ALTERED FATES: THE X-FILE REOPENED free porn video

ALTERED FATES: THE X-FILE REOPENED by BobH. (c) 2003 For those of you interested in continuity, this story takes place during the first half of the final season of The X- Files. It's a sequel to my story ALTERED FATES: THE X-FILE in the sense of being set after that tale and making reference back to it, but you don't need to have read that one to follow this one. MARRIOTT HOTEL, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND It was her walk as she strode into the main bar that had first attracted Darryl Johnson's attention, a walk he was later to view appreciatively from behind when the woman led him back to her room. "I don't normally do this sort of thing," he'd said, as he went over to where she had settled herself on a stool at the bar and introduced himself. And he didn't. Darryl Johnson was a happily married family man with two young children, and he had never fooled around. Until now. The woman had given him a look as she sat down, a long and appraising look, and it had turned him on. Darryl was almost forty, balding, overweight, and with few illusions about his attractiveness to the opposite sex, so to get such an obvious display of sexual interest from a woman like this one was something he didn't expect and couldn't resist. Even as he had made his way over to the bar Darryl was feeling guilty he was even thinking of cheating on Joan, his wife of twelve years, but he knew the chances a young woman as foxy looking as this would ever show such interest in him again were low to non-existent. Already into his mid-life crisis, Darryl knew that if he didn't seize his chance now it might never come his way again. He loved Joan and would never deliberately hurt her, but he needed to prove to himself that he was still attractive to other women, that he still had it. Thus he rationalized, and thus was he lost. Lying naked on the bed in her room now, his hands cuffed to the bed frame, his eyes blindfolded, Darryl was beginning to have second thoughts. He wasn't really into this kinky stuff. They had kissed, and gotten naked, and in the heat of his lust Darryl hadn't raised any objection to the handcuffs or the blindfold, but then her ardor had cooled and she had stepped into the bathroom. Darryl heard her return, and started involuntarily as she dropped something cold on his chest. "Sorry about this," she said, dropping something else on top of the first item, "but I'm on a tight schedule and don't have time to fool around." Darryl started to panic. Whatever was going on here it wasn't the afternoon of passion he had anticipated. He was feeling strange, odd sensations rippling through his body. Something was happening to him, something terrible. He began to scream but this was brutally cut short as a gag was rammed into his mouth. He was at the woman's mercy. There was no escape. DEL FLORIO'S BARBERSHOP, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND The barbershop off Forest Street was only a stone's throw from the state penitentiary & city jail, a fact that amused Vincent Clay every time he came in for a trim. The Baltimore cops and the feds would love to see him locked behind its imposing walls and had indicted him on criminal charges related to racketeering on five occasions now, but he had beaten the rap every single time. It helped that he had the best lawyers money could buy, but what helped even more was how key prosecution witnesses had a nasty habit of either vanishing without trace or turning up dead. The authorities didn't even try to go after him anymore. He was effectively above the law. Clay looked up as the door opened, ringing the bell above it. His bodyguards' hands moved to the bulges in their jackets as a man in his thirties entered. He gave them a disinterested look and turned right. There were chairs either side of the door where you waited for Mr. del Florio to get to you. As he reached the chairs, he suddenly spun on his heel, pulling a silenced handgun from his coat pocket with his left hand and firing several shots. It happened too fast for the bodyguards to react, and both crumpled to the floor, unable even to reach their own guns before being cut down. Without missing a beat, the killer strode over to Clay, pressed the silencer to his head, and fired two shots into his brain. Thus ended the long, violent life of Vincent Clay. FBI HEADQUARTERS, WASHINGTON DC. "Any idea why Kersh wants to see us, John?" asked FBI Agent Monica Reyes as she and her partner, FBI Agent John Doggett headed for his office. "Your guess is as good as mine," said Doggett in his usual growl, "but I hope it gets us out on the road. I've been going stir crazy stuck in the office these past few weeks." "Please be seated," said FBI Deputy Director Alvin Kersh when they entered his office, eyeing them beadily as he did so. There was no love lost between him and these particular agents. "I believe you know Charles J. Boudreaux, Agent Reyes," said Kersh, without preamble. "What can you tell me about him?" "Chuck..." she began, "...that is, Agent Boudreaux, and I worked together during my time at the bureau's New Orleans office. Last I heard, he'd been transferred to the Baltimore office." "So you were colleagues?" "Yes." said Reyes, wondering where Kersh was going with this. "Just colleagues? Or were you more?" "What is this?" demanded Doggett. "Surely Agent Reyes' private life is her own affair?" "Ordinarily, yes," replied Kersh, looking at Doggett with distaste, "but recent events in Baltimore have made it FBI business. So, Agent Reyes, which was it?" "We were lovers," admitted Reyes. "It was a short affair, but I retain the greatest respect and affection for Agent Boudreaux. Is he in some sort of trouble?" "You could say that," replied Kersh, dryly. "Charles Boudreaux vanished without trace three months ago. No one had seen hide nor hair of him until yesterday afternoon when a fortuitously placed traffic camera caught him exiting a barbershop in Baltimore. You will have seen on the morning news that local gangster Vincent Clay and his two bodyguards were gunned down in a Baltimore barbershop yesterday in what has all the hallmarks of a professional hit. It was the same barbershop. The owner, Mr. del Florio, witnessed the shootings and has confirmed that Boudreaux was the shooter." "This can't be," said Reyes, in a shocked voice. "The Chuck Boudreaux I knew was a sweet, gentle man. I can't believe he would do such a thing." "It gets worse. Ballistics have matched the bullets from the bodies of Clay and the others to those from several other gangland killings over the past three months. Interestingly, the victims in those cases were all rivals of Clay's. Which suggests Boudreaux may have gone rogue on us, that he may be conducting a one-man vigilante war on crime. We want to know why and, more importantly, we want him stopped." "So you want us to use Agent Reyes knowledge of Boudreaux to help apprehend him," said Doggett. "Yes. But, that's not the only reason to send you up to Baltimore," said Kersh. "There's also a missing persons case to investigate. One Darryl Johnson, a traveling salesman, was reported missing three days ago. He checked into the Baltimore Marriott but never checked out. Ordinarily, the bureau wouldn't get involved unless there was evidence of foul play, which there isn't. However, Johnson was last seen leaving the main hotel with a woman, one who was caught on tape by their security cameras." Kersh picked up a TV remote from his desk, turning on the TV and VCR