::  Les dames de la Vieux Carré  ::

Chapter Six

Dana Scully was quite pleased with her progress. Everyone in the office had avoided her for the past four hours and she had been able to complete her autopsy notes. She sat in the darkening office, with only an old desk lamp illuminating her work. It was after 5 and the office staff had gone home. The agents still on duty had broken for dinner and were sharing pizza in the conference room down the hall. Skinner had been in the conference room all day long fielding calls from agents checking all over town for buildings with snakes on them. He had talked with officials at city hall and Scully knew that after she had reported to Richards, Skinner had made a brief report, too.

She stood, stretched, and started to turn around when a small bag appeared in front of her. She inhaled the marvelous aroma and sighed. "I have no idea what it is but it smells wonderful."

"Crawfish etouffee." The deep baritone voice caressed her. "I found a place just across the street and down a block." He pulled over a chair from another desk and sat next to her as she pushed her laptop to one side and neatly stacked the papers in a pile.

Skinner pulled out two containers and plastic cutlery and wondered how many times in how many different cities they had done this together. Usually Mulder was somewhere around and Skinner missed him. He knew Scully was worried about her former partner but she put on the same stoic front that she always wore, long before she had come to trust Skinner. Old habits and mannerisms died hard. He was glad that she loosened up with him in private and when he thought about it, was glad that she could remain so detached in public.

He opened her container and set it before her and then opened his. The rich spicy stew was hot and steamy. He blew on the large spoonful, before pulling it into his mouth. She watched him enjoying the meal and wondered once again how she had ever thought him cold. He was one of the most sensual people she had ever known, now that she could see past the surly exterior. He savored the meal and she savored his closeness. She wondered what he would do if she suddenly crawled into his lap, and laughed inwardly at the very thought. <<<How alike we are. Both of us so closed off from the rest of the world. It’s a wonder we ever got together at all.>>> The thought of never having his hands on her brought a visible shudder to her small frame that he picked up on immediately.

"Are you okay? You can’t be cold?"

She smiled and reached for her own spoon. "No, I’m fine, just a little tired." She grinned wickedly. "You know I didn’t get much sleep last night."

He glared at her sternly. "Agent Scully, you must endeavor to get enough rest. I cannot have an agent under…"

She had been waiting to ambush and cut in. "Well, sir, that seems to be the problem, I was under…" She broke off and quirked her eyebrow lobbing the ball back into his court. Before he could respond a cell phone’s shrill startled her. Both of them reached for their phones.

"Scully…Yes, O’Malley? What’s the matter?…Where?" Skinner pulled her food container out of the way as she grabbed a piece of paper and wrote something down. "You better talk to Skinner. He can call the locals. I’ll be down as soon as I can." She handed the phone to a bewildered AD.

"Skinner… Who’s dead?… A Mrs. Willis?… On Rampart Street?" Scully watched as the gruff, consummate professional façade fell back into place. "Yes, Agent O’Malley. I’ll call the locals and come out there immediately." He hung up the phone and stood with a fluid motion. Scully had already bagged the remainder of the food and placed it carefully in the garbage can next to her desk. She pulled open the desk drawer and retrieved her weapon from where she’d secured it earlier, right after the second time it had jabbed her in the back.

Skinner was holding the elevator for her as she trotted up. He shouted for Agent Trumbell who immediately popped his head out the conference room door. "Agent Scully and I are on our way to a crime scene. You have my cell phone number?" Trumbell gulped and shook his head no. Skinner waited while Trumbell found a pen and paper and then ground out the number, all the while the elevator trying to close against the mountain holding it open.

They reached the street and Scully scanned up and down for a cab while Skinner dialed 911. After being put on hold for twenty seconds he finally got a dispatcher. "This is Assistant Director Walter Skinner of the FBI. One of my agents has just found a body at 1210 Rampart Street. I’m heading there now. Send the coroner and a forensics team." By the time he was finished with the dispatcher, Scully managed to hail a cab. They jumped in and Skinner repeated the address.

The cab screeched to a halt and the driver turned and through the plastic grill shouted. "Out! I don’t go up there after dark."

Skinner glared at him, then reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out his ID. "Tonight, you do." The cabby thought about arguing but the look on the bald man’s face changed his mind.

They listened to his low obscene monologue all the way down Canal to Rampart, which was crowded with people out enjoying the spring air and talking to their neighbors. Kids darted into the street, causing the cabby to gesture and curse at them loudly. Finally, they pulled up to the address just as they heard the sirens begin to close in.

Police milled about and onlookers gathered. Scully met the coroner and accompanied him so she could oversee the autopsy. When the first officers on the scene discovered three FBI agents and the Judge Advocate General of the Navy all there before them, they had wisely called for the brass that arrived in the form of Assistant Chief of Police Andrew Whitley.(2)

AJ didn’t believe in coincidences. And, he didn’t believe that a robber looking for drug money had killed Mrs. Willis. He tagged along with the officer doing the door to door in the building. Officer Kiley had been young enough to be suitably impressed by his title and had not balked at the company. Her partner was busy canvassing the building across the alleyway. Of course, most of the cops thought it was all a waste of time anyway. They failed to see what the big deal was about a poor black woman getting killed in her crummy apartment in a crummy part of town.

Kiley knocked on the second door down and across the hall from the murder scene. She and the admiral had started at the ground floor and had meticulously knocked on each apartment’s door. Their timing was perfect and every door had opened and every door had closed as all the tenants claimed to have seen and heard nothing. AJ knew immediately that this person would tell them something. Perhaps nothing important, but something. There was no hesitation as the door opened wide at the knock. The man standing before them couldn’t have been taller than 5’7" and couldn’t have been younger than 85. His back was straight and his eyes, even in the dim light were bright. He spared little time on the young black woman but focused instead on the tall man behind her. "Wondered when you would get to me. Name’s Daniel Armstrong. Come in. I don’t like standing in the hallway."

He held the door open motioned them in. Officer Kiley balked, but Chegwidden stepped around her and followed the old man into the apartment. He was surprised at the size of the place. It was neat as a pin and every surface spotless. A few mementos were scattered about and one or two pictures immediately caught AJ’s eye. Making an observation that impressed Kiley to no end, AJ asked. "When were you in the Navy, Mr. Armstrong?"

