Home | Stories by Title | Stories by Author From: Gerry Hill MOBSTER MASH by Gerry Hill (fox42@ix.netcom.com) Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters and situations created by Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and Fox Broadcasting. As such, the characters of Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, AD Skinner, the Lone Gunmen, etc. are the property of those entities and are used without permission, although no copyright infringement is intended. The following work is for the distribution and entertainment of fanfic members only. Any further distribution of this work without the author's consent is in violation of international law. THANKS: To a wonderful group of people, on whom I increasingly rely before posting my fanfic: Ten, Helen, Jo- Ann, nikki, and Macspooky. They pull no punches, and I have the bruises to prove it! :-) Also, thanks to Ten for writing the "Epilogue." SETTING: Takes place after "One Son" but before "Biogenesis." SPOILERS: "One Son," "Never Again," "Pine Bluff Variant," the movie "Fight the Future." RATING: R for violence, language and attempted rape (not graphic). CONTENT WARNING: Mulder/Scully UST. Rape attempt by third party. Language. Violence. CLASSIFICATION: T, A SUMMARY: Mulder and Scully go undercover with the Mob. NOTE: I'd love to hear any feedback after you've read the story! fox42@ix.netcom.com. A Friday in May 1999 Hoover Building, Washington, D.C. Since it was after 5:00 PM on a Friday, most of the building had cleared out, leaving a skeleton staff on duty. Special Agent Dana Scully, heels ed hollowly against the floor, made her way down the basement corridor. Deep in thought, her brief knock was perfunctory before she opened the closed door and entered the familiar room. After the new assignment had been made earlier today by Assistant Director Skinner, and after the inevitable protests from Special Agent Fox Mulder had been ignored and then squashed, Scully had figured that her partner would settle down and begin preparations. As far as she could tell, however, he hadn't moved from his desk since she had left him there three hours ago. Resigned to the inevitable, she understood that she was in for a bout of obstinate, balky, uncooperative Mulder. He didn't glance up as she reached his desk, although he had to be aware of her presence. She had a sudden urge to shove his big feet from where they were propped squarely on the blotter, but decided that now wasn't the time to teach him good manners. He finally looked up at her, his expression impossible to read. She tried to sidestep his complaints by coming right to the point. "The DEA guy was here with some clothes, ID, directions on where we'll be staying, and tons of printouts on the case. I had him pack it all into the back of my car. How about going over to my place and sorting through the stuff?" Ignoring her question, he growled, "No offense to your abilities, but I don't buy this crap about you being the 'only federal agent' who can pull this off, Scully. Besides, what's this bullshit about the Mafia? Despite what the movies tell us, all the big shots are dead or in prison, and the structure has fallen apart." She sighed, accepting that he wasn't going to make it easy. "I suppose Vincenzo's bunch are a few of the leftovers from the Mafia glory days," she replied. "The files show they've been getting hit from all sides lately: Law enforcement, factions within their own group, and the more organized street gangs. So no, it's not like we're taking on Al Capone, but this group is still dangerous." She saw no change of expression on his face. A little bit of exasperation entered her voice as she addressed what was really bothering him. "Mulder, you know that two DEA informants were murdered, and that now their undercover agent, Michaelson, has disappeared. They need someone inside, and fast. You heard how they've gone through all the alphabet soup law enforcement agencies, trying to find a female who is Tony Vincenzo's type . . . " Dropping his feet off the desk to the floor with a loud thud, he impatiently said, "Yeah, yeah. They had picked out three women, other than you. But Doris What's-er-name over at the DEA is nine months pregnant and overdue to give birth; Sharon Hingle upstairs got shot in the thigh yesterday in a raid; and Gayle Orintz, Hovitz, or whatever her name is, took off Friday to do some mountain-climbing in the Alps and is out of touch. Which leaves you." He stood up suddenly, towering over her, and she backed up a step. "Thousands of people from whom to choose, and they can come up with only four petite redheaded females who would be eligible for the assignment. Christ! They could have just dyed someone's hair." His eyes locked onto hers as he added, "Or do you have to be a *natural* redhead for the purposes of this assignment?" Ignoring his innuendo, she replied, "Apparently we were the only experienced field agents who also had the physical characteristics specified." His eyes deliberately raked down her body and she could see the gleam in his gaze when his eyes returned to hers. "Isn't your feminist soul offended by being picked for the case primarily for your body type?" "That's enough, Mulder. You and I both know that this is the quickest way to get close to the subject and learn what we need to know." "It'll be incredibly dangerous." There it was again; what Scully thought to be the crux of the matter for her partner. He was so protective.... "Mulder, I seem to remember you going undercover with those terrorists a few months ago, *without* telling me and *without* any backup whatsoever, barely surviving the experience. In this case, we'll both be going in, so we'll have each other to rely on." He gave an impatient shake of his head. "*I* wasn't the terrorist ringleader's