Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar

mission3

Mission: Jaws of the Jaguar Chapter ThreeMission Explained Mulder got a little sleep before dawn. On the way in to the Bureau, he got himself a double espresso, sweet, hoping that the caffeine and sugar would be enough to keep him from nodding off at his desk as he reorganized his files. It was the only thing he could think of to do, and it irritated him royally. He hated `make busy' work.

When he stopped to sign in at security, the guard said, "Mulder, Skinner wants to see you, first thing."

Mulder sighed. "What now? Another international air head need a nursemaid?"

The guard shrugged. "Like he tells me?"

Outside Skinner's office, Mulder paused and gulped the coffee as quickly as he could without burning himself. He immediately got a rush, feeling more alert and ready to face whatever the Assistant Director could throw at him. Maybe he was being pessimistic. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as tedious as the last assignment.

Fox entered the office, and paused, hand on the knob. Kim, Skinner's secretary, was not at her desk. He frowned, wondering if he should just go in. He jumped when a soft voice said, "She stepped out for a minute."

Fox shut the door, and saw that it had blocked from view a young man sitting in a chair against the near wall. Fox nodded, and received a nod in return. The other man was dressed much more casually than was usual for the Bureau: khakis, a plain white shirt, open at the thr and and a loose beige linen jacket. He had shaggy, almost black hair, and green eyes. Fox caught himself staring, then realized that he was being scrutinized with equal intensity.

"Waiting for Skinner?" He almost winced. Oh, real intelligent, Fox, since he's sitting in the man's waiting room.

The other man smiled, getting up and offering his hand. "Actually, I'm here to see you." His grip was firm, but not aggressive.

"Really? What can I do for you?"

Ethan's smile widened. Oh, I can think of all kinds of things. "I'd rather wait for Mr. Skinner to vouch for me. I'm going to need you to take me very seriously."

"All right." Fox wondered if he ever had trouble getting people to take him seriously. Sometimes really good looking people did, and this guy was...Well, handsome was kind of weak. Beautiful came closer to the mark. He must drip with women.

Skinner came in, carrying a cup of coffee. "Fox. Glad to see Murrow remembered to tell you. Come on back to the office."

The three men passed into The ADA's office. Fox and the visitor took chairs opposite the desk, while Skinner sat in his swivel chair. Skinner set aside the coffee. That's going to get cold now. Fox thought. He won't drink it during a meeting. Waste of perfectly good caffeine.

"Fox, I want you to meet Ethan Bridger. Ethan, Fox Mulder. Ethan is here to ask for your help on a case, and I'm hoping you'll consider it carefully. The situation may sound a bit odd, but I assure you there's a reason for everything, and you can trust him."

Walter paused, then said quietly, "I've been told to strongly urge you to cooperate, but I'm not going to lie to you, Fox."

Uh oh. I think things may be about to get interesting. Skinner didn't sweat small things. If he was going to warn Mulder about something, Mulder had damn well better listen, and listen closely. "Go on."

"I don't know what the mission will be, but I do know it will be dangerous. I believe you'll be out of contact with any agency for a period of time." He looked at Ethan, who nodded. "It's going to be field work, and undercover. You haven't done that before, I know, but you apparently possess unique qualities that suit you to this situation. You'll have to decide quickly, but I want you to be sure. I don't want you plunging into anything head wit without thinking about it."

"Would I do that?"

Skinner's lips twisted in a wry, almost smile. "You have been known. I'll turn you over to Ethan, and he will explain things. If you decide to refuse, go on with your work. If you decide to accept, good luck, and I'll see you when you get back."

"Just like that? No forms to fill out?"

"No forms," said Ethan. "My people aren't big on paperwork." He looked at Skinner. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Third door on the left."

Fox led the way up the hall. Ethan took the opportunity to watch his ass. Shit, do all Feebs have to wear pants that bag in back? He's going to look a lot better wearing the kind of threads Ballard favors. Can't wait to see that butt in a pair of tight jeans.

Once in the room, a cubicle bare of all but a table and two chairs, Fox sat down. Ethan locked the door, then reached inside his jacket and removed somethihat hat looked a little like one of those pocket sized liquid crystal televisions. "Excuse me just a minute, Fox."

Ethan extended an antenna on the device, and flipped a switch. There was a muted hum. He extended his arm and turned in a slow circle, watching the screen, adjusted a knob, and repeated the motion. He did this several times. Finally, he stood on the empty chair and spent a moment passing the device around the lighting fixture. Satisfied at last,shutshut the machine off and pocketed it, then sat down. "It's clean."

Fox had watched these activities with interest. "Did you expect to find anything?"

Ethan shrugged. "You don't take chances when you can avoid it."

Fox studied Bridger. "You aren't FBI." It was a statement, not a question. Ethan didn't answer. "So, what? CIA, DEA, ATF, one of the other alphabet organizations?" Still no answer. "Look, if we're just gonna sit here and stare at each other, I want coffee."

Bridger smiled faintly. "Yeah, you have the attitude. No, I'm not any of those agencies."

