TITLE: Teddy's Puzzle AUTHOR: Lee Burwasser (lee46b@gateway.net) RATING: PG for some disturbing notions and non-graphic medical ick CLASSIFICATION: X, MSF SPOILERS: Very slight for Rush, Field Trip, Emily, Ghost in the Machine, Conduit, One Son SUMMARY: A very different former professor of Scully's needs all the help he can get. But is it one case, or two? DISCLAIMERS: Moose and Squirrel are not mine, nor are Mrs. Scully, Charlie Scully nor AD Skinner. Father McHugh is so different -- including sensible spelling -- that he has very little to do with his quasi-namesake. The rest are mine. AUTHOR'S NOTEs: Charliefans might want to use the "Find": he turns up rather late in the story. More notes at the end. Teddy's Puzzle by Lee Burwasser (lee46b@gateway.net) [teaser] Cove of Cork Maryland 20 April 2001, 2:30 a.m. It was quieter outside. He walked away from the noise. When a night breeze sprang up, he turned into the coolness and kept walking. After a while, he walked into the river. The cool water felt good on his overheated skin. He walked on in until he was deep enough to shove off and swim. Cool water all over his body. He ducked his head underwater to cool his face. Cloth hampered his movements. By practiced reflex, he pulled it off. The silly slippers were long gone. He swam straight out until the current took him, carried him away from the noise. Quiet splashes now and again, quiet chuckling of the river. Cool and quiet. He fetched up against a snag. The current pushed him against it; he wedged himself in and slept. He woke to sunlight. His face, every part of him above water, was hot; the exposed skin was dry and uncomfortable. He ducked underwater for as long as he could hold his breath, but the sun greeted him when he came up for air. He saw reeds growing; he pulled himself along the snag and into the reeds. They were some protection. Now there was noise. Noise went through his head. He bit back a whimper and submerged as much as he could and still breathe. The water wasn't as cool as in the night, but it still felt good. Noise came slowly closer along theopposite bank, then as slowly moved on. He was dizzy and groggy despite the pain of the noise, and fell into a doze. Night again. No more noise. He clambered over the snag and let the current take him again. The cool, strong current carried him away from noise, into cool quiet . . . [act one] X-Files Unit Criminal Investigations Division Hoover Building, Washington DC 27 April 2001, 8:00 am *What have I done now?* thought Mulder as he met the twin lasers. After a moment, he realised they weren't aimed at him; he'd just intercepted them as he came in the door. Nor were they intended for whoever was on the other end of the phone, for his partner's "Thank you, Sir" sounded sincere. *Probably Skinner* he thought, and started to cross to his desk when he realised that Scully was preparing to go out. His brilliant investigative talent led him to conclude that she was taking personal time, having just gotten the OK from their boss. "Where are you headed, Scully?" "Baltimore." She dodged around him to get through the doorway. He followed, re-buttoning his suit jacket. "What's in Baltimore?" "Personal," she threw back at him, not slowing her exit. His longer legs kept up with her. "Anything that has you glaring holes in the walls, you do not meet without backup." "Waiting for me. Detective Hollis, Baltimore PD." "You need better than some stranger, however well intentioned." "I need someone who will go by the book. This is not an X- File." "Gotcha." "And I will *not* cover for you with Skinner." "O.K." In all this time, she did not pause or slow her pace. Clearly, she was not going to spend time arguing with him, or delay her departure in any other way. She did wait for him to fetch his travel kit from the trunk of his car, and open the passenger door of hers for him before buckling her seat belt and heading out. BuCar Baltimore-Washington Parkway Since discretion was clearly the better part of valor, Mulder held onto his questions until they were out of Washington traffic. Instead, he used the time to persuade Skinner to OK his use of personal time to chase after (or with) Scully for a change. Once they were rolling at interstate speed for Baltimore: "So, what are you and Detective Hollis going to deal with?" "Dr. Benton's luck has run out," she said absently. "Dr. Edwards is mobilising everyone he can reach. Det. Hollis is a long-time associate of Dr. Benton's, and Dr. Edwards lives in my mother's parish." "That's in Annapolis." "So's Dr. Edwards. Deputy Medical Examiner for Anne Arundel County." She had less than half her mind on answering his questions. He persevered. "How'd your mother get involved?" "She's very active in the parish, and Dr. Edwards went to St. Mary's until the Mission Church opened last year, closer to where he lives. I don't know just what he knows about our family, but it's no surprise that he knows something." Mulder kept a straight face. "OK. Now: We're headed for Baltimore. What's in Baltimore?" "Office of the Chief Medical Examiner." Amusing as it was to hear the superorganised Agent Scully half in the car and half in the stratosphere, he really needed to be briefed. "Uhm, can we start at the beginning? Like, who's Dr. Benton?" "He was an Associate Medical Examiner when I studied under him; now he's Deputy Chief Medical Examiner." "Ah." She was finally into Briefing Mode. Mulder's mental picture of Dr. Benton shifted from sleek and smarmy yuppie to dignified patriarch. Dr. Edwards got the yuppie jacket. *What's with Scully and guys named Ed?* "He taught more than pathology. He's good at that, too, but he told us about his experience generally: dealing with families, and the occasional prosecutor who forgot that his job is *not* to win cases, but to see that justice is done. Then there's pressure on the M.E. to forget that *his* job is to discover and tell the truth. He warned us that all forensic scientists have to be alert for that, but he also insisted that no one has to get into anyone's face in order to stand one's moral ground. Simply explain, respectfully but firmly, that the M.E.'s office does not deal in slants or spins, just the evidence." Mulder couldn't help interjecting, "Just the facts, Ma'am, just the facts." "Facts and conclusions. An M.E. is usually an expert witness. We rather suspected him of sampling error, but it makes sense not to be the one to start any unpleasantness." "Sampling error? How is he non-representative of M.E.s generally?" "Just that *no*body got into Dr. Benton's face. It's harder for the rest of us." "But now someone *has* gotten into his face." "If that were all, nobody would mix in. But according to Dr. Edwards, he's been harassed on administrative nit-picks, and there was at least one attempt at mudslinging, which didn't stick. Now he's been snap-diagnosed and bundled off to the psych ward, with Thorazine and God only knows what else in his system, while his own physician sits mumchance." Yep, that would explain the lasers. Nursing Station, Psych Ward General Hospital Baltimore, Maryland 9:15 a.m. Scully was not above using her badge to clear passage, personal matter or no. "Special Agent Dana Scully, M.D. This is my partner, Special Agent Mulder. Before I see Dr. Benton, I want to talk to Det. Hollis and Dr. Benton's physician." "I'm Rob Hollis," said a gravelly voice from a nearby doorway. A grizzled plainclothesman came forward to show Scully his badge and study hers. He had another suited man in tow. "This is Dr. Meriwether. What's the FBI doing on Doc Benton's case?" "Dr. Edwards called me." She did not bother explaining how he came to call her, or that she was on her own time. "He said he'd called you, too." "Yeah, well, I couldn't put a guard on Doc's office, but I did get a photocopy of his report log." "Good," said Scully in a much relieved voice. "We'll go over it when we're through here." She turned to Meriwether. "Are you Dr. Benton's physician?" "Yes, I am. And I really--" "Then you can tell us what justifies putting him on narcoleptics, without even an observation period." Now the twin blue lasers had a target. Meriwether sputtered, "Really, I must--" "What in Dr. Benton's behavior caused you to put him on chlorpromazine, with all its risks and side effects, without checking him in for observation?" "Young lady, a qualified psychiatrist assessed Dr Benton's aggressive behavior and incipient paranoia, and recommended treatment." Scully did not take her glacial gaze from Meriwether. "Det. Hollis, how aggressive and paranoid was Dr. Benton's behavior just prior to his commitment?" Meriwether nearly went apopleptic. " A layman--!" She cut him off. "A police detective, whose job requires sharp observation, and puts him in contact with behavior ranging from drunk and disorderly to homicidal. And who is a long-time associate of Dr. Benton. You were saying, Detective?" "Not aggressive. Irritated: he had plenty to be irritated about. Assertive, like always. Not aggressive. Paranoid? If you're an M.E., they *are* out to get you. You're a big gun, and the case is homicide, or you wouldn't be there. Opposing counsel has to make you look bad to the jury, any way he can. Throw in some pejorative or derogatory reference, the judge censures him and instructs the jury to ignore it, but they can't *un*hear it. And you get no chance to correct or rebut. The only thing Doc could do was what he did: demanded an apology to both himself and Nurse Littleton, and formal withdrawal." Still pinning Meriwether with her eyes, Scully said, "You still haven't told us why *you* did not observe Dr. Benton and make your own assessment before allowing him to be drugged." "What--what are you implying?" "I want Dr. Benton back in shape to answer questions, and if you do not order the drug stopped, I will put the proper legal machinery in motion. But for Dr. Benton's sake, I prefer the faster route." She let him absorb that for a moment. "It is quite understandable that you were rattled at first, but sober reflection should convince