boyfriend. You'll be going in for the express purpose of turning this guy on and maybe risking..." "My virtue?" she helpfully supplied. "Come on, Mulder. I can take care of myself, and we need any and all information we can dig out of Vincenzo about what's probably the biggest drug deal in this country in fifteen years." "God, Scully! He could be humping you twice a day and three times on Sunday, and you think he'll tell you where and when the buy will take place? He'll have just met you; there'll be no history of trust between you. I don't know what in hell the DEA is thinking." She had her own doubts on that score, but Mulder was deliberately being crude. Giving in to temptation, she retaliated. Scully opened the file in her hands and looked at the picture inside the cover. "Twice a day, huh?" she murmured with a little smile, letting Mulder see Vincenzo's handsome features from his vantage point. The man gazing out of the picture could have been Brendan Fraser's cuter brother. Glancing up, she could see the muscles in his jaw clenching and knew she had hit the target. Along with the satisfaction, however, she felt a twinge of guilt; but it was only a twinge and quickly forgotten. Closing the file, she said, "There's not much we can do about this, and complaining isn't going to accomplish anything, either. Let's get started on setting up the details." She turned and headed for the elevator. Mulder grabbed his suit jacket as he followed her, looking less than happy. In truth, he recognized how unprofessional his reactions had been. Scully deserved his respect and support, not this petulant crap he'd been shoveling at her. If he were really honest with himself, he'd own up to his jealousy, but that would open up a whole new can of worms. ****************** Scully's apartment 10:38 PM With a weary sigh, she got to her feet and surveyed the floor around them. It was littered with documents and printouts, take-out food containers, a couple of pairs of shoes, and other detritus from their case review and preparation. Hiding a smile when she spotted the Star Wars figure of Jar Jar Binks' head peeking from the couch cushion next to her partner, she remembered how tickled he had been when he had shown her his prize from his earlier foray for food. "Just think, Scully. The most hated figure in the Star Wars universe! Like the Edsel, it'll be worth big bucks someday." The memory faded as she felt his eyes on her. She shifted her focus to meet his gaze and saw immediately that he seemed weary...sad, somehow. "Scully, this brother/sister thing isn't going to work. We look nothing alike, you know. It would make more sense to be distant cousins, or even husband and wife, with you looking for a little excitement on the side." Thinking he must really be tired to skip the innuendos he loved to inflict on her, she said, "Well, it's too late now. The IDs are all prepared and the background data is in place. We could have had different mothers or fathers. It happens." He looked down and shrugged, accepting her argument. She felt that had been too easy. Attempting to lighten the mood, she headed for the bedroom, saying, "I'm going to try on some of the clothes they want us to wear. Those DEA guys picked them out, so God knows what they'll look like. Yours are in the spare bedroom." He stayed seated on the couch, however, ignoring the implied invitation to play "dress up." He dropped his head back against the cushion and closed his eyes. He must have dozed off because he was suddenly aware of a feather-light touch on his jaw. Opening his eyes without moving his head, he found himself staring at an upside-down Scully. She was behind the couch, looking down at him with a tender expression, making his breath catch in his throat. Then the moment was gone as she walked around the couch to stand in front of him. Hands on hips, she asked, "Well?" She was a knockout. The burgundy sheath dress showed more cleavage than he had ever seen on his partner. It was cut low, straight across the top, and was sleeveless, with narrow straps over her shoulders. The hem stopped well above the knees, and the waist was nipped in to emphasize her slenderness. She hadn't bothered with shoes, and so was barefoot. She had never looked so lovely. All the self-denial of how he felt about her was cracking wide open. It took all his strength to beat down his urge to enfold her in his arms and admit to her how he really felt. This woman had somehow become everything to him. And while there was this overwhelming tenderness he felt toward her, there was also the raw underlying lust which was even more difficult to shove into a corner. Scully must have read something in his eyes, because she blushed and turned to go back into the bedroom. "Wait." Mulder didn't know why he had spoken, since he couldn't...just *couldn't* ruin everything by speaking what was on his mind. She paused in the doorway to see what he wanted and Mulder was surprised to see the slightest flash of fear in her eyes. So Scully was afraid, too, he thought. He cleared his throat, got to his feet and began gathering papers together. His eyes burned and he didn't think it was from being tired. "I'm heading for home, Angela," he said, using her undercover name. "It's 'Angie' to you, brother dear. And why don't you stay in the spare room tonight? Everything we'll need for the job is already here." Burdened with an armful of paper, he busied himself with stacking it neatly on the coffee table, muttering something about needing to get home; that he had things to do. She let that go, although she knew he currently had no fish in the tank to feed, and nothing else pressing at the moment. Instead, she told him, "Samuels, our contact with the DEA, will be here at 10 AM or so. He's supposed to have a car for us and any last minute information