistical enough to use the same cover names and dummy corporations with other real estate agents. And if I remember correctly, most of that stuff is computerized. And if it's on a computer, the guys can probably get into it and do a quick search for it. If I'm wrong, we've lost nothing but the time it takes them to do it." "Time we don't have," Stone pointed out. Scully nodded. "True, but while they're doing that, you can inform us of all the wonderful, interesting things you've learned about Danny Graves, and perhaps these two FBI agents you seem not to trust might be able to come up with something you haven't thought of, you arrogant prick!" Scully's voice had started soft, but by the time she had finished speaking, she was almost shouting at Stone. Mulder noted with more than a little satisfaction that he actually seemed to cower. "Scully," Stone said softly. "Dana..." "Mulder, if he calls me Dana again, I want you to gag him." "You got it," Mulder said, turning dark, dangerous eyes on the man seated next to him. His eyes sent a message, a message that Stone got loud and clear. Go ahead. Give me a reason. Please. "Who are the guys?" Stone asked. "What?" Mulder replied. "Scully said `the guys' could get to the information. Who are the guys? Not feds, I hope." Scully reached over and flicked the turn signal, intending to change lanes. She caught something out of the corner of her eye. "Stone...did you come alone?" she asked. "Yeah. Why?" "We're being followed," she said. "Damn! I wish we had radio contact with Ronald and Maggie." "I knew I should have gotten my key back or changed the locks," Matt muttered. "Shut up," Mulder said, twisting in his seat to look out the back window. "White Caravan? California plates?" he asked. "That's the one. Been matching speed and course since we got on the freeway." Mulder nodded. "Well, we do have one ace up our sleeve." Scully's eyebrow in the mirror asked the only question Mulder needed to hear. "Deputy Sanders," Mulder explained. Scully's answering smile was radiant. "Who the fuck is Deputy Sanders?" Stone wanted to know. "Watch and learn, boy. Watch and learn," Scully said cryptically. "Gimmie a phone," Mulder said, reaching over the seat. Scully handed him hers. He dialed quickly. "Lone Gunmen." It was Frohickie. "Need a favor," Mulder started. "Let me guess. You want a million dollars transferred from the Federal Reserve into your checking account." "No, but keep the good thoughts coming. I need you to get into California DMV and run a plate." "Gimmie." Mulder read the plate off. "Ten seconds," Frohickie said. "He's running it," Mulder told Scully quietly. "Who ARE these guys?" Stone asked again. "An extreme watchdog group," Scully said, repeating Mulder's words of introduction to her almost four years ago. She paused, thinking about the three men who had become like brothers to her since then. "And some of the best friends I could ever hope for," she added. "I heard that," Frohickie muttered in Mulder's ear. Mulder smiled. "Ok, got it. Registered to one Stanley P. Boland, 331 Garnet Place, San Diego." "Thanks. One more thing. Can you get into the national MLS?" "Multiple Listing Service? I dunno...never tried. Why?" "We need for you to try and find out if there's some centralized database of real estate transactions, or if there is a way to search specific states for a name or a company name." Frohickie thought about it. "I'll get right on it. How long do I have?" "About an hour." "Wonderful," he grumbled. "Call me." "Later," Mulder said, hitting the END button. "Frohickie's on it," he said to Scully. "Frohickie," Stone muttered. "I'll have to remember that name." Mulder turned to face his seatmate. "If you live through this, I'd forget you ever heard that name," he said. Stone didn't reply. "What's the plan?" Mulder asked. "I'm going to pull off and speed up, find a place to hide for a moment, release Sanders, explain to him as best I can what's going on, and let him handle our guest-" "One Stanley Boland," Mulder provided. "Boland!" Stone said, obviously shocked to hear the name. "What?" Scully asked. "Who is he?" "Deputy Chief of Staff, Naval Investigative Service Command, Pacific." "NISPAC?" Scully asked. "Whoa." "Whoa is right. I'd never pegged him to be a Graves disciple." Scully nodded. "How about Admiral Mike Watts?" she asked. Stone scoffed. "You're insane." "No she's not," Mulder said softly. "He confessed to us, and Graves killed him earlier today." "Graves is in Hawaii?" Stone asked. "I have to get to an airport!" Scully shook her head. "That's your problem, Matt. You keep that up, and you'll never get him." "What the fuck are you-" Stone felt the hard press of the gun against his side and turned to see Mulder looking at him with death in his eyes. "Play