you that to form a proper second opinion, you need to observe your patient's undisrupted behavior." Meriwether took the out. "Yes. Er, yes. Yes, I . . . " He turned to the on-duty nurse and gave instructions. When the new regimen was in writing, Scully held out a hand for the chart. She gave it a once-over, handed it back to the nurse, and turned to Hollis. "Where is room ten-thirteen?" "Come on." The older man led them at a quick trot through the ward. Psych Ward, room 1013 General Hospital Baltimore, Maryland Dr. Benton was medium-tall and stocky, as bald as Skinner with his remaining hair dark. Once he might have been a distinguished patriarch; now he was a lump on a chair. He did not look up at their approach. Scully knelt down to put her face in his line of vision. "Dr. Benton, it's Dana. Dana Scully." She spoke as she would to a child, or a very sick adult. No response. She stood again, her eyes seeking Hollis. Mulder suddenly felt excluded. To him, Benton was an abstract victim. They remembered the man as a strong and forceful leader. "Will he recover?" said Hollis. "It's been less than a week. There shouldn't be any permanent physical damage. Not likely to be withdrawal symptoms, either." "How soon will it clear out of his system?" "It takes a while. Still, we were lucky on the timing. He was almost due for the next dose." She turned to her partner. "Mulder, I need you to stay with him. Don't let them drug him again. If he seems ill, call a nurse, but don't leave her alone with him." He nodded, and she turned back to Benton, gently coaxing his head around until Mulder, now in a crouch beside the chair, was in his line of sight. "Dr. Benton, this is my partner, Agent Mulder. He's a psychologist, and he's going to stay with you until we get back." Still no response. She turned back to Hollis. "Let's check those reports." 10:00 a.m. Mulder sat back and looked at what was left of Dr. Benton. Not much in the way of company, but he was just as happy to be left out of the paperwork detail. Someone else's paperwork was even less company than a zombie. For a few minutes, he let his memory play back what he knew about Thorazine. Chemical name chlorpromazine; Scully had used that instead of the trade name in her move to dominate Meriwether. Works by suppressing dopamine neurotransmission. Known as "the chemical lobotomy" from the way it suppresses frontal-lobe function and from its arrival on the psychomedical scene just as psychosurgery was losing its legitimacy. Tardive dyskinesia, uncontrollable shaking; tardive akathesia, inability to sit still; tardive dystonia, muscle spasms. Tardive psychosis. Flu-like withdrawal symptoms. A couple or three activist groups urged that it be banned entirely. Mulder wasn't entirely sure himself. Where was Scully on that one? Hard to say, but she was dead right to regard it as highly dangerous, not to be casually passed out. Whenever Benton seemed to be focusing, he re-introduced himself, but the moment always passed with a return to unfocused vagueness. He'd lost count of how many times he'd said, "I'm Agent Mulder, Dana Scully's partner," when Benton finally responded. "Dana," he mumbled as though to himself. "No intern pranks. Decent respect for the cadavers." He still seemed aware, so Mulder responded. "Yes. We had a desecration case, years ago; surprised me that a forensic pathologist would get freaked over carved-up corpses, but . . . a perversion, a mockery of her work . . ." "Autopsy is not desecration. No," and he garbled something that Mulder finally recognised as a Latin phrase he'd heard Scully quote: Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae. *Here the dead delight to aid the living.* He started to answer, but Benton had drifted away again. Still, a meaningful exchange, however short, must be a hopeful sign. 10:45 a.m. Eventually, Benton focused again. Mulder introduced himself again, and again Benton repeated, "Dana." He said no more, but as he still seemed to be connected, Mulder spoke again: "She and Rob Hollis are looking at the report log." "Rob? Never mentioned knowing Dana." "They just met today. Dr. Edwards called them both." "Hm, Teddy's puzzle." He nodded, rather owlishly. "Two of them, now." "Two of what?" But Benton had faded out. Mulder got out his phone. "Scully," came the answer. "He's talking. Twice, now. Just a few sentences, but making sense." A long sigh. "Thank God." After a moment: "What about?" "First was intern pranks and respect for the cadavers. Just now, he said, 'Teddy's puzzle' and then 'Two of them, now'. I'd just mentioned Dr. Edwards, who I presume is 'Teddy.'" "Two of what?" she said, more to herself than him. Then, "Thanks, Mulder. We'll get on that." And she signed off. Medical Examiner's Office Baltimore MD 11:10 a.m. Scully looked up from her inventory at the entrance of a woman half a dozen years her junior. This woman glared at her, then looked reproachfully at Det. Hollis, who had also looked up at her entrance. "Who's this?" she asked him. Scully answered, "I'm Dana Scully," and showed her ID. Hollis added, "She got the Doc off Thorazine. She's OK." The young woman looked doubtful, but said, "I'm Coreen Littleton," in a reasonably civil tone. "I'm a forensic nurse, an investigator." "You work with Dr. Benton?" "Yes." "Can you tell me about what's been happening?" Doubt still stamped on her face and voice, Littleton said, "Two or three months ago, a man died in prison. His family insisted on an autopsy. I don't know if Dr. Benton did the autopsy himself, but he noticed that the tox showed no drugs where it should have shown some that were prescribed. He had a second tox done, specifically for the man's medication, and there was none in his system. That was the cause of death; loss of the medication that controlled his heart condition. "Dr. Benton sent 'round a memo, sort of reminder, that we need to know things like prescriptions to know what belongs in the deceased's blood, with a note to us investigators about bringing in all the evidence. A couple of weeks later, there was another case in Howard County: convict, no trace of the medications that he should have been taking. "Suddenly there was a whole bunch of administrative harassment: slow deliveries, demands for more forms or different forms, no one fielding the crackpot complaints, the whole nine yards. And then not quite a month ago was the cross-dresser. "Not all men who wear women's clothes are even trying to pass as women, but this one was reported as a female at first. When I got there, the uniform at the scene was packing up. Cross- dresser, therefore gay, his boyfriend killed him, case closed." Scully raised an eyebrow. "This still goes on? Openly?" Littleton shook her head. "There's still homophobia on the force, but now that it's specifically illegal, and the gays have some clout, it's not usually this blatant. This guy was just a lazy bum, wanted me to take the body off his hands and not make him work the scene. I had to nag him into calling the forensics team. He still didn't have the scene controlled when the plainclothesmen showed up and gave him orders he couldn't argue with. The detectives and the forensics team got the physical evidence collected, but if there were any witnesses at the scene, they wandered off before I arrived." She thought a moment, then admitted, "Physical evidence is more reliable, but witnesses might have supplied leads." She sighed and shrugged, and went on, "Uniform complained about my 'attitude,' and the committee was ready to serve me up for dinner when Dr. Benton insisted on questioning the detectives. They don't like the uniform, but he's a brother cop." She gave a feral grin. "Dr. Benton was paying attention all the times he's been cross-examined, and he dragged it out of them that they got only as much help from the uniform as they nagged him for, and that they expected no better from him. "The committee couldn't ignore that, but they started in on were Dr. Benton and I having an affair. No other reason for a man to stick up for his subordinate, right? Dr. Benton demanded an apology to both of us, and made them put in the record that none of them could cite any evidence that either of us were having affairs with any of our colleagues, and specifically that there was nothing to suggest that he was having an affair with me or any subordinate, nor that I was having an affair with him or any supervisor. I didn't think they could go any lower, but last Monday that quack head-shrinker locked him in the Psych Ward. Paranoia -- meaning he could tell a rat pack when he saw one." "Just like that? No hearing, no . . ." "It happens," said Hollis. "Usually in big cities. An emergency commitment is supposed to be followed by a hearing, but you have to fight for it. And the 'patient' is drugged and unable to do anything but sit there; the family also has to fight to get the drugging stopped in time for the hearing. And unless you have head-shrinkers of your own to differ, there's a good chance the judge will just rubber-stamp the shrink that committed the 'patient' in the first place. It's mostly done for insurance scams, but other things, too." Scully nodded, unhappily. "I have seen it . . . if someone has something that someone else wants badly . . . or knows something that someone else is badly afraid of . . ." She trailed off and thought for a moment. "I've never worked civil rights cases," she said at last, "so I can't give you any practical advice. In fact, I don't think the Bureau has jurisdiction, so far as we've uncovered to date. It's a private practitioner, not a case of police misconduct; it's not interstate; and it certainly *ought* to be within the resources of the State of Maryland. Still, you could do worse than consult the Field Office here in Baltimore, if only to learn what state and local agencies the squads co-ordinate with." She caught Littleton's eye. "And you may have standing to sue for malpractice and deprivation of civil rights. If his support of you was the cause or excuse of his commitment, you are certainly a