XxXxXxXxXxX

Chapter Eleven

XxXxXxXxXxX

They took Tipton's car so Mulder spent the drive staring out 
the passenger window and worrying an errant sunflower seed 
between his teeth.  Outside, the earth had stilled under the 
blaze of the hot sun, fields wilted in supplication, while 
inside, Mulder's thoughts whirred so fast they were reduced 
to a high-pitched hum.  His brain buzzed and made his 
fingertips tingle.  Something wasn't right.  Horrific images 
vied for his attention, refusing to settle -- the mocking 
clown cards, Scully's crumpled car, the blood in Eleanor's 
closet -- Derek Corbett was the only link that made sense and 
yet Mulder couldn't shake the queasy feeling that he was 
missing an important clue amid all the noise. 

Tipton glanced at him as the cruiser rose over a swell in the 
road.  "We're almost there."

Mulder didn't reply.

Later, he would reflect back and realize it was the silence, 
not the noise, which should have given him pause:  Tipton had 
killed his police radio. 

"This is it?" Mulder asked, sitting up as the car turned from 
smooth pavement onto a bumpy dirt road.  "There's nothing out 
here but ugly trees and dust."

"Derek's got the old Hanson place.  It's down about a quarter 
mile."

The farmhouse came into view around the bend, looking 
especially desolate against its surrounding naked landscape.  
It resembled Eleanor's house in shape, but all the color had 
been bleached from the wood.  Dried grass out front and a 
chicken wire fence at the side completed the sad picture.  

Tipton rolled the car to a stop near the front porch, and 
Mulder stepped out into the wall of heat.  He squinted behind 
his shades as he surveyed the property.  Years on the blood 
trail told him he'd found the right place:  even the birds 
were silent.  The sun blazed on, a murderous ally in the sky, 
burning up the earth and making things dead.  It was up to 
Mulder to find the bodies.

"I don't see any other cars," he remarked to Tipton.  He 
scuffed the dirt with his dress shoe.  "But there are tire 
tracks over there by the fence -- fresh ones.  He's been here 
recently."

Tipton grimaced in a way that showed off his white teeth and 
nodded at the front door.  "You want to do the honors or 
should I?"

Mulder checked his gun.  "We're not selling Avon here, 
Tipton.  I'll take the front and you take the back.  Don't 
move until I yell, got it?"

"Got it."  Tipton withdrew his weapon and jogged around to 
the rear of the property.  Mulder waited a beat for him to 
get into position and then mounted the rickety front steps.  
As he moved closer, he could see that the windows had been 
boarded up from the inside.  The air squeezed out of his 
lungs.

"Corbett?" he hollered, banging on the door.  "This the FBI!  
Open up."

He waited, gun drawn, but there was no sound from the other 
side of the door.  Mulder pounded again, rattling the whole 
wall.  "Open up, Corbett, or I'm coming in!"  He backed off, 
breathing hard, and prepared to shoot the lock off.  No one 
answered his call.

Mulder's sweaty finger gripped the trigger.  His whole body 
tensed.  But then a queer feeling of déjà vu washed over him 
and he dropped his arm.  He tried the door and found it open.

Just like it had been ten years earlier.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he swung the 
door out.  That same close stench of warmed body fluids 
assaulted his nose and made him gag.  Dizzy, he advanced into 
the dark, stuffy hall with his gun at the ready.  "Corbett?" 
he demanded hoarsely.  "It's the FBI! Show yourself 
immediately."

He halted, listening, but his only answer was eerie silence.

The old floor creaked and groaned under his weight.  Mulder 
proceeded down the long, bare hall until he reached an empty 
room on his right.  Mulder rounded the corner with caution 
and peered inside.  At one time, it might have been a living 
room, but now death had come to stay.

Dried blood stained the floor.  He could see it even in the 
thin orange light shining through the boarded windows.  There 
was a hacksaw and some loose rope tangled in the corner.  And 
at the back...

Two closets.

Mulder looked around once more for Corbett before moving 
slowly towards the closets.  "Eleanor?" he called.  Ten years 
melted away.  He was again the man who would open the door 
and find madness on the other side.  "Eleanor are you in 
there?"

Relief surged through him as he heard an answering thump 
behind the door on the right.  Somehow he had managed to get 
there in time yet again.  

He turned around in place, searching for a way to open the 
door, and found an iron key lying right in front of the door. 