before we take up residence in the Greenwich Hotel." He nodded as he went about putting his shoes back on, then grabbed his suit coat and waved as he left her apartment. After the door shut behind him, she noticed that her place appeared to be so...empty. He always seemed to take up so much more than his own space when he was around, that his leaving left a huge gap in her environment. Troubled about his negative attitude concerning their role in this case, Scully finished straightening up the place and then thought that she may as well change for bed soon. She smoothed her hands over the skirt of the dress she was still wearing and remembered Mulder's reaction when he had seen her in it. A faint flush pinked her cheeks as she wondered just when they had become so physically aware of each other. The last thing she did before turning out the lights in the living room was to place Mulder's forgotten Jar Jar toy on the bookshelf for safekeeping. ****************** Saturday, 11:58 AM En route to the Greenwich Hotel Other than a comment that the weather should be nice that day, if a little warm, the two partners sat in silence during the drive to the hotel. The BMW that Scully was maneuvering through lunchtime traffic was definitely a step up from the usual rental they drove on assignments, but Mulder hardly noticed the more luxurious interior. His mind was on the case, beginning with the unsatisfactory meeting with their contact earlier that morning. Samuels had turned out to be at least ten years younger than either of the two FBI agents. He had been all excited discussing the details of the assignment, and Mulder had wondered if this was his first field job. During one of the long, involved explanations that Samuels seemed to favor, Mulder asked him how they were expected to meet Vincenzo. "It's a big hotel, and it might take awhile if we just wander around, hoping to bump into him." Apparently unaware of the sarcastic tone, Samuels jumped to his feet apologizing about nearly forgetting, and produced two embossed invitations, which he handed to Scully. They were from the hotel manager, and were invitations to a party being held that evening in the hotel. "Vincenzo has also been invited. He likes to party, so we think he'll attend." Reading the invitations, Scully reassured Mulder that he wouldn't need a tuxedo, but could wear a nice suit. "Anyway, I don't think there's a tux included with the clothes they provided," she had told him. "See any underwear of interest while you were going through my clothes?" Mulder was intrigued when she reacted by biting her lower lip while a flush stained her cheeks. He had meant the remark to be joking, but she seemed to take it as criticism. "I was only making sure you had everything you'll need, since you couldn't be bothered last night to check it yourself." Samuels had been avidly listening to this exchange and Mulder couldn't help but notice the frown on his previously sunny face. "Don't worry," he reassured the man. "This is the way we work. Sharp, cutting remarks, designed to keep us mentally on our toes." He winked, confusing Samuels even more. The only ray of sunlight for Mulder was when they were told that the massive drugs and money transfer was likely to take place before Tuesday of the coming week. That would limit their undercover time to only three days or so. Ultimately they had finished going over and over the small details which their contact seemed to find so fascinating, and then Samuels had introduced Grayson and Wu, DEA agents who would be staying in the same hotel, providing backup, and keeping tabs on events. Jessie Grayson was a tall African-American woman who appeared to be fit enough to toss Mulder over her shoulder without much of a struggle. On the other hand, her partner Daniel Wu looked as though a strong wind would knock him over. He was taller than Scully, but not by much, and very slender. Mulder hid a smile as he imagined the man trying to have sex with Grayson. An image of a dog-sized Wu humping this gigantic, shapely, feminine leg came to mind...Then he sobered as he wondered where *that* thought came from. He sincerely hoped that Scully never gained the ability to truly read his mind. After setting up emergency procedures and methods of communication, the two FBI agents had finally made their escape. Mulder now carried a small black device on a keychain which, when pressed firmly, would send a signal to Samuels that they needed to be pulled out, ASAP. Scully's device was in her purse. What he wasn't going to mention to anyone is that he planned to "persuade" Langly, Byers and Frohike into providing additional back-up. Since the agents would essentially be at the mercy of the DEA, he wanted some kind of lifeline if Samuels screwed up. The FBI, constantly short-staffed, had essentially told the two agents that they were on their own for this one. At least Skinner had the decency to look apologetic when he'd made that statement. He still wished he could carry his weapon, but understood that it would be a dead giveaway if it were noticed or detected by a screening device. He wished even more that at least his partner had been able to carry one for her protection. Requests for a wire had been brushed aside by Samuels, who said it might be detected. Mulder couldn't help but shudder at how Vincenzo might detect a wire on Scully... Pulling himself out of his reverie as "Angela" maneuvered the car around a busy corner, Mulder found himself admiring his partner, who was again wearing the burgundy sheath and had pushed her hair back behind her ears. She looked crisp and cool on this warm day and had a glow of excitement, presumably because of this new case. He was tempted to whine, 'How come you never dress like that on *our* cases?' but figured that wouldn't go over too