Daniel stared at the tall man with the obvious military bearing. He nearly came to attention. "1934 to 1964. Joined up to see the world." His laugh was strong without a trace of bitterness. "I peeled potatoes in every port in the whole damn world. Shot me down a Jap plane at Pearl. Made Chief Petty Officer before I retired." Officer Kiley looked bewildered but sat gingerly on the arm of a large overstuffed chair, prepared to let the admiral take the lead with the old man.

AJ head out his hand. "Admiral AJ Chegwidden. I’m down here looking for one of my men who is missing. We think that Mrs. Willis might have seen and talked to them just before that." He realized that Armstrong wouldn’t sit down until he did, so he took a seat on the couch. Armstrong nodded and slowly made his way over to a wooden rocker that had to be as old or older than he was. Once he was settled, AJ continued. "Officer Kiley here and I are canvassing the neighbors to find out if they saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. Did you, Chief Petty Officer?"

No one had called him that in over 30 years. He puffed out his chest in pride. "Well lemme think on that a while. Well, now that you mention it something did happen yesterday. I do my shoppin' on Tuesdays. I was leaving when Miz Willis was coming up the stairs. I asked her if I could get her anything, cause I know how tired she was working two jobs trying to get that worthless son of hers out of jail – damn dope dealers. Miz Willis told me she didn’t want nothing at the store and went on up to her place." Armstrong sighed before continuing, "Takes me a little longer to get down those stairs than it used to and by the time I got down to the last step, this dark blue car pulls up and a blond lady gets out and runs up the steps. She was in a real hurry too. I wondered what a nice lady like that would be doing in this neighborhood, but it weren’t none of my business so I got me down to the store. By the time I got back, she and the car are gone."

AJ questioned closely. "This blond lady, you ever see her before?"

Armstrong cackled. "Son, I would have remembered her if I had, course my eyesight is kinda bad so maybe I wouldn’t have. But I can tell you this, she sure smelled good, got a real good whiff of her perfume and it was nice.

Kiley snorted. "Terrific. We’ll bring every blond we find and let you smell them."

The look AJ gave her shut her up. "I don’t suppose you remember anything about the car."

"1999 Crown Victoria with a V-8 engine purring real nice. Couldn’t make out the plates or nothing though.

AJ stood up and walked over to look out the window – Armstrong had a good view and he wondered how many other people had seen the car.

Cass watched as teams of local precinct cops and several FBI agents, who Skinner had pulled off the great snake hunt, worked their way through the crowd trying to find anyone who had seen something that could help them. In a way she was surprised; his fellow agents at the Hoover didn’t hold Fox Mulder in the highest esteem. But, he was one of their own and with even a tenuous lead to follow, everyone was putting forth the effort to play it out in hopes of getting closer to finding him.

She was getting ready to head into the crowd herself when she spotted Chegwidden hurrying down the stairs. Even as AJ made his way toward Skinner she noted he was scanning the area looking for someone. When he spotted her and his eyes lit up, a jolt of excitement slammed into her. She pushed through to where he stood talking to Skinner. "What’s up?"

AJ turned to include her in the conversation. "Officer Riley and I talked to a Mr. Armstrong in 26A. He was leaving the building yesterday morning when Mrs. Willis was coming in from work around 0900 hours. He says he saw a blond lady get out of a blue 1999 Crown Victoria and run up the stairs."

Cass shrugged. "Crown Vics are pretty popular, hell even the cops drive them. How many blond ladies are there in New Orleans?"

AJ put his hands on his hips and scanned around the neighborhood. "He’s 84 years old. His eyesight is lousy, his smell is good though." At her look, he related the entire story. "I still think we should pass the word about the car, have the teams ask about it."

Skinner looked around and found the captain in charge of the precinct cops. He motioned for AJ and Cass to follow him.

Captain Luttrell,(4) a corpulent man whose belly hung over his Sans-a-belt polyester slacks, wasn’t pleased with the nebulous detail that the interlopers brought him but bellowed for one of his subordinates and gave him the information. He then stared pointedly at Skinner. "Y’all gonna continue to help? I do think we can handle it from here on out. I understand that cute little red-head is over at the coroner’s office so much these days that they are picking out china patterns."

Cass brought her lips lightly together at the sight of repressed rage on Skinner’s face. <<<Damn! I’m getting good at this. I can tell the difference between his being just normally surly and really pissed off.>>>

AJ picked up on the sudden tension radiating off of Skinner, noting the red blush creep up his neck, the clinched teeth and the sudden aggressive stance.

Skinner, hands on his hips and jaw thrust out, snapped. "Captain, I don’t really know how things are down here in New Orleans, but I demand respect for my people. If Agent Scully’s services are not…."

Luttrell threw up his hands and took a step back. "Hold on now, bo.., AD Skinner. Just hold on. I meant no disrespect. Agent Scully has been a huge help. ‘Specially with those five sailor boys. Hell, even we don’t usually get that many dead all at one time." He huffed, truly unsure of just what he had said to so piss off the damn bigwig from DC. "Y’all want to help with the interviews, you go right ahead." He turned quickly away from the three and only AJ who had stood off to one side heard his muttering as he walked away. "God damn yankees."

Skinner fought for control and turned away from Chegwidden and O’Malley, who stood quietly waiting for him to say something. AJ looked over at Cass and saw that she was studying her boss with some amusement. Realizing that she was also being studied, Cass blushed and cleared her throat. "Sir? AD Skinner? Do you want me to help with the interviews, maybe hit the buildings across the street?"

Skinner shook his head then glanced around the crowd before turning back to them. "No," he ground out. "I need to get back to headquarters. Come on, you can help there." Before she could protest that she hadn’t eaten yet, he stalked off and said something to a policeman standing by a squad car who listened, spoke into a radio, and then nodded at Skinner.

Cass felt a gentle squeeze on her elbow. "Come on. There’s our ride." She glanced up at the Admiral whose smile, even though he was looking straight ahead toward the gesturing Skinner, she knew was only for her. "I’ll make sure you eat before the night is over."

An hour later, after Chegwidden had insisted to Skinner he was hungry and had persuaded O’Malley to suggest a good fast place to pick something up, they were sitting in a corner of the conference room eating thick seafood gumbo from Styrofoam containers. O’Malley teased him. "Not quite Antoine’s, but pretty good, don’t you think?"

