“Listen, Agent Scully, if there’s something the matter—”
“No.” She waved off his offered hand. “No, thank you, I’m fine. I just thought of something, that’s all.” She knew he didn’t really believe her, but didn’t know the right question to ask. “Thanks,” she said, and slipped into the car.
As soon as she was settled, Andrews turned around to ask what next. As far as she was concerned, all they were doing was chasing their own tails, and widened her eyes when Scully said, “Exactly. That’s why we’re going to the restaurant, order a long lunch, and get things straight before we start tripping over ourselves.”
“And what about our goblin?” Mulder asked quietly.
“Our goblin,” she said, “won’t be out again until tonight.”
TWENTY-ONE
Despite the day’s gloom, the Queen’s Inn’s lights were kept low, giving the room an evening feel. Two diners sat at the counter, each reading a newspaper; a family of six sat in the last booth, one of the children describing the movie he had seen on TV that morning, complete with explosive sound effects and dialogue quotations. A busboy swept the already gleaming floor. In the parking lot, a trailer truck took its time making a wide U-turn, causing a minor backup and a brief flurry of angry horns.
“Another peaceful day in the country,” Mulder said glumly. He sat by the window, pushed into the corner, his topcoat draped over the seatback. Although his head no longer throbbed to distraction, his side refused to give him respite. He squirmed, thought he was settled, and then a quick stitch made him shift again.
The others didn’t seem to notice his discomfort.
Hank sat across from him, gleefully, for Scully’s benefit, attacking a steak with all the trimmings he’d been able to think of, while Andrews and Scully settled on salads. All he could think of was pancakes and bacon, so forced himself to order just a sandwich. Two seconds later, he had forgotten what kind it was.
The truck finished its turn.
The kid finished the movie to the laughing applause of his family.
Mulder shifted again. “Do you know what W. C. Fields said about children?”
Licia asked him who W. C. Fields was.
“I’m not old, you know,” he said to Scully’s infuriatingly blank expression. “Really. I am not old.”
“Eat, Mulder,” she ordered. “We have work to do.”
There was, then, mostly silence as they finished their meal. And once the table had been cleared, Scully flipped over her paper place mat and pulled out her pen, and looked to Mulder, who nodded it was her show, be my guest.
The family left.
The men at the counter paid and left as well.
“Pierce,” Scully said, lightly jabbing the place mat with her pen, “was killed on a Saturday night. So was Corporal Ulman. Almost a pattern until last night.” She paused, and Mulder was grateful she didn’t mention Carl’s name. “It’s my guess Dr. Tymons is dead, too. Probably sometime yesterday.” She filled them in quickly on what they had seen at Walson after the others had left, but gave neither of them a chance to comment. “The Project, whatever it is, is over.”
“For now,” Mulder added.
“All right. For now. And we don’t have much time.” She tapped the place mat again. “All the deaths are the same — throat slashed, deeply. This isn’t a professional’s attack. The violence… and the fact that each one came from the front, not behind…” She took a breath and shook her head. “It’s almost psychotic. And the strength to do this indicates it’s probably a man. Or,” she added, when Mulder opened his mouth to comment, “a woman, okay. These days, there are a lot of women who go for weight training, defense training, things like that. We can’t rule that out.”
“Which means,” Andrews said sourly, “we’ve narrowed it down to about eight or nine thousand people, right?”
“Wrong.”
Mulder sat up, staring at the doodles Scully had drawn on the paper.
“While Pierce may have died just because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, it’s pretty obvious the others are connected. The corporal worked for Major Tonero — although we can’t guarantee he knew everything that was going on, Carl Barelli was asking questions about goblins, and Dr. Tymons was the Project head.”
She scribbled Tonero’s name and circled it.
“I also think Mulder’s right — the Project’s in danger, and the goblin is cleaning house. Which is why we have someone staying with Ms. Lang.” She circled Rosemary Elkhart’s name. “That gives us motive. Hide the mistakes, bury the evidence. Literally.”
“But if Tymons really is dead,” Webber said, “won’t that kill the project for good?”
“Oh, no. Not by a long shot. Dr. Elkhart, no matter what the major thinks, is in charge now. Nothing we said in that office fazed her, while the major was only partly acting. So I’m assuming she’s gotten hold of the records, and I don’t doubt she’d be able to have another center up and running before very long.”
Andrews leaned forward eagerly. “She could have been planning it, you know. For weeks. Months, even. Something about the project, maybe it’s almost ready, you know? I mean, done. Maybe she wants all the glory.”
Scully tapped the name again. “I don’t think there’s any maybe about it, Licia.”
“Then she did it!” Webber exclaimed.
Mulder blinked. “What? You think she’s the goblin?”
Webber nodded, then shook his head, then threw up his hands. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.” He brightened. “But she could be directing it. I mean, wouldn’t she know who was a threat and who wasn’t?”
Scully smiled. “Weekend nights,” she reminded them. “Only weekend nights.”
“So what are you saying?” Andrews asked with a frown. “We narrow it down to only those people who are free on weekends?” She shook her head. “Give me a break, okay?” She reached out to push at the place mat. “Do you know how many troops there are at Dix, for one thing? And every one of them—”
“Damn!” Mulder said.
Scully jumped, and he apologized with a quick gesture, but he had followed her road, marked the signposts, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized he already had the answer.
“What?” Webber said anxiously.
“Louisiana,” he answered, speaking to Scully.
All she could do was look.
“That guy in Louisiana, he was supposed to have disappeared in the middle of a circus ring. Walked through a crowd of people and didn’t come out the other side. But he was still there, Scully. He just didn’t look the same way.”
“And how do you know that?”
His left arm rested along the back of the seat, forcing him to turn toward her. “You’ll be happy to know that I don’t think he just disappeared in a puff of sawdust. He had to be there; he was just different, that’s all. The police were looking for one thing, so they didn’t see anything else.”
“Okay, so things weren’t what they seemed. What does that have to do with this?”
“Ghosts and goblins, Scully. Ghosts and goblins.”
“Meaning?” Andrews said testily.
“Meaning our field of suspects has just been made considerably smaller.”
Rosemary stood his pacing, his ranting, for as long as she could. Then she came around the desk and said, “Joseph.”
He ignored her. “God damn them, anyway. Did you see the way they spoke to me? Who the hell do they think they are?”
“Joseph.”
He shook his head in exasperation. “This is too much. It’s just too much.” His face reddened, and he aimed a kick at one of the cartons. “And I even packed my damn keys away! Jesus H. Rosie, the whole world’s gone nuts!”