nice," Mulder warned. "It's just an expression. Jeez! Take it easy!" "YOU take it easy, asshole!" "Whatever." Stone sighed. "What did you mean, Miss Special Doctor Agent Scully?" he asked sweetly. "Better," Mulder nodded. "Work on it." Scully smiled at her partner's antics. He could be such a mother hen sometimes. She had to admit that, normally, his actions would have upset her. But the idea of him back there with Stone, poking the moron with a sharp stick (or in this case, a loaded SIG Sauer,) was not exactly unappealing. "What I meant was that you wait for Graves to make a move, and then you go there. He's long gone by then. You're reacting to him instead of acting proactively." Stone scoffed again. "There's no way to predict that madman's actions." "Actually," Mulder said, "I think this is where I come in. Commander, I'm what's known as a profiler. I can perform a psychological evaluation of a subject through his actions, and then extrapolate future actions from that." "Voodoo," Stone said. "Magic. Bullshit." Mulder let the epithet slide. "Whatever you want to call it, it's true. We catch serial killers that way all the time. I personally caught Jimmie Lee Dysan and Walter Lee Clancy that way." "Why is it that all serial killers have three names, and more often than not, the middle name is `Lee?'" Stone asked. Mulder shrugged. "You noticed that too, huh?" "What about all the serial killers that go undetected, huh?" "You said it yourself, Stone. Undetected. If we get enough evidence, we can build a profile." "Enough bodies, you mean," Stone said. "True," Mulder nodded. "But the fact remains that Graves fits into a very specific psychological type, a profile, if you will. If we get enough information, I think we can build an accurate enough profile to predict some of his actions to the point where we can figure out what the hell he has up his sleeve." Stone shook his head. "I doubt it." "I spoke to Graves," Scully interjected. "Twice so far. He's told me that the deadline is noon Sunday. It's almost Friday, Matt. We don't have the time to fuck around." Stone nodded. "After I tell you everything I know, will you let me go?" Scully considered it. "Sure. If you want to run off and play hero, good riddance. If you want to catch this bastard before he does anything, you'll stay with us." Stone laughed. "Us? Two FBI agents that investigate little green men, a personnel clerk and a bureaucratic dweeb? I'm a trained intelligence agent, an ex-SEAL, and a NIS Special Agent. I think I'll take my chances with Graves, thank you very much." "Whatever," Scully said, waving her hand. The upcoming exit loomed on the horizon, and she signaled. "Get ready. By the way, Matt, do you have your NIS ID?" "Yes, of course. Even though it's no good anymore." "Karn wants a piece of your hide, that's for sure," Mulder said. "But maybe if you play nice, we'll whisper in his ear what a good boy you've been." "Fuck you, Mulder." "You kiss your mother with that mouth?" "No, I kiss your moth-" The sound of the hammer ratcheting back was very loud in the car, even over the roar of the engine. "How's that again?" Mulder asked. "Behave, you two!" Scully admonished. "It's showtime!" She took the exit at high speed, downshifting smoothly to let the engine slow the car. Ronald and Maggie followed her, as did the Caravan. At the bottom of the ramp, Scully all but blew the stop sign, punching the gas to speed down the street. After a moment's surprise, Ebert's CJ-7 followed suit. The Caravan knew it had been spotted and hurried to catch up. Scully sped through a light that was in the middle of going from yellow to red; Ebert blew it completely. She looked back to see that the Caravan had gotten trapped at the light, and was inching forward, trying to work its' way into traffic. Scully turned right, and then right again, and found herself pulling the car to a stop in a gas station. Reaching down, she found the trunk release and hit it. The trunk yawned open as she exited the car, her gun in her hand. Sanders was still in the trunk, his eyes wide with either surprise of fear; she couldn't tell. "Get out," Scully said, reaching down to grab his arm. He came willingly, shaking his head to clear it. "What the hell-?" "Shut up and get in the car. Unless you want to continue riding in the trunk." Sanders looked at her as if she was crazy, and then moved to the front passenger side. He waited for Scully to open the door. The CJ-7 pulled up with a screech. "Who's that?" Ebert called from the driver's window. "Never mind!" Scully ordered. "Get out of here! Go down two miles, right two miles, right again two miles, and then right again two miles. Keep circling until this car is gone! Then meet us at the next exit!" Ebert nodded and sped off. Scully unlocked the door and