in the corner of his office. The tape showed a man and a woman walking along a hotel corridor, their faces perfectly clear as they passed the camera, at which point Kersh freeze-framed the image. While the man was a stranger they all recognized the woman. "That's you, Monica!" said Doggett, turning to his partner in amazement. "It isn't," said Reyes, "It can't be." "Can't be, and isn't," said Kersh. "You and Agent Doggett were here in DC working in this building at the time indicated on the tape, something confirmed by our own logs. Do you have a twin sister we weren't informed about, Agent Reyes?" "No...", said Reyes, staring at the image intently. "At least not that I know of." "Well, your secondary objective will be to look into this," said Kersh. "If it turns out foul play was involved we can claim it as a case for the bureau, but as it stands missing persons are the responsibility of local law enforcement. When you get to Baltimore make sure you report in to Woodrow Billings, who heads up our local office there." Reyes winced at the name, something only Doggett noticed. "That will be all." said Kersh, dismissing them. When they left the office, Reyes turned to Doggett. "John," she said, a mixture of pain and hope in her eyes, "that really could be my twin sister." "Don't do this to yourself, Monica," said Doggett, "We've both seen too much to leap to that conclusion without a lot of proof." "You know my history; how I was born in Austin but raised in Mexico, and how I don't know who my real parents were. Isn't it possible I'm one of a pair of twins, separated at birth? John, she may know who my parents are. She may have been raised by them." "Why did you wince when Kersh mentioned that guy," asked Doggett, deliberately changing the subject, "Woodrow Billings, was it?" "Someone else I once knew. He wasn't the only reason I transferred from the New York office to New Orleans, but he was one of them." "What happened?" "Harassment. He wouldn't take 'no' for an answer." "Did you report him?" "No, I didn't." "Why not? The bureau has policies against that sort of thing." "It's obvious you're not a woman," sighed Reyes. "Yes, the bureau has policies against sexual harassment but if you embarrass them you're accused of not being a team player and you can pretty much forget advancing any further. It's hard enough anyway if you're female. And, yes, I know the Bureau also has policies concerning equal rights." They had been talking as they walked and had now reached the basement office where the X-files were hidden away. Reyes opened the door to find a familiar figure waiting for them. "Dana?" she said, in some surprise. "Hello, Monica, Agent Doggett," said FBI Agent Dana Scully, "I gather Deputy Director Kersh has just briefed you on recent events in Baltimore." "Yes," said Doggett, "but how does that involve you?" "He asked me if, with this double of Monica, we could be dealing with an X-file," said Sully, "and we could." She handed a file to him. He read the name on it and frowned. "'The Medallion of Zulo'?" he said. "What the heck's that?" "A mystic artifact capable of changing the form of one person into that of another," said Reyes. "Huh? How'd you know that?" asked Doggett. "I've heard of it, but I didn't know it had it's own X- file." said Reyes. "I'm reading all the X-files but I haven't got that far yet." She turned to Scully. "So you don't think this woman is my sister?" "Oh, Monica, I know how much it would mean to you if she was," said Scully, "but, no, I don't. And I don't think her appearing so close to the hit on Clay by Boudreaux, someone you know, is a coincidence, either. Someone is trying to lure you to Baltimore. It may be that neither Boudreaux or this woman are who they appear to be, hence my suspicion the medallion may have surfaced again. I have to go now - I still have a class to teach at Quantico - but I'd urge you both to be very, very, careful. If you are being lured to Baltimore, it won't be for the good of your health." THE CAPITOL BELTWAY, WASHINGTON DC. While Doggett drove, Reyes riffled through the X-file in her lap, eager to learn what she could about the medallion. The first item in the file was a summation of what was known about it: The Medallion of Zulo - a primer According to the most common of the legends concerning the Medallion of Zulo, it was created in Africa by a tribal witch doctor and used to transform the entire tribe into doppelgangers of their strongest warrior during times of conflict. Eventually, the medallion found its way to the New World. The earliest reports of it uncovered by the Bureau thus far, and documented in this X-File, date back to the Victorian period, but it may have been here even earlier. There have been reports of it from all over the country, right up to the present day. Arthur Dales started this X-File and I have updated it whenever new reports appearing to pertain to the medallion have come in from various field offices. These reports are usually accompanied by highly skeptical assessments from local agents. It is logical to assume that such reports represent only a fraction of the incidents involving the medallion. From collating all the reports, the operation of the Medallion of Zulo appears to be as follows: - if two people touch it at the same time, it will transform each into a copy of the other; - if someone wearing it touches a piece of clothing worn by someone else to the medallion, they will be transformed into a copy of that person. (There have also been reports that touching a previously unworn garment to the medallion will transform someone into the size and age of person that garment is intended for. I am of the opinion this must be apocryphal since it makes no sense. It is easy to see that once a garment has been worn by someone it picks up some sort of physical or psychic residue of that person which the medallion could key into, but what could it possibly latch onto in new clothing? Psychically, this would be indistinguishable from any other piece of cloth.) - if, instead of being just touched to the medallion, an item of clothing is kept in contact with it for an extended period, then as well as being physically transformed into a copy of the garment's owner, the wearer of the medallion will also taken on aspects of that person's behavior and personality. The longer the contact the more the behavioral change. - being pregnant or menstruating blocks any change; - the time a complete transformation takes to occur varies, but around half an hour or so is the time most commonly reported; - once transformed, a person cannot be transformed again until twelve hours has elapsed. The medallion is gold in color with the figure of some sort of angel or fairy on the face (it has been suggested this is a representation of Zulo himself, who was presumably some sort of local deity of those who created it), and an obverse which has been variously described as being blank or inscribed with what might be some form of lettering. So either there is more than one medallion out there (possible but unlikely) or what one person sees as writing another assumes to be merely the nicks and scratches produced by inevitable wear and tear. The photos in this file are not of the real medallion but of a replica confiscated by me from someone using it as part of a scam (see report in file). Assuming it has not been removed by the time you read this, the replica itself should also be in the file. Logically, someone who had the medallion could use it to make themselves rich and powerful, since