Title: Rongbuk
Author: Ravenscion
E-mail: ravenscion@hotmail.com
Rating: R (language, violence, sex)
Category: XR
Keywords: Mulder/Scully romance, some angst
Spoilers: possible for seasons 1-5 and the movie.
Date of First Posting: 29 August 1998
Author's website: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Dunes/6767/
Archiving: Please archive at Gossamer.  Others, please email for
permission.

Summary and notes: see chapter 1.

Disclaimer: Fox Mulder and Dana Scully, and all of the other characters
and situations related to the X-Files, belong to Chris Carter, 1013
Productions, and the FOX network.  I am using them without permission
but intend no copyright infringement.

[begin part 5 of 11]
************************************************************************

Book II -- The Operative

Arlington, Virginia
Saturday, 19 September, 12:14 a.m.

Within the confines of the surveillance van, two Consortium operatives
sat in bored misery.  Their target had taken a brief stroll around the
neighborhood once a day, every day since they had been there, and that
had been all they had seen of him for the duration of the stakeout.
They were plenty tired of sitting in a cramped space, for twelve-hour
shifts, listening to hours of silence broken only by the sound of
Florescu's toilet flushing or the occasional opening and closing of a
door.

Consequently, the order to take out the target had come as a welcome
diversion to the men, who had, somewhat unreasonably, come to blame the
object of their surveillance for the tedium they had endured.

In fact, they counted themselves lucky to be the ones on duty when the
order had come to kill him.

Jack Bowers checked his weapon, making sure that a round was chambered
and the safety off, then turned to his partner, who was taking his turn
on the earphones.

"Where is he?"

"Inside."

"Alright, I'll get him."

"Want back-up?"

Bowers thought about it.  He was sure he could handle the job himself,
but their briefing on Florescu had painted him as an experienced
operative.  Two men on the hit might be better than one, in this case.

"Yeah, best be certain," he said.  "Come on."

His partner got up, checking his own weapon, and together they made
their way across the street, heading for the darkened apartment
building.

Behind them, in the van, the surveillance gear dutifully recorded the
sound of a door quietly opening and closing, though there was no one
there to hear it.

* * *

Florescu saw the pair leave the van and head for his apartment building,
and by the furtive character of their movements, he knew that the game
was up.

He hastily gathered a few tools and then slipped out into the hallway,
heading down the corridor to the fire escape at the end window.  The two
coming for him appeared to be professionals, and if that were the case,
they would clear his rooms quickly, and then would probably split up.
One would follow him down the fire escape, while the other went back out
the front, intending to cut off his escape route in the alley below.
Florescu hoped that they were confident in their work.  In fact, he was
counting on it.

* * *

"Shit!"  Bowers cursed sotto voce, sweeping his eyes one last time
around the empty apartment, then turned and hurried back into the hall.
Somehow, the target had known they were coming and slipped out.  He
hadn't gone far though -- Bowers could sense it.

He signaled his partner, pointing to the front of the building and then
motioning downward and around.  Next, he indicated himself, and then
pointed to the window that led to the fire escape.  His partner nodded
acknowledgment and moved toward the stairs at the front of the
building.

Bowers slunk down to the end of the hall, noting with grim satisfaction
that the window was part-way open.  Fled down the chute, eh? he thought.
He lifted the window and stepped out onto the fire escape, searching the
alley below for some sign of his quarry.

He felt the platform shake under his feet as something heavy landed on
it behind him.  Before he could turn, a wire looped over his head and
around his neck in one swift, fluid motion, and for an instant he felt
its bite as it tightened around his windpipe.  Then a knee was driven
hard into his back and his neck snapped, his last conscious thought the
fleeting realization that he had begun to wet himself.

* * *

Florescu dropped the corpse and hurried down the fire escape, knowing
that speed counted for more than stealth now.  He had to reach the
ground before the assassin's partner came far enough into the alley to
see what had happened, otherwise, gunfire would ensue, and that would
turn a bad situation into a complete fiasco.