He smiled back at her. "Very good. But I still want to take you Antoine’s before we leave." She blushed and looked back down at her dinner. <<<Down girl. Don’t push it, he’s just being nice.>>>

AJ studied his gumbo thinking how nice it would have been if they could have gone to dinner together. Ever since he had broken up with Sydney Walden six months ago he had only gone to official functions when he had to and usually he went stag. It had been awhile since he had wanted to just sit and talk to a woman and enjoy her company. And he couldn’t deny he was attracted to O’Malley, even if she did throw off some pretty dark vibes at times.

They finished their gumbo and carefully cleaned up the area, depositing their bags on top of a pizza box in the trash. Cass went to read through the reports that had begun to drift in and AJ went to find a quiet spot and pulled out his cell phone. He hit a speed dial number. "Colonel MacKenzie, it’s me. How did everything go today?"

Even as far away as he was there were only four other agents in the room, quietly studying various reports and she could hear him clearly. She remembered that he had mentioned a Colonel MacKenzie that liked Beltway burgers and felt a curious jealousy grow. The feeling was ridiculous, she scolded herself, and she furiously attacked the paperwork in front of her trying hard not to hear the clear carrying voice of the man she had spent most of the day with and was growing to like more and more.

Cass was staring intently at a paragraph that she knew she had read at least twice before when his shadow fell across her work. Keeping her face as calm as she could, she looked up at him. "Everything okay?"

He pulled out a chair next to her and sighed. "Yeah. Mac’s an excellent Chief of Staff and one of us had to be at the office, though I’m sure she wishes it was her down here instead of me."

"Why? Doesn’t she trust you do find Commander Rabb?"

AJ caught the trace of something in her voice and looked at her oddly. "No, I just think she feels that if she found Rabb in Chechnya then she could find him New Orleans."

Kicking herself for her snide tone she asked lightly, "So Rabb has a habit of ditching his partner, too? Sounds like he and Mulder are a pair."

AJ nodded. "You have no idea." He started to expand on the theme when they saw Skinner standing in the doorway.

::  Chapter 7  ::

Skinner’s head was pounding. The tension stiffened the muscles in his neck, the arrows of pain shot directly from his clinched jaw straight to that place behind his eyes. He tried to do the exercises Scully had suggested to relax but it was getting damn late and all the teams had reported back in – all but one.

All of the other teams had managed to find buildings with snakes on them, though most of them were medical facilities of one kind or the other and all of them had checked out – no space unaccounted for, no unused basements and no outbuildings left unattended. When they had gotten back from Rampart Street, Chegwidden had pulled all the addresses, the neighborhoods and the photos that the agents had taken of each building, then went back to Charity Hospital to talk to Bud again. The nurses on duty had not been very happy about having their routine interrupted, but Bud had been easy to rouse and seemed happy to be able to contribute even a little. Chegwidden reported Roberts’ speech was still stuttering but that he had been adamant that none of the pictures resembled the building he had stumbled into. Roberts falteringly told Chegwidden the building was in an industrial or warehouse area, but he was unsure just where it was; he had looked in so many places, searching for his missing brother.

The nurses had chased Chegwidden out after only 15 minutes and he returned to the office a little after midnight; once again sharing a taxi with Agent Scully who had just finished observing the autopsy of Mary Willis. They walked into the conference room in time to find Lieutenant Thibedeaux and Detective Rachell giving their account of the investigation of the house in the Garden District where Mulder and Rabb had reportedly been seen.

Thibedeaux was picking at the remains of very cold, very old pizza. "Funny thing is there was a curled up snake on the finials of the staircase of the house. Rachell and I were really excited for a while, but Mrs. Weaver, the owner, gave us the grand tour from the attic down to the basement. Took us two hours but I don’t think there was a room we missed. It definitely wasn’t the murder house." He grinned, "Not unless they managed to pull it off in that clutter. I don’t think I’ve seen so many porcelain figurines and blown glass animals outside of a store on the strip in Panama City. I’ve got to stop bitching at the missus ‘cause she has a shelf full of those painted flower things, capadi-somethings?"

AJ spotted O’Malley, her feet propped on a chair, her arms folded across her chest and her chin lolling forward, she appeared to be asleep until she sighed out, "Capidimonte?"

Thibedeaux nodded and muttered, "Yeah, ugly-ass shit, but it’s nothing compared to the crap in that house." Then showing that even good ol’ boys could be observant cops, added. "And none of it had been dusted in over a week or two, so they didn’t just move the stuff in to fool us. Mrs. Weaver told us they had just gotten back into town from Paris last night. And, they have a cleaning staff, no live-ins; so no one was there on Sunday."

Skinner sighed and looked at his watch again and snapped. "O’Malley, try Parmelli’s cell again." Scully raised her eyebrows and Chegwidden watched intently as O’Malley slowly sat up and reached for the phone. Her expression was pensive but resigned.

A minute later she murmured. "Sorry sir, still getting ‘the cellular customer you are trying to reach is either out of range’ message. You want me to call it in to NOPD dispatch and have them start looking for … whose car did they take, sir?"

Skinner shook his head and rubbed his neck. "That’s just it, I’m not sure, damn it. We are going to have to find out what agents have cars with them, which ones are downstairs and if any are in the damn shop! Give them another 20 minutes first. Where the hell can they be?" He stared at Detective Rachell for a minute. "How did you get here this morning?"

Rachell, tall, rumpled and looking extremely put upon muttered. "I took the street car. Jezz always drives her big-ass Jeep Cherokee – never offers to pick you up or anything." He was tired and not in the mood to cover for the Lieutenant, whom he suspected was out cattin’ around with young Mr. Parmelli, but he was damned straight to hell if he was going to share that little supposition with the very angry Mr. Skinner. Rachell wanted only to be home in bed with his boring yet very safe wife.

Skinner stalked out of the conference room leaving the other people there in stunned silence. Rachell looked embarrassed and muttered. "Well, she could always take care of herself, I don’t know what the fuss is about."

"Well, Detective, I rather doubt that we are that concerned about Jezz taking care of herself, now are we?" Cass stood and stretched and began hunting for something.

AJ was surprised at the cattiness in O’Malley’s response, so much that he never noticed Scully slip out of the conference room.

Scully found Skinner in the darkened office where she and O’Malley had met with Robins that first day. He was staring out at the city, the lights reflecting his image back into the room. She saw the pain and tension and throwing caution and protocol to the wind gently closed the door to the room and quietly twisted the lock.

