PART III
"The Most Wonderful Time of the Year!"
SCENE 30
WASHINGTON D.C.;
DECEMBER 24, 1991
(A much older, grayer Cigarette-Smoking Man dumps an empty nicotine patch wrapper into the ashtray, standing
in front of a table of fellow board executives.)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
All right, gentlemen.
Let's make this short and sweet so we can
all Go Home for Christmas.
(He takes a folder out of
his briefcase, closes it and sits.)
Domestic unrest operations?
LYDON:
Yeah, the Anita Hill thing
has lost steam since October.
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Well, let it go. We played it right.
Unfounded allegations will be
flying around in no time. L.A.?
MATLOCK:
The Rodney King trial has
been moved to Simi Valley,
just as you instructed.
(A machine beeps. The read-out reads :
TUE DEC 24, 1991 3-15 PM then,
SADDAM HUSSEIN LINE TWO)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Call back.
JONES:
Internationally, Bosnia-Herzegovina
is set for a February vote on
Independence from Yugoslavia.
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
America couldn't care less.
(He starts to write something down.)
LYDON:
I'm working on next month's
Oscar nominations. Any preference?
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
I couldn't care less.
What I don't want to see is
The Bills winning The Super Bowl.
As long as I'm alive,
that doesn't happen.
JONES:
That'll be tough, sir.
Buffalo wants it bad.
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
So did The Soviets in '80.
JONES:
What're you saying? You rigged
The Olympic Hockey Game?
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
What's the matter?
Don't you believe in miracles?
LYDON:
The Boss gave the Russian goaltender
a pre-game good luck pat on the back...
unseen novocaine needle
on a bogus wedding ring.
Goalie's a little slow on the stick side...
4-3, Home Team.
(Jones looks at the Cigarette-Smoking Man
with respect and a bit of awe.)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Payback's a bitch, Ivan.
(He stands.)
Well, gentlemen, if that'll be all...
MATLOCK:
One thing internally, sir.
That "Spooky" kid who talked his way
into opening X-Files... it feels like Trouble.
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
He's mine to keep an eye on.
(The machine beeps again twice.
The Cigarette-Smoking Man looks at it.
"GORBACHEV HAS RESIGNED"
He looks back at his coworkers with a hint of shock.)
Gorbachev has just resigned.
MATLOCK:
There's no more enemies.
(The Cigarette-Smoking Man tugs on the nicotine patch
on his neck slightly, then packs up his briefcase.)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Merry Christmas.
(He places boxes down in front
of Matlock and Lydon.)
Merry Christmas.
(He places two more down in front of Jones and his coworker. He closes his briefcase and starts for the door. Jones stands.)
JONES:
If you don't have any plans, sir...
We're all getting together with
our families out in Virginia.
You're more than welcome to...
(The Cigarette-Smoking Man smiles widely,
but quickly regains his normal cold composure.)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Oh... well... um... I have to,
uh, see some, uh... family.
(Jones nods. The Cigarette-Smoking Man walks out.
The four men open their boxes
to reveal identical bland neckties.
Downstairs, the Cigarette-Smoking Man walks down
a dark hallway, then hesitates
in front of a door, thinking.
He looks down, then walks past the door
of "Fox Mulder Special Agent.")
SCENE 31
THE CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN'S APARTMENT
(The Cigarette-Smoking Man sits in front of his typewriter, sighing, holding another letter.
"The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" plays.
The Cigarette-Smoking Man looks at the phone,
then puts the letter in his desk and stares at his typewriter.
He quickly opens the drawer and opens the letter. He unfolds the letter and starts to read.
He crumples it up and quickly shoves it in his drawer angrily and starts to type.
"Jack Colquitt at alone in his apartment
at Christmas. He believed in Sacrifice."
(He types quickly, the thoughts racing in his mind.)
"Yet, some nights, he longed
for a second chance..."
He leans back in his chair. The phone rings. He quickly picks it up.)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN: Yeah.
DEEP THROAT:
You'll never believe what
We just got for Christmas.
SCENE 32
DOGWAY, WEST VIRGINIA;
DECEMBER 24, 1991; 10:21 PM
(A number of troops run around, closing off a warehouse. Inside, Deep Throat watches the mayhem, looking calm.
