NOT MY LOVER: ENIGMA - Deslea R. Judd - 
Chapter 5 - Part 3 of 4.

Please see Part 1 of this chapter for headers.
The whole story to date is available at 
http://fiction.deslea.com

-----------------------------------------------


"Something's wrong." 

Mare's voice intruded on my thoughts. I looked up 
from the road atlas and saw that the car had 
slowed to a crawl. Beside me, she was peering out 
over the steering wheel, and I followed her gaze. 
I saw the faint glow of flashing red and blue 
lights emanating from the distant figure of the 
Federal stockade. 

"Crime scene," I said. "Looks like she's been and 
gone." 

"Either that, or the Bounty Hunter got the 
Gregors," she said grimly. 

I squinted, trying to make out more detail. 
"There's an ambulance and a coroner's van," I 
said as we drew closer. "I'm plumping for the 
Bounty Hunter." Or else Elena had been killed 
trying to spring the Gregors, but I didn't say 
so. 

"Looks like it," she agreed. "Turn on the 
scanner. We might get something off the radio 
coming out of Tileston PD." She turned the car 
around and drove back the way we'd come. 

I did as she said, still looking over maps. "I 
wonder if there's been any developments about 
Scully," I said. 

She picked up her phone. "I'll call the Dark 
Man's boys and see." She hit a speed dial number 
and waited. 

I watched her. "Who do they think we are, 
anyway?" 

"They don't," she said with a sardonic grin. 
"They're paid not to think. Oh! - Unit 3, this is 
Unit 1. Can I get an update on the Samantha 
Mulder situation?" 

She was silent for a few moments, but then, quite 
suddenly, she slumped in her seat. It was as 
though she were a marionette whose strings had 
been abruptly severed. She nodded with vague 
sounds of comprehension for a few moments, and 
then she rang off. She pulled over to the side of 
the road and switched off the ignition, resting 
her head in her hands. "Damn it," she said, her 
voice muffled through her hands. "Damn, damn, 
damn." 

I watched her for a few moments. "What's 
happened?" 

"It's over," she said in defeat. 

I said it again. "What's happened?" 

She lifted her head from her hands to look at me. 
Her face was red, and her eyes were bright with 
tears. When she spoke, her voice was tinged with 
fatigue and frustration. "They did a trade - 
Carolyn for Scully. They're dragging around 
Memorial Bridge in Bethesda now - it looks like 
Carolyn's gone." 

"The Bounty Hunter killed her?" I demanded. 
"Why?" 

She wiped her eyes. "He might not have intended 
to. There was a struggle. But let's face it - if 
he got to the last of the Gregors already, he 
wouldn't need Carolyn anymore." 

"No, I suppose not," I said reluctantly. "So he 
did get the Gregors, then?" 

She nodded. "Yeah. They're gone. Just puddles of 
green acid in each cell." She sniffled a little. 

I pulled her into the crook of my arm. "Oh, 
Mare." 

She gave a long, shuddering sigh. "We're never 
going to find her, Alex." Then, her voice so low 
I had to strain to hear it, "Maybe we should just 
drop the whole thing." 

I pulled away to look at her in surprise. "What's 
brought this on?" 

She shook her head miserably. "I don't know. We 
just seem to be so near and yet so far. It's like 
it isn't meant to be." 

I smoothed back the hair from her forehead, 
frowning. It wasn't like Mare to be this 
dispirited. "Let's just wait for Mulder's report 
to come through the system," I said. "We can pick 
up the trail from there. He could have found 
something in Scranton or Syracuse that we don't 
know about." 

She sighed. "Maybe. I just feel like-" 

"Like what?" 

"Like she's part of...you know. Where I've been. 
Not where I'm going." 

I held her gaze. Wondering what she was trying to 
say. "Where are you going, Mare?" 

She shook her head again, looking away from me. 
She leaned her head against the car window. "I 
don't know, Alexi. I just don't know." 

We sat there for a long time. At last, I said, 
"Is it with me?" 