She walked up behind him and ran her small hands firmly up his back to his shoulders, kneading them, rubbing his neck like she had wanted to earlier that day. She expected him to turn to her but he let her continue. "We will find them." Her whisper caused him to lean his head against the deeply recessed window, forcing her to drop her hands from his neck. She reached around him and hugged him fiercely. "I know he’s okay. I can feel it, you know." She tugged at him and worked her way around until she was leaning against the high windowsill, the small of her back pushed roughly against the woodwork. She reached up and caressed his stubbled cheek.

He reached down then and embraced her, pulling her up so she found herself sitting on the sill. Her slack-clad legs parted, she drew him into her comfort. They said nothing for a very long while, his head buried in her hair, her nose pushed into his collar. She could feel the tension slowly recede. He pulled back then and she raised her lips to his. The kiss was full of longing and his caress began to roughen against the silk of her back. He brought his hand up and tangled his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss, gently but firmly invading her mouth with his tongue. She let her hands roam down his chest, rubbing upward, then lightly trailing a little further down. His moan filled her mouth.

He pulled back panting. "We can’t. Not here."

Her face was in the shadow, the city lights giving her a neon colored halo, but he knew she was smiling wickedly. "Why not? Who’s going to care or know?" Her hands began the assault on his already loosened tie.

He gulped and brought a hand up and pushed a strand of hair from her already damp face. "What if Chegwidden comes looking for me? I doubt seriously if he would appreciate…Jesus, Dana…oh God!"

She had stopped his objections in the most effective way she knew how. Before he could protest further, she had his zipper down and her small hand firmly on his stiffening shaft. She stroked the silky hardness until he bent down and captured her mouth in a searing kiss. His hand grabbed and kneaded her breast through the silk blouse, finally getting a groan from her. Pushing her back until her shoulders hit the thick security glass, he swiftly undid the button and pulled the zipper of her slacks down.

He pushed back from her and grasped the waistband of her slacks and pulled them, along with her underwear down and off, her heels falling with a thud. He gasped as she undid his belt and the hook at his waistband and let the weight in his pockets pull his pants down, rubbing none to gently against his now painfully hard erection. He quickly pushed his briefs off and stepped out of his shoes.

Urgency drove them -- even the dim possibility of someone interrupting them was an added turn-on. He spread her legs even further and brought his hand down to her folds. "Dear God, you want this as much as I do." He caressed her wet, hot core, thrusting two fingers deep within her, causing her to arch her back and hitting her head against the glass.

Already panting and needing more she roughly pulled his hand away reached for his erection. "In me, now!" The growl was an order that he had no desire to refuse. He plunged into her, engulfing her body in a tight embrace. He brought his hand up under her blouse and worked it, still buttoned over her head. Pulling her bra straps down, he reached up and grabbed her head and pulling her roughly back brought his lips to her exposed nipple. The sensations washed over Scully, "So close, harder!"

He grabbed her up into his arms and using the wall next to the window for support, pumped and thrust into her until he felt her walls clamp down on him. He buried his lips into her hair to muffle his shout of release.

Panting, trying hard to get his breath, he held her firm against the cool wall. Still with her legs wrapped around him, she ground against him, causing him to shudder. "Woman you are going to be the death of me yet." He gently eased her down and turned to rest against the windowsill.

Laying her head against the wall, her breathing every bit as ragged as his she gasped. "Yeah, maybe. But, is your headache gone?"

He laughed then -- a low rumble that never ceased to amaze her. She wondered if anyone but she ever got to hear the marvelous sound. He reached out and took her hand and pulled her to him. "Yeah, I’m a mess, but the headache is gone. How the hell are we going to clean up?"

She looked around and spotted the small box of Kleenex. "Will this do?"

He reached over and grabbed several. "It will have to."

Five minutes later they emerged from the office. They looked down the hall and saw that the lights were still on in the conference room, a light murmur just barely heard. He inspected her closely; she reached up and thumbed away a small trace of lipstick. She quickly ducked into the ladies room to finish any repairs, allowing him to proceed down to the room.

Cass looked up and instantly noticed the change in Skinner. He still looked pensive but some of the stress had left his face. "Sir, I tried Parmelli’s phone again, still nothing."

Skinner saw that only she and Chegwidden were left. "Where are Lieutenant Thibedeaux and Detective Rachell?" He circled the room, staying away from them, convinced that they could smell the sex clinging to him.

"They left about twenty minutes ago sir, right after Scully…oh, hi Dana. I thought you had gone back to the hotel." She eyed Scully carefully. More in tune with another woman than her boss, she finally put two and two together and immediately blushed a very unattractive shade of salmon.

Scully appraised O’Malley and Chegwidden coolly. "No, I just stepped down the hall to finish my report on the toxicology results from Mr. Roberts."

Chegwidden stared down at O’Malley and then back at Scully and finally over at Skinner. Doing the same math that O’Malley had done he decided to break the tension. "So Agent Scully, exactly what cocktail of drugs did you find in Lieutenant Roberts?"

Thankful for a safe subject, Skinner walked over and stood next to Scully and listened as she ran down the grocery list of drugs that had been found. Ten minutes later he really didn’t know any more than he had when she had started, but the discourse had allowed the dynamics in the room to return to where they could all go about their business. Skinner asked gruffly. "Thank you, Agent Scully. Will any of these drugs have any long lasting effect?"

Scully shrugged. "There shouldn’t be, but some of the combinations are rather exotic. We will have to keep a close watch, but I talked to the neurologist and he was optimistic." She looked over at Chegwidden. "By the way, Admiral, I understand that you are arranging to have the Lieutenant transferred up to Bethesda as soon as he is fit to fly."

"Yes, I spoke to his doctors and they feel he would be able to be moved by the end of the week. I have arranged to have some of the best Navy doctors to look at him. I would appreciate it if you could forward you reports to them."

Scully smiled. "Sure. No problem." She looked back at Skinner, waiting for him to make the pronouncement, knowing he didn’t want to leave with Parmelli still out of contact.

She looked over at O’Malley and raised her eyebrow in question, but O’Malley just shook her head. "I have no idea. I’ve known Jezz for over 30 years and she can be a real barracuda when it comes to men, but I can’t believe she would blatantly ignore the call-in rule. And," she sighed deeply, "no matter how far under her spell he fell, I can’t believe that Agent Parmelli would risk the legendary wrath of AD Skinner here and not report in."

