C019D9C090E03@comcast.net> cae4fb02   
   Title - Decoding the Enigma   
   Authors - Amy Jonas and MagsRose   
   E-mail - adjonas2000@yahoo.com or magsrose@comcast.net   
   Rating - FRT-13 (PG - 13)   
   Category - AU/Gen/Het   
   Archive - Just let us know.   
   Feedback - Yes, please. Any kind is always welcome. We just like to know   
   someone is reading this stuff.   
   Disclaimer - Without Prejudice. The names of all characters contained here in   
   are the property of Chris Carter, et. al. No infringements of these copyrights   
   are intended, and are used here without permission. All original characters   
   are the sole property    
   of Mags or Amy and may not be used without the author's permission.   
   Summary - In 1940, Private Investigator, Melvin Frohike thought he was working   
   on a simple missing person case but he soon found himself embroiled in   
   something far more sinister.   
   Authors' notes - After seeing the Maltese Falcon, Amy presented Mags with an   
   idea for The X-Files characters in an Alternate Universe.  Intrigued by the   
   possibilities, Mags suggested a co-authoring effort.  The result is the story   
   you see here.  Thanks    
   to Erynn and Alison for betaing this for us.   
      
      
      
   Chapter 14   
      
      
   Byers settled in a chair, the files of his latest case spread out on the table   
   in front of him. He'd just opened the first folder and begun to read when   
   someone started pounding on his door.  He glanced toward it before shifting   
   his gaze to the clock on    
   the wall.   
      
   “Who can that be?” he wondered, “It’s nearly 8 o’clock.”   
      
   The pounding continued.  Figuring that it must be important for someone to   
   disturb him at home at that hour, Byers hurried to the door, unlocked it and   
   opened it.  He was surprised to find Melvin Frohike on his front step looking   
   bruised, bloodied and    
   generally disheveled.   
      
   “Beating up another suspect?”  Even as he heard himself say it, Byers knew it   
   was uncalled for. The man just rubbed him the wrong way.   
      
   “Shut up, Byers," Frohike snapped shocking Byers further.  “Just shut up and   
   listen to me for a moment.  I’m too tired and I hurt too much to put up with   
   your petty and bitter attacks on me tonight.”  He rubbed his face with his   
   hands and said quietly, “   
   I need your help.”   
      
   John nearly laughed at the ridiculousness of that statement but the man’s   
   physical state stopped him. He couldn’t believe himself when he stepped   
   aside.  “Come in.”   
      
   He led Frohike to his living room. Their progress was slow as Frohike was   
   limping badly on his right leg. Byers waited for him to sit in a chair near   
   the fire.  “Tell me what happened?”   
      
   Frohike sighed, settling farther into the chair. “It’s a long story.  I just   
   ask that you refrain from commenting until I finish.”  Frohike waited until   
   Byers sat down in a chair opposite him before launching into his story,   
   leaving nothing out.   
      
   As he told it, Frohike knew to someone who had not been involved in it from   
   the beginning, that his tale must sound like something out of a dime store   
   novel: missing scientists, beautiful mysterious women, spies, FBI moles, and a   
   secret decoding machine.    
   Not to mention explosions, car chases and gun battles.   
      
   He watched Byers reactions as he talked, hoping for some sign that the   
   District Attorney believed him but Byers showed no emotion.  For part of the   
   story, Byers didn't look at Frohike but sat staring into the fire. Frohike   
   wasn't sure if it was because    
   he couldn't stand the sight of him or he was just listening intently and   
   visualizing the events as they were related.   
      
   When Frohike finished, Byers sat back in his chair, looking thoughtful.   
      
   “What do you need from me?” Byers asked finally.   
      
   “You have connections in the F.B.I.  You've worked closely with them in the   
   past. There must be people there you trust. That's what I need now. Someone   
   who will help these two, keep them safe.”   
      
   Byers' eyebrows all but disappeared into his hairline. "And you want me to   
   help you with this? After everything that's happened the last couple of years,   
   you think I'm the one to come to?"   
      
   Frohike's ire rose; it tasted like vinegar in the back of his throat. "Look,   
   yes or no. I know what you think of me but it's not my neck on the line here.   
   It's theirs. Can you help them?"   
      
   Shaking his head, Byers said, "It's not that. I just can't believe you'd trust   
   me."   
      
   "Trust, yes. Want to be chums with…" Frohike left that last statement hanging.   
   He felt he'd already gone too far and he really did need the man's help.   
      
   Unfazed by the implied insult, Byers nodded, obviously deep in thought.  “I   
   know someone.  He’s a straight arrow.”   
      
   Byers couldn't help but notice the look of immense relief on the private   
   investigator's face. "Thank you," said Frohike. “Can you get in touch with him   
   tonight?   
      
   “I think so."   
      
   "There's one other thing of a more personal nature," said Frohike, "and I   
   wouldn't ask it but …"   
      
   "Go ahead and ask."   
      
   "As I said, the professor was the closest to the explosion. His clothes got   
   pretty torn up. The doctor cut off what was left of them. He's about your   
   height and weight. Do you have an old pair of pants and a shirt he can use?"   
      
   Without saying a word, the DA got up and left the room. In a couple of   
   minutes, he returned with some neatly folded clothes in his hands. "These   
   should work," he said, setting them on a table near Frohike's elbow.   
      
   Frohike stood up leaning heavily on the arms of the chair to push himself   
   upright.  “Where are you going?” Byers asked.   
      
   “I’ve got to get back.  Harlow is jittery enough that, if the doctor gives the   
   professor a clean bill of health, she might take off with him.  As exhausted   
   as she is…" Frohike looked away, "one mistake and they're both dead.”  He   
   picked up the clothes. "   
   Thanks for these."   
      
   “She isn't the only one exhausted,” Byers pointed out.  “You look like you're   
   ready to fall over.”   
      
    “I’ll catch some sleep while I wait for the slow wheels of justice to turn.   
   “  Frohike said with a half-hearted grin. “I should be well rested by then.”   
      
   "Where can I find you?” Byers asked as they made their way to the door.   
      
   "I've got them stashed at the morgue for the time being but we can't stay   
   there for long without bringing attention to ourselves."   
      
   Byers nodded.   
      
   Byers locked up after the detective then returned to the library.  He opened   
   the desk drawer and pulled out an address book.  He knew exactly who he needed   
   to call.   
      
      
      
      
   * * * * *   
      
      
      
      
   “….get some rest.  It’ll help your recovery and besides you’re clearly   
   exhausted.”   
      
   Yves faced Dana Scully meeting the doctor’s perturbed expression with her own   
   steely resolve.  Ever since Melvin Frohike had left to meet someone he claimed   
   could help them, Scully had been making persistent suggestions that she should   
   get some sleep.   
      
   It should have raised her suspicions of a possible trap but Yves sensed   
   nothing of the kind from the woman.  Or maybe she was just too damn tired to   
   see clearly.  Her eyes felt grainy, her lids heavy and the exhaustion Dana   
   Scully spoke of fitted Yves    
   like a cloak on a damp London night.   
      
   “Someone needs to keep guard,” Yves replied stubbornly.   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)