"Eleanor, it's Mulder.  I'm going to get you out."  He 
scraped the key in the lock.

His hand went limp, gun drooping, and he reached for the warm 
knob.  Again he opened, again he found her.  Sweat sticky 
hair matted her face and she was bound at both hands and 
feet.  "Eleanor," he said on a ragged exhale.  "You're okay."  
He dropped to his knees to begin freeing her.

She shook her head frantically.  Wild-eyed, she looked up at 
him and tried to talk around her gag.

"Shh," he said as she choked.  "Let me help you."

She made fierce protesting noises and squirmed.  

"We're getting out of here right now," he told her.  "I 
promise."

She went suddenly still, eyes wide as she stared in horror 
over his shoulder.  "What...?"

Mulder felt a gun barrel press against the back of his head.

"Not this time," said a deadly soft voice from behind him.  
"Get up, Agent Mulder.   That's right.  Nice and slow. You're 
gonna help me rewrite history."

XxXxXxXxX

Scully walked like an old woman to the bathroom, where her 
first order of business was to swallow another round of 
painkillers.  Her head felt better, but her broken arm and 
cracked ribs both screamed in agony at her the slightest 
movement.  Resting against the sink, she set the water glass 
down and wrinkled her nose at the unkempt woman in the 
mirror.  Her hair was flat from so many hours in bed, her 
color wan, and she had a bruise on her chin from where the 
airbag had hit her.  Scully huffed out her resignation and 
began the slow process of putting herself back together.  
Wrestling the T-shirt proved to be the worst, but she gritted 
her teeth and had managed to dress and groom herself into 
some semblance of order when there came a sharp knock at her 
door.

Figuring it was Mulder, she called for him to come in.  When 
he failed to appear, she stuck her head out of the bathroom 
and realized the door must be locked.  "Coming!" she said as 
the person rapped again.  She crossed as quickly as she could 
and threw open the door, still expecting Mulder.  "That was 
fast--"

She stopped when she saw a young man in uniform on the other 
side.  He extended a thick envelope to her.  "Ma'am, the 
State Crime Lab sent this over for you.  If you'll just sign 
here?"

The full results of the tests she'd ordered on the cards, 
Scully thought.  "Of course."  She signed and took the parcel 
back inside with her.  Already she knew the highlights -- 
they had found Eleanor's DNA on the envelopes, indicating 
Eleanor had sent the cards herself.  Inside, she found a note 
from Dr. Vikas:

Dr. Scully,

As we discussed, the samples are an exact match.  There is no 
question that Eleanor Kot's saliva is present on those 
envelopes:  the enzymes are what you'd expect for saliva 
content, and of course the PCR tests indicate the DNA is 
Kot's.  However, one of my techs drew my attention to an 
oddity that I'm sure you'll find curious.  The amount of 
saliva on the envelope is quite low, far below the levels we 
would expect if she had licked it shut.   I've highlighted 
these data in the report, as you shall see.  If you'd like to 
discuss these results further, please do not hesitate to call 
me at home or at the office.

Scully put aside the note and dug out the pertinent part of 
the report.  She scanned the results and found them just as 
Dr. Vikas had indicated.  Drumming her fingers on the tiny 
motel table, Scully considered the possibilities.  She picked 
up her phone.

"Mulder, it's me," she said when she got his voice mail.  "I 
just got the full lab reports back on the cards Eleanor 
received.  Mulder, her DNA is on the envelopes but she may 
have been framed.  Call me as soon as you get this."

She clicked "off" and regarded the phone with some annoyance.  
Where the hell was he, anyway?

XxXxX

Mulder swallowed hard, the gun tickling his scalp, as his 
phone went silent again in his pocket.  The man behind him 
chuckled.  "Tipton?" Mulder ventured, though he didn't really 
need the man to answer.  He saw the truth in Eleanor's dead 
eyes.

"Surprise!" Tipton said, his cackle rising.  "Aren't you 
surprised?  Give me the gun and the phone and step back."

Mulder relinquished the items but did not move.  Eleanor 
quivered at his feet.  "Tipton, listen--"

"No, you listen.  Get the fuck back right now or I'm going to 
blow your brains out all over her lap."

Mulder took an awkward step backwards.  "So this is your 
place," he said.  "Not Corbett's."

"That's right.  My place, my rules.  Now close the door."

