He grew still and made his voice deeper. “I am altering the deal. Pray I don’t alter it any further.”
Several drinking games were going on. Loud music played (Green Day at the moment). Lines for both the home’s bathrooms spilled down one hall.
Desmond was rather relieved to see no other Agent Fox Mulders, though there was one Scully. Her outfit was pretty good: a black pantsuit and a white button-up shirt with the collar laid over the lapels of the jacket. She’d printed her ID on a computer; it even had her own picture on it next to the large blue FBI letters. The red wig was the right color. She was about five foot six, slender, with dark brown eyebrows and fair skin. Her eyes were a little large for her face; Desmond found that attractive.
She was standing with a group of five people, holding a red Solo cup she wasn’t paying much attention to, when one of the Luke Skywalkers approached her. A Darth Vader was his wingman.
The guy’s voice was nasal, rehearsed.
“Excuse me, am I to understand that you’re a female body inspector?”
Scully smiled but didn’t laugh.
“Nice try. Come back when you’ve got better material, Padawan.”
Skywalker glanced at Vader. “The Force is strong with this one.”
That did make Desmond laugh. Poor guy.
The two faded back into the crowd, leaving Scully staring directly at Desmond.
He had spent countless hours in bars, witnessed maybe ten thousand guys hit on girls. In that time, he had learned two things. One, if you see a girl you’re interested in, don’t hesitate. The moment you make eye contact, just go over there. Waiting hurts the cause. And two, pickup lines are useless. A woman is either interested or not; they pretty much know instantly. They don’t pick a guy based on the pickup line. Confidence is the universal attractor, and nothing says confidence like not having a pickup line.
He never broke eye contact as he walked over.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I’m Fox Mulder.”
She extended her hand. It felt absolutely tiny in his.
“Dana Scully.” Her face was stoic; Desmond thought it was a pretty good imitation of the character. She was definitely game for the role-playing.
“I know why you’re here.”
“Do you?”
“You’ve been sent to debunk my work.”
“What can I say, Mulder? I’m a woman of science.”
“So you don’t want to believe?”
“With science, what I want is irrelevant. Proof of a hypothesis is all that matters.”
She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear. He could see her dark brown hair under the wig.
“What’s your current case?” she asked.
He sighed theatrically. “Tough one. There’ve been reports of an aberrant human in the Palo Alto area.”
“Aberrant?”
“An anomaly, Scully. A woman who doesn’t conform to any of the known norms of the human species. Paranormal intelligence and attractiveness. Extreme wittiness. We could be looking at genetic engineering. Possible extraterrestrial involvement.”
She finally broke character, smiled and laughed quickly, then returned to a straight face. “Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence.”
“I’ve recently confirmed the evidence.”
One of her friends, who was dressed like Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction, grabbed her by the arm. “Hey, there you are. Let’s go.” The girl was very drunk.
“Yeah, just a minute,” Scully said quickly.
“No, come on! Paul and Ross have already left. Come on.” She was dragging her now.
Scully turned. “Sorry. Duty calls.” A coy smile spread across her lips. “Good luck with your case.”
She glanced back at him one last time before her friend dragged her out the front door.
In the kitchen, Desmond waited for the blender to stop mixing up a fresh pitcher of margaritas, then asked the host, “Who was the girl dressed as Scully?”
He concentrated on his pour. “Scully? That’s… Oh yeah. Peyton Shaw.”
Desmond opened his eyes and stared at Peyton, who was still holding Hannah’s head in her lap.
A smile spread across his face. “Hi, Scully.”
Peyton’s eyes instantly locked on to his. To Desmond’s surprise, he saw shock, then what he thought was fear. A sad, remorseful smile crossed her lips.
“What?”
“How much do you remember?” she asked.
“We met in Palo Alto. At a Halloween party.”
She nodded slowly but said nothing.
“Did I say something wrong?”
She shook her head.
“Hey,” he said. “What happened between us?”
Before she could answer, Avery shouted from the pilot’s seat. “Look alive back there. And put your headsets on.”
Desmond’s eyes grew wide when he saw the scene beyond the helicopter’s windshield.
Chapter 64
Avery pulled back on the helicopter’s stick, flying above the smoke that spread out beyond Mombasa. A minute later Peyton got their first glimpse of the carnage.
Mombasa was Kenya’s second largest city and the largest port in East Africa. At the center of the sprawling metropolis lay Mombasa Island, which was connected by causeways to three peninsulas from the Kenyan mainland. Right now those causeways were packed with cars and people trying to escape the island. From above, they looked like ants marching over a bridge, fleeing the chaos.
The Changamwe Oil Refinery, which lay at the back of the island, just before one of the bridges to the mainland, was ablaze, belching smoke into the air. Its tanks and pipes would give the fire an almost endless source of fuel.
The fires were not the only problem. A dozen large cargo ships lay scuttled at the mouth of the bay, their rectangular metal cargo containers spilled into the water, the mountain of steel forming an impassable barrier.
“They’ve sealed the port,” Avery called over the headsets. “Could have been the Kenyans as an act of containment.”