At the entrance of the imposing FBI Headquarters, a woman walked briskly up a wide, glass-walled stairwell and turned into the foyer. She appeared in her mid-twenties, perhaps a little shorter than average height, with shoulder-length auburn hair that was swept behind her ears. She wore a conservative suit of pale trousers and jacket and a dark grey top, carried a briefcase in her left hand and a kept a calming hand on a bag which dangled from her opposite shoulder. The woman headed for the main desk.
"Agent Dana Scully," she announced to the receptionist.
After checking for the name on her lists, the receptionist directed the agent to the main elevators, and Dana Scully began her ascension.
Stepping out onto her floor, her path took her through a large open-plan area, packed with desks, case information and busy agents. The very air pulsed with activity, and there was a hubbub of noise which rose from the melting pot of discussions, phone conversations, keyboard clicks and printer noise. Scully wove her way across the open office, exchanging greetings with faces she knew either from Quantico - the FBI academy where she was currently assigned - or from her rare previous visits, and continued on her way deeper into the building.
Agent Scully absently checked once again that she wasn't running late. Her mind was on her upcoming meeting, a meeting which she had been called out of the academy in Quantico to attend. What intrigued her more than the short notice though was that she, a medical doctor and pathologist having worked at the academy for only two years, was being called to a meeting with the Section Chief of the FBI's Violent Crimes section. Scully had a feeling that re-assignment was on the cards, something she would not necessarily object to.
Scully turned a corner and found herself in a quiet corridor, quite narrow and flanked by walls featureless other than a small collection of paintings. She made her way along the full length of the corridor, and stopped outside the only door. A small plate stated "Section Chief Scott Blevins". Scully turned her hand and gave three quick raps on the dark wood.
"Come in," a muffled voice beckoned her from within.
Scully drew a reassuring breath, opened the door, and entered. Inside the moderately-sized office two men were seated at the desk. The older of the two appeared to Scully as if he would be leading the interview, seated as he was at the centre of the desk with the other man to his right. Scully decided that this must be Section Chief Blevins. She approached the two of them confidently.
"Agent Scully," greeted the man Scully had marked as Blevins, "thank you for coming on such short notice." He indicated the single empty chair with a hand. "Please."
As Scully manoeuvred herself around the chair and sat down, she became aware of a third man who she hadn't seen as she'd entered. He passed by her right shoulder and stood quietly in the far corner of the room, leaning against a filing cabinet. Scully gave no outward indication of her distaste as the cigarette the man held released streamers of smoke into the air. He was tall, the smoking man in the corner, and Scully estimated his age at late fifties. She had no idea of his role in the interview, however. For now he seemed content just to watch her and say nothing.
Blevins had a file on his desk in front of him which he had continued to skim through as Scully sat down. When she had settled he glanced up at her and said: "We see you've been with us just over two years?"
"Yes sir," Scully replied promptly.
"You went to medical school, but you..." here the Section Chief paused as he glanced back at the page before continuing, "chose not to practice? How did you come to work for the FBI?" Blevins let the file fall closed.
"Well sir, I was recruited out of medical school," Scully corrected him, considering how to continue. "My parents still think it was an act of rebellion but, ah, I saw the FBI as a place where I could distinguish myself." As she concluded she felt her face get a little warmer. Her elaboration had been perhaps a little unnecessary, she thought.
"Are you familiar with an agent named Fox Mulder?" The darker-haired man seated to Blevins' right addressed her.
"Yes I am," Scully replied, recognising the name immediately.
The man exchanged glances with Blevins. "How so?" He prompted her.
"By reputation," Scully told him then hesitated, unsure of how much information they wanted from her. "He's an Oxford educated psychologist, who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult," a small snippet of information popped into her head and she added, "it helped to catch Monty Propps in 1988. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the Violent Crimes Section."
Scully suddenly remembered the tall man standing in the corner of the room and shifted her gaze to include him. "He, ah, had a nickname at the academy," here she decided a small smile would help her delivery, "'Spooky' Mulder". Scully's smile faded as the man stared at her impassively.
Blevins spoke once more. "What I'll also tell you is that Agent Mulder has developed a consuming devotion to an un-assigned project, outside of the Bureau mainstream," he said, somewhat darkly. "Are you familiar with the so-called X-Files?"
Dana Scully was certainly familiar with them. "I believe they have to do with unexplained phenomena..." she said, unable to hide the dismissive tug of her facial muscles and the slightly cynical tone in her voice.
Her interviewer's expression did not change. "More or less," he confirmed. "The reason you're here, Agent Scully, is we want you to assist Mulder on these X-Files. You will write field reports on your activities along with your observations on the validity of the work, making your reports exclusively to this group."
Re-assignment. She had been right, but Dana hesitated as she tried to discern whether there was an implication contained within the words. Surely they couldn't want her to purposefully hinder Agent Mulder? Out of the corner of her eye she noticed the man by the filing cabinet stub out his cigarette.
"Am I to understand that you want me to debunk the X-Files project, sir?" She asked, the proper note of disbelief in her voice.
"Agent Scully," Blevins told her, with no indication that he felt he had been misunderstood, "we trust you will make the proper scientific analysis." His manner then became brisk, dismissive. "You'll want to contact Agent Mulder shortly. We look forward to seeing your reports."
That confirmed it, and Scully instantly felt her guard rise. She took her bag, rose from her seat and left the office without a word.
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17Jun96 |