Eleanor's white face disappeared into the shadows again as 
Mulder slowly sealed her tomb.  "You're a fan of Coben's 
work, I take it," Mulder said.   The intense heat had slowed 
his heart to a painful thud against his ribs.

"I was there," Tipton said.  "I saw her die."

Mulder hadn't a fucking clue what the man was talking about, 
but as long as he was talking, he wasn't putting a bullet 
through Mulder's brain.  "You were in Chicago?"

"I saw you on the news when they found her.  I never dreamed 
you'd come again.  But Eleanor knew.  She understood what has 
to happen."

"Nothing has to happen," Mulder said.  Tipton jabbed him hard 
with the gun barrel and shut him quick.  The force caused 
Mulder to bite the inside of his lip, and the bitter taste of 
blood spread over his tongue.

"None of this would have been necessary if it weren't for 
you.  You know that, right?  This is all your fault." He 
punctuated each word with a hard poke to the skull, and 
Mulder saw stars.

He blinked away the pinpoints of light, tried to remain 
steady.  Sweat dripped down behind his ears.  "It was Coben's 
fault.  He was stupid enough to get caught."

"She was supposed to be dead," Tipton said, breath hollow in 
the empty room.  "Now she will be."

Mulder felt the gun barrel quiver and knew he was about to 
die.  "Wait--"

"Sorry, Mulder, but I have no card for you."

Mulder squeezed his eyes shut.  "No!"

Suddenly, the phone rang again, making his pulse spike.  
Tipton froze.  Mulder wilted under the wave of adrenaline.  
Not my phone, he realized.  

"Fuck," Tipton muttered.  The gun barrel fell away as he 
shifted to answer his cell.  "Tipton here.  Yeah, Chief."

Mulder listened with one ear.  Their conversation was drowned 
out by the mantra in his head:  find a way out.  Find a way 
out.  He looked around desperately for anything he might use 
as a weapon, but there was nothing within his reach.

"Mulder?" Tipton was saying.  "No, I haven't seen him.  Yeah.  
Now?  Chief--"

Mulder shifted a bit.  If Tipton remained distracted, he 
might be able to jump him for the gun. Mulder risked a glance 
behind him and saw Tipton scowling in the direction of the 
door. 

"Yeah, okay.  I'll be right there."

He turned back before Mulder could make a move.  Tipton 
raised the gun again, and this time he aimed right between 
the eyes.  "Seems your partner is looking for you.  I have to 
go join the search."

Scully, Mulder thought.  "You leave her alone."

"Another one who's supposed to be dead.  Maybe I can fix that 
mistake too."

"You leave her alone!"  Mulder started for the gun and Tipton 
cocked it.

"Ah, ah.  Don't even think about it. Or your pretty little 
partner will come back here and find your brains decorating 
the wall."  He advanced on Mulder, forcing him backwards.  
"I'll just go round her up, what do you say?"

"If you hurt her, I'll..."

"You'll what?"  Tipton laughed again.  "I already ran her 
over with a fucking car!"

Mulder trembled with the force of his rage, but with a gun 
tickling his ribs there wasn't anything he could do about it. 
Tipton leaned in, close enough that Mulder could smell his 
fetid breath.  

"You always wanted to know, didn't you?" he asked in a 
sinister whisper.  "Admit it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mulder answered.  

Tipton reached around him and grabbed the door to the second 
closet.  The door slid open with a long creak.  "Now you'll 
know," he said.  He raised the gun again.  "Get in."

Mulder stumbled backwards into the black hole, catching his 
fingers on the jam to prevent his fall.  Tipton kicked the 
door shut and it slammed down on Mulder's fingers.  Mulder 
cried out, drawing back, and Tipton locked the door.  He 
rapped the gun on the outside.  "I've got to go meet Dana 
now.   Don't you go anywhere."

Mulder rattled the doorknob with fury but the door held fast.  
"Tipton!  This isn't how it happened ten years go!  Tipton?"

He stopped shaking the door to listen.  Tipton's heavy 
footsteps crossed the floor and disappeared.  All was silent.

XxXxXxX

Scully phoned Mulder twice before leaving the hotel and then 
again from her cab, growing more concerned each time she got 
the laconic cellular error message instead of Mulder's voice.  
He had been headed to Derek Corbett's house, merrily off to 
dance with a murderer, and now his line was dead.  Metaphor, 
she hoped, and nothing more.