they would be able to dispense youth and beauty at will. However, the medallion is a powerful instrument of fate and apparently almost impossible to hold on to for any length of time. It has been lost, stolen, and even deliberately discarded countless times throughout its existence. If encountered, it is clear the Medallion of Zulo should be handled with extreme care, Avoid it coming into contact with your bare skin at all costs. - Fox Mulder. Reyes summarized this for Doggett as they drove. She found the replica medallion in an envelope in the file and, on impulse, slipped it into her jacket pocket. Beneath it in the file was a report. "The last report in the file is from six years ago," she said, checking the top of the document in question. "Mulder and Scully were sent to the town of Kennet Cove in Washington County, Maine, where... hello, what's this?" A crumpled leaflet that had been clipped to the back of the report had fallen out. There was a photo of a dolphin on the front. "It's a brochure for the town, whose main tourist attractions are, or were, Greg Danner, the famous horror writer who lives there, and a wild dolphin you could swim with." "I wouldn't want to swim in the waters off Washington County even in the middle of summer," said Doggett, as he turned the car onto I-95. "It's way too cold." "Well, people do," said Reyes, "I guess they're just made of sterner stuff than you, or maybe they wear dry-suits. Anyway, the case concerned Danner's wife, Lucy, and three mysterious doppelgangers of her that turned up, two of them dead." "Hey, I remember that case. So you're saying this medallion was responsible?" "Maybe, maybe not. At the end of their report Mulder and Scully wrote: 'While the Medallion of Zulo, if it indeed exists, would provide a plausible explanation for the appearance of the doppelgangers, we could find no concrete evidence of its presence. The only mention made of a medallion, by Sheriff John Nottingham, referred to one owned by his daughter. This turned out to be non-mystical in nature and entirely unremarkable. Neither Lucy Danner nor her husband knew who her doubles might be or where they could have come from. Having exhausted all avenues of investigation, it seems this will, for now, remain a mystery.'" Reyes slid the report back in the file, then stared through the windshield thoughtfully. "I read something in the Washington Post recently about Kennet Cove," she said. "They're going to be filming a movie there soon, based on a Greg Danner novel and starring Tom Hudson. The story was right under the news that Nancy DeNiro and Coyote Dingo are now a couple." "Who?" said Doggett. "The international supermodel and the rock star. Don't you keep up with popular culture at all, John?" "Not if I can help it," he replied. "By the way, did you mean what you said in Kersh's office, about you reading your way through all the X-files?" "Of course," said Reyes. "Working on the X-files was my dream assignment, remember? And before we get to Baltimore, I want to have read everything in this one." The next thing she plucked out of the file was a newspaper clipping, one of many, this one dating from the 1940s: 13 YEAR-OLD CLAIMS TO BE NOTED, CHILD EXPERT. "It was certainly one of the more unusual childhood delusions I've encountered," said Dr Clark Willows "Children view the world in a very different way to you and me", he went on to explain, "and their capacity for fantasy is much greater than it would be in an adult. Given the trauma this young girl has recently suffered, a retreat into fantasy is not entirely unheard of, however." The trauma the Doctor is referring to is the mysterious disappearance of 13 year-old Loretta Smith's mother, Rose, and the newborn baby found abandoned on the doorstep of the family home. The infant was placed with foster parents prior to being adopted, while Loretta was sent to the children's home run by Dr Willows, who had treated her in the past. Loretta's current delusional episode began during a private session with Dr Willows. She started ranting that the two had switched bodies via the medium of a magic medallion and that she was in fact Dr Willows. Orderlies had to be summoned to restrain her. Reluctantly, Dr Willows concluded she posed a potential risk to the other children at his home. She is now incarcerated in an institution for disturbed juveniles. In a surprising move, Dr Willows today announced his intention to retire to the country. "I'm still a reasonably young man," he said, during an interview, "and I think it's time I stepped down and started enjoying my considerable wealth. I also believe it's time to make way for child care professionals with new ideas." There were dozens more like this in the file, along with agent reports from FBI field offices around the country, and Reyes diligently read her way through all of them. Some she read out to her partner, but most not. "So what do you think?" she asked Doggett, as they entered the outskirts of Baltimore. "I think this whole thing is nuts, Monica. I mean, magic medallions? Come on! And that one report of that guy who was going to steal the Shroud of Turin and use it with the medallion to turn himself into Jesus Christ... how can you take that stuff seriously?" "Well that was back in the sixties," she said. "The tests hadn't yet been done that proved the Shroud wasn't old enough to have been around in Christ's time." "That's not what I meant, and you know it." said Doggett. "Unexplained phenomena are one thing, but this stuff belongs in fairy tales." They traveled the rest of the way to the hotel in silence, neither of them aware of the van that had been following since they set out, its dark-suited occupants taping their every word. MARRIOTT HOTEL, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND Doggett was impressed by the view from the window of his hotel room, which looked out over the inner harbor and the USS Constellation, reputedly the only Civil War-era ship still afloat. It was unusual for the FBI to pay for field agents to stay in such swanky rooms and he only regretted that he and Monica would be too busy to fully enjoy them. Her room was the one Darryl Johnson had stayed in, but a cursory examination had thrown up no clues. Monica had taken possession of a pile of hotel security tapes from the day Johnson had disappeared and would be viewing them in her room. In the meantime, she was off somewhere interviewing hotel staff. That left him the task of reporting to Woodrow Billings at the local field office and following up on the Vincent Clay hit, which suited him just fine. This way Monica wouldn't have to deal with Billings and could focus on finding her doppelganger, while he had a down-to-earth killing to investigate and so didn't need to be doing with magic medallions or other such nonsense. In the basement of the Marriott, Monica Reyes was checking a hunch. She had noticed the laundry chute in the corridor outside her room and, knowing it was not always just laundry that got thrown down the chutes, wondered if anything unusual had made its way down this one on the day in question. "Yes ma'am," said Ernesto Suarez, the laundry supervisor, leading her over to a locked cupboard. "In a hotel this big we get strange things coming down the chutes pretty much every day. Where possible, we return these to their owners, but that still leaves a lot that never gets claimed." He opened the cupboard and Reyes sighed. This had seemed like a good idea but now she wasn't so sure. There were items in the cupboard ranging from