Skinner grunted and rubbed his hand over his mouth and chin. "That’s why I’m still here. The rest of you go on back to the ho…"

The shrill brrring of the phone at the front of the room startled them all. This was the check-in number that all of the agents had programmed into their cell phones before they left. Skinner stumbled over the chair in his haste to answer the phone. "Skinner! Speak up I can’t hear you."

Scully cringed and thought, No, my love, but Richards can hear you in Washington.

Suddenly Skinner’s entire manner changed. A look of grim concern replaced the annoyance and his voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "Okay Parmelli, I hear you. No, Parmelli, we haven’t heard from her. Where are you?" He looked over at O’Malley and jerked his head for her to come to the phone. When she reached Skinner, Scully and Chegwidden following close behind her, she took the phone from the AD, a questioning look on her face.

"Agent Parmelli, Jeff? Hi. Do you know where you are?" She listened intently, her eyes growing larger and rounder by the moment, till AJ could see white all around her deep green iris. She gulped. "Okay, Jeff. Sorry, I understand. Can you describe the building where you are? Anything Jeff, an awning or a …Yeah that’s good, yeah I know that corner. Great! Now which building are you in from Mickey’s? Okay. I don’t know the address but I can find you. NO! For goodness sake don’t try to move. You’d give yourself away in two seconds. You took a big enough chance calling, Jeff. Listen. Can you remember a number?" She rattled off her cell-phone number. "Okay listen Jeff. Hang up and call it. Then I’ll talk to you the entire way there, okay? No Jeff, you have to hang up and call me back. Yeah… right here, I promise."

She looked at Skinner as she hung up. He reached out for the phone. "Do you know where we’re going?"

She nodded and started to tell him but her cell phone rang. "Jeff! Yeah don’t say anything. You can just listen. We’re on our way right now. The troops will be there soon, Jeff, just don’t make any noise. Jeff, you remember Agent Scully? Yeah, the cute redhead. I’m giving her the phone. I have to tell the cops where to go, okay?" She thrust the phone at Scully. "He can’t talk, they are right below him and he is scared shitless and his ankle is broken and he can’t move. Jezz was supposed to have gone for help three hours ago."

Scully nodded and took the phone and spoke quietly. Skinner got the police dispatcher on the line and handed the phone to Cass. "Who am I speaking to? Listen up, Officer Jackson. I want the SWAT team and every damn squad in the Quarter, the downtown Business District, the Garden District and the Warehouse District dispatched to Market and St. Peter. No lights, no sirens. We’ve got a major bust going down. Find Whitley and tell him AD Skinner said ‘this is it’." Her voice rose in crescendo. "I know what fucking time it is Jackson, I’ve been up a hell of lot longer than you have and we’ve got an agent in harm’s way. Now get going here, damn it!"

Skinner took the phone from her clinched fist. "Officer Jackson, this is Skinner. Is there a problem?" He sighed, "Jackson, just do it, I’ll have Agent O’Malley come down and apologize tomorrow okay? Thank you, ten minutes, Jackson and have two squad cars stop by here on their way over there, I don’t want to have to look for a cab." He placed the phone back down, gazed over at O’Malley and grinned. "Good job. Now where’s the list of cell phone number for the agents? We’ll call them in the car, I don’t think too many of them will be there for the actual bust, though."

The three agents headed out to the hall and found Chegwidden holding the doors of the elevator open, while he spoke into his cell phone. "Marshall? It’s Chegwidden. Yeah can you get down to the Warehouse District? Now? Good, how long? Well, I don’t think you will need the exact address, but we’re meeting at the corner of Market and St. Peter. Yeah. Bring whatever you got."

The four of them stepped onto the elevator, Scully still murmuring into the cell. "We’re on our way now Agent Parmelli, just hang tight." She looked anxiously at Skinner who shrugged, the worry matching everyone’s in the small cage.

Chegwidden barked at Skinner, "Did he say anything about Rabb and Mulder?"

Skinner shook his head. "He’s barely 20 feet away. There’s at least 10 of them and they’ve got five more victims strung up." Skinner glared at O’Malley. "Where the hell is Morris?"

O’Malley gulped. "Sir, I have no…"

Skinner shook his head as if clearing it. "Forget it, O’Malley. I’m just …."

The elevator doors opened and they poured out into the lobby. Just as they reached the street two squad cars came barreling down Canal, screeching to a halt just in front of them. Skinner held the door and motioned for Cass and Scully to get in. He and Chegwidden ran to the second car.

They stood crouched behind an old Plymouth parked in front of Mickey’s Packaged Liquor store. The street they were on was one that was in the middle of "urban renewal"; most of the buildings on the block were boarded up, a few of them with blackened fingers reaching upward the only evidence of their original demise. The liquor store was the only surviving business on the short street. Two local cops had gone in, rousting out the three patrons and Mickey with the threat of closing him down for being open twenty minutes past his time.

No less than 15 cop cars were blocking entry into the area. The building across from them was fairly new, but uncompleted. Graceful boa constrictors carved up and across the entry way portal. Chegwidden had gotten one of the officers to give him his backup piece, an older, but well maintained .357 Magnum. He looked over at Cass and muttered. "Tough town if this is a back up piece."

Without taking her eyes from the door she whispered back. "You have no idea."

Skinner spoke softly in to the radio he had appropriated. "What do you see, Rachell?" Three of the original team members, Rachell, Thibedeaux and Detective Arnold had been found in time for them to make the rendezvous. They, along with nearly 15 NOPD cops and the 9-member SWAT team were positioned at various entrances to the building. Floor plans had been called for and they were waiting, when Scully looked up from the phone where she was still taking quietly and soothingly to the ever-increasingly panicked Agent Parmelli. "Sir! We can’t wait. Parmelli says they are starting the ritual in earnest now, he thinks they are going to start killing them, sir."

Skinner nodded and spoke into the radio. "We can’t wait Rachell, I’m going to try and get in, like we discussed. We’re farthest from the action up here. Listen for my signal though, I’m leaving the radio on live."

Skinner ran across the street, with Chegwidden on his heels. They had come to words over Chegwidden’s involvement, Skinner insisting that he stay behind and Chegwidden adamantly refusing. Skinner wasn’t surprised when O’Malley disobeyed his direct order to stay with Scully. Hell, he was surprised that Scully wasn’t right behind them too, but she stayed with the beat cop, Johnny Keegan, (2) talking low into the cell phone, keeping Parmelli as calm and soothed as she could. Just before he made his dash across the street though she had grabbed his arm and ordered. "Don’t you dare get killed, Skinner."

