“You don’t believe me?” The Major sounded amused.
Mulder realized his mouth was hanging open. “No. I—”
“I’m used to people doubting me. Not everyone wants to see the truth.” He marched over to what Mulder was beginning to think of as the murder wall. “Do you want to see what I’m talking about, airman?”
“Yes, sir.”
The Major pointed at an enlarged version of the article about the dead madam, who had been pimping out teenage girls. “Victim number one. Her body was discovered at oh-eight hundred. There.” He pointed at the dumpster. “Notice anything unusual in the photograph?”
Mulder squinted, concentrating. “Umm … her shoe is on the ground? Maybe it fell off during the struggle?”
“This will be your last black op if you can’t do better than that.” The Major rapped his knuckles against the wall. “I didn’t ask what you thought. I asked what you saw.”
“A dumpster in an alley and a woman’s high-heeled shoe. Graffiti and a liquor store sign.”
“You sure that’s graffiti?”
Suddenly, Mulder saw it—a lone arrow pointing up, spray-painted above the dumpster.
“How about this one?” The Major moved on to a glossy black-and-white photograph of the drug-dealing psychiatrist’s bedroom.
“Did Sergio get you this picture, too?”
“Sergio is a jack-of-all-trades,” the Major said with pride. “The CIA wanted him, but Sergio turned them down.”
I bet, Mulder thought.
The Major tapped on the photo. “Do you see it?”
Mulder searched for an arrow in the image. His eyes stopped on the nightstand. The pills the psychiatrist had taken—or, more likely, that someone had forced him to take—were scattered across the top of the nightstand, between empty prescription bottles.
Now that he knew what to look for, he saw it—a straight arrow formed by some of the pills. “I can’t believe the cops missed this.”
The Major shrugged. “They weren’t looking for it. People see what they want to see. Or what the government tells them to.”
Mulder was beginning to agree with him.
“And that’s how they keep the aliens a secret,” the Major added.
If the Major stopped tossing around the word alien, he would seem pretty brilliant.
“Right,” Mulder said, zeroing in on the photograph of the slumlord hanging from the ceiling fan with a rope around his neck. “There it is.” He pointed at a sheet of paper on the floor next to a fast-food bag and a pile of clothes. “On the flyer.”
The instructions on the notice read: IF EVICTED, LEAVE APARTMENT KEYS IN THIS LOCKBOX.
A vertical arrow pointed at the top of the page, where a strip of masking tape ran along the edge.
“The police probably thought the guy was about to put up the notice,” the Major explained. “But someone could’ve easily taken it down and left it inside the apartment.”
“It isn’t over.” Mulder felt the weight of his words and what they really meant.
“Not even close.” Gimble’s dad glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “The aliens won’t stop until they get what they want.”
“And what is that exactly?”
The Major looked down at the worn paperback in his hand. “I have my theories, but only one person knows for sure. The man I saw talking to one of them.”
The Cigarette Smoking Man from El Rico Air Force Base—if the man was more than a figment of the Major’s imagination.
“I’ve gotta go, sir.” Mulder headed for the door. “The other killer is still out there.”
“I don’t know where you got your intel, airman, but this is too big for you to take on alone.”
The scene in Earl Roy’s basement proved that Mulder couldn’t even handle the Eternal Champion’s sidekick. What if he came up against the other killer—the “real” Eternal Champion? “Then I’ll get help. Maybe I should talk to someone at the FBI?”
The Major followed him to the door. “Did you listen to a word I said? The FBI can’t help anyone, and they might be working with the aliens. What if they report you?”
“I’ll have to risk it … for my sister. I don’t know if Earl Roy is the person who took her, but I still have to try.” Mulder knew that if it was Earl Roy, the odds of Samantha being alive were slim to zero.
Mulder held out his hand. “Thanks for your help, sir.” They shook hands, and Mulder held on for an extra second. He looked the Major in the eye. “Sir, I just want to say that I’m sorry about what happened to your wife.”
The Major nodded and was silent for a moment. Then he looked up. “There’s something I need to give you.”
“That’s okay—” Mulder didn’t need another copy of Stormbringer.