"Up here on the left," she said to the cab driver.  "Those 
apartments on the corner."  

The cab stopped and Scully told him to wait as she got out to 
inspect the scene.  Mulder's car sat parked in front of 
Derek's building, but there was no sign of Mulder.  Scully 
rang the bell twice and got no response.  

A young man with a Dachshund puppy came bounding up the steps 
front steps.  "You need help, Ma'am?  I can get the door for 
you, if you like."

Scully cradled her injured arm and gave him her best smile.  
"That would be wonderful, thank you."

"Happy to help.  You take care now."  He let her in the 
building and Scully climbed the stairs to the second floor.  
She listened at Derek's door but heard nothing on the other 
side.  Desperate circumstances, she thought, and pulled out a 
credit card.  The flimsy lock opened easily and soon she was 
standing in a living room full of worn-down furniture.  No 
Derek.  No Mulder.  

Scully went back downstairs to the cab and made yet another 
phone call.  "Sir," she said when Parker answered, "something 
has happened to Mulder.  I'm on my way in now."

XxX

You would think I'd dragged a corpse in here with me, Scully 
thought as the station came to a standstill at her entrance.  
Everyone gaped at her slow gait, her cast, and the bruises on 
her face.  The desk sergeant tipped his hat.  "Sorry about 
your accident, Ma'am."

"Thank you."  She looked at the back and saw that the 
Sheriff's office was empty.  "Where is Sheriff Parker?"

"Conference room."

Scully found both Parker and Tipton standing by the large dry 
erase board, where they appeared to be in heated discussion.  
"I gave you an order, Tipton, and I expect you to follow it -
- now!"

"Yes, sir."  Tipton passed Scully, brushing arms with her, 
but did not meet her eyes.  She looked at Parker.

"Dissention in the ranks?"

"I told him to pick up Corbett for questioning."

Her heart skipped a beat.  "You know where he is?"

"We got a line on him just a bit ago.  One of my guys spotted 
him down hitting balls at the driving range.  Any word from 
Mulder yet?"

Scully shook her head and joined him at the board.  He had 
listed the names of the known victims, including their dates 
of disappearance and the place they had last been seen.   
Scully noted that each name now had an arrow connecting it to 
the one above.  

Her name was under CiCi's.

"Could he have been running down another lead we don't know 
about?" Parker asked.

"I found his car at Corbett's," Scully replied, her eyes 
still on the names in front of her.  "I don't know where he 
could have gone without it."

Parker hitched up his pants.  "We'll make sure to ask Corbett 
that first thing when we see him."

Scully picked up a red marker.  "How many cards did Eleanor 
get in total?"

"Uh, five, I think."  Parker checked the sprawl of evidence 
on the table.  "Yeah, five."

"One each for Bea Nelson, Shannon Blessing, and Mark Roy," 
Scully said as she placed a red "check" by the names.  "The 
fourth was for CiCi."  She looked over at Parker.  "Mulder 
argues that I wasn't supposed to be in the circle, and that 
the fifth card was not meant for me."  She erased her name 
from the chain.

"Okay, so who was it for?"

Scully wrote in:  Eleanor Kot.  "This is why she got two at 
once.  She wouldn't be alive to receive her own card, so the 
killer sent hers in advance.  Mulder says that this would 
make a circle, because the first victim, Bea Nelson, and the 
last victim, Eleanor, would both connect to Derek Corbett.  
He was on his way to interview Corbett when I lost contact 
with him."

Parker looked at the list.  "If he's right, that means 
Eleanor could be dead.  Jesus.  Tipton should take backup. If 
Corbett's our guy, he could get squirrelly on us real fast."  
He hurried out to the radio, leaving Scully with a room full 
of ghosts.  She picked through the photos and found the 
cards.

NOW THE CIRCLE IS COMPLETE, read the last one.

She hoped like hell it wasn't.

XxXxX

Derek Corbett didn't seem much like a brutal killer when he 
arrived at the Sheriff's station.  His neat golf attire was 
more appropriate for a country club, and his demeanor was 
serene.  With no evidence to arrest him, he didn't even have 
to wear cuffs.  He preceded a grim-looking Tipton past a long 
row of deputies.  No one said a word.

"Have a seat, Corbett."  Sheriff Parker's voice took on a 
hard edge as Tipton ushered their suspect into the room.  
Scully hung back, pain and exhaustion making her lean against 
the wall. 

