The X-Files: Antibodies

The X-Files: Antibodies Read Free Page B

Book: The X-Files: Antibodies Read Free
Author: Kevin J. Anderson
Tags: Fiction, Media Tie-In
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around the center of the silhouetted chest.
    Quantico instructors taught agents not to think of their mark as a person but as a “target.” She didn’t aim for the heart or the head or the side. She aimed for the
    “center of mass.” She didn’t aim to shoot the bad guys—she simply “removed the target.”
    Drawing her weapon and firing upon a suspect was the last possible resort of a good agent, not the proper way to end an investigation unless all other methods failed. Besides, the paperwork was horrendous. Once a federal agent fired her weapon, she had to account for every single shell casing expended—sometimes a difficult task during a heated running firefight.
    Scully yanked the paper target from its binder clip and left the gunshot-spattered piece of support card-board hanging in place. She punched the computer controls to reset the target to its average point, and then looked up, startled to see her partner Mulder leaning against the wall in the observation gallery. She wondered how long he had been waiting for her.
    “Good shooting, Scully,” he said. He didn’t ask whether she was simply doing target practice or somehow exorcising personal demons.
    “Spying on me, Mulder?” she said lightly, trying to cover her surprise. After an awkward moment of silence she said, “All right, what is it?”
    “A new case. And this one is going to capture your interest, no doubt about it.” He smiled.
    She replaced her safety goggles on the proper hook and followed him. Even if they weren’t always believable, Mulder’s discoveries were always interesting and unusual.

    THREE
    Khe Sanh Khoffee Shoppe
    Washington, D.C.
    Monday, 8:44 A.M.
    As Mulder led her out of the Hoover X Building, Scully wondered about the new case he had found almost as much as she dreaded the coffee shop where he planned to take her. Even his offhanded promise, “I’m buying,” hadn’t exactly won her over.
    They walked together past the metal detector, out the door, and down the granite steps. At all corners of the big, box-like building, uniformed FBI security teams manned imposing-looking guard stations.
    Mulder and Scully passed alongside the line of tourists that had already begun to form for the first FBI tour of the day. Though most of the pedestrians wore the formal business attire typical in the bureau-cratic environment of Washington, D.C., the knowing looks told Scully that the tourists recognized them as obvious federal agents.
    Other federal buildings stood tall around them, ornate and majestic—the architecture in downtown Washington had to compete with itself. Upstairs in antibodies
    15
    many of these buildings were numerous consulting firms, law offices, and high-powered lobbyist organizations. The bottom levels contained cafes, delis, and newsstands.
    Mulder held the glass door of the Khe Sanh Khoffee Shoppe. “Mulder, why do you want to take me here so often?” she asked, scanning the meager clientele inside. Many immigrant Korean families had opened similar businesses in the federal district—usually delicious cafeterias, coffee shops, and restaurants.
    But the proprietors of the Khe Sanh Khoffee Shoppe imitated mediocre American cuisine with a vengeance, with unfortunate results.
    “I like the place,” Mulder said with a shrug. “They serve coffee in those nice big Styrofoam cups.”
    Scully went inside without further argument. In her opinion, they had more important things to do . . .
    and she wasn’t hungry.
    Handwritten daily specials were listed on a white board propped on an easel near a large and dusty silk plant. A refrigerator filled with bottled water and soft drinks stood beside the cash register. An empty steam table occupied a large portion of the coffee shop; at lunchtime the proprietors served a cheap—and cheap-tasting—lunch buffet of various Americanized Oriental specialties.
    Mulder set his briefcase on one of the cleared tables, then bolted for the cash register and coffee line as Scully

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