all but pushed Sanders inside. Running around the other side, Scully glanced up the road. Nothing yet. She had perhaps sixty seconds before the Caravan found them. Sliding into the driver's seat, she turned to face Deputy Sanders. "Listen very carefully, Deputy. I'm sorry we took you from your car, but we really don't have time for the usual police bullshit." She held out her ID for him to study. "I am Special Agent Dana Scully, FBI, and you know my partner. The man next to him is Special Agent Matt Stone. He's from the Naval Investigative Service and Naval Intelligence." Matt obligingly held out his ID for Sanders' inspection. The cop looked at all the identification and nodded. "Ok, you have my attention. Care to tell me what this is all about?" "In about thirty seconds, a white Dodge Caravan is going to go speeding by here, pull a quiet U-turn, and come back the other way. It's trying to follow us to where we're going. We can't allow that, for reasons that are classified, I'm afraid. What we need you to do..." Scully paused, deciding how deeply she should pile it on. "What your country needs you to do," she asked, speaking slowly, seriously, "Is arrest the man in that Caravan." "For what?" "Make something up. I don't care what it is. Just keep him from following us." Sanders thought about it a minute. "Is there someone I can call, after this is all over? Someone to verify your story?" "Skinner," Mulder said. Scully nodded. "Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner, Headquarters, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington, DC. Call him, tell him you ran into Scully and Mulder, and explain what we asked you to do. If we don't check out, put a APB out on us. If we do, you'll know that you did the right thing." "What about this joker?" he asked, indicating Stone. Stone flushed, but said nothing. "Long story. He's not exactly his bosses' favorite person right now, and we'll straighten all that out later." Scully paused. "Will you do it?" Sanders thought about it, looking from the petite red-haired woman pointing her gun at him, the NIS agent in the seat behind her, and the other FBI agent behind his seat. "Ok," he said. "I have no idea what I'm getting into here...but... sure. I'll do it." Scully searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit. "Ok," she said, putting her gun down on the dashboard. Reaching over, she quickly unlocked his handcuffs and then handed the man his own gun. "Here you go." Sanders hefted the pistol in his hand, as if weighing his decision. "This is important, right?" "More important than you'll ever know," Stone said quietly. Sanders nodded and got out of the car, quickly moving into the shadows. "Where on Earth-?" Stone started to ask. "What?" Scully interrupted. "You don't take your own cop on your missions?" Shaking her head, she laughed. "You might learn something if you hang around with us more often." Mulder and Stone both shuddered at the thought. The Caravan made it's appearance, turning onto the street and passing the gas station slowly. Just as she'd expected, it made a slow, careful U-turn down the road and came to a stop about sixty yards away. "Now...we wait," Scully said. It didn't take long. Less than a minute later, Sanders appeared behind the van, moving up in the driver's blind spot. It was over in seconds. One moment Boland was looking...staring at the BMW, trying to make out who was inside and what was going on. The next, Sanders was at the door, the gun pointed at Boland's head. "Time to go," Scully said, starting the car again. "Jesus," Stone muttered. "Your own pet cop." "Whatever works," Scully said, turning left, heading back towards the freeway. "Whatever works." *** "Oh, no," Scully muttered. "You MUST be kidding." "Just take the damn exit," Stone said. "I bought the house years ago." Nestled just north of San Clemente and Doheny Beach, and just south of Laguna Niguel was the small town of Dana Point, California. "I don't believe this," Mulder whispered. "Tell me about it," Scully replied. "Will the two of you just-" Stone started. "Maybe it's some kind of sign...an omen," Mulder observed. "Good or bad?" Scully wanted to know. "I'll get back to you on that," Mulder answered. They had cut over from US 5 to State Route 1 twenty minutes ago. Stone gave quick, precise directions to his house. He owned a fair amount of land (for California,) and the house was isolated and apparently secure. "Is there a chance Graves knows about this house?" Scully asked. "He should," Stone muttered. "I bought it from him." The squeal of brakes on the driveway's tarmac was loud in the still night air. "WHAT?" Scully asked, spinning in her seat as far as the seatbelt would allow. Stone held up his hands. "It's the perfect place. He'll never think