The hasp of the padlock gave way to the bolt cutter that Officer Keegan had given Cass. She laid it down next to the wall, pulled her gun from her belt holster and waited for Skinner’s signal. The door opened smoothly and Skinner, then Chegwidden with Cass bringing up the rear slipped through. They stood just inside the entry and waited for their eyes to adjust to the pitch black before them. Far off to the back of the building they could make out faint noise, almost a singsong, slowly getting louder. Skinner strained and could barely make out dim shapes scattered on the floor. He took out a powerful flashlight he had shoved into FBI windbreaker and regretfully shined it on the floor ahead of them. It would not do any of the victims any good if they kept tripping and falling over the debris. They were halfway across the open space when they heard the terrible scream rent the air and a scared, "Freeze, FBI!"

Skinner pulled out the radio and yelled. "Go! Go! Go!" They ran toward the scream.

Wood splintered, shouts went out in all directions and Cass counted no less than three gun shots go off before they pushed back the hanging plastic hiding the "ceremonial" chamber from the front of the building finding cops with rifles aimed at the naked celebrants. Chegwidden looked at the five figures hanging by their wrists in the middle a pentagram-outlined altar area. He ran up and helped two of the policemen lower the still breathing teenagers to the ground. He whipped off his jacket and gently covered the only girl of the group. Her long dark hair hung limply around her nude shoulders, the cuts in her body bleeding, oozing through the fabric of jacket. He looked up as Scully knelt next to him and quickly checked the girls pulse and checked her pupils, before moving on to the other four kids.

Skinner looked around frantically and called out. "Parmelli?"

He heard a faint, "Up here." He looked, training his flashlight toward the faint sound and pinned his agent. Looking weak and haggard, Parmelli leaned over a platform atop iron scaffolding that held him nearly two stories above. Skinner played the light until he found a way up and quickly ascended the twenty feet, slipping only once eliciting a resounding "shit" from Scully who somehow had managed to keep up with him in her signature two-inch heels.

They unsteadily made it to the young agent’s side. Skinner gently propped the man against his chest while Scully did a cursory check. She yelled over the side. "I want a stretcher up here stat! Make sure it’s got sturdy ropes to lower it down." Two paramedics checked on the patient they were about to lift onto the stretcher, consulted with someone over a radio and ran for the scaffold. After thirty minutes of maneuvering they lowered the injured and badly dehydrated agent to the floor where medics were waiting to start IV’s and get him to the hospital.

Chegwidden hung back and watched as O’Malley firmly took control of the onsite interview of the ‘celebrants’. He noticed that she had immediately zeroed in on one man in particular. "Does Lady Soul know that her bartender is part of this bullshit?" He wondered who Lady Soul was but figured Cass would let them all in on the secret eventually. None of the NOPD cops even tried to invade the furious FBI agent’s domain. "Is she part of this?" The voice was suddenly cold and everyone who heard it waited for the answer.

The man, who tried to hide his pale, wilted genitalia from view with his cuffed hands, stared at the floor and shook his head. Cass jabbed the painted artwork on his forehead, pushing him back until he would have fallen if one of the cops hadn’t grabbed his arm. "Is she part of this?" The hiss was heard throughout the area. Suddenly the rustling and muttering and private conversations suddenly stilled.

The man finally met her glare. "No! Lady don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout this. She would fire us all for sure. She don’t take no truck in voodoo."

One of the cops laughed outright. "You dumb fuck. Fire you! You’ll never come of Angola alive!"

The former bartender shuddered and looked at Cass. "We did it cause we had ta. Ya just don’ understand. We had ta!" He sank to his knees and one of the cops jerked him back up and yanked him out toward the door. She turned to the next man, one she thought she recognized and then groaned. The bouncer. She gritted her teeth and started to ask the same question when she felt a firm hand on her arm. She jerked her eyes up and found herself glaring into his concerned quiet gaze.

AJ cleared his throat. "Perhaps, Agent O’Malley, we should concentrate on finding your partner. And Commander Rabb."

Had anyone else dared to question her methods she would have bitten his or her head off, but she knew she was loosing control and she knew he was right. She gulped, nodded and turned back to the bouncer. Before she started though, she growled out to one of the cops. "For God sakes, find this slob his pants at least." She actually turned away for a moment while he pulled on a pair of jeans. "Now, what’s your name?"

The man glowered but muttered, "Cletus Townsend."

"Well Cletus, I want to know how many other people have died here and where their bodies are." She heard Chegwidden’s sharp intake but didn’t turn or acknowledge his reaction.

The bouncer looked at her in horror. "I swear, this was my first time tonight. I…"

She yelled at one of the cops. "Get this lying bastard out of my sight."

She looked at the remaining eight men and lashed out. "All right, listen up. I got one pass I’m dealin’ here. One only. One deal. I want it all, names, places and I want to know well the hell my partner is. First person who tells me gets a recommendation to the judge for leniency."

One of the men called out. "I’ll tell you. But I want a walk."

Cass stalked over to the man and got in his face. AJ was reminded of a SeAL instructor he had known. "Grow up. You’re doin’ time. Where and for how long? Now that’s negotiable, but you are doin’ time. Now spill or stop blabbering." She saw Skinner out of the corner of her eye and thought for a moment that he was going to step in, but instead he hung back, his hands on his hips and waited.

In the end one of them did talk. He gave them names of other members of the cult and the other place where they had, once before, killed five transients, burying them in an old cemetery out in Metairie. He gave them all the details that he knew and swore that the only connection that Lady Soul had in any of it was that they had used the club for meetings very early in the morning, long after hours. Without her permission, he quickly added.

Unfortunately, he also swore that he had no idea as to who or where Mulder and Rabb were. Furthermore, neither he nor the other men had been aware of Agent Parmelli or Lieutenant Morris and he didn’t have a clue on the Lieutenant’s current whereabouts.

When the man was done, Skinner came up and took charge. By now agents were beginning to arrive from their far-flung homes. Bleary eyed, they helped escort the men to headquarters for booking and further questioning.

