Chapter Forty-three
Alarm

Mulder drifted up to awareness. Eyes still closed, he reached out, feeling for Ethan. His hands met only cool sheets, and he frowned. His expression smoothed as he heard the sound of the shower from the bathroom. He luxuriated for a few more minutes, wondering that after all his years of insomnia, he'd managed to sleep so soundly while he was in the lair of a man he knew to be a vicious murderer.

The water shut off, and he thought, Gotta be the companionship. He propped himself up against the headboard as Ethan came out of the bathroom. One towel was tied low around his hips, and he was tousling his hair with a second. "Good morning, Bright Boy." He came over and sat beside Mulder, giving him a brief kiss. When he started to pull back, Mulder caught the back of his head and held him, prolonging the kiss. When he finally turned him loose, Ethan grinned. "I thought the hot climate was supposed to sap your energy, Danny."

Mulder's eyes fell on a tray sitting on the dresser, and he pointed at it, asking, "How early were you up, Con?"

Ethan glanced over, and his expression tightened. "Bloody hell! Manuel must've sneaked in while I was in the shower and left that. I tell you, I'm getting right tired of that little spook creeping about."

"Don't let it raise your blood pressure."

"I mean it, Danny! Have we no privacy at all?"

"Very little, it would seem. I'll admit that I'm not too happy with the idea of someone wandering around when I'm asleep."

"Ah, well, no point in the breakfast going to waste." He went to the dresser. Fox watched in amazement as his lover swung his arm and knocked the lamp, the one that he knew was bugged, to the floor. "Shite! Fuck me for a clumsy bastard. Danny, look at what I've done. Ah, well," he picked up the lamp, jerking the cord from the socket. "I'll just put this in the closet to get it out of the way. I'll buy Olivero a new one before we leave." He got the tray and brought it to Fox, setting it across his legs. "Let me make you more comfy, love." He took both the pillows and arranged them behind Fox, carefully covering the place where they'd found the hidden microphone. "Lean back, Danny." Smiling, Fox did.

"Now," Ethan said quietly in his normal voice, "we should be able to talk as long as we aren't too loud. Have your breakfast, and I'll check to see if Control has sent me any more information."

As Ethan got the suitcase and opened it to the transmitter, Fox said, "Do you have any idea of where Olivero might have his real records? Manuel was on my tail so tight that I didn't have a chance to do a search."

Ethan sighed. "No, but they have to be here. I think he must have them on disk and paper. He's the sort who'd want to have a backup, just in case. They could be anywhere in the house, and this is no cottage, dammit." He started tapping keys. The machine whirred quietly to life. "Ah. They have something for us." He blinked. "A number of somethings."

He sat next to Mulder, holding the laptop so that his lover could see the screen, too. "Lots of graphic images attached, and a couple of text documents." He frowned. "The message is marked urgent. Better look at it first."

Ethan's fingertip skated over the touch pad, and he tapped. Two words appeared on the screen. GET OUT. He sat back. "Shit!"

Mulder glanced at him. "Is he always this to-the-point?"

"No. He loves language. If he's this terse, he means it. Well, fuck! All this effort and expense, and he wants us to tank the mission." He sighed. "Still, he must have a good reason. He doesn't spook, not easily, anyway. Maybe the rest of the info will shed a little light on the subject."

He opened one of the documents. "It's a police report." They began to read. When they came to the name 'Duncan', Mulder felt a sudden chill shoot up his spine. "A goose just walked over my grave."

Ethan didn't respond. He continued reading, his expression growing steadily grimmer. He started whispering, "Shit, shit, shit, shit."

Mulder winced at the description of the body. "Disemboweled. That's Montana's style, all right," He covered his mouth. "Though the castration is new." His tone was calm, but his voice was the slightest bit unsteady. Ethan reached over to rub Mulder's neck, and Fox said quietly, "Those must be photos of the missing men."

"I don't think we need to see them. This is enough information to..."

Mulder brushed aside his hand and opened the attachment. Photos filled the screen. Ethan groaned, "Good God. Mulder, they all look..." he trailed off.

The last photo, labeled 'Duncan Broussard' appeared. Fox touched it. "They look like me." He turned wide eyes on Ethan. "What the hell have I stumbled into?"

"I don't know, but I agree with Control. I need to get you out of here."

"You mean WE need to get out of here." Ethan was silent. His voice was sharp. "No! I am fucking well not leaving you here. Besides, they wouldn't buy you sending me away, you know that."

Ethan nodded reluctantly. "They'd be suspicious, and with both of them concentrating on me, I wouldn't have a chance to finish the mission myself, anyway. The problem is going to be getting out of here. I don't suppose you can fly a helicopter?"

"A skill I have neglected to pick up, and since you're asking, I assume you can't, either."

"Anything with wheels, yes--rotors, no."

"There's the jeep."

"Yes. If worse comes to worst, we could try it, but I have no idea how far what passes for roads around here would take us toward civilization, and I only have the roughest idea of where civilization is from here. We don't want to end up on foot in the middle of the jungle. We'd be likely to run into one of the four-footed jaguars."

Ethan bit his lip, and Mulder said, "You don't have to say it--I will. I don't want to give up on the mission--not yet, anyway. How much trouble would we be in if we disobeyed?"

Ethan shrugged. "It's not like we could be brought up on legal charges. We aren't officially here, remember? I think it would depend on whether we came out with casualties, or anything worthwhile. But I don't want you here any longer than is absolutely necessary."

"Hell, I don't want me here any longer than is absolutely necessary, either. My skin is doing a full body crawl right now. But if it's going to be difficult to make our way out of here anyway, we ought to at least try to do something."

Ethan got up and paced restlessly. Any other time the sight of the young man striding around the room dressed only in a skimpy towel would have distracted Mulder, but not now. Now all he could think of was the odd looks Olivero had given him ever since they had first met, the intimate tone of voice, the non sequiturs that seemed to have some hidden meaning. It made sense now. There were times when, in Olivero's warped mind, Mulder was not Danny Ballard, but Duncan Broussard. He had brutalized the boy more than two decades ago, and whatever dark obsession had led him to the vicious act still haunted him.

Ethan stopped, then said slowly. "I could call for a pick-up in twenty-four hours. What do you think?"

Mulder didn't hesitate. "Yes. I don't think the risk CAN increase much more, and we might be able to accomplish something. Besides, I honestly don't think we'd have much of a chance of making it out of here on our own. In an urban environment I might make it, but out there?" He made a sour expression. "Too damned many things with fangs out there, and I didn't get to bring my gun."

"Uh... well..."

Mulder shook his head, smiling faintly. "No, I refuse to believe it. Where?"

"Both the suitcases have false bottoms."

"What? That other one didn't feel unusually heavy. What have you got--a pearl handled derringer?"

"You can get them made mostly out of plastic these days, you know. They just aren't good for long term use, but I don't expect anything we'd get into here would last long." He sat down at the laptop again and started tapping keys. "I'll ask for an immediate reply on this. I don't want to leave this room without knowing what to expect."

They waited. The response came quickly, and Ethan nodded in satisfaction as he typed in a reply, then shut the machine off and closed the laptop. He replaced it, saying. "Okay, we're getting out of here at seven a.m. sharp tomorrow, whether we've found anything or not. They'll send two choppers for us--one to pick up and one to cover, out near where we landed. They'll want to take out Montana's copter so there'll be no chance of them following us. They're going to hit the lab and the poppy field at the same time. If we find any pertinent information, they'll use it later."