party concerned." Hollis said, "Some of the guys tracked down the shrink who actually signed the commitment: a Dr. Adamson, works out of St. Joseph's. That's why we're sure it's not an insurance scam; if it were, Doc would be in St. Joe's, not Baltimore General. And I honestly think Meriwether is an innocent dupe; he's an internist, not a psychiatrist or psychologist, and a complete wimp. Anybody with an M.D. and a different specialty could bullshit him. Adamson's our man." "Hm." Scully digested this for a moment, then asked Littleton, "Do you know what 'Teddy's puzzle' is?" "I don't know what it is, but Dr. Benton first mentioned it about a week and a half ago. There was another one, Dr. Benton mentioned it the morning before they came for him." Scully thought a moment more, then: "Do either of you know any home nurses in Annapolis?" Hollis said, "Huh?" and Littleton said, "What?" almost in unison. Hollis went on, "I know a couple of people on the Annapolis force, they might know someone, but why?" "I'm going to talk to Dr. Edwards in Annapolis, and I'm not going to leave Dr. Benton behind." Scully tapped the papers she'd been matching. "There's nothing out of the ordinary here except those two missing reports from Annapolis; one was logged in a week and a half ago and one the morning of the day Dr. Benton was committed. I deduce from this that they are involved in 'Teddy's puzzle' and we better talk to 'Teddy'." "I'm an RN," said Littleton. Scully shook her head. "I'm sorry, but this is no more your specialty than mine. A field agent picks up experience with gunshot wounds, not withdrawal symptoms." "Besides," said Hollis, "if you're the only one who can reasonably claim standing to sue, you're the one to stay here and go after Adamson." He wrote on a three-by-five and handed it to Littleton. "Talk to them first; they've got the information. And if you don't know a lawyer, they do." While he was writing, Scully dug out her cell phone and dialed. "Mom? Yes, I'm working on it now. I wonder if you and Father McHugh can turn up a home nurse willing to work out of her own home." After a pause, she said, "No, Mom, that's not a good idea." Another pause, while Scully cringed slightly, then straightened to attention. "No, it's nothing like that, Mom. I just don't think it's a good idea for him to be in Annapolis itself, and I don't want him in a hotel." During the next pause, Hollis grinned and mouthed "Liar" at her. She glowered back, then said to the phone, "Wait a moment." Setting her phone hand down in her lap, she told Hollis, "Mom's sure she can find a home nurse, not so sure on the rest of it. Can you guard Dr. Benton and the nurse at night? It may be the key persuader, though there's no guarantee we won't have to settle for a hotel after all." "Sure. I don't like the idea of leaving Doc in the funny ward, either." "Good." She put her phone back to her mouth. "Yes, Det. Hollis will come with us. He's worked with Dr. Benton before now." Psych Ward, room 1013 General Hospital Baltimore, Maryland 11:25 a.m. Benton declaimed owlishly, "Hamlet had the right stick by the wrong end. 'There are more things on heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in all your philosophies.' There's more things in the natural world, and more wonderful things, than in any collection of ghost stories. And Hamlet didn't take the ghost's word; he looked for evidence. Wouldn't stand up in court today, but it was independent corroboration." He stumbled over the last two words and subsided again. It was the longest statement he'd made yet. Mulder was debating whether to try to keep the older man talking when his cell phone chirped. "Mulder, it's me. See if you can get Dr. Benton dressed. We're coming to pick you both up and then to Annapolis. I'll brief you on the way." "Who's 'we'?" "Det. Hollis and I. He's got some fix in at the station, I'm sure we don't want to know about it." It was slow. Dr. Benton was not so much cooperative as docile, but he did end up dressed, and started putting things in his pockets. They'd have to sign out his wallet and anything else the staff had thought valuable enough to lock up. He picked up a small leather box and held it out. Mulder unsnapped it and found two dice, one red and one green. He resnapped and returned it with a questioning look. "Rob gave me that," said Benton. "Years ago, he had this kid partner who had hunches. Good ones, mostly, but they still have to be proved. I kept telling him, 'The dice don't remember'." "Unless they're loaded," said Mulder. 11:40 Scully and Hollis charged into the room, followed by a man he'd never seen before. Presumably a doctor. The man said, "Where do you think you're going?" "Out of here," said Scully. Hollis took up a position to the other side of Benton, clearly giving the Feds gangway. "Rob," said Dr. Benton. "OK, Doc," said the detective. "Hang on." "All of you get out," said the presumably-doctor, "and leave my patient alone." "He's coming with us." Scully's voice was a flat whip-crack of command. "The patient is a potential danger--" "You've shot that bolt, or Meriwether shot it for you. Det. Hollis is an experienced observer of everything from drunks to homicidal maniacs. Nurse Littleton observed Dr. Benton defending a subordinate from a self-serving charge by a negligent officer, and being accused of gross misconduct with that subordinate. If he didn't kill anyone then, he's not going to now." "A qualified psychiatrist disagrees with you." "A quack for hire!" said Hollis. "There wasn't *time* for him to have observed what he claimed. He never saw Doc Benton before Monday afternoon, and Meriwether brought him here tranked to the gills Monday night." "I'm a psychologist," Mulder put in, dragging the opposition's attention in still another direction, "and I've been observing him since this morning. I've seen the confusion and dystonia of the drug, slowly wearing off, and the equally slow re-emergence of what must have been a self-assertive personality. What I have *not* seen is any effort at psychotherapy, or even exercise." Presumably-doctor started to bluster, "With an armed man standing over him?" Mulder snorted laughter. "Nurses timid about patient care? All the on-duty nurses I've ever met tried to throw me out, armed or not. Including the one today who took his vitals and bathed him. I fast-talked her, it works better than threats. She went on with her job and ignored me. No one else even looked in." "Warehousing," said Hollis in disgust. "Just what are your instructions for your . . . subject," asked Scully. "Certainly not patient, since you're not treating him. When were you going to treat him? After he started twitching? After the tic became permanent? As soon as he was too far gone to hold a scalpel, and would never impress a jury again?" "What are you, some kind of activists?" Hollis took that as his cue. "What kind of activists have you been dealing with?" he asked, showing his badge. Local activists were of course Baltimore PD's jurisdiction. Scully put a restraining hand on his shoulder and said quietly, but not too quietly for Dr. Presumably to overhear, "Wait one." She then turned to Dr. Presumably: "The only reason so far to suspect you of guilty knowledge is that you made no inquiry as to why an internist should be admitting a psychiatric patient, which you will agree is decidedly odd. That inquiry is now being made, and there are going to be civil actions, if nothing else. If you can demonstrate that you acted in good faith, you should be out of it." The quick round of good-cop/bad-cop worked. Scully took custody, and pausing only to sign out Benton's wallet and other valuables, they got out the door at last and into the parking lot. "Where are we going?" said Mulder. "Annapolis." He smirked, "Don't tell me you're playing a *hunch*, Scully?" Benton tapped him on the shoulder. "Kekule dreamed the benzene structure," he said. He tapped Mulder again. "*Then* he tested it." Hollis sighed, perhaps in relief that Benton was talking sense. "Hunch, dream, flip a coin. Doesn't matter how you get started, as long as you test it." He opened the door to his car. "In you get, Doc." Mulder asked the world at large: "Kekule?" "Later, Mulder," said Scully. "Get in." To Hollis: "Is there any place to pick up something to eat on the way?" "Follow me." [change of act] BuCar I-97 South 12:15 p.m. "So what's Kekule?" "Fredrich August Kekule -- with an accent on the last 'E'. Nineteenth century chemist, studying the carbon compounds. Twice, he thought about them so hard that he had dreams about them; when he woke up, he wrote down the dreams and checked them out. That's how he worked out the structure of the benzene ring." She frowned in concentration. "Dr. Benton used to quote him. I don't have your memory, but it went something like: 'Let us learn to dream, gentlemen, ...but let us beware of publishing our dreams before they have been put to the proof by the waking understanding.'" "So Kekule wouldn't say, 'You're nuts,' would he?" "He'd say 'Where's the evidence?'" "Not quite the same thing." She was silent a while, thinking of that high school case, and wheedling Mulder into interviewing the boy's friends instead of chasing off after a nonexistent poltergeist. This time, the most likely lead turned out to be the right one, but how would he put that on his scoreboard? She was right about the lead, but he counted that cave as paranormal -- teenagers as their own poltergeists -- and now that it was sealed up, there was no way to get the evidence to test his notion. How would he score that? For that matter, how did he score the mushroom case? They were both wrong on that one. Her mind kept coming back to coaxing Mulder, 'Just for me.' He'd recognised her irony, of course, but he'd also recognised her serious effort to get him to look at horses before chasing zebras, and without any more 'I'm always right, you're always wrong.' Cajoling worked, but feminine wiles had no place in a law enforcement partnership. At last she said, "Tell you what, Mulder. I'll try