Cass slumped down on an upturned box and buried her head in her hands. Chegwidden and Skinner conferred silently and Scully finally came up and sat down next to Cass. "We’ll find him, O’Malley. Why don’t we grab a ride back to the hotel and get some rest? I don’t know about you, but I’m beat."

Cass groaned into her hands. "Yeah, I guess." She stood suddenly and started to pace. "But…damn it. There’s something I’m missing and I just can’t put my finger on it."

Skinner growled out. "That’s it." He whistled at one of the departing officers. "Give Agents Scully and O’Malley a ride back to their hotel." The officer waited and O’Malley shook her head and followed him. Scully started to say something, but the look on Skinner’s face stopped her. She shrugged and turned.

Skinner looked over at Chegwidden. "You got any ideas?"

Chegwidden shook his head. "No. I had pretty much pinned everything on this. Where the hell did they go if not here? I can’t think anymore. Just too much has happened."

Skinner stared at the scene around him. "Yeah. Well, I’m going to check and make sure security is in place. I’ll meet you at the hotel tomor…this morning around 8:00."

Chegwidden looked at his watch. "Do everybody, including yourself, a favor and make it 0900 hours. Okay?" He turned and tiredly marched out the building thinking, I am definitely getting too old for this shit. Rabb, if I find you alive, I swear I’m tying you to your desk for a year.

::  Chapter 8  ::

The dream had been awful, the waking was worse. The phone by the bed more stringent than the screams in her dreams. "O’Malley." She knew the words were barely audible but it was the best she could manage.

"Hey, I’m sorry, but it’s 8:00 o’clock." Scully’s voice was gentle, holding only a faint trace of amusement. "You okay?"

Cass forced herself to sit up even though the nausea threatened. She mumbled, "No. Yeah. Whatever. I’m fine. I just need a shower."

"I spoke to Skinner already." There was a slight pause and Cass imagined the blush creeping up the redhead’s face. "He wants us to go back to the warehouse today and do a final search. You gonna be up for it?"

Cass heard the concern, but snapped. "Yeah, Scully. I’m a big girl. I can still survive on four hours sleep." <<<If I actually slept the four hours, of course.>>> Suddenly contrite, "Look, I’m sorry. I just need my coffee, I’ll be down in an hour."

"Okay, I’ll have a big to-go cup of coffee for you. The really old stuff."

Cass rang off and stumbled across the room. She reached into the shower and turned it on then turned to face the mirror. "Oh, beautiful. Gee, don’t you wish he could see you now O’Malley? You look older than his mother probably." Her eyes were puffy and black shadows marred them. She ran a sink full of cold water and carefully plunged her head under the faucet. After stepping into the too-hot stream of water, she adjusted the temperature and stood there for a long time letting the heat beat into her scalp, letting the memory of the dreams finally claim her attention. The dreams hadn’t been this bad in a long time. Funny thing though -- before they had always been so vivid, staying with her for days. This morning when the phone had roused her, only the horror and the nausea remained.

She viciously rubbed the rough towel over her skin, leaving red marks up and down her body. She quickly applied concealer to hide the shadows under her eyes, daubed on some lipstick, and pulled her hair back into a tight bun before quickly dressing in slacks and oxford shirt.

She exited the elevator to find Scully and Chegwidden waiting for her; Scully with the large cup of coffee as promised. The Admiral looked at her with concern, but Scully briskly led the way to the doors. "Come on, Agent Trumbell is waiting to drive us to the warehouse.

Nearly 20 cops and agents spent most of the morning systematically searching every corner of the vast warehouse. Other than two NOPD cops finding a pulsating aluminum garbage can full of copperhead snakes, only a few oddly printed tracts and scattered gris-gris gave any further testament to what had transpired here. The forensic teams last night had bagged and tagged the immediate area. The gathered evidence would be enough to convict the 10 men, none of whom would walk out of Angola alive.

Cass’ effort had been desultory at best and she finally found a quiet corner and tried to regain some of her composure. The coffee had done nothing for her stomach and her head, while clearer, pounded to a rhythm she had nearly forgotten. She tried desperately to remember the dream, knowing in her gut that it was important. Images flitted around the edges of her mind; whispers harried her even when other agents were talking to her. She slowly slid down the unfinished beam and buried her head into her knees.

The voice was so soft at first she thought it was just whispers from her head. "Are you okay…Cass?" She stilled suddenly and tried to remember if he had ever called her by her first name before this. She looked up and saw AJ squatting next to her, his face a neutral mask as if he was afraid to show any outward sign of concern.

She swallowed but didn’t nod; the last time she had nodded she thought her head would simply detach itself from her neck and roll to the floor. "Yeah, I’m just really tired. I…uhm…I didn’t get much sleep last night." When she started to rise she noticed that he was battling with himself on the subject of helping her up. <<<Christ, I must really look like the Wicked Witch of the West if the big bad former SeAL is afraid of me. >>> She reached her hand and he smiled warily as he grasped it and pulled her up. Cass had never considered herself to be a lightweight, but his strength and the momentum was so forceful that she found her nose buried in his chest, almost re-enacting the scene outside Hattie Willis’ door. She pushed away gently, noticing that his hand still held hers tightly. "You’re going to think I’m a real klutz if I keep running into you like this."

He smiled thinly but led her gently, not dropping her hand until they came upon the others. Skinner was standing in the center of the room, surround by the searchers. "Okay people, NOPD is going to station men on all the doors. The zoo is sending out a truck for the snakes. Agent Scully is already at headquarters going over reports on the drugs found in the victims last night. Let’s get back and join her, shall we?"

Cass stepped out into the bright sunlight and only the fact that she knew AJ was watching her closely kept her on her feet, her eyes open in the assault. She gritted her teeth before taking a deep breath. "Hey Trumbell, throw me the car keys." She wasn’t sure who was more surprised that she made the catch, Chegwidden or herself. She turned to face him, smiled as sweetly as she could manage and purred, "Hop in."

The drive back downtown was uneventful, the traffic light. She pulled the beige Ford Taurus up to the curb, flipped the "Official Bureau Business" card onto the dash and exited the car. <<<I will do this.>>> She came around the back of the car and met AJ on the curb, meeting his appraising eye with a small smile and led him into the building.

All the players but Parmelli, who had been told to stay home and recuperate, were present. Skinner sat wearily against the table in front, his ankles crossed, his hands resting beside him. "Agent Scully, what do you have to report?"