well. Leaving the car to the hotel staff, they found the lobby to be fairly busy. Mulder caught himself fidgeting in his new Italian leather walking shoes which felt unfamiliar on his feet. The cream-colored slacks and blue-gray shirt were comfortable, but he still longed for his own familiar clothes. At least he didn't have to wear a suit at the moment. Senses on high alert, he saw Vincenzo and his entourage before Scully did. They were exiting the elevators across the room and headed in their general direction. Mulder softly murmured "Son of a bitch," and elbowed his partner on the arm, hissing, "What do you know? We *are* going to just run into our target after all." She was swift on the uptake and managed to be standing at the outer edge of the group at the reception desk so Vincenzo would have to pass fairly close to her. That turned out to be all the work she had to put into the meeting, since the man literally skidded to a halt when she caught his eye. Mulder's half-hearted wish that the guy wouldn't give his partner a second glance was dashed when he saw this reaction. Shit. "Excuse me," Vincenzo said. "You look so much like someone I used to know." Mulder nearly gagged at the obvious pickup attempt, and noted with a sinking heart that the guy was more handsome than his picture. Looking up at him with an amused expression, Scully, bless her subtle little heart, replied, "Give me a break. That line is older than you are." He broke into surprised laughter and finally managed to say, "Good for you. That *was* rude of me. But you really do look like a...friend from long ago." "A good friend, I hope." "Oh, yes. Very much so. Pardon my continuing rudeness - I haven't introduced myself. I'm John Vincenzo, and these are my companions; Carl Volpe and Frank Barber. We're down here from New York for a few days." Companions, Mulder thought derisively. They were between 230 and 250 pounds of muscle each, and he had no doubt they were armed to the teeth. Volpe was slightly shorter, older, and had a meaner face. Definitely the one to watch out for. He brought his attention back to Scully, who was making her own introductions. "I'm Angela Bishop and this is my brother, David." The faint hostility that had been emanating from Vincenzo toward the tall man standing protectively at "Angela Bishop's" side lessened considerably at discovering that their relationship was that of brother and sister. Mulder's handshake was a little less enthusiastic than Vincenzo's. "Let me apologize for my behavior and offer you a drink in the lounge. I'm sure your brother wouldn't mind checking you both in?" Her "brother" wasn't too crazy about splitting up so quickly, but Scully took the initiative before he could say anything. She squeezed his forearm and smiled, saying, "David, why don't you come in and join us when you're done and then I'll go up to the suite with you?" Her question was obviously more in the nature of a command. So this was how she would play their brother/sister act. He glumly watched the group disappear through a chrome and glass door across the room before turning back to the registration desk. It took five more minutes to reach the clerk and another ten to register. Then he had to make arrangements for the luggage to be sent to the room. By the time he was free to check on Scully, his temper was wearing thin. The dimly-lit lounge was nearly empty, so it was an easy matter to spot the group. Scully and Vincenzo were seated at one end of a long, curved couch and the two goons were at the other end, with a table between them. Not hesitating, he flopped down in the small space left between his partner and the edge of the couch. Practically in her lap, he beamed a grin at her. "Miss me?" he said to her as his eyes took in the half-empty glasses on the table. He couldn't tell what the contents might be, but snatched up the closest one and threw back a swallow, avoiding the twist of lime. Tonic water. She gave him a tight smile and said brightly, "John is going to take me to Marigold's tonight. He says it's a great place for dinner and dancing. Apparently the manager's party here in the hotel will be a real drag." "Great. What time do we leave?" "Are you accustomed to accompanying your sister on her dates?" Vincenzo asked, with a slight frown. He wasn't trying to hide his impatience with this annoying brother. Mulder raised his eyebrows in perfect imitation of a certain redhead's favorite mannerism. "It's supposed to be a date?" That brought an indulgent smile. Vincenzo didn't deign to answer, but waved a hand in the general direction of his companions. "My associates prefer more excitement than Marigold's can provide, and would like to take you with them to Jake's. It's about a block from where we'll be going." Volpe, the guy Mulder had pegged as the older and meaner one, smiled and said, "It would be our pleasure." Sharks had a more engaging smile, and nicer teeth, too. He really didn't want to separate from Scully, but they did have a job to do. He might be able to dig some information out of the gruesome twosome here, while his partner did the same with their boss. Besides, Grayson and Wu should be around to back them up. Not seeing any logical way out of the situation, he agreed to the outing, but couldn't break his gaze from Volpe's. He could swear that the man's eyes were black and held no emotion whatsoever. The staring match was broken when Scully gave a little wiggle and shoved her partner's hip with her own, forcing him to stand up or fall off the end of the couch. "See you in the lobby at seven?" she threw back at the group as they stood, Mulder's hand on her arm. "Perfect," Vincenzo said. Neither agent noticed that Barber carefully picked up the drink glass that they had both handled, and used a handkerchief to carry it away with