to remember not to say you're nuts, and you try to remember not to make investigation into a competitive sport." "Hey, why not?" "First, your statistics are way off. And second, it doesn't matter how often you've been right, it's still my job to test your hunches against the evidence." "To be my 'waking understanding'?" "It's more than keeping you honest; it's part of guarding your back." A much longer silence. He just wasn't about to negotiate on that one. With a sigh, she dropped that topic -- again -- and took up another one. "I've suggested to Det. Hollis and Nurse Littleton that they talk to someone at the Baltimore Field Office. They maintain there was no hearing on Dr. Benton's condition, and still no preparation for one." "They haven't pushed for it?" "Their first priority is getting Dr. Benton off Thorazine. Understandably. Some of Det. Hollis's colleagues are checking out the psychiatrist, and finding a lawyer who specialises in civil law. They're going to insist on having a jury at the hearing, whenever it does come around; it seems that a jury is less likely than a judge to rubber-stamp a psychiatrist's decision." "We haven't been all that successful in rescuing the disappeared. The military made off with Brad Wilczek, and he hasn't been heard of since. NSA was afraid of Kevin Morris." Mulder's voice had a bite in it. "An eight-year-old boy! And it wasn't us who got him and his family loose." " -- And C.D.C. rolled over and played dead for Fowley's masters." Scully's voice had some bite, too. "But those are agencies. This is a psychiatrist in private practice." "Unless it's a private feud, which by your account is unlikely, he's acting as someone's stalking horse." "If so, the someone wants to stay behind the scenes. This Adamson won't be able to wave official ID and invoke 'top secret, national security' to the jury." St. Mary's Church Duke of Gloucester Street Annapolis MD 1:00 p.m. Cell phones are really nice things. Instead of making three people old enough to be either agent's parents wait and watch for them, they could appoint one of the party (Mulder) to call as soon as their guide (Scully) judged them close enough. Thus, the two-car convoy pulled up in front of the church just as Mrs. Scully left the building to greet them, followed by Father McHugh and a vigorous woman older than either. Scully was out of the car with a cry of "Mom!" She hugged her mother, then turned to McHugh while Mrs. Scully hugged Mulder just as warmly. Father McHugh greeted Scully and introduced the older woman as Nurse Adele Thompson. "She's retired, but still certified, and does volunteer nursing in the parish." Scully turned to introduce the rest of her party in turn, but Hollis had only just gotten Benton out of the second car. She turned back to the nurse. "Dr. Benton has been on a high dose of Thorazine for nearly a week; his last dose was early this morning. So far, he seems to be recovering well." "Why Thorazine and not one of the atypical agents?" "Either someone is very old-fashioned, or he didn't care what kind of damage he did." "You suspect malice?" By this time, Hollis and Benton had joined them. Scully introduced everyone all 'round, then returned to the topic. "The timing has made us all suspicious, which is why I asked for someone who could put up Dr. Benton in her own home, and Det. Hollis as well. There's no scrap of evidence indicating physical violence, but I think we would all feel better if Det. Hollis was with you at night." Nurse Thompson nodded and turned to Hollis. "Why don't you follow me so you know the way, then rejoin Dana and Fox?" Scully said, "Better still, we'll tag along so we all know the way." While Nurse Thompson went for her car, Mrs. Scully said to Dana. "Charlie's in town. Right now he's lobbying for long leave to visit Laura and the boys. He'll be to dinner." Thompson residence Weems Creek MD Nurse Thompson's house was small and snug, but Scully estimated that a retiree probably needed help to keep it up. And unless she had frequent guests, she would hardly be prepared for an invasion of investigators descending on her. Best to keep the visit short, just get the patient settled. The inside was snug and tidy to match. On the way to the stairs, Nurse Thompson gestured at the couch. "That unfolds into a fairly comfortable bed." "I don't want to get too comfortable," said Hollis, "if I'm the first line of defense." The second floor had two bedrooms and two bathrooms, or rather, a bathroom and a shower, plus closets. Settling Benton was a simple job; he still hadn't quite shaken off the drug. Scully squatted into his field of vision again, and said, "Be a good patient, doctor." Benton snorted laughter at the old joke. "I'm sorry I waited for a crisis to come visit. I'll remember after this that we're within commuting distance." Nurse Thompson finished laying things out and turned to the investigators, saying, "Now, let's get you all some tea and a bite to eat . . ." "Thank you for the offer," said Scully, shaking her head, "but we're due at the M.E.'s office. Maybe overdue, but we don't want to roust you out to ask for directions. Det. Hollis will be back tonight." She delayed further to take Adele's hand in hers. "And thank you for taking this on. It's beyond the call of duty." Adele patted their joined hands with her free one. "'If a man requires that you go with him one mile, go two miles.' God keep you all, Dana." Office of the Deputy Medical Examiner Annapolis MD midafternoon The generally subdued demeanor within the building indicated something seriously amiss. When Scully asked for Dr. Edwards's office, a silent head nod was her only answer. Following that mute instruction took them to an office inhabited by a man who was more than subdued; he looked like he had the mother of all headaches. Otherwise, he seemed a very ordinary, reasonably prosperous professional. (Mulder firmly told his imagination to put away the "smarmy yuppie" jacket.) As they approached, the man scrabbled in a desk drawer. Scully paused with her hand raised to knock on the open door as he took out a pill bottle, shook something into his hand and downed it with the aid of something from a mug. Then she knocked. "Dr. Edwards? I'm Dana Scully; this is my partner, Fox Mulder; and have you met Rob Hollis?" "Not yet," said Dr. Edwards, shaking hands all round. "How is Dr. Benton?" "We brought him with us. Nurse Thompson is looking after him." Edwards gave an approving nod. "Did you get my message?" he asked Hollis. "Today? No. Either waiting for me or chasing me around." Mulder took up the thread. "Dr. Benton mentioned 'Teddy's puzzle' and 'two of them'. We assume you're the 'Teddy' in question, and that the puzzle is two of your cases. Are your message and your headache also involved?" "You saw the reports I sent Dr. Benton?" "We saw their log entries," said Scully. "The reports are not in Dr. Benton's office." "Why am I not surprised?" Dr. Edwards shook his head, then visibly thought better of it. "I stayed after hours last night, puzzling over those two files again. I heard someone come in, looked up, and there were two men in the doorway. I stood up, there was a jab in my chest, and I woke up on the floor this morning sick as a dog, with the paramedics all over me. At the ER, I told the medical end of the story to the triage nurse and then the ER doctor. Turned out that 'sick as a dog' was appropriate; I'd been shot with a standard animal control dart. "They gave me something for the nausea and something for the headache, and told me to take it easy." He grimaced. "Naturally, the police were waiting to take my statement, and to tell me they found no files on my desk, the hard disk is fried, and two cadavers are missing from the morgue. Naturally they wanted a description of the men. All I could tell them is that they were fairly tall, medium build, I'm pretty sure Caucasian, and wore dark clothes. "Then I checked with my head denier. Sure enough, the missing cadavers are the puzzling ones." "Did they get the save jars, too?" asked Scully. "Slides, save jars, everything. Either they know their way around a morgue, or they were well briefed." The three investigators digested this for a bit. Then Hollis said slowly, "So we have two cases running into each other." "And no idea where one leaves off and the other begins," said Scully. "Let's check the timeline," said Mulder. "When did that first missing report get logged in?" "A week ago yesterday," said Scully, "the 19th." "Yes," said Edwards, "I put it in the box the 18th, and it generally gets there overnight. Well, the next working day." "So the Case of Teddy's Puzzle began the 18th, with the arrival of the first cadaver. Did anything happen on the 19th here in Annapolis?" "No," said Edwards. "Dr. Benton called me the 20th, just as puzzled as I was. I arranged to be called in if anything else turned up, no matter the day, and on Saturday, that's the 21st, the second cadaver turned up. I wrote a report and put it in the box, but of course Dr. Benton didn't get it until Monday, the 23d." Now Hollis spoke up: "Monday afternoon, closer to evening, Nurse Littleton called me. She said Doc Benton was called away and the next thing anyone knew, he was locked in the Psych Ward, tranked to the gills. She was trying to get support, and not finding a lot. I left word in a couple of ears and headed over to Doc's office. Littleton was the only one who outright called it a frame; the rest of the rank-and-file said it was bullshit and somebody ought to do something." "And they weren't somebody?" Scully asked. "They were talking to me." "And the upper echelon?" "'No comment.'" Hollis pulled a sour face, then went on, "Meanwhile, as I mentioned earlier, some of the guys tracked down the commitment itself. Meriwether admitted him into Baltimore General, he's got privileges there, but of course didn't do the diagnosing or dosing. He's an internist. The shrink was a Dr. Adamson, who works out of St. Joseph's. Lots of political connections, both city and state." He paused, raising his eyebrows