Dana brushed her hair behind her ear and stood. All heads turned to give her their full attention. She rapidly went through the tox report, which pretty much mirrored the report from the five dead sailors and Mr. Roberts. "Because we are now alert to what we’re dealing with, antidotes were administered last night and all five of the young people are showing marked recovery, the one who had been cut the worst is in stable condition, the other four have been upgraded to fair." She put the one stack of paper aside and picked up another. "I have the autopsy report on Mrs. Willis. There are no surprises; she was killed with a .38 caliber pistol, one shot to the head. However," Dana peered at the room over the top of her glasses, "it appears that she did put up at least a cursory struggle. Several strands of blond hair were found under her body."

AJ spoke up. "So it seems that Mr. Armstrong did see the murderer."

Dana smiled, "Yes, but the interesting thing is that the murderer wasn’t blond. No really anyway, her roots showed that she was really a redhead." Dana stared down at the sharp intake of breath from the woman next to her.

Skinner picked up on it too. "What is it, Agent?"

Cass shook her head. "Nothing, at least I don’t think so."

Skinner started to insist when a loud clump against the door drew everyone’s attention away from Cass. It took a moment, but finally the door crashed open and Skinner exploded. "What the hell are you doing here, Parmelli? You were told to …"

Parmelli’s stance stopped Skinner. Wildly looking around the room he demanded, "Where is she? I saw her car downstairs. I want to know if she’s okay."

Scully walked slowly over to the dazed agent. "Jeff?"

The flustered man turned to her. "Scully! Where is she?"

Speaking as if to a hostage taker Scully spoke softly and slowly, completely ignoring the stares of the other people in the room. "Lieutenant Morris isn’t here, Jeff. Why did you think she would be?" She felt Skinner’s solid presence behind her.

Parmelli looked up at Skinner. "Her car’s downstairs. She has to be here."

Skinner asked patiently, "You saw the Jeep downstairs, Agent?"

Parmelli looked confused. "What Jeep? No, the Crown Vic – the blue one."

Scully didn’t think it could get any quieter. The only sound for a long time was O’Malley’s ragged breathing. Finally, someone uttered what they had all been thinking. "Well, I’ll be damned."

Skinner’s eyes roved the room until they nailed Detective Rachell who was suddenly very interested in the piece of paper in front of him. "Detective?" Skinner’s voice was deceptively mild. "I clearly remember you stating that Lieutenant Morris was driving her Jeep."

Rachell gulped. "Sir, I saw Morris get out of her Jeep."

Skinner glared at the man and then back at Parmelli. "Agent, how can you be sure that the car you saw downstairs is Morris’?"

Parmelli shrugged. "Well the sticker in the window for one." Seeing the red flush of impatience slowly crawl up Skinner’s neck he hurriedly continued. "The one with the turtle on it.

A chair crashed back and Skinner spun and saw O’Malley standing at the table, holding on to it as if she was ready to fall over. Chegwidden stood next to her watching her, but making no move to touch her.

Cass thought for a moment that she was having a stroke. The dreams from the night before suddenly clear and intense – she knew now where they were. She wondered almost without emotion if there was any chance that they were still alive and she how long she would get if she killed Jezz Morris. She looked up and saw Skinner and the rest of the room staring at her like she was some kind of lunatic. To no in particular she demanded, "Get me a map of Terrebonne parish."

Her voice was quiet and calm but still no one moved until the low rumble from Skinner. "Do it."

The map was spread on the table before her and she studied it intently. "Here is Gibson." Her finger traced its way along a small line, across blue area with the legend "Turtle Bayou" and then along a winding line until she jabbed a spot. "Who’s got a pen?" A large hand with an Annapolis ring thrust a black marker at her. She circled the spot. "Jezz’s daddy had a fishing camp right here." She forced her voice to remain detached and calm. "I remember the one time I went there, we were 12. It was about 10 miles from my d-d-dad’s place." She had to stop and steady herself. She took a deep cleansing breath and continued. "It’s real quiet out there. We aren’t going to be able to just send in the Marines. If they’re still alive, she’ll hear any boats or helicopters and kill them for sure."

"That’s just bullshit. You’ve got no right to say that about the Lieutenant." Detective Arnold stood across the table from O’Malley, his fists balled at his side. "Just because she’s missing and her city-issued car is a blue Crown Victoria doesn’t give you the right…"

Cass reached out and grabbed Arnold by his tie, pulling him toward her. "Don’t have the right?" Her voice was low and deadly.

"Let him go, O’Malley." Skinner hissed. "Now!"

She let the cop go, straighten and held up her fist. "One." Her index finger shot out. "The Crown Vic WITH the Turtle Bayou marina sticker in the window. It was a marina sticker wasn’t Parmelli?" All heads turned to the agent who was now resting uncomfortably in one of the chair. At his slight nod of agreement they promptly turned back in time to see Cass’ middle finger join the first. "Two. Believe it or not Jezz Morris is a natural redhead, prettiest shade you can imagine. And, she’s hated it ever since we were kids. Three." The ring finger shot up. "I’m bettin’ that if Agent Scully here goes and buys Shalimar and dabs it generously behind her ears, and goes sees Mr. Armstrong, he will confirm that is the scent he smelled on the blond." She stared around the room and then finally focused on AJ. "Give me the pictures please."

AJ stared at her a moment, but reached into his inside coat pocket and produced the pictures they had been showing all over town for the past three days. She put the picture of Commander Rabb on the table and stared down at it for a long time, trying to understand why she had never seen the resemblance before. Picking up the marker, she drew in a very shaky pair of glasses and a wispy mustache. "And finally, this is Jezz’s daddy." At the gasps from nearly everyone in the room she amended. "Well, close enough anyway after all these years."

Bobby Beacom entered the room and whispered something to Dan Thibedeaux, who walked up to Skinner and announced. "We had a trooper run down to Turtle Bayou Marina. There’s a Jeep Cherokee parked just down the road. The trooper says the license plates read JEZZABEL."

Skinner shook his head. "That settles it."

Before he could finish, Detective Arnold tried one last time. "Why the hell does that settle it? Just because this sailor looks like her daddy? Why would she do that?"

Cass’ sigh reached AJ’s soul. "Because, if any son-of-a-bitch ever deserved to die it was Jezz’s daddy."

Scully finally spoke up. "Where is he now?"

Cass shook her head. "I’ve no idea. He ran off when we were in high school."

Part 9 - 12

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