Derek's gaze swept over the piles of evidence in front of 
him.  "Afternoon, Sheriff.  What's going on?"

"You tell us."

Derek looked blank.

"Agent Mulder went to talk to you at your apartment earlier 
today," Scully said, stepping forward.  "Did you speak with 
him?"

"Today?  No.  I've been shagging balls all day."

"Don't lie to me, boy."  Parker leaned across the table.  

"I'm not lying!  Ask the manager."

Parker hesitated, and then nodded slightly at his deputy.  
"Tipton, you make the call.  You better pray he backs you up, 
boy."

"I don't understand."  Derek looked from Scully to Parker.  
"Just what is it you think I've done?"

Parker picked up a picture of Shannon Blessing's severed hand 
and slapped it in front of Derek.  "This, for one.  You cut 
her up just like you did Bea, didn't you?"

"No!"  Derek recoiled at the photo.  "You're crazy!"

"Bea disappeared right in front of her parents' home.  No 
screams, no struggle.  She trusted the bastard that killed 
her.  Tell me, did she scream for you later?  Did she scream 
when she realized what you were going to do?"

Derek surged to his feet.  "I want to leave.  This is crazy.  
All of you are just crazy!  I didn't hurt Bea or anyone else!  
I loved her."

Parker rounded the table and shoved Derek back in his seat.  
"You'll leave when we tell you that you can leave and not a 
minute sooner."

"I didn't do it!"  Derek's face turned pink.  "God, what kind 
of monster do you think I am?"

Parker leaned down.  "I don't know, boy," he whispered in 
Derek's ear.  "You tell us.  Where are the bodies?  What did 
you do with Eleanor?"

Derek jerked.  "Eleanor?" he repeated weakly.  "Someone hurt 
Eleanor?"

"We know about your kinky games.  We know about the closet."

"Oh, God."  Derek screwed his eyes shut.  "I didn't hurt her.  
I swear.  It wasn't like that."

"Tell us how it was, Derek.  Set the record straight."

Derek's mouth moved but no sound came out.  "I--I--"

"You what?"  Parker shook his chair.  "Tell us!"

Tipton stuck his head in the door.  "Sheriff?  I talked to 
the manager, and he backs the story:  Corbett was hitting 
balls for at least three hours before we got there."

XxX

The hard wood pressed the flesh over her hipbone flat, 
pinching the nerves and cutting off circulation.  Eleanor 
rolled as best she could with her hands and feet bound.  She 
could no longer feel her fingers.  

Mulder rapped at her through their shared wall.  "Eleanor?  
Are you okay?"

Go to hell, she wanted to tell him, but the gag in her mouth 
made it hard even to breathe.  Her heated, airless cell had 
rendered her weak and dizzy.  She laid her head down on the 
gritty floor.

"Eleanor?  Can you hear me?  Eleanor?"

She summoned the strength to give the wall an angry kick.

"We've got to figure a way out," he said.

She snorted.  No shit.

Ten years ago he'd been the one to lead the way.  Shame upon 
her for thinking it could happen twice.  If she died, who 
would tell her mother?

Eleanor ignored Mulder's pounding and focused on the thin 
crack of light under the door.  Scottie, she thought, I'm 
coming home.

XxX

Scully scraped out a conference room chair and gingerly 
lowered herself into it.  Parker leaned down with both hands 
on the table.  "We had to let him go.  There was nothing we 
could use to hold him."

"I know."

"Did you try Mulder again?"

She nodded.  "No answer."

"I'll put tail on Corbett, just in case.  You sit tight.  You 
want anything?  Coffee?  Soda?"

"I'm fine, thank you."  Scully rubbed the ache at her temples 
as Parker left the room.  Mulder, where are you? she thought.  
Her low-level panic was a rising tide, creeping higher with 
every passing hour.  Half-heartedly, she moved around the 
evidence folders on the table in front of her, but nothing 
new jumped out.

He'd been going to Derek's.
Derek wasn't home.
Where would he go after that?

"Dammit."  Scully struggled to her feet and went to the board 
again to study the names.  Parker returned and joined her.  
He sipped from his mug.  

"Still think this is the key, huh?"

"I don't know."  Her frustration seeped out in the clipped 
words.  "All I know is that this was the last thing Mulder 
was working on when he disappeared.  Maybe he saw something 
here that we're not seeing."