in a million years that I would come here. When I bought it from him, he thought he was recruiting me. He didn't know...at the time... that I had sought him out, that it was all part of my..." "Plan?" Mulder helpfully suggested. Stone nodded, miserable. "Yes. My plan. A plan that has turned to shit, as I'm sure you're well aware." Mulder scratched his chin, saying nothing. Turning to Mulder, Scully frowned. "This is fine...for about five or six hours. Then we'll need to find a place." Mulder shrugged. He didn't know anyone in California. Sixty seconds later, the CJ-7 carrying Ebert and Maggie pulled up alongside the BMW and parked. Stone found the hidden key and unlocked the door. "I haven't been here in months," he started. Scully turned and found Maggie. "Maggie, provisions. Go." Maggie nodded and held out her hand to Ebert, who reluctantly turned his keys over to her. She handed the silenced 22. Ruger to Mulder. Almost sprinting to the jeep, Maggie climbed in, started the engine, and was gone. "Why her?" Mulder wanted to know. "She's the only one that has a choice in this, as far as I'm concerned. She doesn't need to hear what we're going to talk about inside. This gives her a way...an exit, if she wants it." Stone nodded, accepting her logic. "Makes sense." They entered the house and busied themselves with making it livable again. Most of the furniture were covered with sheets, and Scully and Mulder quickly divested the two couches and several armchairs of their covering. "Ok...first things first," Scully said, all business. "Mulder, call the guys. I'll have a list of names for you by the time you get through." Mulder busied himself with the cell phone while Scully booted her PowerBook. Stone and Ebert took a seat, watching the duo in action. "Ron Ebert," he said, holding out a hand. "Matt Stone," Stone replied, shaking it. "You one of his?" Ebert asked. "Whose?" "Graves." "No," Stone said sharply. "I've been trying to catch the bastard for almost ten years." "Oh," Ebert nodded. "Frohickie?" Mulder asked. "Scully has a list of names for you. Here," he said, handing Scully the phone. Taking it, Scully began reading cover names and dummy companies to Frohickie, who was rapidly copying them down and repeating them back for verification. "What are the chances that'll work?" Stone asked. "If Graves is as nuts as we think, I'd say about average. We might get a huge list of names and places that we'll have to check out. We can't risk bringing anyone else in on this and risk tipping Graves off." "Do you have a phone?" Ebert suddenly asked Stone. "Sure. Why?" "I want to call my wife." Scully covered the cellphone with her hand. "Belay that. Graves may have it tapped. Send her a letter or an email or something." She returned to her whispered conversation with Frohickie. Ebert looked upset. "Look at it this way," Mulder said. "Either way, it'll be over by Sunday." Neither man looked pleased with Mulder's reasoning. "Ok," Scully said, hanging up the cellphone. "Frohickie's on it. Byers is looking for another safehouse. Langley is trying to find us some quiet transportation. We have about three hours to...rejuvenate." All three men nodded. To Stone, she said, "Intel dump. Nutshell." Stone nodded; someone was finally speaking his language. "Danny Graves," he started, "wants to run the world. And he figures he can run the world by grabbing this country first...and then nuking the rest." *** "What did you just say?" Mulder asked. "The entire LIBERTY BELL plan is Graves' idea. At least, it was at the beginning. The original plan, as I'm sure you know, was for the military to take over the government in the case of a mentally incapacitated President. That plan was scrapped at the highest levels, at least officially. It went underground, into the intelligence community, where it landed on Graves' desk. He saw the opportunity it presented, and...well, like a Phoenix rising out of its' own ashes, the plan came back to life. "Graves improved it, and adopted it. It became his personal crusade. He plans to release...something, some kind of.." "CBX-3," Scully helpfully provided. Stone paled. "Oh my Lord," he whispered. "And then some," Mulder continued. "Finish it." "Anyway...he plans to release the CBX-3 in such a way as to decimate the leadership of the country. The military will take over, and then...then...he plans to turn the keys. Launch. His plan calls for the senior military...what's left of it...to think that the Soviets have launched on us." "There are no Soviets anymore," Mulder pointed out. "I'm aware of that," Stone snapped. "But there are still six or seven thousand warheads pointed at us. The Chinese, for one, have at least two thousand warheads pointed at this country. It doesn't matter which country is supposed to have