She turned to face me again, and she still looked 
wretched and worn, but there was a shadow of a 
smile there, too. She nodded. "Yeah. It's with 
you." 

"That's worth something, then, isn't it?" 
Pitifully little, perhaps, compared to all she'd 
lost...but something. 

"It's worth everything." She reached over and 
squeezed my hand. "Would you take me home, Alex?" 

I did. 




Down the years, I have been credited, rightly or 
wrongly, with being a superb liar. For myself, I 
doubt that's the case. Certainly, I have never 
been able to lie to Mare. That night, when 
finally I held her, all the love and fear and 
worry I'd been holding in since the fight came 
rushing to the fore. It left me in an outpouring 
of desire and desperation and need. 

"What?" she whispered at last, pulling away from 
my ravenous kisses. "Alexi, what is it?" She held 
me back, just a little, her palm on my chest 
until, reluctantly, I pulled away. 

"I don't - I -" I slumped, head bowed, at a loss. 
She watched me for a long moment, and then she 
drew my head down to her shoulder, holding me 
there against her warmth. I circled my arm around 
her waist. "I just - I need to hold you, Mare." 

She kissed my brow, lines of worry etched in her 
expression. "Is it about the fight?" 

"In a way." That wasn't completely true, but it 
wasn't a lie, either. 

"Do we need to talk about it?" 

I shook my head. "There's nothing to say." I 
traced my hand over the swell of her breast and 
cradled her there. My breath hitched. I felt 
rising pressure - in my throat, in my heart - and 
I didn't really know why. "I just need to show 
you - show you -" and I broke off then, because 
it was an incomplete thought, a fragment, and I 
honestly had no idea what I was trying to say. 

"What you can't say," she said. "What you think I 
don't want you to say." 

I stared up at her in comprehension. She'd got it 
- she'd understood the thing that stuck in my 
throat and fuelled my desire even before I did. 
The thing that left me wound tight with 
frustrated urgency and need. 

"You can say it, Alex," she whispered. "When 
we're like this, you can say it." 

I felt a pang. In that moment I felt utterly 
transparent - as though she could see straight 
into my heart. "I love you, Marita," I said, 
voice low and raw. "God, I love you." 

"I know." Her eyes were bright. Her lips closed 
over mine, and she whispered against my mouth, 
"Show me, Alex." She tugged a little, drawing me 
down to her. "Show me." 

I moved with her, fitting my body to hers. I slid 
my hand down between us, testing her. I gave a 
little hiss of surprise when I found her ready. 
I'd hardly touched her. "You're so damn-" wet, I 
thought, but I didn't say it. 

"I want it, Alex," she sighed. Utterly high on 
desire, utterly vulnerable. "I want it so much. 
All - all of it." she broke off, and I understood 
that she didn't mean just the sex. "I just get 
scared." 

I rested my forehead against hers. "There's 
nothing to be afraid of. What we have is good, 
Mare. Maybe the only good thing there is in the 
world for people like us." 

"I know," she said. "I know that, Alexi." Then I 
found her warmth, and Jesus! It felt good to be 
there - to be part of her. To be whole. 

For the first time in a long time, I felt free. 




"Hello, stranger." 

I looked up from my drink. "Hello, Diana." 

I felt a short, sharp stab of resentment at the 
sight of her. I hadn't forgotten her easy 
discussion of the possibility of my execution. I 
knew it wasn't personal, and I'd probably have 
done the same. And unlike Diana, I probably would 
have erred on the side of caution and gone 
through with it. Still, it didn't fill me with 
goodwill. 

"I haven't seen you for a few days," she said, 
dropping down on the stool beside me. She caught 
the bartender's eye. "Cointreau, straight, 
please. He'll have another." 

"Thanks," I said, letting him top up my drink 
without protest. "I've been away." 

"Yeah, Marita said." She took her drink, 
inspected the little pink straw, and dropped it 
on the bar with a look of disgust. "Who the hell 
serves liqueur with a straw?" 