He rounded the last turn and slung himself down from the lowest level of
the fire escape, bending his knees to absorb the shock of the fall.  He
sprang up at once, tearing down the alley and meeting the other assassin
just as he rounded the corner.  Florescu did not hesitate.  He set his
feet and drove his fist into the man's throat with every ounce of
strength in his frame, crushing his larynx and silencing the surprised
squeak the man had been about to utter.  His next blow, delivered with
his four fingers spread in a vee, burst both of his victims eyeballs and
would have provoked a scream if the man had had any way to force air
through his ruined windpipe.

Florescu paused a split second and then delivered his last strike, a
lethal chop to the back of the neck that dropped the man where he stood.

The encounter had lasted less than two seconds.

Florescu's eyes darted back and forth, seeking any sign of danger, but
the alley remained empty.  He stepped back and relaxed a bit, keeping
alert, then made his way cautiously around the building and back up to
his room.  He made quick work of dismantling his surveillance equipment
and getting out of the place permanently.

His movements were calm and unhurried, but within, his anger burned like
a magnesium fuse.  He had not worked with Alex Krycek for very long, and
though he had thought him a sound tactical commander, he had begun to
think that this type of operation was not his specialty.  Yes, Krycek
had a few powerful friends in the Russian Government, and yes, he had
access to surprising resources, but if he planned to continue throwing
together operations haphazardly and on short notice, he might have to do
it on his own.

Nothing irritated Florescu more than having to leave a trail or corpses
behind him -- one attracted far too much attention that way, and
attention tended to call a halt to stake-outs of the sort he had been
asked to execute.

Still, he took pride in his work.  Although his listening post was no
longer a safe base of operations, his transmitter in the offices of 'The
Lone Gunman' continued to function undetected.  If he could manage it,
and it wouldn't be easy, Florescu would find a new vantage point and
continue his surveillance.

In the meantime, Krycek would have to wait for his next report.

************************************************************************

Alexandria, Virginia
9:30 a.m.

Dana Scully snuggled deeper into her pillow and did her best to ignore
the sound that had intruded on her rest, but to no avail.  The bright
morning light pouring in through the open window conspired with the
noise to drag her grudgingly from a deep, contented sleep.  Coming
awake, she realized that someone was knocking on the door to Mulder's
apartment.

Next to her, the man himself slept on, oblivious.

Scully smiled slightly and shook her head, gratified to see the original
poster-boy for insomnia lost in slumber for a change.  She briefly 
entertained the hope that their unexpected visitor would give up,
allowing her to rejoin her partner in sleep.

The knocking continued unabated.  Scully sighed and drowsily grabbed one
of Mulder's T-shirts, covering herself with it as she slipped out of the
bedroom and crossed to the door of the apartment.

Only after she had actually begun to turn the doorknob did her she
belatedly realize that, in her sleep-befuddled state, she had neglected
to look through the peep-hole first.

The site that greeted her shocked her into instantaneous wakefulness.
Standing outside of Mulder's apartment was his erstwhile partner, Diana
Fowley.  Watching the array of emotions -- shock, confusion, anger, and
then reserve -- that manifested in turn on Diana's countenance, Scully
had a few seconds to wonder which of them was the more surprised.

She decided that it was Diana.  Scully concealed the mild sensation of
guilty pleasure that arose in her, in spite of her better nature.
Whatever her intentions toward Mulder had been when she had re-entered
his life during the Gibson Praise case, Diana had done nothing to earn
mockery.  Still, Scully was only human, and could not help but enjoy
her victory just a little bit.

She cocked an eyebrow at her would-be rival.  "Can I help you?"  Behind
her, within the apartment, the phone rang once and then cut off.

To her credit, Fowley kept her emotions under a tight reign, but Scully
could sense an undercurrent of antipathy in her tone.  "I'm here to see
Fox."  

"We were in bed."  Scully felt a little ashamed -- she really was
enjoying this more than she should.

"I need to talk to him," Diana persisted.

Scully hesitated.  "Alright, come in.  I'll get him up."  She made way
for Fowley to enter.  "Have a seat."

Diana moved stiffly to a chair in the living room as Scully made her
way back to the bedroom.  She leaned through the door and found Mulder 
sitting on the edge of the bed, the phone in his hand.

"Are you serious?" he was saying.  A paused followed.

"Jesus," he said.  "Okay, give me a few, we'll get over there..."