launched...all that Graves needs to do is make them think that someone has." "And then what?" Scully asked. "No matter what the newspapers are telling you, we still have launch-on-warning capability. Graves' operatives are very highly placed. Admiral Watts would probably be ordered by Graves to send an Emergency Action Message to all the PACFLT subs, telling them to come to launch depth. Then, when Graves gets his hands on the codes, the birds would fly, the world becomes a smoking hole, and Danny Graves emerges from the rubble to lead the planet into a new world order, with him at the helm." "That's insane!" Scully exclaimed. "No shit," Stone said. "Could he get away with it?" Stone nodded. "If the President, Vice President, Congress, Cabinet, Joint Chiefs and Supreme Court are all gone, the line of succession stops. There's no one legally entitled to run the country. When the 25th Amendment was written, there was no concept of what a biological agent could do to the government." Scully was thinking, her brow furrowed. "Let's spec this out," she said. "He would need access to the defense communications system so he can send the launch codes-" "No," Stone said. "No he doesn't." "Why?" "Because of the redundancy. He could use a satburst transmitter, available from your local arms dealer. As long as he has the right codes and the right frequencies, he could launch from anywhere in the world. Everything's electronic these days." "What about the PAL?" Ebert asked. "The what?" Mulder asked. "Permissive Action Link. In the old days, it was an electronic lock on the nukes. A two-step process for launch. The President, or NCA, gives the GO for launch as one code. A separate code, sent on a separate channel, was the actual code to release these `locks.' That way, if someone stole the football, they couldn't launch." "Football?" Scully asked. "The briefcase with the launch codes that follows the President around," Ebert explained. "Oh," Scully nodded. "But that's not the case anymore?" "No," Stone said. "PAL was phased out after the cold war ended. The thinking was that if we wanted to keep the launch-on-warning capability, we didn't have the time to send both signals to all our delivery platforms, that all we'd need was the GO order. See, each separate nuke had it's own PAL code. That way, even if someone got one valid launch code, and the same, matching PAL code, they could only launch one nuke. But with launch-on-warning times of less than 2 minutes if we have a sub offshore, we decided that it would take too much time to get all that information out the door. So, one code, a global code, to all delivery systems. B52's, subs, silos. One code. It changes hourly." Scully thought. "That's a lot of codes." "Yes. Over eight thousand per year." "All in that little briefcase?" Stone laughed. "No, not anymore. Well, yes...and no. What's in the briefcase is not a big book with the SIOP anymore. It's a laptop computer with a CDROM drive. The CDROM has the codes for a year on it." Scully nodded, understanding. "Is the code breakable?" Stone shook his head. "No, the encryption key is totally random." Mulder scoffed. "Nothing is totally random." "Oh, but you're wrong, for once," Stone pointed out. "NSA is responsible for generating the codes. They need a truly random encryption key, because a powerful enough computer can recognize any non-random sequence, and given enough time, can break the code." Mulder nodded. "I understand that part. Where does the NSA get a truly random series of numbers? Eight thousand..." Mulder did the math quickly. "...seven hundred and about sixty or so." Stone grinned. "What they did was sample background noise from space, from a satellite. Then they translated that noise to a digital signal, ones and zeroes. They printed out a years worth of those ones and zeros. Made a printout about sixty feet tall, from what I hear. They went down to the secretarial pool, grabbed a woman at random, and told her to point." "Point?" Scully asked. "Point?" Mulder repeated. "Point," Stone confirmed. "They told her to point at a page. A single page, somewhere in the middle of that huge printout. They started from there, taking 256 binary digits in a row, and those became the encryption keys. Totally random." "Because," Scully said, her undergraduate physics degree coming to the forefront of her brain, "even if the Soviets or the Chinese or the Iranians knew that we sampled background space noise, and even if they knew what the exact starting point was in the series, the celestial conditions would never be exactly the same again, even at that precise moment in time a year later. The background noise would have changed. Even the slightest change would be enough." "Right," Stone said. "So, the codes are unbreakable. The only