at Scully. She raised hers back. "Baltimore offices of state agencies, or offices in the state capitol?" "Both. He definitely has connections in Annapolis." "But the M.O.s are so different . . ." Scully murmured, more to herself than the rest. "Let's finish the timeline," said Mulder. "*Did* the second puzzle report arrive on the 23d?" "Yes," said Hollis, "it was logged in that morning, the morning of the day he was committed, and Nurse Littleton remembers Dr. Benton mentioning it ." "Dr. Benton should have called me Monday or Tuesday," said Edwards. "By Wednesday I was getting worried and tried to call him. I got Nurse Littleton, who told me what happened, and that she and Det. Hollis were doing what they could. She put me in touch with Det. Hollis." He smiled ruefully. "I assumed it was all connected to my case, just as Nurse Littleton assumed it was an escalation from hers. I asked Det. Hollis to safeguard the files, but since nothing demonstrably illegal had yet come to light, there wasn't a lot he could do." "Nothing but photocopy the last month's activity in the report log. I didn't have any pretext to search the office for the reports. Pity I didn't do it anyway." "Meanwhile," Edwards continued, "I remembered that Maggie Scully has a daughter who ended up in the FBI instead of the Medical Examiner's Office. It took a while to get hold of her -- I go to the Mission Church, since it opened last year -- but I told her the story yesterday." Scully picked up. "Mom remembers me talking about Dr. Benton. She got to me with the story yesterday evening; today I took personal time, and -- here we are." "Expediting like mad," said Hollis. "For three days, Nurse Littleton and I got nowhere in springing the Doc, then you swoop in like a flight of valkyries and carry him off." "Mm," said Scully. "Well, you're not in medicine, and Nurse Littleton is, well, a nurse." Mulder broke in: "Unlike Special Agent Dana K. Scully, M.D., who is a doctor *and* a cop. Wrong specialty to spring patients, but nobody thinks of that when the one-woman SWAT team descends on them." "You exaggerate," Scully protested. "Huh-uh." Mulder shook his head. "This time it was more the Hostage Rescue Team." "And you were part of it." Hollis exchanged a grin with Edwards, then cleared his throat. "You mentioned the M.O.?" "There's a general similarity," said Scully, "in that the M.E. is taken out with a drug and the paperwork stolen. But also some striking differences: the Baltimore delivery system was a diagnosis instead of a dart, and the reports vanished so smoothly that we don't even know what day it happened. No fried hard disk, either, and the drugging and theft were two separate maneuvers." "Some of that is from the circumstances." "True enough, there's no way to steal a pair of cadavers without everyone knowing they're gone. And the Baltimore effort was long-distance delegation . . . ." She shook her head. "Tell us about the cadavers," she said. "They were both found in roughly the same stretch of water, the Cove of Cork, near its confluence with the Severn River." He pulled down a county map and indicated an area. "First question, of course, did they drown? No, they didn't. No sign of respiratory distress except a strange mottling of the lungs. I opened them up from trachea to alveoli, and found what looked like an infected surgical site low in the trachea, just above where the bronchi branch off. No sign of whatever infected it, just a bunch of very sick macrophages." "Allergic reaction," mused Scully. "Immune system overkill." "That would fit, all right," said Edwards. "I sent alveoli samples from each lung, enough to show the mottling, to the lab and asked for a complete biochemical work-up. All I found with the microscope was more very sick macrophages." "The lab!" Hollis said. "Do they still have the samples? File copies of their reports?" "They're checking," said Edwards. "I'm not holding my breath." "How *did* they die?" asked Mulder. "Fever. With some help from starvation and exposure, but basically, their brains cooked." "Yes," said Scully, "the second cadaver. The same peculiarities?" "Exactly. No sign of respiratory distress, mottled lung color, infected site at the bronchial branch, very sick macrophages both at the tracheal site and in the alveoli. Death from high- grade fever, starvation and exposure." He gave a wry grin. "I think the lab set a record on getting me the second set of lab reports." "Also the same?" asked Scully. Edwards nodded. "The mottling is due to different levels of alveolar activity in various groups of alveolar sacs. The range is from normal *up*ward." "So their lungs were working overtime?" asked Mulder. "Yes -- with no other sign of stress but that brighter pink mottling." "And this is Annapolis," Mulder said gently, his eyes on Scully. She bit her lips and stared back at him. The other men reined in their impatience with obvious difficulty. "Sheer speculation," said Scully at last. "No real evidence at all." "Evidence is what we're looking for," said Hollis and Edwards practically in unison, with quotation marks in both voices. Scully grinned sheepishly. "Maybe it's not two separate cases, or maybe they're related. Somebody did something that they don't want coming to light. The obvious is illegal human experimentation." "Or top-secret military experimentation," said Mulder. "Is there by any chance a Naval experimental facility on the Cove of Cork?" "I've no idea." "Did you have any luck identifying the dead men?" asked Scully. "Clothing, tattoos?" "No clothing on either of them. A couple of typical sailors' tattoos. Yes, they could very well be Navy men." "Who could very well have volunteered for an experiment in increasing lung capability. And if their immune systems rejected the . . . experiment . . . they might well have wandered down to the river in their fevered state, waded in to cool off, and just stayed there." "So why not claim the bodies openly?" asked Edwards. "Top secret," said Mulder. "And the volunteers might not have known or understood the danger," said Scully. "Even if they gave consent, was it *informed* consent? Not a consideration that often comes up with . . . enlisted personnel." "Except they're in Doc Benton's yard," said Hollis. "If the brass in charge didn't hear about the memos, they heard about the stink. And someone who cares about deaths in custody, the death of a cross-dresser, and the reputation of his subordinates, is likely to care about a pair of seamen fished out of the Severn." "So they took him out first," said Edwards, "and vanished the reports to make assurance doubly sure, and only then made off with the cadavers and files here." "Speculation," said Scully again. "We need evidence." Thompson residence Weems Creek MD early evening Hollis found parking directly in front of the house, glanced up, down and across the street, and headed up the walk. Nurse Thompson let him in. "Good evening, Det. Hollis." "Evening, Ma'am. Things going well?" "Very well. Dr. Benton is slowly improving. No excitement." "Good to hear." He dug out his cell phone and dialed. "Better call in." "Scully," came the voice over the phone. "Rob Hollis. I'm back at Nurse Thompson's." He handed her the phone. "Dr. Scully?" she said. "This is Nurse Thompson. Dr. Benton is coming out of it, though slowly. His withdrawal symptoms are more cold-like than flu-like. He can follow a conversation, if it's not too long or too fast." She listened a moment. "Not yet . . . Yes, certainly . . . Yes . . . Good night, Doctor." She passed the phone back to Hollis. "Hollis." Scully's voice came. "When you bring Nurse Thompson up to date, see if Dr. Benton understands as well." "Will do." They exchanged good-nights and Hollis put the phone away, following Nurse Thompson to the living room, where Dr. Benton coped quite handily with a mug of coffee. Hollis said, "Looking after you, is she?" Benton actually smiled and raised his mug to his hostess. "Despite myself." Nurse Thompson smiled back and continued into the kitchen, calling back, "I'm going to heat up -- what do they call it now? Nuking? Why don't you set the table? The china is in the breakfront cabinet, and the flatware chest on the table next to it." Benton was able to help, though Hollis was careful to take over the breakables himself. He also recognised saying grace and held reverent silence through it. While Thompson served the salad, Hollis said, "We saw Teddy this afternoon," to Benton and then to Thompson, "Do you know Dr. Edwards?" "I haven't seen him since the Mission Church opened," she said. "He goes there now. A nice young man." "Well, he -- I'm sorry, that's hardly dinnertable conversation." Thompson gave him a reassuring chuckle. "Talking shop is hardly going to bother any of us, Detective. Though in deference to supper, you might go easy on the graphic details." Hollis grinned back. "That shouldn't be too difficult. "Well, Teddy's puzzle turns out to be two deaths by fever, each found in the same stretch of water, the Cove of Cork near the Severn." He asked Thompson. "That's near here, isn't it?" "Oh, yes, just a few miles down the road." "Well, both of them had what looked like infected surgical sites in the trachea, just above the bronchal . . . bronchial? . . . anyway, the branch. And both had Very Sick Macrophages, whatever that means." "Well, it definitely means the immune system was activated," said Thompson. Benton gave a snort of laughter. "Definitely." The other two smiled at him, and for a moment looked intently at each other. Hollis continued, "I get the idea that Agent Scully would like to poke around a bit themselves, but the bodies have vanished, along with everything in the morgue or Teddy's office relating to them." Benton straightened and gave Hollis his full attention, looking more like a forceful leader than he had since his commitment. "Tomorrow we check with the toxicology lab about their samples and reports, but nobody's holding his breath. And, I suppose, we'll be checking the . . . well, I don't suppose it's a disposal site, but . . ." "Deposition site," suggested Thompson. "Deposition site, OK. I guess we'll be checking it and nosing around upstream, or upcurrent, or whatever watermen call it." He drew a long breath, then turned a solemn face to Nurse Thompson. "In any case, someone is concerned enough with the case to have put Teddy out with an animal control dart in order to make his records disappear. And that means that the chance of the action spreading here is more than we realised when Agent Scully briefed you." Nurse Thompson chuckled and patted Hollis's arm reassuringly. "My late husband taught me to shoot, and to look after a gun. I still have his Smith and Wesson. We'll hold inspection after supper." And she fetched the next course. meanwhile, at the Scully Residence Annapolis MD A man answered the door. "Charlie!" said Scully. After a brief hug, brother and sister stood back to take in the sight of each other. Mulder grinned and waited to be noticed, thinking that Charles Scully looked much as he had when the men first met, how many months ago? Scully had introduced him as 'My partner, Fox Mulder, who doesn't believe you exist.' The men turned their handshake into a deadpan poke-and-prod, finally declaring each other real. Then Scully and Mulder got into an equally deadpan debate on the value of photographic evidence, until Charlie burst out laughing and punched them both on the shoulder. Mulder had been a bit ambivalent on learning that the youngest Scully was in Naval Intelligence; but acceptance breeds acceptance in return, and here at last was a Scully brother who at least provisionally accepted both Scully's partner and her career. "Mulder," said Charlie, offering a hand and sizing up the agent as thoroughly as he had the first time they met. This was partly professional -- he was an intelligence officer, after all -- but also a saner version of Bill Junior's animosity: You are not of course worthy of my sister, but if you can make her happy, you're entitled to try. Make her unhappy, and you're dead. Mrs. Scully came out of the kitchen, drying her hands, for her second hugs of the day. When Dana's cell phone chirped, she excused herself long enough to take Det. Hollis's report, returned to report in turn that Dr. Benton was recovering well. Dinner was just the four of them, family-casual, everyone helping set the table. Charlie took advantage of a moment out of the others' hearing to ask his sister, "The Consortium again?" "We don't know yet," said Scully. Then, raising her voice as Mrs. Scully came nearer, "Not a dinnertable topic -- except Nurse Thompson. Adele. Is she new to the parish?" "No, just very busy," said Mrs. Scully. "We were lucky she was free." Conversation turned to Laura and the boys, then Bill and Tara and Matthew. After the dishes were cleared, the Scully children threatened to tie their mother to the couch if she didn't rest while they washed up. Dana detailed her partner to watch the prisoner before following her brother to the kitchen. Charlie was at the sink with his sleeves rolled up, so she snagged a towel. She was not in the least surprised when he asked, "Why don't you think it's the Consortium?" "You know me so well. No, I don't think it's them, but I have no positive evidence either way. They're not the only ones who clean up the evidence, and the M.O. is unlike them." # As her children vanished into the kitchen, Mrs. Scully chortled a bit ruefully and settled to talk to Mulder. "Dana mentioned you got some new fish." "Yeah, ordinary carp, nice and hardy. And an alarm program on my computer to nag me to feed them and clean the tank." "Do you name them?" "One has a black stripe down her spine; Frohike calls her 'Peroxide,' which is about the humor you'd expect from Frohike." # Dana inspected the plate she'd just dried. "He wants me to leave the Bureau," she said, putting it away. "I think he wants me to leave forensic pathology entirely." She watched Charlie inspect the next plate in his turn, rubbing at a stubborn spot. "I'd be a lot more in the public eye as a medical examiner, and I could expect more controversy in a private forensic group." She reached for the plate. Charlie almost let go of it before Dana had a grip on it. "Are you telling me you don't know?" "Know what?" "It's not Mulder, it's you. Actually, it's Bill. If it had been me with a terminal but noncontagious disease, determined to stand my watch as long as I was physically capable, would he have resented it? Would he have asked what I was trying to prove, accused me of selfishness and irresponsibility to the family?" Dana had never told him about Bill's diatribe, nor had their mother heard it; Bill must have given him an instant replay. "Hell, no. He'd have expected Mom and Laura to be proud of me." "But his sister . . ." said Dana in a small voice. "His sister has been seeing combat, while he's sailing a desk." # Mrs. Scully asked, "What did Adele mean by 'atypical agents'?" "A new type of drug that can substitute for the neuroleptics with fewer side effects. They work differently, but have similar effects." "And you all feel that Dr. Benton should have been given those instead?" "Neuroleptics are nothing to be handed out casually. Especially when people who worked as closely to the subject as Det. Hollis and Nurse Littleton saw nothing odd about his behavior." The dishwashing team returned in triumph. Mulder asked after Charlie's leave-lobbying efforts, licensing the Navy family to talk Navy. # Scully's cellphone chirped again. She got up and dug it out, smiling an apology as she moved away from the conversation. Her mother dismissed her with an amiable 'shoo'ing motion, and she retreated to the next room. "Scully." "This is Nurse Littleton." "Ah! Dr. Benton is recovering, though slowly; his withdrawal symptoms are mild so far. How are things going at your end?" "Det. Hollis's colleagues referred me to a lawyer, Mr. Ackroyd. He represented some of the victims of the false-commitment insurance scams a few years ago. I told him what happened today. He said he was certain it would be interesting to meet you, but he did not know how safe." Scully chuckled briefly. "I'll take that as a compliment." "He also said that if Dr. Meriwether is truly the wimp that Det. Hollis thinks he is, he might turn complete weathercock, swinging about to every wind." "Wouldn't surprise me," said Scully. # " . . . almost agree with him," Mulder said. "Sometimes I wish she'd ditch us all permanently and go be a doctor." "She is a doctor, Fox," said Mrs. Scully gently. "A practicing doctor," Charlie added, "however unusual her specialty. If you wished she'd go be a medical examiner, I'd tend to agree -- which means nothing, because she wants to be just what she is: half doctor and half cop. And neither you, Bill, nor I, nor even Mom, is going to change that. Or should." Mrs. Scully said in that same gentle voice, "I might wish that she could confide in me more, but I wish that with Charlie, and I wished it with the Captain all my married life. There are some things they're not allowed to tell me; some things too dangerous to expose a civilian to; and some things that only someone who's been in the Navy can understand. I suspect with Dana it goes a step further; not only things only an agent can understand, but things no one not in the X-Files can understand. Yes?" "Yes. I -- Yes." "I might prefer that she'd been called to the religious life instead of law enforcement, but that's not her vocation. That's not the talent that God gave her. He gave her a thirst for justice, a need to defend the weak and the innocent, and He doesn't do this carelessly, nor by mistake." Charlie nodded. "Bill and I can drill and patrol against a day that may never come for us. Dana has to be in the thick of it, hands-on: putting the bad guys away, carrying the victims to safety." # "Now:" said Scully. "Teddy's puzzle turns out to be two deaths by fever, complicated by starvation and exposure, both turning up in the same area of the Cove of Cork, just up from its confluence with the Severn. Both show unusual mottling of the lungs, and what look like infected surgical sites in the lower trachea, just above the bronchial branch. "Both cadavers disappeared last night, along with their slides and save jars. The hard-copy reports have also vanished, and the relevant hard drive is fried. During all this, Dr. Edwards was out cold on the floor of his office, anesthetised by a standard animal control dart." "Those can be fatal," Nurse Littleton said. "How is he?" "Nasty headache, but otherwise OK. We're planning to do some sniffing around tomorrow, starting with the lab that did the toxicology work." Thompson residence Weems Creek MD near midnight Det. Hollis, as he had said, did not want to get too comfortable, since he was the first line of defense. All the same, he nearly slept through the soft clicks of the lockpick, and was fully roused only by the creak of the door swinging open. Since he had his service weapon on him, that was enough for him to roll off the couch, aim at the first of the silhouettes framed in the doorway and shout "Freeze!" The second intruder slipped to the side and both covered him. Probably aiming at his voice. "Don't try it," he warned them. "At this distance, I'm not going to miss." Surprise lost, they should be thinking about getting away. He prepared to get to his feet when the room light came on. "Get out of my house!" Nurse Thompson's ancient voice now held the bark of command. Damn, the second intruder was turning, raising his gun toward the stairhead. Hollis's weapon and the other's cracked together; there was a jab in his chest, and the second intruder fell backward. How . . .? Blurred . . . grey . . . blackout. # Adele Thompson woke to a man's shout. She pulled Stuart's Smith & Wesson from the nightstand drawer even as she pushed her feet into slippers. She checked the clip, slipped into a robe, and put the spare clip into the deep pocket. Another shout. She recognised Det. Hollis's voice. She felt Stuart's concern, the patience with which he had taught her to use this very gun, so long ago. *It's a tool, Deldy-ca. Respect it; don't fear it.