"Is that a rhetorical question?" I wondered. 
Diana snorted, but didn't make a comeback. 
Unusual for her. "How are you holding up? Mare 
said you'd been up at the Vineyard." 

"Yeah. I'm okay - drained. Bill and Teena are 
both pretty cut up about it all." 

"I'll bet." I drank a little. "Did you see 
Mulder?" 

Diana shook her head. "I made sure we didn't 
cross paths. I didn't want to have to lie to him, 
to say I was sorry and all that when I knew 
perfectly well she'd been dead for ages. It would 
have been too horrible." 

"I can understand that. Did you take Elizabeth?" 

"Yeah. I think it helped, having the baby there. 
They fussed over her - it was better than 
everyone sitting around being sad." 

"Sad?" I said, surprised. "But surely they knew 
the woman wasn't really Samantha." I was careful 
not to call Carolyn by name. I didn't want Diana 
to know how much I knew. 

Diana pressed her lips into a thin, disapproving 
line. "Apparently not. It seems that our 
cigarette smoking friend thought he was being 
kind by withholding the fact that she killed 
herself. They thought she was still in deep 
cover." 

I stared at her. "How did he manage that?" 

"Well, we've lost touch a bit the last few years, 
since I remarried," she explained. "And they've 
both stayed pretty removed from the Group since 
Bill retired. So they never found out. It didn't 
unravel until Bill phoned Spender to tell him his 
daughter had turned up - that was when Spender 
told them the truth. And by then, of course, the 
woman had taken off with Fox and gotten herself 
killed anyway." 

"That's disgusting," I said, but I felt like a 
hypocrite. After all, I was keeping some pretty 
important secrets from the woman I loved myself. 

"Yes, it is. Teena's furious. Says she never 
wants to see him again." 

"She's said that before." 

"I think she means it this time." 

"Don't blame her." I finished my drink. "Poor old 
Mulder. He thinks the woman was Samantha, I 
suppose?" 

Diana nodded. "Yes. They couldn't really have 
told him anything else, and I think they feel 
it's best if he uses this episode to come to 
terms with her death. Maybe he can find some 
peace and move on." 

"I hope so," I said. "Is he still on bereavement 
leave?" 


"Yes," she said. That explained why his report 
hadn't come through yet, then. "No-one seems to 
know where he is, but I think the time to himself 
will do him good." I nodded, and her mood 
brightened. "Enough about Fox. What about you? 
What have you been up to?" 

"Just ordinary stuff," I said, and for the most 
part - since Carolyn's death - that was the 
truth. "Mare and I have both had a lull on the 
work front, so we're just hanging 
out...reading...watching TV. Quiet times." 

"You're rebuilding," she supplied. I looked at 
her in query. "Alex, you must realise that women 
talk." 

I shot her a rueful grin. "What did she tell 
you?" 

"Not a lot. I know you had a fight. I know it was 
a big one." 

"I said something she wasn't ready to hear." 

"I see." I thought she did. 

"Anyway...we're getting through it. Rebuilding, 
like you said." 

"I'm glad." She said, deliberately casual, "Has 
she said anything about this business with Fox?" 

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She 
was trying to find out what we knew. Whether we 
had made the connection between Carolyn's death, 
the Gregors, and Elena. Just for an instant, I 
wondered whether she knew where Elena was, but I 
dismissed the idea at once. If Elena had any 
sense she'd be working totally alone at this 
point. Besides - if Diana were in touch with 
Elena, then Elena would have told her that we had 
the diaries. She would already know that those 
connections had been made. 

"What do you mean?" I said finally. 

"Well, you know," she said, fumbling. "He's part 
of your past." 

"You're not suggesting that she's jealous." I 
didn't think she was suggesting anything of the 
sort, but I thought saying so might unsettle her 
and make her let something slip. 

"No," she said hastily. "Actually, I think Fox is 
far less important than you think he is." 

"Say again?" I said, momentarily sidetracked. 