way to launch is to get your hands on that laptop. That's the crux of the launch part of Graves' plan. And once he detonates the CBX-3 device in Washington, it'll be child's play to get his hands on that laptop." Mulder stood and began pacing. "That's the part I still don't get. How he going to get his hands on the laptop? Isn't the guy that carries it armed or something?" "Of course," Stone said. "With orders to shoot to kill if someone not authorized tries to take it away. But...Graves has people, highly- placed people, ready to move the moment the device goes off. The first thing the military is going to want to do after that thing detonates is get their hands on those codes. And you can be sure that the first person to touch it will be a Graves operative." Scully frowned. "How can you be sure?" "Because I am," Stone said softly. "I just am." "Do you trust Karn?" Scully suddenly asked. Stone nodded. "To a point. Not enough to tell him my mission." "That's another thing," Mulder interjected. "Karn knows nothing of your mission. Who gave it to you?" "That's classified," Stone said quickly. Scully threw up her hands. "Matt! How can it be classified? We're all in this together!" "It's classified," Stone repeated. "Enough of this," Scully said. She turned to face Stone head on. "You will tell me who gave you your mission. Now." She reached for her pistol, grasping it lightly in her hand. "No," Stone said softly. "I won't tell you. I can't." Scully looked at the man seated not ten feet away from her. He'd tried to kill her only days ago. She could still feel his fingers around her windpipe. "Yes," she said. "Yes, you will." "Go ahead and shoot me," Stone said smugly. "I still won't tell you." A commotion at the door signaled Maggie's return. She entered, struggling under four bags of groceries. She took in the scene in a heartbeat: Scully, her gun in hand, seated facing Stone. "What's going on?" she asked. "Matt?" Scully stood. "Mulder, help her." Mulder moved and took all four bags from her, setting them down on the floor. "No, Matt...you will tell me," Scully said slowly, moving from the couch. "I know you. I know that the thing you hate more than anything in the world is an innocent's death. That's why Libya messed you up so much. Having to kill all those children...it must have been tough." "Children?" Ebert asked. "Shhh," Mulder said, touching the barrel of his own gun to his lips. "Let her talk." "Yes, children, Captain Ebert. Mr. Stone there personally executed thirty children, and had a direct influence on the execution of thirty more on a classified mission into Libya in 1982. He also killed Graves' brother Sam. Later, in Iraq, during the Gulf War, he killed Graves' other brother. So you could say that Stone is a little bit responsible for not only those thirty children and the two Graves brothers, but for all the people that will die in Washington if the CBX-3 device detonates, and all the people that will die in the exchange of nuclear weapons if Graves get his hands on those codes." Scully moved slowly, coming up beside Maggie. "All those deaths...but, aside from the Graves brothers and the kids, most of those deaths are theoretical, aren't they?" "What do you mean?" Stone asked. "Well, you won't know any of them. Oh sure, one or two. But it's not really anyone you're close to, is it, Matt?" Mulder saw where she was going in an instant and felt his stomach knot. Scully felt it, felt the power singing in her veins and hated herself for it. This was going too far, she thought. Just too damn far. She hardly recognized herself, hardly understood what she was about to do. But she knew it had to be done, that she had to know everything, that she and Mulder had to have all the facts they could before continuing the mission. Placing the barrel of her gun against the side of Maggie King's head, Scully said, "Are you sure you don't want to tell me, Matt?" "You won't pull that trigger," Matt said. Scully lowered the pistol, her hand shaking. She tried to hide it, but failed. "I knew it," Stone crowed. Mulder saw the pain and resignation on Scully's face. He also knew that it was only one card to play. If she did it, if she pulled the trigger to make the point to Stone...Maggie would be gone, forever. There was no way he could let her do that. There was no way Mulder could let her- "You're not like me," Stone interrupted. "You can't kill in cold blood, Scully." "Kill?" Mulder interrupted. "Who said anything about killing?" Reaching to the small of his back, grabbing the silenced .22 Maggie had given him before she'd left to go for food, Mulder pointed it at Maggie's foot and pulled the trigger. Maggie looked down. The bullet had missed by inches. She screamed and fell to the floor, holding her foot. The couch hid Stone's view; he had no idea that Mulder had missed on purpose. Mulder, his back turned to Stone, winked at Maggie, smiling. