Being the younger sibling is never a picnic. Being Fox Mulder’s younger sibling is even worse. He didn’t even know that we were related and he was still ruining my life. But I was the favored one now. I was the one running the x-files. I was the one making sure that no one ruined the Syndicate’s work. Every time I thought about it, I couldn’t help but allow myself a smile.
My smug thoughts were broken when A.D. Skinner knocked on my door.
“Agent Spender, are you busy?”
“Not at all, sir, was there something that you wanted?”
“I just wanted to have a little chat.”
He crossed the room and sat in the chair across from me. “Agent Spender, I know that this is your first major assignment. And sometimes, when an agent gets his first assignment, it overwhelms him. His productivity goes down.”
My stomach twisted. I could guess what was coming next.
“I have no desire to compare you with anyone, however, when Agents Mulder and Scully were in this office, they received at least a dozen cases a day. So many that they had trouble choosing which ones to investigate. Now, since you’ve been in this office I’ve seen maybe one field report. Would you like to comment one that, Agent Spender?”
I swallowed my wounded pride. If I chose to, I could have my father kick this petty idiot out of his office for good. “I suppose there just haven’t been as many cases coming into the office, sir. Or, perhaps, the cases that I’m getting aren’t worthy of the x-files.”
A.D. Skinner frowned. I could see his jaw clenching. He clearly knew something that I would rather he didn’t.
“Agent Spender, you’ve been in this office for over three weeks and you haven’t gone out into the field more than once. Now, you and Agent Fowley are going to start looking at the cases you receive more closely than you are now. If you refuse a case, I want a detailed report about why you refused,” he stood. “I’m sorry to be so hard on you, Agent Spender, but you have a lot to live up to with this office.”
“Yes, sir,” I glared at A.D. Skinner’s back as he left the room.
“You have a lot to live up to”. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words. My father spoke them to me on more than one occasion.
Those were the first words that my father said to me before I started on the x-files. He took me to the scorched office, smiling the whole way down to the basement. I even thought I heard him laugh when he opened the door. “You have a lot to live up to,” he puffed on his cigarette. “So don’t screw up.”
The walls of the office were blackened with soot. As I walked in the direction of what was left of the desk, the charred remains of number two pencils fell on my head. It was a mess. My father only saved two files out of hundreds: my mother’s and Gibson Praise’s. Everything else was ash.
“Why was the Assistant Director here?”
I glanced up from my thoughts. Special Agent Diana Fowley had entered our diminutive office. “He wants us to get going on the x-files. Or else, apparently.”
She frowned. “I’ve expected this for quite some time.”
Have you now, I thought. I glared at the papers on my desk, only half listening to what she was nagging on about. It was worse than having a wife.
“Jeffrey, are you listening?”
I looked up. “What?”
“You really shouldn’t tune people out,” she frowned again. “I was saying that your father and the Syndicate--and I--planned for this. We can take cases, but only those that don’t involve the Syndicate. Understood?”
She always spoke to me as if I were a small child. “Of course,” I was half tempted to add “dear” to the end of my statement.
“In fact,” she slid the folder I was pretending to read out from under my nose. “This one looks quite suitable.”
“Really?”
“Well, you’ve been reading it since I left, so it must be somewhat worthy of our time and expenses. Ah, yes, El Chupacabra. Perfect,” she smiled at me, “don’t you think so, Jeffrey?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll start filling out the paperwork and we’ll be in New Mexico before long.”
“Joy,” I mumbled at her retreating figure. An entire week--or more--alone with her.
“It won’t be difficult. Because,” she trailed a finger idly along my desk. “of course, El Chupacabra isn’t real.”
“Of course.”
“Now, Jeffrey,” she leaned over my desk. “I don’t think that you’re too enthusiastic about your first real mission in the field.”
I ground my teeth. “My father told you to be nice to me, not to seduce me. At the very least, I hope he didn’t tell you to seduce me.”
She leaned back, chewing her lower lip in a displeased manner. “Who says your father gave me any such order.”
“Never mind. Go ahead and fill out the paperwork. It appears as if we’re going to New Mexico.”