"Well, I think you hold onto the memory of Fox 
because of what he symbolises - the life you left 
behind. Not because of who he was to you." I 
didn't entirely understand what she meant back 
then, but I do now. She was right. And she 
understood it so completely because she did it 
herself - with Mulder, and maybe with Mare, as 
well. 

"Maybe that's true," I said. Then, deliberately 
on the offensive, I said, "Or maybe you spend too 
much time trying to second-guess people." 

She stared at me. "Where did that come from?" 

I drained my drink. "Well, you seem to spend a 
lot of time predicting the future and trying to 
mould it to your specifications." 

She turned to face me fully, frowning. "Alex, is 
this about Rita's sister?" 

I ignored her, changing tack before she could 
rally. "Did you know Marita is smoking again, 
Diana?" 

"Wha- no, I didn't know that." There were pink 
spots on her cheeks. She was confused - 
exasperated. 

"There's a link between smoking, the Pill, and 
pulmonary embolism," I said. "You haven't had to 
worry about birth control since you got married, 
so you might not know that - but it's true." She 
drew back in her seat a little. The lines of her 
face fell away, leaving a blank slate. She was 
shutting down - working not to betray anything. 
Firmly on the defensive. Perfect. 

"I don't - I don't understand where you're going 
with this. You're talking in riddles." 

I moved in for the kill. "Her doctor's gonna take 
her off them, Diana. It's only a matter of time. 
If you don't want to deal with the consequences 
of that, then you better have a backup plan for 
me when that happens." 

She was very pale. "What do you know?" 

"I know enough." Telling her I knew about the 
Eves might sign my death warrant, but the threat 
I'd pointed out to her was real enough. And what 
if we ever wanted children? 

"Then you know it's best this way. You know it 
would hurt her to know. More than not knowing." 
She leaned in, voice persuasively low. She was 
getting back in control. I'd have to push her 
again, before she regained her composure. "Are 
you really going to tell her what they did to her 
to make yourself feel better, Alex? Are you 
really that selfish?" 

"I might not have a choice! Elena was in this 
house!" I was showing my hand, but at this point, 
that was a chance I was willing to take. If it 
pushed her over the edge, if it made her tell me 
what she knew- 

"Elena was here?" she hissed. "When?" 

"A couple of weeks ago. Before I went away. She's 
long gone now." 

Diana was beyond pale now - she looked physically 
ill. "Does the Dark Man know?" 

I frowned a little, puzzled by her reaction. 
"Yeah - we told him before he left. Haven't seen 
him for a while. I think he's running his own 
inquiry." 

"That's pretty normal for the Dark Man," she said 
uneasily. She rummaged in her purse and put a 
twenty on the bar. Her hands were steady, but the 
fact that she paid revealed how unsettled she 
really was. The drinks went on her swipe card. 
She didn't have to pay. 

Her manner worried me. I wanted information - I 
didn't want to scare her to death. I tried to 
diffuse the situation. "Does that guy have a 
name?" I wondered, striving for levity. 

"I'd tell you, but I'd have to kill you." The 
banter was forced. 

"That's not funny." A month ago, maybe, but not 
now. 

"It isn't meant to be. I have to go." 

She turned and hurried away, leaving me 
bewildered. 




I never did find out the Dark Man's name. To this 
day, Mare refuses to tell me what it is (although 
she has said more than once that I'd recognise it 
if she did). But I did find out something else 
about him that night, and that was that he was 
vulnerable too. 

Mare and I were fooling around in bed - just 
tickling and teasing. Desire was growing at a 
leisurely pace, and we would have gotten down to 
business sooner or later if not for a knock at 
the door. 

I lifted my head from the small of her back. 
"It's one in the morning," I said in disgust. 
"What the-" 

"I'll get rid of them," Mare said, rising up onto 
her elbows. She added over her shoulder, "You can 
keep licking there, if you like." Grinning, I 
took the hint, and she called, "Go away. It can 
wait 'til morning." 

"Marita, let me in," came a familiar voice, 
muffled through the door. "I'm getting blood on 
your carpet." 