Another pause.

"Alright...will do.  Half an hour, okay?  Bye."  He hung up, glanced up
at Scully, a puzzled look on his face.  "You're not going to believe
this..." he began.

"Diana is here," Scully said, without preamble.

"What?"  Mulder's expression shifted from surprised to incredulous.
"What in the hell is she doing here?"

"I think she's wondering the same thing about me."  Scully slipped into
the room and donned a light robe that she had stored in Mulder's closet
for the summer.

Mulder appeared amused by her remark.  "I'll bet," he said.  He affected
a long-suffering expression.  "Christ, all this before coffee?"

"Sorry, lover, but it's time to face the music."  Scully gave him her
sweetest smile.

Mulder rolled his eyes and reached for a pair of shorts, as Scully
turned and walked back to the living room.  She nodded to Diana and
stepped into the kitchen to put a pot of coffee on.

A few moments later, Mulder joined them in the living room.  He spoke
to Diana, a bit brusquely.  "Well, this is a surprise."

Her voice was bitter.  "I couldn't have put it better myself, Fox.
Always getting into the henhou--"

"Enough."  Mulder cut her off.  "You must have some reason for being
here.  What is it?"

"I hear you're planning a trip to Rongbuk."

Her statement hung in the air for a long moment, a verbal 'Le Chateau
des Pyrenees.'  Finally, Mulder said "How did you find out about that?"
In the kitchen, searching for a third coffee cup, Scully felt a touch of
surprise herself.  Her partner hadn't said anything about actually
traveling to Tibet.

"Word gets around, Fox.  You know I take an interest in these things."

Mulder said nothing for a while, then "What are you doing here, Diana?"

"I want to go with you...and Agent Scully...when you go."

Mulder shook his head.  "I don't think that's necessarily a good idea,"
he began.

"No, Fox, that's not fair."  Urgency raised Diana's voice slightly.  "I
have a stake in your work.  I was shot protecting that boy!"  She
paused, controlling herself.  "What Rongbuk represents is important to
me.  I want to be part of the X-Files again."

"And I want to know how you know what we're investigating," Mulder
persisted.

"Oh, come on," said Diana, snorting.  "It's not like it's a big secret.
You two have been turning over every rock within reach for days."  She
shrugged.  "Like I said, word gets around."

"So who says we're going to Rongbuk?"  Mulder held his ground, but his
voice had softened somewhat.

"No one, Fox.  I know you, remember?"

Mulder seemed to accept that.  He sat in thought for a moment.  Fowley
waited for him to speak.

Scully poured coffee and carried a cup to Mulder, then offered one to
Fowley, who accepted it with a nod.  Scully retrieved her own cup then
and rejoined them in the living room, sitting next to Mulder on the
couch.

"What do you know about Rongbuk, Agent Fowley?" she asked.  She wanted
to put a halt to Mulder's fencing with Diana and get her talking
instead.

Fowley studied Scully a moment, then said "I'm sure Fox has already
told you all about it."

"No," said Scully, "that's not what I meant.  I want to know *your*
opinion."

Diana seemed surprised at Scully's interest.  "Rongbuk has always
been...controversial," she said.  "A lot of people in the field consider
the reports of extraterrestrial phenomena there to be unsubstantiated."
 
"But..."

"The stories always seemed too similar to accepted reports to be
coincidental, in my opinion."

Scully sipped her coffee.  "What do you think about the disappearance
of John Leslie?"

Diana made a non-committal gesture.  "It could be an abduction case.
There isn't much data."  Her eyes narrowed.  "So, why are you two
investigating him now?"

Scully glanced at Mulder, who said "there have been reports that he
may have returned.  Or been returned."

Diana raised her eyebrows.  "I see."

Scully spoke again.  "Leslie had a partner, didn't he?"  She waited to
see how Diana would react to that, but her expression betrayed nothing
in particular.

"Yes, a man named Sellers, or something like that.  Do you remember,
Fox?"

"Sales," said Mulder.

"His writings were lost, I think" said Fowley.  "What about him?"

Scully shook her head.  "Just asking," she said.  She was certainly not
ready to confide in Agent Fowley about what Byers, Langly, and Frohike
had come up with.