him. ******************** As they crossed the lobby, Mulder commented, "He didn't waste any time making a move on you." "Hmmmm," she said distractedly. That drew a glance from him, but since they were entering an elevator full of people, he kept his questions tamped down for the moment. He idly wondered where Grayson and Wu were, since he hadn't spotted them in the lobby or in the lounge. They would be hard to miss, so he guessed they hadn't arrived yet. Actually, the other pair of agents had been in the hotel for an hour already, registering separately as business associates. Samuels was in close communication with them and had ordered a low profile for the time being. Scully's eyes sparkled when she got a look at their suite; it was luxurious. The off-white walls in the foyer gave way to an elegant pale blue and white fleur-de-lis wallpaper, which ended at the large windows on the far wall. The tidal basin, Jefferson Memorial and other Washington sights were visible in a panoramic view. The two bedrooms on opposite sides of the suite were very large and held king-sized beds. There was a vase of freshly cut flowers in each room and fluffy white robes were laid out on the beds. Scully explored every room and was impressed, particularly with the huge bathroom. Finally returning to the main suite, she beheld a sober-looking Mulder. He sat in the middle of the overstuffed sofa, his lanky form managing to take it over entirely. One arm rested along the back of it, one leg was half on the sofa and half hanging off, and the other long leg stretched out under the low cherrywood table. She felt an unexpected wave of affection for him; however, knowing they needed to talk, she resisted the temptation to make room at his side. Instead, she settled herself into a nearby chair and waited for him to open the conversation. He gave her a wan smile and said, "I don't like being separated from you tonight. As Han Solo said, 'I've got a bad feeling about this.' " "I don't like it either, but I don't see what else we can do. We've been incredibly lucky to get this close to him so quickly. It's entirely possible we can do our job and get out of here before the fur begins to fly." He snorted. "That's a polite term. Don't you mean 'before the blood begins to squirt' or 'before the shit hits the fan?' " He sat up straighter and frowned as he asked, "Scully, don't you think this is all just a little too easy?" Shrugging, she said, "I don't know. Nothing strikes me as really wrong so far. We'll have to stay alert and watch each other's backs." "That's exactly why I'm going to put someone inside Marigold's later, since I won't be t you." She cautioned, "Vincenzo's not stupid, Mulder. He might spot your guy. It won't be Grayson or Wu, will it?" "As if I knew where the hell those two were," he said sarcastically. "Let's hope we don't need them in a hurry." He hoped Scully wouldn't notice the fact that he had never answered her question. Changing the subject, he said, "We need to check Marigold's out to see if we can figure why Vincenzo is so comfortable going there tonight without his bodyguards. He may own it, or one of his 'associates' does." "Okay," she agreed. "I'll run Volpe's and Barber's names in the database as well, to see what we're dealing with. Then I plan to unpack." She disappeared into the bedroom to the left of the sitting area. After rummaging a moment through her suitcase which lay open on the bed, she found the laptop. Turning, she nearly dropped it when she bumped into her partner. "God! You scared me to death, Mulder!" He was looking earnestly into her face with a questioning expression, his hand gently gripping her arm. "Scully. Later on tonight...if...if the only way you can get the information we need from Vincenzo....is to..." "No." Her voice was hard and sharp and her eyes would have burned holes in him had they been lasers. "No?" He could see that she was furious at him, but was surprised nonetheless when she jerked her arm from his grasp and stuck a hard forefinger into his chest. She snarled, "Contrary to what you may think, Mulder, I am not a whore. I don't know where you've gotten the idea that I would sleep with a stalker like Padgett, or with Vincenzo, a drug dealer and probable murderer." Getting a little pissed off himself, he blurted, "Does Ed Jerse ring a bell with you?" and wondered if he had left his brain at home. At least she had laid off with the chest- poking. That *hurt*. "If we weren't in the middle of a case, I'd kick the crap out of you," she hissed. He had never seen her more angry with him. "And I never slept with Jerse, for your information. You were assuming something about me again." He was horrified to see tears swimming in her eyes and desperately tried to think of something to say other than 'you didn't do Jerse?' He, along with the Philadelphia police detectives, had been certain she had. "Not only do you check my drink in the lounge to see if I'm drinking alcohol and how much I've had, but now you ask if I'd *fuck* some guy I just met, simply to get answers. How dare you! Dammit, Mulder!" He thought for a second that she was going to deck him, but she suddenly shoved against his chest with her free hand, still clutching the laptop with the other. Then she was past him, heading for the other room. He could see a glint of moisture in her eyes as she passed. Oh, hell! Trying to make amends, he said possibly the stupidest thing he could have come up with as he followed her to the table near the window. "Scully, please. I don't think you're a whore." She suddenly turned, raising the laptop as if to throw it at him, then apparently managed to control her violent impulse enough to slowly lower her arms and put the case on the table. "Scully, I..." "If you want to live a little longer, Mulder, you had better get the hell