* She reached the top of the stairs. There was some light in the livingroom, but she could only make out blocks of shadow. She reached for the lightswitch. *It's going to white out your vision, too, Del.* She slitted her eyes in instinctive preparation and turned on the light. All three men downstairs were startled. As her eyes were still adjusting, she called out, "Get out of my house!" One of the men holding a gun on Det. Hollis turned his attention and his aim toward her. *Center of mass, Del. Nothing fancy.* With smooth instinctive aim, she brought up the old S&W and fired, shifted her aim and fired again. All three men went down. She and Stuart would have so much to talk about, when she rejoined him. She reset the safety and hurried down to check on Det. Hollis. Out cold, and with a dart in his chest. Footsteps on the stairs heralded her patient, reasonably alert under the circumstances. "Can you dial 911?" she called, as she checked the intruders. Just as Stuart always told her: aim for the center of mass. "Call for an ambulance, and the police." Dr. Benton relayed the message. She spelled out her address for him to pass on, and then, "Two gunshot wounds and a poisoned dart." Even if the dart carried a sedative, it could still be lethal. police station Weems Creek MD 28 April 2001, well after midnight The couple bore signs of dressing in haste, but looked alert enough. The woman flashed federal credentials at the desk sergeant and said, "The disturbance at the Thompson's?" "Nobody hurt but the intruders." The woman looked relieved, then slightly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I'm Special Agent Dana Scully. This is my partner, Agent Mulder. How many intruders?" "Two. With dart guns, yet." The desk sergeant picked up one of the evidence bags on his desk to show them. "Nurse Thompson took them out with her late husband's old Smith & Wesson." Both agents looked impressed but not altogether surprised. The desk sergeant went on, "Det. Hollis is still out cold, and the hospital says come take his statement in the morning. They figure he'll be fine then, except maybe for a headache, but they want to monitor him anyway." The woman nodded approval. "So Nurse Thompson says she was roused by Det. Hollis shouting. She got up, grabbed her husband's gun and headed for the stairs. When she turned on the light, two intruders had Det. Hollis at gunpoint, and he had the drop on one of them. She told them to get out, and one shifted to aim at her. She got that one while Det. Hollis and the other fired simultaneously. Det. Hollis keeled over as she fired at the man who shot him. So she got one for sure and maybe the other." "And her patient?" "He stuck close to her, and she insisted they go to the hospital with the detective, who's a friend of his. They're all down there, now." "Have you-- ?" She broke off and turned as another man came in, a Navy captain in full uniform. "Charlie!" "Hi, Dana. No rest for anyone, tonight." He also flashed ID at the desk sergeant. "Captain Charles Scully. My boss told me to check out a story of dart guns being used tonight." "Hmp." The desk sergeant looked from one Scully to the other. Well, the Feds and the Navy could duke this one out on their own. I'm just the desk sergeant, yassah. "Yes, two intruders broke into the Thompson residence and fired what appears to be an anesthetic dart at one of the guests." He picked up the evidence bag again to display it to the new audience. "Did they have any extra darts?" asked the captain. "Yeah." The desk sergeant waved at a couple of smaller evidence bags. The captain nodded and blew out a long sigh. "Sergeant, there's a good chance that these darts were stolen from an experimental lab. I'll need to take them and the guns for testing. The guns you can have back, they're standard, and if the darts are just animal control darts, you can have them back, too, but no promises. I want to question the intruders, too." "Can't, unless you've got a medium." "Both of them?" And you can stop throwing your weight around right there, Captain suh. "A householder in her own home is not required to retreat from someone who breaks in. And Nurse Thompson had a patient to protect. Det. Hollis was there to protect both of them. They both did exactly right." "I'm not questioning their actions. If somebody armed broke into my house, I'd blow them away, too. But I was hoping for . . ." He trailed off, then said, "Excuse me," and pulled out his cell phone. He didn't seem to mind an audience; his sister and the desk sergeant openly listened. "Scully, sir," he said at last. "Standard dart guns, we'll have to check the darts. Both dead." He was silent a while, then said, "Make it someone who can take custody, this is a criminal case." Another wait, then, "Yes, sir. Out." He put the phone away. The desk sergeant said, "Custody." Was it worth standing on the rules of jurisdiction just to annoy Cap'n suh? The captain said, "They're probably two of our bad apples. If they are, you'll get full ID on them, plus whatever our morgue finds. If not, you can have them back, with whatever we do dig up on them." He sighed again. "We're sorry to break in, but we'll keep our intrusion as small as we possibly can." Well, at least he was being polite. For the Navy, anyway. "Best I can hope for, I guess." The desk sergeant dragged a notebook to the center of his desk and opened it. "Now, if you'll sign the chain-of-custody card on each bag, and the proper lines in the log, I'll witness it." Station Parking Lot Weems Creek MD Captain Scully put the evidence bags in his trunk and locked them in. When he turned away, his sister was glaring lasers at him. "What are you going to tell their families?" "What?" he said, with a brother's originality. "Charlie, this reeks of cover-up. Those men were obeying orders, and now the Navy will disown them as 'bad apples,' thieves and worse." "No! The police will be given cover identities. Their families will be given . . ." "Cover deaths?" she supplied. "Yeah. Something honorable." "And what about the bodies pulled out of Cove of Cork? Will they get cover deaths, too? What is the Navy doing that's killed two men *that we know of* that it doesn't want to own up to? Doesn't want to so much that it sends out black ops teams to raid two M.E.s' offices and a nurse's home?" "All I can tell you is that it's not the Consortium. Let it go." "The Consortium does not have a monopoly on evil! Charlie, have you any idea what Thorazine *does* in high doses? And for all Det. Hollis's and Nurse Littleton's efforts, they were getting nowhere. By the time they dragged through all the Proper Channels, Dr. Benton would have suffered permanent brain damage!" "The guy on security panicked, out of all proportion to the situation. He's been disciplined; he's not going to have the chance to do that to anyone else. He's going to push paper for the rest of his career." "For assaulting civilians, or for calling police attention to what his bosses are trying to cover up? Sedative darts aren't guaranteed nonlethal, either, you know. Dr. Edwards was lucky that all he got was a night sleeping on the floor. Det. Hollis isn't completely in the clear yet; the strength of the dose, or some idiosyncratic reaction, could still kill him." "But he's being monitored. He's being watched over. And the other two are all right. And this *is* a matter of national security." "Is that from your briefing, or are you working on this -- project? Do you know what killed those two men?" "I don't have the need to know." "Charlie, the Consortium claims to be fighting to protect humanity, but they regard everyone else as expendable: me, Missy, the Allentown women, even their own families. Everyone but themselves. You've been assured that this -- project -- is essential to the national security, and because it's an official briefing, you believe it. You're going to close your eyes to the mess they have you cleaning up, and to the assault on Dr. Edwards, and the earlier assault on Dr. Benton, and to the two fatalities that started all this. If American citizens are expendable, what is being secured?" "I have to-- Damn!" he interrupted himself as his cell phone went off. He pulled it out. "Scully . . . *What!?* . . . " He sighed, then asked, "What in? . . . Wait one." He lowered the phone and asked, "Dana, where's your car?" She turned to point. "Over by the . . . " No sign of it. Ditched again. Charlie told his phone, "We're on our way. Out." He gestured her to the passenger side of his car and got into the driver's side. As they headed out of the lot, she asked, "Where are we going?" "Cove of Cork." "Upstream of where the bodies were pulled out." Instead of answering directly, Captain Scully asked, "Does he do this often?" "Not as often as he used to." "Without backup?" "On something like this, he tries not to get anyone else involved." "You *are* involved! What is this doing to your career?" "I traded it in on a quest." A long sigh from Captain Scully. "Mulder's quest?" "My quest. You and I -- and Mulder and Bill, Jr. -- chose work that makes us expendable; it goes with the territory. Roberta Sim died because she loved her adopted daughter. Her husband died because he was in the way. And Emily was *bred*, like livestock. In vitrio, host mother and all." "Since you mention it, have Mulder's 'unorthodox methods' ever worked against the Consortium? Hadn't you better find some allies among the field agents who know the standard procedures?" "Like Blevins?" "If you don't trust anyone at HQ, there's two field offices next door. With their resident agencies. And even at HQ, you found Pendrell." "And buried him." "As you say, that goes with the territory. *Damn* it, Dana!" he suddenly roared. "One single pair of agents can *not* take on an international syndicate!" "Then why are they so afraid of Mulder?" she snapped back. "They're afraid of Spender, Sr. Teena Kuiper's son is under his protection. And if Spender, Sr. is as sick as he