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!" Stone screamed, leaping out of his chair. Scully, eager to have a target she shoot at, raised her gun and leveled it at Stone. "Don't, Matt! I will shoot you if you make a move!" Moaning, Maggie looked up. "W-why?" she asked. "Nothing personal," Mulder said, feeling the guilt twisting in his gut, the buzz of emotional pain bright and harsh in his ears. Scully glanced at her partner, her eyes sending a message. Thanks. "OK, ok," Stone said, holding up his hands. "Don't shoot her again!" "TALK!" Scully ordered. "Uh-" Ebert said. He could see Maggie's foot. He turned to say something to Stone and saw the look in Scully's eyes. He said nothing. "Who gave you your mission?" Scully asked. Stone sat down, hard. "Lenoid Breshnev," he said softly. Scully's gun wavered. "Excuse me?" "Lenoid Breshnev, Premiere of the Soviet Union." "I don't-" she started to say. "I'm..." "...a double agent?" Mulder asked. Stone laughed. "Nothing so trite, Agent Mulder. It's a very, very long story." "Help her up," Scully said to Mulder. Reaching down, Mulder grabbed Maggie and helped her up. Maggie, her walk spry, made her way to the couch. "You-" Stone started. Then he laughed. "Very nice, Scully. Very, very nice. Sure you weren't a SEAL?" "Positive. Talk." "I am what is known as a Guardian," Stone started. "Selected very early in my military career to perform a very special task. I keep an eye on the US military machine for the Soviets. For what used to be the Soviets, what are the Russians today. I report anything that I feel is a danger to the stability of the world." "A spy," Scully said. "You're a fucking spy." "No, Agent Scully. Certain...factions...in our government are aware that there exists the possibility of...what's happening right now. A madman, bent on destroying the world. The Guardians exist to make sure that if the world destroyed, it happens for a very good reason." "I don't..." she started. "That makes no...sense!" "Sit down. I'll tell you the whole story." Scully moved back to the couch and sat, keeping her pistol close by. "Basically, we're...neutral, for lack of a better word. There are some two or three dozen Guardians all scattered throughout the military and intelligence communities of several countries. What was once the Soviet Union is now the Commonwealth of Independent States. With the coming of the Nuclear Age, a top-secret meeting took place between the United States, the Soviet Union, China, France, Great Britain, Israel, even the South Africans were there. They have `em, you know? Nukes, I mean. Anyway...it was decided that the threat of nuclear war for no good reason was insane. So the Guardians were created. In time of war, a real, honest, balls-to-the-wall war, we revert to being soldiers, sailors and pilots. When the war has specific political motivation, we do nothing. We fight and die just like the rest of the military. But during peace, when...when strange things happen, we're there. We're very highly placed, very, very secret. Not two dozen people in this country even know that the Guardians exist. "In 1979, I traveled to the Soviet Union and had a private meeting with Breshnev. He explained that he'd heard about some CBX-3 being removed from Afghanistan and returned to the US. He asked me to find it. To return it to where it belonged: to the custody of the US military." "He's been dead for almost twenty years!" Mulder objected. "I know. But the mission remains, Agent Mulder. And this mission is too important to worry about who works for who." Scully nodded. "Does Karn know?" "Of course not. He's not a Guardian." "Do you know anyone else who's a Guardian? Anyone that can verify your story?" "I know of one," Stone said. "He does not know of my mission, and he does not know that I am a Guardian. But, there are code phrases that I can use to identify myself, and he will vouch for me." Scully nodded. "Get him on the phone. Now." Stone held out his hand. Scully held out the phone. Stone took it, and dialed. He waited for an answer. "Hello?" a voice asked. "When fire and water are at war, it is the fire that loses," Stone said slowly. "I understand," the voice said. "What is the status?" "I need you to vouch for my identity," Stone replied. "This is Special Agent Matthew Stone, NIS." The voice gasped. "Very well. Put one of them on." Stone held out the phone. Scully took it. "Hello?" she asked. "Hello, Agent Scully," Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner said. "I would suggest that you listen to this man." -------------- END CHAPTER 22 Content Note : ActionScully! Bad words. Bullet-to-the-foot interrogation. Car chase.