shoes to spectacles, from toys to vibrators (some of which were fancier models than her own, she idly noted). Among the toys were a large number of dolls, including one full-size, particularly life-like one of a baby, and several Teddy bears. The spectacles looked promising, so she carefully scooped them into a hotel carrier bag. If Darryl Johnson wore glasses it was possible they were among these. It was worth checking, anyway. Bag in hand, Reyes headed back to her room. She had a lot of videotape to work her way through. FBI OFFICE, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND "Would you send in Agent Doggett now, May?" said the voice on the intercom. "He'll see you now, Agent Doggett," said May, her expression suggesting less than warm feelings towards her boss. "Good to see you, John," said Billings, in a particularly nasal Boston accent, rising from his desk and putting his hand out as Doggett entered. They shook, Billings taking the concept of a firm handshake too far and exerted near bone-breaking pressure. Doggett remained impassive, giving no indication of pain or discomfort. "So," said Billings, breaking his grip, "I guess we should start with coffee." "May, honey," he said, speaking into the intercom, "get us two coffees, would you? Good girl!" Woodrow Billings was a large, fairly good-looking man, maybe six-two in height and broadly built, now starting to go to fat. In college he had undoubtedly been trimmer and almost certainly on the football team. John Doggett's initial impression of the man was not at all favorable, even without knowing he had harassed Monica Reyes. He knew and despised the type, had pegged him pretty much instantly. Billings was an overgrown frat-boy, a bully from a well off family who had never had to work for much of anything in his life. "Cute girl, May," he said. "Only been with me a week. I get through assistants pretty rapidly, for some reason." "Can't imagine why," said Doggett. "Right. Anyway, I was told that Agent Reyes was partnering you and I was hoping to see her. We worked together in the New York office and, between the two of us, I think she had the hots for me." "Agent Reyes is working a possibly related case elsewhere at the moment. I'll let her know you asked after her," said Doggett, dryly. "Please do. So, what do you need from me and this office? We will, of course, assist you in any way we can." "Well, I'll need to visit the murder scene," said Doggett, "but right now some background information would be useful. What can you tell me about Clay and the other recent gangland slayings?" "Vincent Clay was the Mister Big of organized crime in Baltimore. We've tried to pin something on him for years but never succeeded, usually due to disappearing witnesses. He and his brother Kevin ran the Clay Trucking Company, a legitimate front for all their criminal activities, which they inherited off their father. Clay Senior was also heavily involved in the local rackets, the junior Clays inheriting the business when he was gunned down during a feud with the Ameche family, then Baltimore's leading gangsters. When Vincent and Kevin took over they took on the Ameches and, after a vicious gang war, emerged as top dogs. The Ameches eventually accepted the new status quo and relative peace had reigned for most of the past decade. Then, about three months ago, the Ameches started disappearing." "Disappearing?" said Doggett. "You mean they were killed?" "That's our assumption, yes, but honestly, Agent Doggett - we don't know," said Billings. "A few have turned up dead - they're the ones ballistics say were killed by the same gun used to take out Clay - but we have no idea what happened to the others. They all vanished without trace, as did Kevin Clay." "You say this all started three months ago? About the same time Agent Boudreaux went missing?" "That's right," said Billings. "Didn't come into work one day and hasn't been seen since." "What was he working on?" asked Doggett. "He and I were working together investigating the Clay empire, chasing down what we could, and closing it down where possible. We found out they were into loan sharking, extortion, prostitution, baby trafficking, drugs, illegal gaming, computer fraud - pretty much the whole smorgasbord of modern crime. We questioned both Clay brothers on a number of occasions. Over time, Boudreaux developed a reasonable rapport with Kevin and that resulted in him giving us a line on some Ameche operations, though never on anything he and Vincent were up to." "Tell me about Kevin Clay," said Doggett. "Where to start?" sighed Billings. "Let's see... Younger and smaller of the two brothers and so always overshadowed by Vincent, who was their father's favorite. Made up in viciousness for what he lacked in stature. Kevin was the enforcer, the one called in to collect on bad debts and the like." He slid a photograph across his desk. "That's him," he said. Kevin Clay, gun in hand, was glaring out of the picture. He was thin, with close-cropped blond hair, had a small scar over his right eye, and radiated menace. The door to the office opened at that point and May entered, carrying two coffees as she put them down on his desk, Billings attempted to pat her backside but she evaded him with obviously well practiced ease, frowning her annoyance. "Feisty girl, that one," chuckled Billings, as she left the office. Doggett was amazed Billings still held the position he did. He could only assume strings had been pulled and family connections used. "So , anyway," continued Billings, sipping his coffee, "when Boudreaux vanished, our initial assumption was he'd suffered the same fate as all those missing witnesses. His involvement in the hit on Vincent Clay has caused us to revise that view, of course." "I'd like to borrow all the files associated with the investigations you were working on with Boudreaux, "said Doggett, draining his own coffee, "and all you can give me on the Clay hit. Also, I think I need to visit the crime scene for myself." "Of course," said Billings, smoothly. "Anything you want." MARRIOTT HOTEL, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND "So did you find anything useful?" asked Reyes, getting up from where she had been sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed and stretching as Doggett entered her room. "Honestly, Monica?" he said, "I have no idea." Sighing he dumped a pile of files on the coffee table and flopped down into an armchair. "How has your day been?" he asked. "Almost terminally dull. I've watched hours of videotape and I haven't turned up a thing." "Well, I've got a tape you may find a bit more interesting," said Doggett. "The Baltimore cop assigned to the case, Detective John Munch, gave it to me. It's a copy of the reconstruction done by their guys based on the forensics." He slid the tape into the VCR and they both watched the reconstruction. They saw the detective playing the part of Boudreaux take out his gun, fire at those playing the bodyguards - who collapsed into the taped outlines on the floor marking where the real bodyguards had fallen - then go over to 'Clay' and put two bullets into his brain before exiting the barbershop. They could tell the reconstruction was accurate. "I went over the scene for myself, " said Doggett, "and that's pretty much how it had to have gone down." "I agree," said Monica, staring at the screen intently, "which means that whoever that was who killed Vincent Clay, it wasn't Chuck Boudreaux." "What?" said Doggett, "How can you know that?" "As the reconstruction