Something about Agent Fowley was bothering her, but Scully couldn't
quite figure out what it was.  Diana had assisted her and Mulder in good
faith when they had worked together months before, and had supported
them in their attempts to keep the X-Files open, as much as she could
while recovering from the gunshot wound she had suffered.  Still,
something imperceptible had given Scully pause.  She couldn't tell
whether her reaction was merely personal.

Working with Diana now would be a challenge, under the best of
circumstances.

The silence dragged out awkwardly.  Finally, Diana said "so, what do
you think?"

Scully let Mulder answer.  "I want time to consider it."  Fowley began
to say something more, but Mulder raised a hand, cutting her off.  Her
jaw snapped shut in irritation.

"I think I'd better go," she said, setting down her half-finished cup of
coffee.

Mulder showed her to the door.  "We'll be in touch," he said.  Diana
left without further comment.

After she had gone, Scully stood and met Mulder in the center of the
room.  He kissed her on the cheek.  "Thanks for the coffee," he said.

A pleasant warmth suffused her.  "Sure, 'Fox'" she teased.

He shook his head.  "I like the way you say 'Mulder.'  It sounds...
right.  'Fox' doesn't sound good coming from anybody."

"Mulder," she said, smiling, tangling her fingers with his.

Scully turned then and gestured after Agent Fowley.  "What do you make
of all that?"

"I don't know.  She was telling the truth -- I remember her mentioning
Rongbuk back when she and I...worked together."  A brief moment of
discomfort showed on his face.

Scully gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.  "Are we going to Rongbuk?"

"Maybe."  He looked at her hopefully.  Will you come with me?

"Should we take her with us?"  Yes, of course.

"She could be of use.  Whatever else you might think of her, she is
skilled in our line of work."

Scully knew what he meant.  Diana Fowley had sailed back into Mulder's
life, and into hers as well, months before, when they had first learned
about Gibson Praise.  Her arrival, her certainty of her status with
Mulder, had bothered Scully more than she had cared to admit.  Looking
back, her inquietude seemed baseless, foolish even.  But it had been
there, all the same.

Now, a new uneasiness had replaced it.  "Mulder, why did she come here
like that?  Why wouldn't she have called?"

He looked uncomfortable.  "I wondered that myself."  He looked her in
the eye.  "Scully, I'd be a liar if I said I didn't think she still had
an...interest.  Working with her could be awkward."

Scully looked down, then raised her eyes to meet her partner's gaze
once more.  "Mulder, I hope it's not personal, but I don't entirely
trust her.  I'm not sure why."

His expression softened.  "Maybe it's just part of how you feel about
this case in general?"

"Maybe.  It's a hunch, you know?"

He placed his hands on her arms.  "You have nothing to worry about.  You
know that."

"I know.  It's not that."  Scully found herself still unable to pin down
what was troubling her.  "After five years, I guess it's no surprise
that you've begun to rub off on me."

He gave her a rueful grin.  "I suppose I'm the one who should be
suspicious.  Like I said, we won't take any chances in this case."  He
paused.  "But I think we can trust Diana."

"Alright," Scully said.  A sudden thought tickled the back of her mind.
"So, what was that phone call about?"

Mulder was thunderstruck.  "Oh, shit!" he exclaimed.  "Frohike!"

************************************************************************

Arlington, Virginia
10:48 a.m.

Radu Florescu parked the van he had rented that morning as far from the
offices of 'The Lone Gunman' as he could without losing the signal from
the remote transmitter he had placed there.  He slipped into the back of
the vehicle and began monitoring once more, but he knew that he would
have to find a better arrangement and soon, or his entire effort would
have been wasted.  There was no way that he could continue surveillance
from the van for any length of time -- not alone, at any rate.  And the
rather substantial police presence in the area -- no doubt the result of
his handiwork from the small hours of that morning -- would not make his
position any more secure.

He would have to move after a couple of hours, and that meant he might
miss a critical bit of information.  Florescu clenched his fist in
frustration and cursed his overeager employer once more.

He planned to reevaluate his relationship with Krycek once he had
completed the operation.  His employer needed to take a different
approach to this sort of thing.