He turns back to the Cigarette-Smoking Man,
who walks down the stairs.
The two of them start to walk.)
DEEP THROAT:
The craft matches the dimensions of
The Vehicle spotted over Hanoi
when I was in Vietnam with The Company
that The Marines couldn't shoot down.
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Occupant?
DEEP THROAT:
Critical.
(They turn down a hallway of plastic, like a quarantine area.)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Timing couldn't be worse.
(They walk past an armed guard.)
The Roswell Story we concocted
was gathering momentum.
Had them all looking in the wrong direction.
With luck, we'll get away with it.
DEEP THROAT:
Yeah, no luck tonight.
(He stops. The Cigarette-Smoking Man does as well, looking back at him.)
Our Aurora spy planes confirmed
The Russians tracked entry and
have pinpointed touchdown.
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Haven't you heard? There are
no Russians anymore.
(They start to walk again.)
DEEP THROAT:
I don't care if They're in the midst of ruin.
The K.G.B. is not going to ignore
an event of this magnitude,
nor are The Chinese,
nor The Germans,
nor The British,
nor anyone with
the capability of discovering
What Happened here, tonight.
(They walk into a large open space inside the warehouse.)
I'm certain each of them has operatives
advancing on us right now....
(They walk over two a double door with a guard on each side. One of the guards opens the door and they walk into a large room. In the middle of the room is a large glass casing, taking up most of the room. Inside is an extraterrestrial biological entity, a brown and wrinkled one, laying on a cot, hooked up to life support machines. The respirator hisses eerily.)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
How many historic events have
only The Two of Us witnessed
together, Ronald? How often
did we Make or Change History?
And our names can never grace any pages of record.
No monument will ever bear our image. And yet
once again, tonight, the course of Human History
will be set by two unknown men...
standing in The Shadows.
(Deep Throat turns to the Cigarette-Smoking Man and pulls out a gun, then turns it around and holds it out to his partner, handle first. The Cigarette-Smoking Man looks at it, then stares at Deep Throat.)
A living E.B.E. could advance
Bill Mulder's Project by decades.
DEEP THROAT:
Security Council Resolution-1013 states,
"Any country capturing such an entity is
responsible for its immediate extermination."
(The Cigarette-Smoking Man looks down at the gun again, then slowly looks up at Deep Throat.)
I'm The Liar. You're The Killer.
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Your Lies have killed more in a day
than I have in a lifetime.
I've never killed anybody.
DEEP THROAT:
Maybe I'm not The Liar.
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
I have a chance to go an entire lifetime
without killing anybody... or any thing.
DEEP THROAT:
With all of our work in the past thirty years,
all of our victories, if The World were to see this...
it would destroy all we've gained in a few hours.
Tonight... We have
a new... Enemy.
(Deep Throat looks over to the dying alien.
The Cigarette-Smoking Man merely stares at Deep Throat,
then digs into his pocket and pulls out a quarter.
They both look down at it. The Cigarette-Smoking Man shows both sides to Deep Throat, then flips it up in the air.)
CIGARETTE-SMOKING MAN:
Heads.
(It lands on heads. The Two look at each other.)
Go ahead. Make History.
(Deep Throat looks at the alien solemnly, then walks into the outer part of the glass casing. He puts his gun in it's holster, then puts on the air tank as the Cigarette-Smoking Man slowly pulls the nicotine patch off his neck. Deep Throat puts on the gas mask and walks into the main compartment, the lifeline monitor beeping steadily. He takes out his gun. The Cigarette-Smoking Man pulls out a pack of Morley's. Deep Throat cocks the gun and aims. The Cigarette-Smoking Man slowly pulls out a cigarette and raises it to his mouth, watching his friend's every movement. He takes out his lighter and flicks it on with one motion as the gun sounds. Deep Throat has pulled the trigger. He does it again as the Cigarette-Smoking Man lights his cigarette. Deep Throat whimpers slightly as the monitor flatlines. He and the Cigarette-Smoking Man lower the gun and lighter respectively at the same time. The Cigarette-Smoking Man takes a long drag, thinking.)