proves, the killer had to be left- handed. Chuck Boudreaux is right-handed. That means the real Chuck is still missing, has been for three months, and that someone is trying to frame him." "Another damn twin," said Doggett, "which confirms our two cases have to be connected after all." "It's the medallion," said Reyes, "it has to be." "Whoa, now, Monica," said Doggett, "it's a big leap from a couple of look-alikes to magic medallions. Shouldn't we check out more logical explanations first?" "And just what would those be John? That Chuck and I each have hitherto unknown twins both of whom just happen to have shown up in Baltimore at the same time?" "Let's just carry on going through all this stuff," he replied, nodding at the piles of videotapes and files. "There has to be something here." There was. Less than an hour after they started in on the files, Reyes held up a surveillance photograph. "I think I've found something," she said, passing it to Doggett and rummaging through the hotel security tapes. The picture showed a man and a woman in their early thirties. It had come from the file on one of the cases Billings had been working with Boudreaux. "So who are these people?" asked Doggett. "I've no idea," said Reyes, turning on the VCR, "but they were also in this hotel the same time that Darryl Johnson disappeared." Sorting through the tapes, she found one showing them entering the hotel, the woman carrying a baby, wrapped in a blanket; walking along the same corridor Johnson had used to take Monica's twin back to his room; and leaving the hotel later. "It's them alright," agreed Doggett, "but what does it mean?" "The file that photo came from was the one concerning baby trafficking," said Monica, "the selling of babies to childless couples desperate for children. It was a racket the Clays were running, one Chuck Boudreaux helped shut down." "Baby trafficking? But they had a baby with them when they entered the hotel and still had it with them when they left. We've just seen that on the tapes." "Maybe," said Reyes, "and maybe not. I need you come with me down to the basement. I think I know what's going on here." If Ernesto Suarez was surprised to see the gringa from the FBI again so soon he gave no sign of it as he opened up the cupboard for her and her partner. "This is it!" said Reyes, triumphantly holding aloft the extremely lifelike doll she had noticed earlier. Back in her room, she explained what she had found to a puzzled Doggett. "I didn't spot it at first," she told him, "but this isn't just any old doll. No, it's a special one designed to be as lifelike as possible and used by maternity clinics in pre- natal classes for expectant mothers. I think this is what we saw that couple carry into the hotel, but it was a real baby they carried out. They, or whoever gave them the real baby, then dumped this down the laundry chute." "I get it," said Doggett. "If someone had seen them coming into the hotel with no baby then leaving with one later it would have raised alarm bells. This way, no one was any the wiser." "Exactly. And, since these things are a lot more expensive than the dolls little girls play with, no clinic is going to leave them unlabelled," said Reyes. With a flourish, she tore off the doll's diaper. There, stenciled on it's left buttock, was: PROPERTY OF THE REINER CLINIC "Guess our next stop is the Reiner Clinic," said Doggett. "Yes, I guess it is." In a van parked outside the hotel, the man listening to their conversation took off his earphones and turned to the driver. "Randallstown", he said. THE REINER CLINIC, RANDALLSTOWN, MARYLAND David Reiner was nothing like Monica Reyes had imagined he would be. In her mind, she had constructed a picture of an aging but sternly authoritative figure, but while Reiner carried an air of authority he was surprisingly young and, she thought, extremely good looking. Fit and tanned, he stood at almost six-six and had an engaging smile and an easy manner. "So what can I do to help the FBI?" he asked as his personal assistant, a beautiful young blonde, showed them into his office before returning to her desk at the other side of the same office. It was next to a door that, from the layout of the building, had to lead to a private room. "We were hoping you could help us with this," said Doggett, handing him the doll. "Hmm, it's certainly one of ours," he said, noting the stenciled buttock, "and with a bit of luck I'll be able to tell you who had it last." He bent the doll's head forward, lifted the wispy hair, and read out the tiny numbers printed there. "Look those up for me please, Sylvia." His p.a. typed the numbers into the computer on her desk, her long polished nails preventing her from doing so quickly, Monica noted. "I'm sorry, David," she said, smiling ruefully, "but according to our records that doll is still in our storeroom." He returned her smile and, from their body language, Monica decided their relationship was probably more than just professional. Not that this was any of her business. "Looks like I can't help you, I'm afraid" said Reiner, apologetically. "Oh, I think perhaps you can, Dr Reiner," said Doggett, sliding a photograph across his desk. "This shows the couple who were last in possession of the doll. It was taken several months ago as part of surveillance during an investigation into a baby-trafficking operation. Yours was one of several clinics staked out by our colleagues. If you look closely, you'll see this pair were caught on film entering this very one. How do you account for that?" "I'm not sure what it is I'm supposed to account for," said Reiner. "Whoever these people are, it seems likely they were the ones who stole the doll." "Let me tell you what I think happened," said Doggett. "I think that you used to run a baby-trafficking operation out of this very clinic. There are childless couples desperate for children who will pay upwards of $30,000 for a healthy, white baby, and poor parts of the world where such babies are available, if not always legally. What better place to hide such children and arrange the handovers than in a clinic such as this? Somehow, you got wind that the FBI was onto you and you closed the operation down. Recently, you started it up again, only now instead of doing the handovers here at your clinic, which could still be under FBI surveillance, you're doing them at places like the Marriott. In the case of the couple in the picture, you closed down before they got their baby and so they were one of the first to take advantage of the new procedure. That's what's going on here, isn't it?" "You certainly have a fertile imagination," said Reiner, "but that's complete nonsense. This clinic is a legitimate business. Now, unless you can prove this allegation, I really must ask you both to leave." "We're going," said Doggett, "but you can bet we'll be back." As they headed for the door, Reyes noticed Sylvia watching her with an expression that was an odd mixture of glee and... hunger? Stopping at the door, she turned, reached into her pocket, and pulled out the replica of the Medallion of Zulo. "Does this ring any bells?" she said sweetly, holding it aloft. The color drained from Sylvia's face, her jaw dropping in shock as she stole a nervous glance at the door next to her desk. Reiner's face betrayed less obvious emotion, but his jaw was clenched as he ushered them out of the room. "What was that about?" asked Doggett as they headed for the reception area. "Testing a hunch," said Reyes, "I wanted to see if they recognized it, and they