"Blood?" she said, rising abruptly, bumping me in 
the process. 

"Ow," I said, rising too. I pulled my robe around 
myself and then handed her hers, rubbing the 
bridge of my nose with my free hand. 

"Sorry," she said. She kissed it with a rueful 
grin. She donned the robe I'd given her, hurried 
to the door, and opened it. "What's happened?" 

"Just let me in." The Dark Man pushed his way in 
as soon as the door was open far enough. He half-
staggered, and he caught Mare's arm to steady 
himself. I caught hold of his other side, but he 
shrugged us off as soon as his vertigo passed. As 
he straightened, I got a better look at him. 
Blood was oozing from a half-congealed head 
wound. Someone had worked him over big time. 

Mare led him onto the dais, and I pulled up one 
of the stools. He sat, and she pried his car keys 
from his hand. She handed them to me. I put them 
on the vanity, saying, "You didn't drive like 
this, did you?" 

"From D.C.," he said. "Sorry to get you out of 
bed." 

Mare shook her head, dismissing this. "We weren't 
asleep." 

I reflected with some amusement that that sounded 
worse, and clearly the Dark Man caught the 
inference, because he shot me an apologetic look. 
I shrugged it off, saying, "Come on, let's get 
you cleaned up." 

He sat there and let Mare fuss over him for a 
while. I doubted anyone else could have gotten 
away with it, but he allowed it from her. It 
occurred to me that she must have been a very 
endearing child to have that lingering effect on 
him. 

"So who was it?" she asked at last, dabbing his 
forehead with antiseptic. 

"Your old boss," he said, nodding to me. "AD 
Skinner." 

I stared at him in utter disbelief. "Skinner," I 
echoed. "Why?" 

"He wanted to know where Mulder went." 

I thought on this. "You didn't kill the old 
bastard, did you? I rather liked him." 

The Dark Man shook his head. "He's alive. Just a 
little the worse for wear. I gave as good as I 
got." 

Mare favoured him with an indulgent smile. "I'll 
bet you did. So come on, spill the beans." 

He met her gaze. "What makes you think I have any 
beans to spill?" 

His tone was ingenious, which was hilarious, 
considering the source. I said as much. "As 
lovely as Mare's Florence Nightingale 
impersonation may be," I said grimly, "I'm 
betting you would've just slapped on a sticking 
plaster if you didn't have something to tell us." 

He offered a rare grin. "True enough." 

"That's going to need stitches," Mare said, 
casting a critical gaze over the cut on his head. 
"So what have you got for us?" She turned and got 
a needle and what looked like a spool of thread 
in a sealed packet from the cabinet, and wiped 
the needle with rubbing alcohol. 

I watched her in disbelief. "You're not going to 
stitch it yourself, are you?" 

"Of course I am," she said. Her tone was matter-
of-fact. Totally oblivious to the Dr Kildare 
factor. "I do it all the time." 

"Hardly all the time," the Dark Man protested. 

"I pulled a bullet out of his shoulder once," she 
said proudly. "He doesn't get into trouble much, 
but when he does, he does it good." 

"And I was only kidding about Florence 
Nightingale," I marvelled. Mare approached the 
Dark Man with the needle, and I turned away. "So 
talk." 

"Well, Mulder found out that Carolyn - *fuck*, 
Marita, have you got salt on that thing?" 

"Whinge, whinge, whinge." 

"It feels like a fucking upholstery needle!" 

"Fine. See if I patch you up next time you get 
into a punch-up." 

I turned to look at them again, and winced. She 
wasn't finished. "Priorities, people?" 

The Dark Man made an exasperated sound. "Fine. 
Mulder found out, or worked out that Carolyn 
wasn't really Samantha. He went chasing after the 
Bounty Hunter to find out what happened to the 
real Samantha. That's why he hasn't been at 
work." 

I frowned. "Where are they now?" 

