BETRAYAL
BY XANTHE
Prologue.
8 am, September 15, 2001.
Seal Beach.
He pulled on a pair of gray shorts and a vest, and took his usual morning jog along the seashore. It was the same routine, and he stuck to it, rain or shine. He even jogged in the snow. He was a man comfortable with certainties in a life where the sands had shifted more frequently than he was able to keep up with. He jumped the steps from his small beach house two at a time, and hit the sand with his bare feet, sinking a little way in, loving the grainy feel of it between his toes. He ran down to the sea, longing to feel the cool waves lapping over his ankles as he ran, splashing in and out, his long legs covering the distance in no time. The salty air refreshed and invigorated him. There was a cool breeze, and a promise of rain in the dark overhead sky.
He enjoyed his solitude. During his year in prison, it had been a precious commodity, in short supply, and he had sometimes felt that he would have killed for it. Now, he enjoyed both his freedom, and his loneliness. After a couple of miles, he passed Mrs. Jardine's house. Her dog ran out into the yard and the old lady waved and opened the gate. The dog ran down to the sea, jumping up against him, and he grinned and pulled the black, curly coated retriever into a bear hug, laughing as the dog licked his nose.
"Hey, Ben. C'mon." The dog barked excitedly, and they set off, dog and man, splashing through the water, tiny droplets of rain coating the man's vest and the dog's fur.
He parted company with the dog half an hour later, returning him to Mrs. Jardine's yard, with a last fond pat on the animal's head, and then he returned to the beach, jogging back the remaining distance towards his home, his bare feet wet, and coated with sand. As he neared the house, his footsteps slowed and his heart froze. There, sitting on the steps, was a familiar, heart-breaking figure. He stopped, and stood for a moment, his breath catching in his throat. He had always known, deep in his soul, that it would, one day, come to this.
*****
August 25, 1999.
Hoover Building. Washington DC
"Agent Mulder, this is, at this stage, an informal internal investigation to ascertain whether Assistant Director Skinner should be brought up before the OPR, or even whether there is a criminal case to answer here." The dark-haired man leaned back in his chair, and flicked open a file.
"I'm aware of that, sir." Mulder said steadily, not taking his eyes off the Assistant Director, who was sitting at the end of the long, polished table. Skinner cleared his throat, and gazed back. Mulder's hazel eyes held no hint of what he intended to do. Skinner's eyes dropped, and he stared instead at his own hands.
"Agent Mulder, I believe that you have recently been working on a case that you hoped would resolve several important issues that you have raised during your tenure on the X Files?"
"Yes, sir. That's correct." Mulder nodded, his eyes still fixed on the Assistant Director's bowed head.
"However, when you came into your office last Thursday, is it true that you found the file on this case missing?"
"Yes, sir. It is."
"Is it also true that the file contained special data that was not held anywhere else?"
"Yes, sir. That is also true." Mulder nodded.
"Who else knew of the existence of that evidence, Agent Mulder?"
"Only Assistant Director Skinner, sir." Mulder stated clearly.
"What do you believe happened to that file, Agent Mulder?"
Mulder didn't hesitate. His steely eyed gaze was unwavering.
"I believe the Assistant Director took it, sir, or someone working for him."
"Why would A.D. Skinner do that?" The agent in charge of Internal Investigations leaned forward eagerly.
"To cover up his involvement in a conspiracy against the American people, sir." Mulder rapped out. Skinner's head snapped up, and the AIC allowed the corner of his mouth to turn up in a smirk.
"A 'conspiracy', Agent Mulder?"
"Yes, sir. Let me explain. For six years, I have struggled to find evidence relating to the activities of a group of faceless men who, I have reason to believe, are experimenting on innocent citizens for their own ends. The information I had recently gleaned was relating to a Mark Anthony Storr. He knew names, faces, and facts, and moreover, he was prepared to testify. He gave me, for the first time ever, the proof that I needed. The day after the file disappeared, Storr also went missing. Without his testimony, my case against the Syndicate, or Consortium, or whatever these faceless men call themselves, is worthless."
"I see. And do you have evidence to support your belief that Assistant Director Skinner was involved in this?"
"Yes, I do." Mulder pulled a file out from under his jacket, and laid it on the table. "Storr was being held in a safe house. A.D. Skinner was the only one who knew where."
"That's hardly conclusive…"
"No, it isn't; however, the documentation releasing Storr from our safe-keeping was signed by the Assistant Director."
"A signature is easily forged…"
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