did. Which casts a whole new light on what's going on here." "What do you mean?" "Wearing the medallion and touching clothes worn by someone else to it turns you into a copy of them, remember? So if you're running a baby-trafficking racket what better source of material to use for that purpose? And as for who you turn into those babies... I think we've just discovered where all those missing gangsters went." "Are you kidding me?" said Doggett, stopping dead in his tracks. "You think all along they've been making babies with a magic medallion?" "Not all along, no. I think that when Boudreaux and Billings first investigated it the operation was trafficking babies brought in from Eastern Europe and the like. What I think happened three months ago is that someone found the Medallion of Zulo and realized how it could be used to restart the operation." "Well I'm not gonna believe that thing operates the way Mulder claimed it does unless I see it with my own eyes." said Doggett. They had stopped in the lobby. Doggett listened in as a nurse congratulated a waiting husband on the birth of his son - "Congratulations, Mr. Petersen!" - then headed for the main doors. "Now what?" asked Reyes, as they exited the building. "Now we go sit in the car and wait for Reiner and his assistant to leave," he said, "and after they have, we bluff our way in. There's something not right here and I'm betting we'll find some clues in that room off Reiner's office. First, though, I'd better check in with Billings. I promised I'd keep him informed of our progress." Doggett took out his cell phone and called the Baltimore field office while Reyes fetched the car. He was frowning when she returned. "That's odd," he said, climbing into the passenger seat, "the woman who took my call said Billings was away on personal business and wouldn't be back until tomorrow. When I asked after his secretary, May, she said the same thing. I can't believe they're off somewhere together. She seemed to hate him." Reyes shrugged. She knew that appearances could sometimes be deceiving. "Woody Billings is a creep," she said, "but the sort of creep some women find attractive, though Lord knows why." As per Doggett's plan, they sat in their car for a few hours waiting for Reiner and Sylvia to leave. Eventually, they were rewarded by the sight of the pair leaving the clinic, arm in arm. They paused at Reiner's Porsche and kissed before getting in and driving off. Reyes had a good idea what they would be doing when they got back to Reiner's house, and she found herself envying Sylvia. "Time to rock'n'roll," said Doggett, a few minutes after the car had vanished. Once back inside the clinic, Doggett walk straight over to the reception desk. "Hi," he said, "I'm Fred Petersen and this is my wife, Winona. We're here to see my sister-in-law; she gave birth today." "Ah, yes," said the receptionist, running her finger down a list on her clipboard, "she's in room thirty-six. Just follow the signs." "Thank you, ma'am," said Doggett, setting off down the corridor with Reyes in tow. Fortunately, it was the one they needed. "'Winona'?" said Reyes, as they walked, "Whatever possessed you to come up with Winona?" "I almost said 'Wilma', but caught myself at the last second and that's how it came out," explained Doggett. "I thought you said you didn't pay attention to popular culture?" "The Flintstones wasn't popular culture, that was art." Doggett's delivery was so dry that Reyes couldn't be sure whether or not he was pulling her leg. "Did you notice the security camera in the reception area?," said Doggett. "When I leaned over the reception desk I could see that's where the monitors are. The only other cameras are at the rear fire exit and in the nursery." "Parents these days are so paranoid about someone coming along and stealing their babies there's no way they'd entrust them to somewhere that wasn't covered," said Reyes. "Yeah, but fortunately Reiner was too cheap to put in full surveillance," said Doggett. "He put in the bare minimum necessary to make parents feel secure. There's not one near his office, which is lucky for us." Reyes kept watch while Doggett opened the door to Reiner's office with his lock picks. She breathed a sigh of relief when they slipped inside and closed the door behind them. Doggett then employed his skills on the door to the inner office, giving them access to the room where they expected to find answers. At first glance it was pretty unprepossessing, containing a closet, a wall-safe, a desk with a computer on top, and very little else. While Doggett tried getting into the computer, Reyes opened the closet. She gasped in surprise. In the closet was a row of men's clothes, each set enclosed in a plastic cover to separate it from its neighbors. On the front of each cover was a photograph and a name. The first belonged to Chuck Boudreaux, the second to Darryl Johnson, and others to the missing members of the Ameche family and various of their lieutenants. "What the hell?" said Doggett. After trying unsuccessfully to get into the computer, he had opened the desk drawers and pulled out two large, Tupperware containers. Both held the plastic wrist-tags clinics put on babies to identify them, complete with names, individually sealed in plastic bags. Those in one box had been taken from baby boys, those in the other from baby girls. "It all fits," said Reyes. "Reiner keeps those tags when babies leave the clinic, giving him a regular supply of different babies he can turn people into with the Medallion of Zulo. The clothes in the closet are what those people were wearing at the time they were transformed, and also provide a wardrobe of identities anyone using the medallion can use whenever they want. That's how whoever really killed Vincent Clay got to look like Chuck. I'd bet good money that computer contains a list of who all those missing people are now and who adopted them. And I'll bet the medallion itself is locked away in that wall safe." "Unfortunately, my skills don't extend to safe-cracking," said Doggett, "but what I think is in there is the gun that killed Clay and the others. Either way, that closet full of clothing ties Reiner to the missing gangsters. We've found enough to take him down, whatever's actually going on here." MARRIOTT HOTEL, BALTIMORE, MARYLAND. "Still not available," Doggett said as he put down the phone. They had been back at the hotel several hours now and he still hadn't been able to get hold of Woodrow Billings. "Well, don't worry about it," said Reyes. "You can still report in tomorrow." "Yeah, you're right. OK, I'm gonna turn in. See you in the morning, Monica." After Doggett had returned to his own room, Reyes looked at her bed and sighed. There were times when you needed someone to share that bed with you and for her this was one of those times. As these thoughts ran through her mind, there was a knock on the door. "John?" she said, thinking he must have forgotten something, heart surging at the thought it could be something else. She opened the door, and found herself looking down the barrel of a gun. It wasn't Doggett but a woman, one whose face she recognized immediately. It was the face she saw every time she looked in the mirror. "Sit down," said the woman, closing the door behind her and pushing Reyes down onto a chair with her gun. "And no shouting for help or I will kill you." One look into the woman's eyes convinced Reyes she wasn't kidding. She quickly and efficiently tied Reyes to the chair, then stood back and gave her an appraising look. "So