"Battling it out in Alaska." The Dark Man's voice 
was neutral even as Mare sewed him up. The only 
hint of any pain he might be feeling was in his 
whitened knuckles. I marvelled at his self-
control. It was pretty damn impressive - if a 
little frightening. 


"Alaska?" There was worry in Mare's voice. "He 
could be after Elena or the Samantha clones." 

"I don't think so," the Dark Man said. "They're 
in Deadhorse, right up in the Arctic. The Bounty 
Hunter is trying to salvage his ship by the look 
of it." He conceded, "He did take out an abortion 
clinic in Rockville before he left - one with 
some clones in it - but my impression is that he 
was just trying to stop Mulder's investigation." 

Mare nodded, visibly relieved. "So why did 
Skinner want the location?" 

"Well, it seems Mulder ditched Scully, and-" 

"I know just how she feels," I said fervently. 

"-she wants go after him. Skinner played heavy on 
her behalf." 

I went to the bar and poured the Dark Man a 
brandy. "Touching," I said with more than a trace 
of sarcasm. I handed it to him, but Mare took it 
deftly from his hand. 

"Alcohol or painkillers?" she said. "You can't 
have both." He scowled at her and held out his 
hand, and she handed it back with a sigh. 

"Thank you." He took a sip and sat back a little. 
"So assuming Mulder makes it out alive - and for 
what it's worth, I think he will, because I don't 
think the Bounty Hunter will want Spender offside 
- he should be back in the next week or so and we 
can go through his report." 

"Can't we get anything off Scully's?" Mare 
wondered. "The longer we wait, the colder the 
trail gets." 

The Dark Man shook his head. "They seem to be 
comparing reports before they lodge them now. I 
don't think she'll lodge hers until he comes 
back." 

I nodded. I'd expected that. I pointed out, 
"Things will be hot for Elena now." 

"They would be, if she were silly enough to go 
back to work, but she won't. Now that Spender 
knows about the unsanctioned Samantha clones, he 
must have guessed that she's running something on 
the side. He won't give her the luxury of 
explaining herself. And I don't think he'd really 
want her to explain herself. I don't think he 
wants to hear that Samantha betrayed him." 

"Makes sense," Mare said. "Does he know that 
Samantha and Elena were working together?" 

"Knows, or guessed. He hasn't said much, but from 
what I can piece together, both he and Larissa 
knew there was a relationship between Samantha 
and Elena, so when these clones popped up it 
didn't take much of a leap to work out that Elena 
was part of it." 

Mare was instantly on the alert. "He's spoken to 
my mother?" 

The Dark Man nodded. "One of my men tracked him 
to Staten Island just after all this blew up. I 
don't know what was said - he couldn't get that 
close without being detected." 

"Maybe he was trying to find out if she knew 
where Elena was," Mare suggested. 

"Most likely," I said. But privately, I thought 
it was at least possible that Larissa and Spender 
were colluding to flush Elena out. There was a 
ruthlessness about Larissa that I didn't like. If 
she would orchestrate what amounted to the sexual 
exploitation of her daughter in order to protect 
her secret, who knew what else she would do? But 
of course, I could say nothing of this. 

I thought on this again later, after the Dark Man 
had retired to his suite, after Mare had dropped 
off to sleep in my arms. It wasn't the first time 
I'd lain awake well into the night - lately it 
was a common occurrence. 

Not for the first time, I tried to see it from 
Larissa's point of view. It wasn't so much 
goodwill on my part as a need to work out where 
she was coming from - and what she might do next. 
I supposed that to Larissa, delivering Marita 
into the hands (and bed) of her best friend, her 
trusted friend and protector, was the least of 
all possible evils. Certainly Michael had been 
kind to Marita. The logic was impeccable. In a 
warped kind of way, it made perfect sense - maybe 
the same kind of sense as Spender concealing 
Samantha's death from the Mulders. 

And yet...and yet. 

It made sense, but it was all wrong - that was 
what it really came down to. And by choosing to 
share in that path, wasn't I wrong too? 