* * *

11:15 a.m.

Mulder parked beneath the entrance to the offices of 'The Lone Gunman'
and jumped out, hurrying toward the stairs that led to the third-story
entrance.  Scully followed after him.  They had just set their feet on
the first bare metal step when a familiar, unwelcome voice called from
behind them.

"Agent Mulder.  Agent Scully.  I wonder if I might have a word."

Mulder's hand had actually begun a reach for his weapon before he
mastered the instinctive fury that welled in him.  He faced the smoking
man, grateful for Scully's supportive presence by his side.

When he found his voice, it came out like acid.  "What in the hell are
you doing here?" he snapped.

The smoking man savored a long drag on his cigarette and stepped toward
them, exhaling.  "Really, Agent Mulder," he said evenly.  "There's no
need for unpleasantness."  He moved one hand in an expansive gesture.
"I should congratulate you.  You've become...a player."

Mulder felt himself sicken at the notion.  His father had been a
'player.'  He had no interest in being one himself.

"Don't give me that crap," he said.  "What do you want?"

The smoking man ignored Mulder's hostility.  He turned to Scully.  "Ms.
Scully, I trust your recent misadventure has not caused you any
permanent harm."  He gave her an odious smile.

Mulder felt Scully stiffen beside him, but she remained silent.  After a
moment, the smoking man addressed Mulder again.

"I have information for you," he said.  "About someone you've been
looking for."

"Whom?"

"Come now, Mr. Mulder.  No need to be coy.  Doesn't the name 'Leslie'
have any significance for you?"

Scully stiffened even more, if that were possible.  "You're behind all
of this, aren't you?"  Her voice was a near whisper.

The smoking man indulged in another long drag.  "On the contrary, Ms.
Scully.  I'm on the outside, just as you and Agent Mulder are."  He
indicated the door above.  "Perhaps we should go up?"

As if the 'Gunmen' would even let him past the threshold, Mulder
thought.  He indicated the run-down neighborhood around them, its
ugliness thrown into sharp relief by the bright sunlight, and let
derision color his tone.  "I was just thinking how well the setting
suited the conversation.  Why spoil the moment?"

A police cruiser passed by then.  The smoking man's eyes tracked it.
"You arrived late, Agent Mulder," he said.  "You missed all of the...
intrigue."

Scully spoke up again.  "What happened here?"  Mulder had related to her
the gist of Frohike's call regarding the dead bodies found in their
neighborhood that morning, but he had not been able to provide many
details.

"Two men died this morning -- two good men."  The smoking man looked
back at them.  "The person who killed them, he's another reason I came
to speak to you."

Mulder found that he couldn't resist another gibe.  "Oh, come on, let's
not get bogged down talking about who killed whom."  The quote wasn't
quite right, but it was close enough.

The smoking man either didn't get the reference or refused to rise to
the bait.  "This is serious, Agent Mulder," he said.  "You and the
lovely Agent Scully are in more danger than you realize.  The men who
died here this morning were well trained, well armed, and highly
motivated.  Their killer took them out as easily as if they'd been Boy
Scouts."

The smoking man gestured upward again.  "He's been watching your
friends, here, for some time.  My men were watching him.  I suppose he
objected to their...company."

They tried to kill him, Mulder realized.  And he surprised them.

"Florescu," Scully said.  It wasn't a question.  "Who is he working
for?"

The smoking man nodded.  "Very good, Agent Scully.  Radu Florescu is
something of a mercenary.  We believe he once worked for the Romanian
government, in a, shall we say, sensitive capacity.  After the fall of
Communism, he...went into business for himself."

He paused, casting aside the butt of his cigarette and lighting another.
He returned his gaze to Mulder.  "Lately, he's been keeping company with
a mutual acquaintance of ours.  You remember Alex, of course."

Anger flared in Mulder again at the thought of Krycek, but he clamped
down on himself, realizing he couldn't afford to indulge in the emotion.

Just what in the hell did Krycek have to do with all of this, anyway?

A silence hung among them until Scully broke it.  "Where is Krycek now?"
she asked.

"I'm not certain," said the smoking man.  "St. Petersburg?  London?
Hong Kong?"