I guess you're not really my long lost twin sister?" said Reyes. The woman snorted in derision. "You mean you haven't worked out who I am yet?" she said. "Reiner's secretary, Sylvia." "Well, obviously - that stunt of yours made me tip my hand there - but that's not what I meant," she said. That's when the penny dropped for Reyes. "It was you who shot Vincent Clay!" she said, seeing the woman holding the gun in her left hand, "You who framed Chuck Boudreaux for the killings!" "Very good, Monica, but who am I really?" There was something about just how the woman held her gun, her stance and her attitude, that Reyes knew she had seen before, and recently. Then she remembered. It was in a photograph Doggett had shown her. "You're Kevin Clay!" she gasped in astonishment, knowing she was right, "But how, why....?" "Very, very good, Monica," said the woman, giving a little mock applause, and as to the how and why, ah *there's* a story." Clay settled down on the edge of the bed, a faraway look in her eyes as she recalled the events that had brought her to this point. "In a way, I suppose it began with that guy who skipped town owing us fifty grand," she said. "This punk had been losing big time at cards but however much he lost he always made good on the debt. Except for the one time he didn't. Turned out he'd been playing with money embezzled from his employers, and they were wise to him. He skipped town with his little girl, vanished without trace for a while, too. But they always turn up again. We got word six months ago he was holed up in L.A. so I flew out to either get our money, with interest, or to whack him. So I get there, I do a lot of asking around, but he and his kid have skipped out on us again. Vinnie was not best pleased, and neither was I. Letting someone get away with it when they're into you for fifty large makes you look like a chump, and word gets round. So two months later, when we heard a rumor they could be in 'Frisco, I flew out to the West Coast again. That one turned out to be a false alarm. Someone had fingered the wrong guy. So the trip wouldn't be a total bust, I hung out for a few days. Some of my, ah, tastes are better catered to there than almost anywhere. Anyway, at one point I'm down by the harbor, idly browsing some trinket stalls, and I see this medallion on sale. I'm still not sure what made me buy it - the thing's fuckin' hideous - but buy it I did. Later, our 'Frisco friends sent this hooker to my hotel room. Not really my thing, as you might have guessed, but you can't show disrespect by spurning hospitality and you sure don't want them thinking you're anything less than a red-blooded male, so I boinked her. She was blonde, big tits, nice face, and still kinda fresh - she couldn't have been more than nineteen - so it coulda been worse. As she left, she stuffed her panties in my jacket pocket. A bit later, as I was getting ready to turn in for the night, I pulled them out of the pocket, along with the medallion, which I'd forgotten I'd dropped in there. I felt this tingling. You can guess what happened next." Reyes nodded, her eyes studying Clay's face. Knowing what the Medallion of Zulo could do was a totally different thing to seeing the effects up close. "I started to change," said Clay, smiling at the memory. "My features softened, my hips began to broaden and my shoulders to narrow; breasts sprouted from my chest, and long, blonde hair from my head. It took maybe thirty minutes in all, but when the changes were finished I was a dead ringer for that teenage hooker. I still remember running my hands, those slender hands with the long nails, over my pretty face, fondling my beautiful breasts, and exploring my pussy for the first time. I couldn't believe it! It was like a dream come true!" "'A dream come true?'" said Reyes. "So you always wanted to be a girl?" "For as long as I can remember. I knew it was something I didn't ever dare breathe a word about, though. Not in my family, and not in the business we were in. I sometimes wonder if that's why I grew up as mean as I did. Violence was how we dealt with everything in my family. I had a lot of frustration and I was more than happy to take it out on the world. Since I've been a woman, that frustration's gone. Soon, very soon now, I'll be able to put all that anger and violence behind me for good. Now, where was I? Oh yes... After several hours of enjoying my new body, I realized I'd have to change back, at least for a while. It was obvious it was touching both the medallion and the hooker's panties at the same time that had changed me, so I tried touching the medallion against my own clothes. Nothing happened. It could be the change was permanent, but I figured there might also be some sort of time delay involved, like maybe it had to recharge or something before it would work again. So I tried it again at half hour intervals throughout the night. Twelve hours after it first changed me, it changed me back. After that, I forgot all about the bum who ripped us off. This was much bigger. As I flew back to Baltimore, I was already planning how I was going to do away with Kevin Clay and start my new life as a woman. Of course, by the time I got back the feds had launched a serious assault on our business. Both Vinnie and I got taken in for questioning a buncha times, and they either closed down or seriously hindered many of our operations. Still, from my point of view this wasn't a total bust. In the middle of all this I met my current partner. He's now David Reiner, as I'm sure you've already guessed. The Reiner Clinic had been the front for our baby-trafficking business - a surprisingly lucrative racket, that one - and now I had the medallion I soon saw how I could use it to get that operation up and running again and take out our rivals at the same time. The new Reiner, my David, was obsessed with you and he had a keepsake of yours, a green silk scarf you'd left behind at some point. So I used the medallion, showed him how it could turn me into a copy of you, and seduced him. When I explained my plan to him, how to use the medallion to take dangerous criminals out of circulation and make lots of money doing so, well let's just say he didn't take a lot of persuading. They didn't come quietly, of course, which is why I had to shoot a few, but hey they were gangsters, after all. Turned out David was just fine with that, too." "So why kill your brother, and why frame Chuck Boudreaux for the murder?" asked Reyes. "Ah, brothers!" said Clay, a steely glint in her eyes, "What a love-hate relationship that can be. Why did I kill Vinnie? For a lifetime's worth of reasons. He was always our father's favorite, the larger, more manly of the two of us, the crown prince, the heir to the throne. It was always taken for granted that I would be subordinate to him, always do his bidding. As for why now, well he found out the Reiner Clinic was back in the baby-trafficking business, without his knowledge or consent and without him getting his cut. David, my David, would have suffered and I couldn't have that. As for why I did him as Chuck Boudreaux, that was the for the same reason I hooked that mark in this hotel as you and tossed the doll down the laundry chute to put you on to the clinic. If I'm going to take your place for good, become David's ideal woman and his wife, I needed to lure you here both to remove you from the picture and to establish an 'on the record' first meeting with David so it doesn't look suspicious when I resign from the FBI soon to marry him." "Ah