No. My mind recoiled from the parallel. I was 
withholding information from Mare, yes. But I 
hadn't manipulated her. I hadn't used her body 
against her. I wasn't like them. 

I wasn't. 

My loyalty was with her. Not Larissa. Not Elena. 
Not the Project or the Russians or the Eves. Her. 
And that meant I was nothing like them. 

Nothing like them at all. 




"It never rains, but it pours." 

The onslaught, in this case, was not of water but 
of paperwork. Samantha's bed was a mess of files. 
I looked up from the one on my lap to the Dark 
Man. "Tell me about it. When did you say you 
wanted this report by?" 

"Next Thursday, wasn't it?" Marita said, propping 
herself up on her elbows beside me. 

"Sunday fortnight," I said, "I heard that 
distinctly." 

"Now that you mention it, I'm sure I heard a 
month from Wednesday." 

"All right, knock it off," he said, draping his 
coat on the table. Marita just laughed. He came 
into the alcove and sat in the chair beside the 
bed. "So what do you have? Anything coherent?" 

I shook my head. "Not really, but there are lots 
of fragments that might lead somewhere." I held 
up a page, covered in highlighting and my notes 
cramped into the margins. "There's a lot to 
cover, and it will take a bit of work to pull it 
all together into something we can use." 

Mare nodded. "There's a lot of cross-referencing 
between his work and ours. Mulder wasn't looking 
for the same things we're looking for." 


The Dark Man looked unsatisfied, but he 
recognised, as we did, that it was the only way. 
There were no short cuts in the work we did. 
Short cuts meant that things got missed. "Well, 
take as long as you need to do it properly," he 
said. "I've got a few hours tomorrow - I'll come 
and wade through it with you." 

"I'll save Syracuse and Tileston for you," I 
offered with a smirk. They were the thickest 
files of the lot. 

"You're all heart, Alex," he said with a 
withering look. "I'll be around today - I have a 
meeting with Diana down in the restaurant. Do you 
want me to bring you up some lunch?" 

Mare shook her head. "We'll be fine, but thank 
you." 

"What's the meeting with Diana?" I wondered. I 
hadn't forgotten the incident in the bar. She'd 
been away ever since. 

"Not sure. She didn't say." He looked at his 
watch. "I have to head down there. Do you need 
anything from me before I go?" 

"No, we've got enough to keep us going for a 
week," I said. "We might head over to Germantown 
later - it's the only lab we know of that wasn't 
torched. If we're lucky there might still be some 
papers lying around. You never know." 

"All right. Do you need backup?" 

Mare shook her head. "No. The Bounty Hunter got 
what he wanted. He got the Gregors. He and his 
ship are long gone." 

"All right, then," the Dark Man said. "I'll see 
you both later." 

We watched him go, and then I put my file on the 
floor and gently lifted hers from her hand. 
"Alexi," she protested, "I need to-" 

"No, you don't," I said. "Not right now. You know 
what they say about all work and no play." 

"Alex, I have UN submissions to work on as well. 
We can't stop." 

"Yes, we can. We've been working all morning. We 
can stop for a few minutes." I leaned across the 
bed to kiss her. She gave a reproachful sigh, but 
she returned the kiss, and soon she was working 
my shirt buttons free. 

When we were done, she sat up, sweeping back a 
mass of blonde hair away from her face. "What a 
mess." 

I looked at the scattered files around us and was 
forced to concur. "Next time, we go to our own 
bed." 

"Next time, I tell you to get back to work," she 
retorted. "A few minutes, indeed." She held up 
her watch for my inspection. 

I gave a self-satisfied grin. "When you're good, 
you're good." 

"You're a legend in your own mind," she laughed, 
kissing me. I pouted. She amended, "And mine," 
and I shot her a good-natured grin. She rose, 
pulling on her now-crumpled clothes. "Can I leave 
this to you? I want to shower and change before 
we go to Germantown." 

"Oh, sure. Leave me the dirty work." 

Her look was conciliatory. "Tell you what - you 
do that and I'll do Germantown on my own. How's 
that?" 