Parker scanned the list.  "Well, Mulder was right.  Derek is 
the only name that would close the circle.  You think maybe 
that's why he got involved with Eleanor to begin with?  To 
make some sort of circle?"

"Maybe."  Scully wasn't really listening.  She stared long 
and hard at Eleanor's name.  "Complete the circle," she 
murmured to herself.  "Eleanor completes the circle."

Her heart dropped.

"That's it," she said to Parker.  "Eleanor's not the link 
between Derek and Bea.  She's the link between these killings 
and the ones ten years ago."

"Back to Coben again?"

Scully dug out her phone.  "Someone's decided to finish his 
work," she said. 

"Who are you calling?"

"VICAP.  I need a place to plug in my laptop and then I need 
your fax number.  Whatever sparked this killer's obsession, 
it began ten years ago."  She shifted her weight impatiently 
as the connection rang through, not sharing aloud her newest, 
driving fear.  Eleanor was only one connection to Coben's 
killings: Mulder was the other.

XxX

God damn busywork.  Parker's got me running like an errand 
boy, fetching faxes and answering phones.  I doubt he's be so 
condescending if he knew who he was dealing with, but right 
now, there is no way for me to leave without his notice.  I 
need a certain amount of time to complete my work.

The machine hisses and beeps, pages scrolling out like toilet 
paper.  I am supposed to collect them and deliver the results 
to Her Highness in the conference room.  More lab tests, I 
figure, until I see his name.

BRAHM MICHAEL COBEN 

My heart stops and I feel like my face must give everything 
away.  I glance around to see if anyone noticed my reaction, 
but they're all still buzzing about Corbett.  I pick off the 
papers one by one and gobble up the old images with greedy 
eyes.  The faces of the dead girls are all as I remember.  
Eleanor has hardly changed at all.

Eleanor.  My blood picks up, thrumming in my veins.  It is 
past time I got back.

Parker claps my shoulder, startling me.  I flush.  "Make sure 
you get those to Scully ASAP."

"Yes, sir."

He leaves and I scowl.  These are rightfully mine, not hers.  
She has no place in this legacy.  But I gather up the pages 
and walk them to the conference room, where she sits with her 
computer.  She barely gives me a second look.

"Are those the faxes?  Thank you."

Temptation gets the better of me and I linger by her chair.  
The computer screen is filled with Coben's triumphs.  She 
can't see my smile.  "You're going over the old cases?" I 
ask.

"I think the killer's obsession with Eleanor might date back 
to the original murders," she answers, and my hands go cold.

"What makes you say that?"

"The cards," she says, still not looking at me.  She is busy 
with the faxes now.  "I think this killer means to finish 
what Coben started."

Fuck and double fuck.  This is not what I needed right now!  
I feel everything slipping away from me.  The room blurs.  I 
could kill her where she sits...

"Could you get me some water?" she asks.

"Huh?"

"Water?  It's so warm in here.  Thanks."

I stumble out of the room in the direction of the cooler, 
still trying to figure out what to do.  She has to die.  It's 
clear.  If she hasn't found my secret yet, it's only a matter 
of time until she sees.  I get the water and walk back 
slowly.  I have to act fast.  I have to get her out of here.  
I have to...

I stop in the doorway and see that she is looking at me 
strangely.  It is the same look Eleanor had the night he took 
her from the streets.  It is the same horrified surprise that 
Bea Nelson had when I showed her my knife.  "You were there," 
she said.  "You watched Eleanor get abducted the first time."

Just the words make me tingle.  I close the door behind me 
and give her the water.  "Yes, I saw the whole thing."

Her eyes narrow.  "What did you do with Mulder?"

"He's alive."

"Where is he?"

I consider.  "Come with me and I'll show you.  I'll show you 
everything."

"No."

I remove the switchblade from my back pocket.  With her 
broken bones, she's an easy target.  She knows it too.  I can 
smell her fear.  "Then I'll slit your throat right here.  
I'll lock the door and tell Parker you don't want to be 
disturbed.  By the time they find you, Mulder will be dead."

She looks at the knife and then at me.  "What do you want?"

"I want what I have always wanted: Eleanor.  You and Mulder 
just got in the way."

"It won't work," she says.  "If I can find your name in the 
files, then so can Parker.  You'll never get away in time."

"That's why we're taking them with us.  Now move."

XxXxXxXxX

End chapter eleven.  Continued in chapter twelve.

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