yes,'David'", said Reyes. "Don't you mean Woodrow Billings?" "What?" said Clay, looking puzzled. Then she burst out laughing. "Oh, that's good," she said. "You really thought David was that asshole?" "If not him, then who...?" "David is Chuck Boudreaux." "That can't be!" said Reyes, stunned, "It just can't be!" "Oh, but it is," said Clay, "And now, though I've enjoyed our little chat, it's time for you to go." So saying, she pressed a strip of duck tape over Reyes mouth then pulled the Medallion of Zulo out of her pocket. Taking care only to touch the chain, she dropped it over Reyes head. From her other pocket she took a transparent bag containing a plastic baby identity bracelet. "Just the one for both you and your partner," she said, removing the bracelet from the plastic bag and touching it to the medallion. "You and he will shortly be twin little girls, baby sisters together. Won't that be nice? Your new mommy and daddy will be here soon to pick you up and to give me lots of lovely money." Reyes felt a tingle as the bracelet touched the medallion, and could already feel the changes beginning. She watched in impotent fury as Clay carefully removed the medallion and replaced it and the bracelet in her pockets, smiling triumphantly. "The change takes about half an hour to run its course," she said, "which gives me time to deal with Agent Doggett. You shouldn't worry, though. I'll be back in time to diaper you and give you your first bottle feed." With that she slipped out of the room, leaving Reyes struggling with her bonds as the transformation progressed. ************************ John Doggett was awoken by the urgent hammering on his hotel room door. "John, it's me," came Reyes' voice, "You have to let me in!" Pulling his pants on, Doggett opened the door to a teary- eyed Reyes. "Monica?" he said, as she pushed past him into the room, "What the heck's going on?" "Oh, John," she sobbed, "please hold me." Awkwardly, Doggett did as she asked, putting his arms around her and stroking her hair. "Monica," he said to the sobbing woman, "you have to tell me what's wrong." "I...I will," she sniffled, "only could you get me a drink first?" "Sure, " he said, turning away from her. As he did so, something heavy crashed down on the back of his skull and he toppled to the floor. "Monica?" he said, looking up groggily to see her looming over him, gun in hand. Then he lost consciousness. Kevin Clay was pleased. Doggett had been totally fooled by her performance. She removed the medallion and the bracelet from her pockets, placing them side-by-side on the bed. It was time for John Doggett to disappear. She smiled. He was going to make a pretty little girl. It was at that point the door burst open. Clay just had time to whirl around and register that it was Reyes, a miraculously unchanged Reyes, before the other woman threw herself at her. Clay brought her gun up, but she was too slow. Before she could fire, Reyes had torn the gun from her grasp and hurled it over her shoulder, where it bounced twice before ending up out in the corridor. Then the two of them were rolling on the floor, fighting each other with surprising viciousness. Wrong-footed by the attack, Clay was slow to react when Reyes grabbed the medallion and the bracelet and slammed them both against her bare neck. "NO!" she screamed, but it was too late. What had been a fight between two physically-identical women turned into a rout as she started to shrink and was easily overpowered by the now much larger Reyes. She cried and struggled in Reyes grasp, as if breaking free would somehow also free her from her fate, but there was no escape to be had here. She continued to shrink, getting smaller and younger until Reyes held a child in her arms, a newborn baby who started to bawl as her adult memories began to slip inexorably away. When it was over, Reyes put the baby down carefully on the bed then shook her unconscious partner. He groaned and opened his eyes, staring up blearily at her. "Monica?" he croaked. He would be coming to fully in a minute or two and when he did she knew she would have a lot of explaining to do. Sighing, she picked up the medallion then headed out to the corridor to retrieve Clay's gun. "Agent Reyes?" said a voice as she picked the gun up. She turned to see men in black suits and mirror shades standing there. One of them was holding an attach? case, which he now opened. "Please place the medallion in the case, ma'am," he said. "Who the hell are you guys?" said Reyes, standing with her back against the wall. The second man pulled out a government ID. It identified him as working for military intelligence, and included a security clearance far higher than her own. "What's going on here?" demanded Doggett, appearing in the doorway, and causing the men in black to glance his way. That he was holding onto the frame for support showed he was still groggy. "It's OK, John," said Reyes, pulling the medallion from her pocket and holding it out. "These gentlemen work for the government." She dropped the medallion into the attach? case, whereupon it was snapped shut, and the men in black nodded once and then turned and left without a further word. "What the hell just happened?" said Doggett. "I'll tell you later," said Reyes, helping him back into his room, "I'll tell you later." FBI TRAINING FACILITY, QUANTICO, VIRGINIA "He didn't believe me, of course," said Reyes, idly tuning a small padded envelope over and over in her hands. "He never saw the medallion work it's magic and so figured I must've imagined it." "That's Agent Doggett for you" said Dana Scully. "Yes," said Reyes "yes, it is." "Dana," she said, looking at Scully levelly, "what made you give us the X-file on the Medallion of Zulo before we set out?" "Kersh suggested the case could be an X-file," said Scully, "He said it reminded him of when those doppelgangers had turned up in Kennet Cove a few years earlier." "Interesting," said Reyes, "So Kersh actually steered you to that specific X-file. But he wasn't involved with the X- files when you and Mulder investigated that case so how did he know it had been an X-file? Unlike me, Kersh isn't someone who would have read his way through them. No, I think he was told to steer you towards that case." "But why?" "Haven't you ever wondered about the possible military applications of some of the stuff we deal with?" she said. "In the case of the medallion you could turn out thousands of copies of our finest soldiers. Hell, according to legend that's why the thing was created in the first place. Someone high up in the military obviously knows about the medallion, and they want it. They heard about this case, decided the medallion could be involved, and got Kersh to steer you to the file so we'd be primed to look for it. And given how those guys turned up in the hotel when they did they had to have been tailing us and listening in on our conversations. That would all be a lot easier if Kersh was co-operating with them, maybe even up to and including allowing our cars and hotel rooms to be bugged." "And now they have the medallion," sighed Scully. "No, said Reyes, "no they haven't. I had my back to the laundry chute when John staggered out of his room and momentarily distracted them. I used that moment to drop the real medallion down the chute. What I handed them was the replica I'd put in my pocket on the drive to Baltimore." "You know, I'm not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed." said Scully. "On the one hand we need all the edge we can gain given the threats Ameri