Oh, hell, thought Mulder, Scully had been right all along.  They were
being set up.

"You two have to get to Rongbuk," said the smoking man.  "Before Alex
does."

"Why?"  If the smoking man wanted him to do it, Mulder thought he most
likely would be better off staying home.

"Agent Mulder, Rongbuk represents a certain...problem...for me and my
organization.  No one really knows what is up there, though I don't have
to tell you what some of the theories are.  We've never dealt with the
problem because, to be honest, we haven't had a way to do so.  The
Chinese are not very cooperative in such matters, and it's always been
easier just to ignore the whole affair."

"So what happened?" asked Mulder.

"John Leslie happened, of course.  He came back from Tibet."

"You're lying," said Scully.

"I assure you, I am not.  At this very moment, Leslie is resting in the
Arkham Mental Health Center, in Massachusetts."

Mulder shook his head.  Next to him, Scully positively radiated
disbelief.  "After all you've done to us," she said, "give us one reason
we should take your word in this."

The smoking man smiled unctuously at her.  "It's nothing personal, Agent
Scully.  There will be times when our purposes are in conflict, but
right now, I can help you.  And you can help me.  My people cannot go to
Rongbuk -- not without complications -- but you and Agent Mulder can.  I
need you to go before Alex Krycek and his associates do.  I need you to
prevent them from discovering whatever it is that is hidden near
Rongbuk."

And suddenly it all made sense.  Mulder decided he probably wanted to go
to Tibet after all.  Of course, the smoking man hadn't told them
everything -- he always had a hidden agenda -- but Mulder sensed that at
last they were close to the essence of the case that had frustrated them
all week.

Once again, he felt the excitement of the chase welling up in him.

"Arkham," he said.  "Leslie is there, now?"

The smoking man nodded.  "You'll want to get to him as soon as possible.
Tibet is a long way off, and Alex may already have a head start."  He
tossed aside the remainder of his cigarette and began to walk away.

"Wait!" Scully called after him.

The smoking man turned, gave her a questioning stare.

"What happened to Florescu?  After last night, I mean."

The smoking man lit another cigarette, prompting Mulder to wonder idly
whether he should buy stock in Morley's parent company.

"I'd like to know that myself, but I'm afraid he's long gone by now."
He flicked ashes onto the ground.  "I'll find him, though.  Never doubt
it."

The smoking man gestured northward.  "Arkham, Agent Scully.  That's your
concern now."  He turned and strode away, turning up an alley and
vanishing from sight. 

Mulder turned to his partner.  "Scully..." he began.

"Mulder, no," she said.

Oh, damn, he thought.  She's not getting it.  He looked upstairs.
"Let's go see how the guys are doing, shall we?"

"Mulder..."

He gave her hand a squeeze.  "Come on," he said.  "We can talk about
this later.  After we've had time to think about it."

Scully gave him a long look, then acquiesced and followed him up to the
door of 'The Lone Gunman.'

* * *

12:20 p.m.

Radu Florescu put the rented van in gear and pulled out into traffic,
following the quickest route that would put him on the Capital Beltway.

He had a long drive in front of him, but that didn't trouble him.  At
last, after days of frustration and moments of near disaster, Krycek's
project had begun to come together.

While he might have missed many of the nuances in the conversation
Agents Mulder and Scully had just had with their 'Lone Gunman' friends,
he had understood enough to know what he had to do next.  After all,
Krycek's principal focus ever since he had first heard the news of
Leslie's return from Rongbuk had been on finding the man and his
surveys, because he was the only man living who had actually been to the
rumored site north of the Tibetan monastery.  Sales had died years
before, and his journals, which the Organization had passed to Florescu
at Krycek's suggestion, shed little enough light on what the site near
Rongbuk actually was, never mind how to get to it.

However, Florescu now knew where to find Leslie.  Upon entering the
rooms shared by his friends, Mulder had revealed that someone known
as 'the smoking man' had said that Leslie was staying in a mental
hospital in Arkham, Massachusetts.  That meant several hours on the road
for Florescu, but when he got there, he would have access to Leslie and,
quite possibly, his personal journals as well.

And then Krycek would have his roadmap to Rongbuk.