told you, his protection is about to end." "Cheap at the price." Captain Scully took an angry breath, then let it out and attended to his driving. Facility on Cove of Cork 28 April 2001 predawn They pulled up to let a sentry examine the IDs of both Scullies. Passed through the gate, they stopped again at a large building. Charlie took the evidence bags from his trunk. Inside, a petty officer at a desk examined their IDs again, and put the evidence bags into a safe. Both men signed and initialed, and the petty officer handed Charlie a slip of paper. An exchange of thanks and salutes, and Charlie led Dana deeper into the building. They crossed a room in the chaos of moving and installation, to a quiet corner with a commodore, two warrant officers, and Mulder. "Moving day, Scully!" he called in his most insufferably sarcastic voice. "So eager for their new digs they can't wait for dawn to clean everything up and move in." His smile softened as she gave him a brief check-over. Captain and commodore ignored him long enough for Charlie to hand over the slip the petty officer had given him. "Guns and darts are in the safe, sir. I told the police they'd get the guns back, and if the bodies were ours, they'd get complete ID." The commodore accepted the paper with a nod. Only then did he turn to Mulder. "I know for a fact that this is not an official investigation," he said. "I also know your record for getting your investigations OK'd ex post facto. I don't think you can do it this time, but there have been too many screwups on this case already. So I'll trade you for the name of whoever told you where to come." "Teddy -- excuse me, Deputy Medical Examiner Edwards showed us where the bodies were pulled out of the Cove of Cork, so you had to be upstream of there. I followed a hunch, and here I am." "A hunch doesn't take you from 'upstream' to a precise location." "I've been in the X Files longer than Scully -- Dana -- and I have a photographic memory. And it's my job to put clues together and make sense of the pattern." The commodore looked at Charlie, who said, "By reputation, his investigative techniques are just that appalling. He goes by hunch and trusts to luck. And his partner." Both men looked at Dana. Now it was her turn to sigh. "If anyone helped him, it was someone at the police station with a report of something odd being sighted, or unusual traffic or the like. He does chase his hunches with very little preparation. He's not right as often as he thinks he is, but he *is* often close enough to land in the same ballpark." Charlie grinned wryly. "Even a photographic memory can be selective on recalling hits & misses." The commodore then held up a set of keys. "If these are yours, Miss -- excuse me, Agent Scully, how did he come by them?" "He took our travel kits out of the trunk at my mother's. I drove to the station tonight with the valet key." She displayed the single key. The commodore tossed her the keys he was holding. "Trusting soul," he said. Dana checked over the keys and fastened the valet key to its place. "I trust him with my life." "Well, you can have him this time. If he's found lose here again, it won't go so easy on him. And if you continue your inquiries, you'll find nothing." "Are you going to disappear all the links between you and your pet quack? Det. Hollis and his colleagues have already found most of them." "If you mean make the people disappear, not at all. Follow them up and they'll lead you to a paper pusher. If he tells you any 'Holy shit, there I was' stories, take them with a grain of salt." "I take everything with a grain of salt. It's my job." [epilogue] Ackroyd & Xavier Law Office Baltimore, MD 30 April 2001 They were gathered around a conference table: the greying Mr. Ackroyd Jr., Dr. Benton and Nurse Littleton, Det. Hollis, Agent Mulder. Ackroyd asked, "Will they be able to cover their tracks in this short a time?" Mulder nodded. "By now, there will be no record anywhere that Lt. Whatshisname did anything but push papers since he joined the Navy." Nurse Littleton added "-- leaving their stalking horse twisting in the wind, for us to pluck." Ackroyd said, "Are you sure you want to?" "We must," said Dr. Benton gravely. "He had no fear at all of being called to account. Whether this was because judges have been rubber-stamping his . . . pronouncements . . . or because he was certain that his influential friends could buy whatever they wanted, he and his colleagues must be shown that the rules are for them, too. And if he has done this before, his victims need rescue, both from incarceration and from whatever drug they've been given. If it's been too long, they will need physical therapy." Benton's speech was still slow, but undistorted. "You're talking about a re-hearing, with a jury, for everyone Adamson has had committed." "And an official statement that the original commitment was unnecessary and improper. It will do them little good to be freed if the commitment remains on their records, especially if they show the effects of neuroleptic abuse." Ackroyd nodded, reluctantly. "I found a case in Georgia, back in the early Nineties. Seems one doctor told off another, something about the care of her aunt. The guy she told off committed her to a psychiatric hospital the same day, for being hostile, demanding, and delusional, according to him." "Very like," said Hollis. "One hearing agreed, and lifted her license when she refused to enroll in a psychiatric program; and she was no quack, she was named Outstanding Physician of the Year in Tennessee. Another hearing later found no evidence of mental disorder, and she got her license back. The first was still on her record, though, and the board that lifted her license made sure that all potential employers knew about it, along with any hospitals considering her for staff positions." Mulder snorted. "Sounds familiar, all right. We'd better check out every commitment this Adamson quack has been involved in, study the hearing transcripts." Ackroyd nodded again. "And demand that Adamson foot the bill." A knock on the door heralded Dana Scully, printout in hand. The men turned to listen to her. "Your tox screen is clear, too, Dr. Benton. No permanent . . . physical effects." "Just a few memories," said Benton. He stared at his hands, then looked around the table. "I understand Meriwether; he's a good internist, but he's a wimp. I can even understand Adamson, after a fashion; power does strange things to the human soul. But why should that Navy security officer think me so dangerous?" Hollis grinned. "Well, Doc, I've known M.E.'s as dedicated as you, as determined to find and tell the truth . . ." "I should hope so!" "But the ones that stood out were abrasive as all hell. None of them were father-confessor, wailing wall and chief crying shoulder, not only to their own office but to half the police force." "You exaggerate." "All right, half the homicide detectives. I didn't have to call in any favors to check out Adamson; I just coordinated the volunteers. If you had any inclination to *use* the connections and influence you have--" "-- then he wouldn't be Dr. Benton, and he wouldn't have that influence," said Dana. "I don't need one of Mulder's profiles to know that for someone who lives for power, anyone with Dr. Benton's connections and influence is going to seem as dangerous as the power-lover would be if *he* had them." finis ===== AUTHOR's NOTEs: Organisation of the Medical Examiner's Office is based for the most part on the Maryland section of "Death Investigation in the United States and Canada." My server can't re-find the age, but the URL listed in the Alta Vista results page is: www.cdc.gov/nceh/programs/mec/medir/1998/descrip/md-desc.htm St. Mary's Parish does take in Annapolis and the surrounding area. There is a new church, the Mission Church, scheduled to be finished this year. The parish web site is either rebuilding or else having serious 404 errors. A page with (among other things) a wire diagram of the church compound has the rather clumsy URL of: http://www.stmarys- schools.pvt.k12.md.us/parish/BlueWire1.html . . . and for anyone who thinks "It Can't Happen Here": An article in the Sept/Oct 1997 issue of one of the CURE Ohio publications cites medical neglect among the regular abuses in Ohio prisons. A Washington Weekly investigation that lasted most of 1998 and into 1999 probes into the death of James McDougal in the Fort Worth Federal Medical Facility -- "for inmates who need medical attention". Fellow inmates insist that the official report is a cover-up of the "gross medical negligence and inadequate care" that led to McDougal's death. I found the home page of the Ohio chapter of CURE [Citizens United for Rehabilitation of Errants] at http://www.cureohio.org/index.html; the article "Conditions of confinement grow steadily worse . . ." I found at http://www.cureohio.org/Kitchen.html "Arkansas Mischief," the introduction to the Washington Weekly investigation, I found at http://dolphin.gulf.net/jun29-98/Story02.html Rep. Patricia Schroeder of Colorado launched a probe of psychiatric insurance scams in 1992. The probe found a nationwide pattern of psychiatric hospitals ripping off insurers by having people falsely committed and held in the hospitals until their insurance runs out. Lawrence Stevens, J.D., reported the probe in one of his pamphlets, "Unjustified Psychiatric Commitment in the U.S.A." This pamphlet is certainly popular. I found it and 10 more Lawrence Stevens pamphlets at http://www.antipsychiatry.org/unjustif.htm -- a link off the Antipsychiatry Coalition at http://www.antipsychiatry.org/ I also found it at two other sites: http://mentalhealthfacts.com/antipsychiatry/unjustif.htm and http://www.ktb.net/~psycrime/ed-08.htm The Georgia commitment case is from an Associated Press article in the Athens Daily News/Banner Herald, copyright 1998 Athens Newspapers Inc. It also appears, as "Doc receives $3.4 million for wrongful commitment to mental hospital," in the Oak Ridger, at http://www.oakridger.com/stories/102897/aps_doc.html