out of my sight." Knowing when to beat a retreat, he disappeared into his room, changed into running clothes, and left the suite without another word. He had fucked up, but good. ************************** 3:00 PM Lone Gunman Headquarters "You're leaving her alone with this two-bit gangster and his mob tonight?!" Frohike's incredulous tone echoed all three gunmen's expressions. "Yeah, well, that's where you come in...I hope," Mulder replied. He went on to describe how he needed Frohike to infiltrate the Marigold's service staff in order to keep an eye on his partner. "If anything gets hinky, what am I supposed to do?" he asked, clearly intrigued with the undercover role he was being asked to perform. "I'll be in Jake's, a bar down the street, with some of Vincenzo's men. Just call me on my cel and I can be there in two minutes." "But what if it gets instantly hairy?" Mulder hesitated, uncomfortable. "I don't want you getting hurt, Frohike." Looking offended, he said, "Hey. I can take care of myself. Don't worry; I'll call you first, if at all possible, but I'll go prepared for anything." "No weapons," Mulder quickly warned. "They might check on that, if this is the kind of place I think it is." "No problemo." He exchanged looks with the other gunmen. "Right, guys?" They nodded confidently, and Langly returned to the computer monitor, which was scrolling data. "Listen," he told them, without breaking his gaze from the monitor. "I'm into Jaycos, the company where Marigold's gets their service staff." Rapid typing ensued, then, "Gotcha! Frohike, you are now Jerry Garcia, assigned to bus tables from 7:00 PM until midnight tonight." There was a "ta-da!" and then an exaggerated flourish of fingers in the air as the jubilant hacker gave everyone a smug grin. All three men looked at Langly and said, "Jerry Garcia?" Langly just shrugged. "You'd prefer Alice Cooper? Hey, 'The Dead' rules, man." "What about Agent Scully?" Frohike asked their visitor. "I mean, does she know I'll be there?" "No, because she probably wouldn't allow it if she knew. Once you're in, however, there won't be much she can do about it." "Except wring our scrawny necks afterwards." "Yeah," Langly piped up. "A force to be reckoned with, most definitely. We still don't know how you escaped bodily injury after....ow!" Byers had kicked his shin under the counter before he could expound on the Diana "incident." Mulder didn't miss much, and with his quick mind he caught Langly's reference. Other than a sideways glance at Byers, he refrained from getting into *that* subject with them. There was a brief silence, then Mulder slowly said, "Be careful tonight, Frohike. Don't even think about messing with these people's heads. I'd like to see you come out of there in the same shape you went in." Rising to leave, he added, "And take care of Scully." Three heads nodded solemnly. ******************** The Bishops' Hotel Suite 5:30pm When Scully wandered into the sitting area wearing the overlarge white robe, fresh from her bath, she found Mulder seated at the table gazing out at the city view, munching on a breadstick. The table bore several kinds of fruit and cheese, a container of crisp breadsticks, and several bottles of mineral water. He was still dressed in his running clothes, and appeared to be lost in thought. Mulder had spent the past several hours mulling over why he had been such an ass to Scully earlier. He was feeling insecure about Vincenzo, granted, but that was no reason to have insulted her the way he had. Come to think of it, he'd been doing a lot of that lately, and he had to admit that some of it was intentional. She used to deal with him in an affectionate kind of way, but more and more that was being replaced by a grim resignation. Maybe he had been reacting to that attitude. His mind kept skirting around the "Diana issue," as he thought of it. If he were honest with himself, a lot of their new mutual uneasiness stemmed from her arrival. And as much as it hurt, the gunmen's first loyalty seemed to have shifted to his partner, with him a distant second, after he had been such a prick about Diana. What did they expect, ganging up on him like that? They couldn't seem to understand that there had never been any reason to doubt her. He had given Diana his heart and his trust once upon a time, and it would take a hell of a lot more "evidence" to destroy the memories of what they'd had together. His heart now belonged to Scully, but he was stubbornly loyal to Diana, whatever the consequences. A slight sound made him swivel his head to see Scully standing in the middle of the room with an unreadable expression on her face. His gaze took in the fluffy robe and bare feet, and once again, an overwhelming need to hold her close swept over him. Knowing the action wouldn't be welcome, especially until they cleared the air between them, he forced himself to smile and stay in his chair. "Have something to eat. I ordered a snack to tide us over, since we probably won't be having dinner very early tonight. Great view, isn't it?" She didn't say anything or twitch a muscle. He turned his head back to gaze at the view and murmured, "You ought to try the melon anyway; it's really good. Sorry I was being a shit-head, but since that's nothing new, you shouldn't let it ruin your evening." After what seemed like forever, he saw a blurry white motion reflected in the glass and the whisper of feet moving on carpet came to his ears. Then she was sitting down to his right, reaching for a small plate. "I dug up some interesting information while you were out...running." From the tone of her voice it was obvious she hadn't forgiven him and was bulldozing over the issue by getting back to business. What else is new, he thought, as he idly watched a piece of honeydew melon disappear into her mouth. When