Of course, it wouldn't be quite that simple.  When he got to Arkham,
Florescu would have to take great care.  This 'smoking man,' whoever he
was, evidently had been the one who had sent the assassins to kill him
early that morning, or so the woman, Scully, had mentioned.  And that
meant that the facility in Massachusetts would be watched, or guarded in
some way.

But Florescu could handle that when he got there.  They key would be to
get there before Mulder did.

He grinned wolfishly to himself.  Mulder's partner seemed to be his ally
in that regard.  Based on what he had heard, Florescu was convinced that
Mulder would have climbed on a plane for the northeast that very
afternoon, but his partner had argued energetically that the 'smoking
man' had lied, that he could not be trusted, and that Mulder would be a
fool to walk into so obvious a trap.

That was all fine with Florescu.  With Scully holding Mulder back, he
would have the time he needed to get what he had come for and then
join Krycek in Hong Kong, where even the long arm of the FBI would never
reach him.

If he had time, he would even work in a report to Krycek in the midst of
all of that.  So doing would set his employer's mind at ease, if nothing
else.

Upon reaching the highway, Florescu relaxed at the wheel, set the van's
cruise control, and tuned in a country-western station, enjoying what he
considered America's only contribution to human civilization.  Yes,
things were definitely looking up.  Perhaps he would not have to be too
hard on Krycek after all.

One of his favorite American sayings came to him: nothing succeeds like
success.

************************************************************************

Marriott Hotel, Hong Kong
19 September, 11:58 p.m.

Alex Krycek plugged his laptop into the courtesy phone line provided by
the hotel and linked up to his email account, checking one last time
for a report from Florescu before he turned in for the night.  He felt a
moment of satisfaction when, sure enough, he found a message waiting for
him.

The contents of the message made him want to whoop with exhilaration.

Florescu had located Leslie.

Krycek congratulated himself on his cleverness.  He had guessed that
Leslie, an American lost in inner Asia, would most likely flee for home,
and he had known too that it would take the FBI -- Mulder, in fact -- to
actually pin down Leslie's location once he got there.  Mulder had come
through, and, as Krycek had anticipated and even arranged, he had told 
his friends at 'The Lone Gunman' -- as motley a bunch of fools as Krycek
had ever heard of -- all about it.  Florescu's listening device had thus
transmitted the information he needed.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the directions to the site near
Rongbuk to be delivered to him.  Then, he could be the first there,
ready to exploit whatever advantage priority might bring him.

For now, while he waited, Krycek could make secondary plans.  He powered
down his laptop and settled into bed, contemplating various attractive
possibilities.  He could, for example, have Florescu take out Mulder.
Now that the FBI agent had served his purpose, Krycek did not see much
reason to leave him alive.

On the other hand, it never paid to make an irreversible mistake, so he
would have to carefully consider all of the possible ramifications of
having Mulder killed.  At times, he could be useful, even if his
effectiveness was limited by his timidity.  Krycek remembered the case
when he had tried to clue Mulder in on the conflict among the Visitors,
only to have him screw things up completely.  Fundamentally, the man
was incompetent.

Still he had come through this time.  Maybe killing him wasn't such a
great idea, fun though it might be.  Krycek decided to let it ride, for
now.  There were other decisions to make.

For example, if he left Mulder alive, did he want him to follow him to
Rongbuk?  That question had to be settled as well, and soon.  Florescu
could be told to just leave Mulder alone and let him figure out where to
go, too late, of course, on his own.  Or he could have Florescu create
a...diversion that would keep Mulder and Scully busy while he claimed
his prize and dealt with his Hong Kong gangster associates.

Krycek decided he would sleep on it.  His practical side counseled
against leaving open any avenue for interference in his plans, but his
darker nature really wouldn't mind seeing Scully again....

He relaxed against his pillow, thinking evil thoughts, and readied
himself for the next day.  He would contact Wu Tseng-Li and tell him
just enough to get the gangster son-of-a-bitch motivated.  Once Wu had
arranged for the gates of Tibet to be opened, it would be showtime.

Krycek smiled to himself.  Things were looking up.

************************************************************************

Arlington, Virginia
19 September, 2:00 p.m.

