Devil's Advocate (The X-Files: Origins #2)(56)

“It’s fair to say that we aren’t as enthusiastic about the progress of the Craiger Initiative as you seem to be in your field reports,” said the Elder. He had a high-pitched but gravelly voice. He did not touch the coffee or cakes.

“We are moving as fast as caution allows,” Gerlach said.

“That sounds like an excuse rather than an explanation.”

Gerlach’s left eye twitched.

The First Elder’s eyes were so cold, almost dead. “Perhaps you think that because we are playing a long game, we have unlimited time. That is not the case. In your preliminary assessment, you spoke very highly of your man, this ‘angel,’ as he calls himself. You made certain predictions as to a timetable you swore you could manage.”

Gerlach said nothing.

“We are playing a very dangerous game, agent. Very dangerous. We are risking a betrayal of trust on all sides. When this project began, we all knew that we were putting ourselves at risk. We were putting the world at risk. You convinced us that the angel would be able to cultivate the abilities of these children. You said that they would form the core of an elite army that we could put into play against our…” He paused and considered the best word, then finished with, “Masters.”

“That is what we’re doing,” said Gerlach.

“And yet you are dangerously close to missing your own deadline.”

“Sir … this is new territory for us. For anyone,” insisted Gerlach. “It’s not an exact science.”

“That is your concern, agent,” said the First Elder. “You made promises that we have taken seriously. We expect you to deliver the promised assets.”

“Yes, sir.”

The First Elder studied him with the kind of look Danny had seen people use when selecting a lobster from a tank at a seafood restaurant. “In your most recent memo, you asked for an extension in order to deal with some unforeseen complications. Please explain to me what constitutes a ‘complication,’ as you see it.”

“It’s the angel,” said Gerlach. “From the beginning it’s been about him.”

“Exactly what is it that concerns you?”

Gerlach cleared his throat. “He’s erratic, unstable, psychotic, and dangerous.”

“Yes,” drawled the Elder slowly, “that was rather the point when we recruited him into the Montauk Project. We wanted dangerous operatives, and he is very dangerous.”

“Dangerous, yes,” said Gerlach, “but also unstable. He’s a loose cannon. His, um, methods are endangering the entire program here.”

“Because he is killing children?”

“Well … yes … that’s a huge concern. He’s killed six of—”

“We don’t care how many coffins are put into the ground,” interrupted the First Elder as he got heavily to his feet. He sighed and began walking toward the door. “We need results. We need a weapon or we are going to lose this war.”

“I thought we already had lost.”

The Elder paused at the door. “The future isn’t written in stone, Agent Gerlach. The key to survival is to be prepared when an opportunity arises. To that end we need him to push.”

“The angel is pushing.”

“Tell him to push harder. Turn up the amplification,” he said. “Turn it all the way up.”

Gerlach took a breath. “Even with the Scully girl?”

“Especially with her.”

“What if he kills her?”

“William Scully has four children,” said the First Elder. “He owes us one.”

Then he left with his bodyguards in tow. They did not bother to close the door.





CHAPTER 50

Beyond Beyond

7:03 P.M.

Dana and Corinda sat together. Not at the usual table, but in the curtained niche in the far corner of the big store, away from the majority of the foot traffic.

“Sit,” said Corinda as she pulled the curtains together. They were sheer, with a pattern of swirling planets interspersed with astrological symbols. Corinda turned and looked down at her, then frowned. “Are you high?”

“High?” said Dana, almost laughing. “God, no! Why would you even ask something like that?”

“You look it. Your pupils are dilated and you’re flushed.”

“I’m freaked out and I spent the last hour in a dark room.”

Corinda chewed her lip for a moment. “Okay, I guess that must be it.”

She pulled up a chair and sat. The niche was cramped, with a small round table, two kitchen chairs with pads, and a small three-drawer cabinet. The chairs were painted with swirling lines of color that wound around the legs and exploded across the back splat. A thick brocade tablecloth lay across the table, embroidered with some kind of mystical symbols Dana only half recognized. She thought they might have been alchemical symbols, but she wasn’t positive. The cabinet was painted blue, but each drawer was a separate shade of purple. The drawer pulls were brass, shaped like turtles. Atop the table was a single fat candle with three wicks, but they were unlit. Corinda folded her arms across her chest, head tilted to one side as she assessed Dana.

“Please,” said Dana, “if you have something to tell me, let’s talk about it. But no more psychic journeys or readings or Vulcan mind-melding or whatever it is you and Sunlight seem to dig doing. I am about as far out on the edge of going completely berserk as possible. I want to go home and hide in my room. I want to find whoever’s doing this and … and…”