"Are you gonna tell me? Because I have to tell you, the cloak and dagger shit gets old REAL fast."

"I could tell you. But then you'd either have to join, or I'd have to kill you." Fox looked at him sharply. For the life of him, he couldn't tell if the man was joking, or not. "I'm one of the good guys, Fox. That's all you need to know right now."

Fox sighed, resigning himself. Damn, he hated suspense. "All right. If Skinner vouches for you, that's enough for me." He folded his hands, and looked at the other man expectantly.

"First thing, Fox, what do you think about the drug trade?" Mulder rolled his eyes. "No, I'm serious. I'm not talking about politically correct indignation or moralistic horror. I mean your personal gut feelings."

"I hate it. I think it would be kinder if they shipped arsenic instead. At least the deaths would be quick, and the users wouldn't be killing and hurting citizens to get the next fix. I could rant for a couple of hours, but that's about it."

"And how do you feel about the government's `war on drugs'? No company line, here. Tell me the truth."

"What do I think? I think it's about as effective as holding up a `STOP' sign in front of a forest fire."

"Would you be interest in participating in a mission that would make a significant impact? At the same time, it would almost certainly protect the innocents who would get caught in the crossfire if it doesn't go down."

Mulder stared at Bridger, considering. Brief images flitted across his mind: a blood-splattered sheet, shattered glass, a slender figure in handcuffs. "I might. Tell me more."

"An alliance is being discussed between a Columbian drug lord and an international drug runner. If these two hook up, the flow of drugs into this country, and others, will swell. The cartels are notoriously jealous of their economic bases. They aren't going to like this, and they aren't going to let a challenge like this pass."

Fox winced. "Ah, shit. Drug war."

"A bad one, not limited to Columbia. When the distribution system starts operating, it will run through major cities throughout Europe and America. The cartels will try to stop it by attacking any shipment that they become aware of. Thesopleople do not do surgical strikes, Mulder. They go in with Uzis and bazookas. People WILL die, Mulder, and not just drug runners."

People would die. Yes, that was the way these things always worked. "You've convinced me it's a good cause. But what, exactly, do you want me for? I have a hard time believing you couldn't find someone else more suited lik like to think I'm a good agent, but I'm not James Bond, and I know it."

"It has to be you, Mulder." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a couple of glossy photographs, offering them. "This is why."

Fox took the pictures. Bridger, and... He frowned. "When was this taken? I don't remember this."

"Look closer." Fox studied the photo. It was obviously taken by a store security camera, but of excellent quality. In it, he was standing at a counter, sorting through a selection of ties. He looked closer. "Wait a minute. That's not me."

"No, it isn't. His name is Daniel Ballard. But even you couldn't tell at first. Is it becoming a little clearer now?"

"A little. It's only murky instead of completely obscure." Now he studied the photo of Bridger. Or is it? No, Bridger looks like this guy might if he had a really good month long vacation. "Okay, who's this, then?"

"That's Conner Galbraith, the drug smuggler. He's due to meet with Olivero de la Montaña in two weeks, and go to his estate. If this mission goes forward, goes forward, our people will detain him, and I'll go instead. I'll learn what I can about the Montaña operation, discredit Galbraith with so that he'll never be trusted to do business with any of the upper echelon, and get out."

"But where do I come in? I mean, I know it has to have something to do with Ballard, but I'm damned if I can guess why."

"Galbraith never goes anre wre without him. If I showed up alone, they'd be suspicious from the start."

"What are they, frat brothers?"

"Daniel's official position is that of Connor's personal assistant. A more quaint, but accurate, term would be 'concubine'."

"Oh. He's..."

"Just a gigolo. But a very exclusive, well compensated one. He's venal, but apparently not entirely so. He's had more lucrative offers, but he chooses to stay with Connor."

"So you're telling me that I'm a dead ringer for the male whore of a drug runner."

"A bit crude, but yes."

"My life just gets better and better."

"I need you on this, Mulder. I'll be doing most of the real work. All you really have to do is present yourself as Ballard, act like we're passionately involved, and keep your eyes and ears open."

"Uh huh. Exactly how passionately involved would I have to act?"

"Very. They aren't shy about their relationship. There's a lot of PDOA."

"PDOA?"

"Public displays of affection. It means that if I grab your ass in public, you don't flinch. If I ask for a kiss, you give it. With tongue. Ballard isn't effeminate, but Connor is definitely in charge of the relationship. Daniel exercises power through manipulation. He's a brat, and a tease, and Connor loves him dearly."

"How long would we be undercover?"

"As long as it takes. A few days, probably not more than a week."

"And we'd be totally on our own?"

"Not totally, but it'll be very limited. The marines aren't going to burst in and save our asses if we fuck up. I'm not going to sugar coat this. You'll be compensated." He named a figure that made Fox's mouth go dry.

Holy shit. This is serious.

"But it's dangerous. You could die. If you do, your people will never know what happened to you. You will disappear off the face of the earth. But I'll do my damndest to see that doesn't happen. And I'm good, Fox. I'm very good."