"I can't see any reason why not." 

She bent and kissed me, still fastening her 
buttons. "Okay. I'll see you later." 

"Later," I agreed, and then she was gone. 

I watched her leave, and then I rose from the 
bed. I stooped to pick up my clothes - first my 
shirt, then my trousers. I grabbed onto the 
bedpost to pull myself back up, and that was when 
my fingertips closed on something odd. 

I straightened, frowning. I ran my fingers over 
the area. It was soft and pliant - some kind of 
putty or woodfiller. It filled a perfectly round 
area beneath my fingertip - too regular to be a 
natural knot in the wood. My chest suddenly felt 
very tight, fear closing like a hand around my 
heart. I didn't even need to look inside to know 
to near certainty that the hole contained a 
listening device. 

I groaned in dismay. I dropped my clothes on the 
bed and ran to the ensuite. Heart pounding, I 
rummaged in Samantha's vanity, found a pair of 
eyebrow tweezers there, and went back to the 
alcove. I used them to pick out the putty 
plugging the hole, and as I'd expected, I found a 
bug anchored inside. I tugged it free and rested 
it on my palm. 

How long had it been there, I wondered? And who 
had put it there? No-one knew we were using this 
suite - no-one but Mare, the Dark Man, and me. 
And, if she had indeed come back here, just 
possibly Elena. 

Elena. Of course. She had a vested interest in 
our work, after all. Some of my worry eased. It 
was bad that the suite had been breached, but 
Elena, at least, was unlikely to kill us. Looking 
over the device, I saw that it wasn't one of the 
standard issue ones used among Spender's people - 
that was a good sign. 

I got dressed as quickly as I could. Marita would 
want to know about this. I leaned down to pull on 
my shoes, and my gaze fell on one of the 
scattered case reports - Mulder's report of 
Carolyn's death. Two words in particular caught 
my eye: 'retractable spike'. Frowning, I picked 
it up. 

'Suspect held victim, Jane Doe 95-2517 
(previously wrongly identified as Samantha 
Mulder), and held a weapon to her throat. Weapon 
is a metallic cylinder with a retractable spike. 
Victim had previously stated that this weapon 
could be used to kill the suspect by stabbing him 
in the base of the neck with it. Indicated that 
suspect is unusually resilient and that this was 
the only effective method of killing him. Victim 
also indicated that suspect's blood was toxic (cf 
autopsy report, SAC Weiss; cf forensic report, 
SAC Scully (shoes); cf coroner's report, Jane Doe 
95-2517).' I looked up from the report in 
recognition. That was what the weapons were for - 
the ones Mare and I had found. They were to kill 
the Bounty Hunter. 

I read on. 'Victim attempted to overpower suspect 
with an ice pick, but was unsuccessful. Suspect 
then threatened victim with the words, "Where is 
she?" Must consider the possibility that victim 
had a female partner or partners in her 
activities. Certainly this is borne out by my 
findings at the abortion clinic in Rockville, 
MD.' 

I felt a chill. We'd thought the Bounty Hunter 
was after the Gregors - but it sounded as though 
he might be after someone else - one of the 
Samantha clones, maybe. Frowning, I looked 
around, searching for Mulder's report on 
Rockville. I found it behind me, half under the 
pillow. A fragment leaped out at me like a neon 
sign amid the sea of black print: '"She is the 
one you must protect. The one from whom we all 
came."' The original prototype was Samantha - but 
Samantha was dead. That left Elena - the 
scientist who made them. 

We'd had it all wrong. The Bounty Hunter was 
after Elena. 

Where was Elena now? I wondered desperately. 
Where would she go? With the Gregors dead and her 
clones scattered, she would be in hiding, trying 
to salvage the work. And that meant she would go 
to the only laboratory not destroyed by fire - 
Germantown. The one she knew was intact, because 
we'd said so in this very room. And where Elena 
went, the Bounty Hunter would follow. 

And Marita was there. 

PART 4 IMMEDIATELY TO FOLLOW