he didn't comment, she swallowed the sweet fruit and said, "Marigold's - and Jake's, by the way - are owned by a corporation based in Florida, which is in turn owned by a larger corporation in New York. That larger corporation's board of directors is made up of members of Vincenzo's family, including two brothers, an uncle, an aunt, two cousins, and his mother." A sparkle finally lit her eyes as she added, "The cousins are ten and eleven years of age, and the mother lives in southern Italy. Somehow, I think it would be safe to assume that Vincenzo controls the board of directors, and all the subsidiaries and holdings." "Now, now, Scully. Making leaps of logic is my prerogative," he teased. "What about Vincenzo's goons; Abbott and Costello? I'm betting ex-cons and/or ex- military." "A little of both. Barber did some hard time a few years ago for attempted murder. There were also some homicide charges, but they were never proven. I was able to talk with the arresting detective when I called the precinct and I asked about the unproven charges. I got the distinct impression that he knew Barber was 'as guilty as hell' in strangling two rival mob members, cutting out their tongues and hacking their genitals off, but he never could get the proof he needed to nail Barber with the crimes." Mulder winced at her casual description of the murders, and asked, "What about Volpe?" "He was military but his file is "Need To Know." It'll take me longer to fill in a past for this guy. All I have is a discharge date of May 31, 1995. It doesn't even say whether the discharge was honorable or not." "That's all you could get on him?" "For now. Why don't we put the gunmen on it? They always seem to come up with information that neither the FBI nor the national crime database can locate." "They're already on it." She seemed unsurprised and took a few more bites of cheese and fruit. When she turned to look him full in the face, he expected something momentous, and he held his breath, but she merely said, "You had better take a shower, Mulder. We'll be going down in an hour and I didn't pack any air freshener." Releasing his pent-up breath in disappointment, he gave her a 'ha, ha' look and said, "That bad, huh?" "Don't ask," was all she'd mutter. He ambled off to the bathroom while Scully rummaged in the closet to decide what to wear. Well, that was real, he thought, as he stripped and stepped into the shower. He supposed that, like in "Gone With The Wind," they'd talk about it "tomorrow," meaning never. Not for the first time, he wondered if you could knock yourself unconscious by deliberately banging your head against the wall. ********************** 6:58 PM Scully had chosen a basic black ankle-length dress that accentuated her curves. It was cut low in back, low in front, and had a slit up the side to her knee. When she joined Mulder at the door to go downstairs, he was initially speechless. Then he wondered what pervert had provided these clothes for her to wear. It was something he himself would have chosen. Her hair was piled on top of her head, with curly tendrils escaping here and there. She looked beautiful. "Hope all this black is foretelling Vincenzo's funeral and not our own," Mulder commented after he recovered his voice. She looked him over, noting the black jeans, black tee shirt, black boots and black leather jacket. He looked dangerous. And good enough to eat, but that thought was stomped into the ground before it went any further. Following her to the elevator with his hand at her lower back was pure torture. Her dress wasn't cut low enough to be able to see the tattoo that he knew was there, so his mind kindly supplied the image of it beneath his hand, and then his imagination took him even lower, to the sensually- moving hips...He mentally groaned, and deliberately put a little distance between them once they entered the elevator. They had a job to do; he needed to quit lusting after his partner. Scully felt his withdrawal and, while disappointed, was also relieved, since his closeness had been making it too distracting to concentrate. Volpe flashed his shark's grin at them as they crossed the lobby. His greeting was a verbose, "Car's outside," and took the lead toward the main doors. Following the military strut of their guide, Mulder was tempted to imitate the man's short, choppy steps but managed to refrain. A white limousine idled at the curb. Volpe got into the front seat with Barber, who was driving, and left the doorman to open the rear door and escort their two passengers into the back. They saw that Vincenzo was already in the car. He was lounging on the rich leather seat and he gently pulled Scully by her wrist so she sat next to him. Mulder was relegated to the jump seat, facing the pair. Great, he thought, and forced a grin. "Nice wheels. Never went to a bar in a limo before." C'mon, he told himself. Be an ass. It should come naturally. Vincenzo essentially ignored him, however, and turned to Scully. He gave her hand a squeeze and purred, "I hope you like good food. The chef is preparing a feast for us tonight. Trust me; you'll love it." "Trust everybody, but cut the cards," Mulder intoned cryptically, his eyes on the man's slimy hands. They had progressed from squeezing Scully's hand to caressing her bare forearm. "That's not from 'Maverick' but from a turn- of-the-century humorist. Actually, Bret Maverick stole a lot of other people's quotes, come to think of it." Babbling like an idiot, he desperately thought that he couldn't do this. But he had to. It pissed him off that Vincenzo was acting as if Angie's brother was part of the upholstery, so he nudged Scully's tiny foot with his size 12s and snickered, "Hey, sis. Remember to take your antibiotics? You wouldn't want to transmit any of that disease, now would you?" Horror and