Scully watched with chagrin as Mulder stomped down the metal staircase
that led from the front door of 'The Lone Gunman' down to the parking
lot.  He climbed into the car without looking back, closing the door
with a bit too much force, and sat waiting for her.  She could see his
fingers drumming on the steering wheel.

She sighed.  Her arguments had annoyed and frustrated Mulder, but he
knew she was right that the smoking man could not be trusted.  As usual,
though, he had become attached to the case, hell-bent on chasing every
lead to its source until he had solved the entire mystery of Rongbuk --
a mystery, Scully noted with irony, that had not even existed until just
a few days ago, when clues had begun pouring in out of the blue.

And now he was hooked, unable to just let it go and walk away.

Scully descended the staircase and climbed in beside her partner,
waiting for him to speak.  They seldom quarreled -- what disagreements
they had about cases they tended to discuss in a detached manner -- but
now and then one would hit a nerve with the other, provoking an
emotional response.  With Mulder, she had learned early on that it was
best to just let him think about whatever caused their disagreement.
Given time to distance himself from the problem, he would inevitably
reconsider it.  Such had been the case in one of their earliest
investigations, when Mulder's contact 'Deep Throat' had given them a
doctored photograph, ostensibly of a UFO.  Mulder had reacted angrily
to her suggestion that the image had been faked, but after storming off,
he had taken the photograph to be tested.

Later, he had come to her and admitted that he had been wrong.  For
Mulder, a man in whom years of collegial derision had formed a core of
defensiveness beneath outward insouciance, that had been a profound
apology.

And so Scully was confident that his current annoyance would pass.  In
the meantime, she stared out the front windshield, not allowing herself
to become annoyed with him.

Mulder put the car into gear and began driving, letting the silence
drag out between them.  Finally, he spoke.

"Scully, let's at least go to Arkham."

She turned to him, willing to listen, but not answering.

"At least we can see if Leslie really is there.  If the smoking man..."

Scully cut him off.  "He's lying to us.  He's trying to manipulate us
into doing what he wants.  I don't think we should play his game."

Mulder shook his head, as though the act itself could somehow repudiate
her logic.  "I don't plan on playing anybody's game," he said, a note of
exasperation in his voice.

"Mulder, after all he's done to us, after what he did to me...."  Scully
trailed off.  Her memories of her ordeal in the alien craft in
Antarctica were mercifully few and vague, but those that she retained
were unpleasant enough.

Her partner looked at her again, hurt and compassion contending for
control of his expression.  "Scully, I know.  I don't want to risk any
harm coming to you."

Frustration welled in her again.  Mulder always looked to protect her,
but never had sense enough to realize that he was the one in real
danger.  "That's not the point," she said.  "It's *you* that I'm worried
about."

That earned her a blink of surprise.  Mulder divided his attention
between her and the road, uncomprehending.

"Mulder, he's the one who destroyed our office, and he's the one who had
the X-Files closed.  Skinner warned us that there are elements that want
us shut down again.  The smoking man is just looking for a chance to
embarrass you, to corral you."

"You don't believe any of it."  Mulder sounded weary, even depressed.

Scully shook her head.  "I believe there might really be something at
Rongbuk, but I don't believe there is any more reason to investigate it
now than there was a month ago."

"What about the message from Hong Kong?  The smoking man said Krycek has
been staying there."

"He *implied* that he's there.  And so what if he is?  Anyone could have
sent that message.  You told me that yourself."

"It was Krycek, Scully.  I just know it."  Mulder exhaled sharply.  "I
know the smoking man is no friend of ours, but this time, I believe him,
at least in part.  Krycek has taken an interest in Rongbuk because of
Leslie, and he wants us to find Leslie for him."

"How can he expect us to do that?  He has no way of knowing...oh no."
Scully felt herself go cold inside.

"What is it?" Mulder asked, alarmed.

"Mulder, didn't the smoking man say that Florescu had been watching the
'Gunmen'?"

Mulder's mouth opened in a silent 'oh' as he realized what Scully was
getting at.  "He may have...," he began.

Scully cut him off, urgency filling her voice.  "Mulder, turn the car
around."

************************************************************************
[end part 5 of 11]