amusement were at war in her expression, and amusement finally won out. She gave a delightful laugh and playfully kicked his shin so hard he'd have a bruise until Christmas. "Brothers," she said in a disgusted tone to Vincenzo. "Do you know what idiots they can be?" "Yeah. I have two of my own. You either love them or want to shove them off a high cliff." They smiled tolerantly at Mulder, who was still fighting the urge to barf. Thankfully, though, Marigold's wasn't far from the hotel, and they were drawing to a stop at the curb. "Curfew's at midnight," Mulder called to Scully as she passed him and exited the limo. He winced at the obscene gesture she gave him, which was hidden from her date's view by her body. Then the door was closed and the limo moved another half a block before pulling into a parking garage. When he emerged from the car, Barber and Volpe were climbing from the front seat and laughing. "Let's go, Bishop. Rachel will be on stage in five minutes," Barber said, and they set off toward the neon sign across the street that stated, "All Naked, All The Time." So Jake's wasn't just a bar, but a strip joint. When Scully had done her research, she must have realized that fact, but hadn't bothered to mention it. Guess she wanted to surprise him.... ******************* Nearby "This doesn't make sense," Grayson said, her voice sounding puzzled. Wu looked out of the front windshield of their car at the trio of men who were entering Jake's. "Yeah, well, Samuels said to stick with Agent Mulder until told differently. I think it would make more sense to split up and watch both agents, but we're outranked." Grayson slowly drove a route around the building, intending to park in the alleyway to the left of the front door. When she pulled into the alley, however, there was another vehicle already in place. It was a van, and a light-haired man stepped out of it as they watched. The guy hurried out of the alley and turned left at the main street, and it was a good bet that he was going into Jake's. This could be interesting. Wu switched off the overhead light and opened the car door, saying, "I'm going inside for a few minutes to check things out." He shut the door quietly before Grayson could tell him to be careful. He hated when she did that, since he was *always* careful. ********************* Jake's Interior Mulder had to admit that the place was classier than most. Not that he'd seen that many strip joints, but from what he could make out in the subdued lighting, it was fairly clean and attractive. There was a bar to the right, tables scattered around the floor, a small stage at the far end, with a runway up the middle of the room. There were no menus, but not long after the trio had settled into seats to one side of the runway, baskets of hamburgers and fries had appeared on the table in front of them. Mulder was also given a beer without asking, and he figured that he'd just sip at it all evening. The two goons weren't much on conversation, and had clearly come here to watch the show. When the lights went down, a sharp jab of an elbow to Mulder's ribs told him that the main attraction was about to make an appearance. Mulder recognized the opening music of an instrumental version of "Lady in Red," instead of the usual bump and grind fare he had expected. A strikingly beautiful woman danced gracefully onto the stage. Besides some strappy high heels, she was dressed only in red gauzy scarves which flowed from a breeze, generated no doubt from offstage. Her long black hair looked striking against the paleness of her body and the red of the material. Finally she was coming closer to where they sat, losing a scarf now and then, until she was entirely naked. One scarf remained in her hand, and as she undulated in time to the music, she pulled it back and forth through the juncture of her legs. As it disappeared into her labia and over her clitoris, she moaned aloud, eyes closed. Mulder felt a surge in his own groin at the sight. This was one gorgeous female, and sexy as hell. He tore his eyes away for a moment to see that Volpe was leaning back in his chair, smirk on his face, and hand blatantly on his crotch. Barber had raised his arm, however, and a 20-dollar bill was sticking out from between his fingers. The woman stepped close to the edge of the runway and let the man run his hand up and down her leg and over her ass while he stuffed the money with his other hand into the ankle straps of her shoe. Then she moved back and, swaying once more, eyed Mulder like a cobra eyes a mongoose. Suddenly she sat down on the very edge of the runway, legs hanging apart over the edge, displaying her wares. Still staring at Mulder, she murmured, "Care to test the waters?" Fuck, he thought. He kept reminding himself he was on the job, over and over, but that didn't stop his body's natural responses. And he noted that someone had obviously paid off the local cops, since this was beyond legal. Volpe whispered, "What are you waiting for, dumbass?" which broke him from his trance. He whispered back, "I'm particular where I stick my body parts." That got a big look of incredulity. Then Volpe surprised the agent by breaking into a huge belly laugh. Mulder gave him a small smile, then noticed that the stripper was standing once more, looking slightly offended. She moved across the runway to the opposite side and struck a pose with her feet planted wide apart, her spine arched, and her head thrown back. Mulder nearly dropped his teeth when he saw Langly's awe-struck face framed by the lovely legs of the woman. His friend was staring up at the view displayed before him and was clearly catatonic. The agent was furious that the guys had put Langly at risk. Having Frohike keep an eye on Scully was bad enough. He nervously wondered where Byers might be. End part 1