Ground Zero (The X-Files) by Kevin Anderson, Chris Carter (Creator)

become the obvious successor….
    But it didn’t ring true. Dooley didn’t seem to be enjoying himself.
    “Maybe we’d better try a safer area. How long have you worked for Dr. Gregory?” Mulder asked.
    Dooley stopped and scratched his head. “Four or five years, I guess. Most of the time as a technician. Thought I was working hard then , but now he’s left me with a set of big shoes to fill.”
    “How long have you been his deputy project director?”
    Dooley answered that one more quickly. “Eleven months, ever since Miriel flaked out on us.”
    Outside in the hall a circular saw made a loud racket, followed by a sharp yelp. The clanging sound of metal and dropped pipes, crashed sheetrock and
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    THE X-FILES
    wood prompted a brief outburst of cursing and a scurry of frantic efforts to get the hazardous asbestos under control. It made Mulder think of a dentist drilling deep into a patient’s molar, and suddenly whispering “Oops!” under his breath. His stomach knotted.
    “What is all this stuff about the South Sea Islands?” he said, gesturing to the photos. “Aerial images and weather patterns.”
    Dooley shrugged and hesitated a moment as he concocted an explanation. “Maybe I’m planning a vacation—get away from it all, you know. Besides, that’s the Western Pacific, not the South Seas.”
    “Funny. Dr. Gregory had similar photos in his office.”
    “Could be we had the same travel agent,” Dooley answered.
    Mulder leaned forward. He found it difficult to conduct a serious interrogation while both of them were wearing these absurd filter masks. His breathing made his cheeks and lips hot. His voice was muffled and subdued. “Tell me about Bright Anvil.”
    “Never heard of it,” Dooley answered crisply.
    “Yes you have.”
    “You don’t have a need-to-know,” Dooley countered.
    “I have a security clearance,” Mulder said.
    “Your FBI clearances don’t mean a damn thing to me, Agent Mulder,” Dooley said. “I’ve signed papers. I’ve gone to my security briefing. I know the level of classification my work falls under. Unlike certain other assistants of Dr. Gregory, I take my oaths seriously.”
    Dooley pointed a blunt finger at Mulder. “You might not realize this, Mr. FBI—but you and I are on the same side. I’m fighting for this country, doing what our government deems necessary. If
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    GROUND ZERO
    you want a blabbermouth, why don’t you go see Miriel Bremen at her Stop Nuclear Madness! headquarters? You can find the address in any one of the thousand or so leaflets they left scattered in the ditches and along the fence yesterday. Go ask her your questions. Then arrest her for divulging national security information.
    “In fact, why don’t you ask her a lot of questions. She was around when Emil Gregory died, and she had plenty of motive to mess up our project.”
    Mulder looked sharply at him. “Tell me more.”
    Bear Dooley’s color deepened as his long-standing resentment boiled to the surface. “She and her protesters were here the whole time. They threatened to stop at nothing— nothing , if you take the clear implications of that word—to sabotage our work. Miriel would know how to do it, since she worked here long enough. Maybe she’s the one who planted something in Gregory’s office. Maybe she’s behind it all.”
    “We’ll check it out,” Mulder said.
    Dooley set a box full of office supplies down heavily on the desk. Pens and pencils and scissors clattered next to his stapler and tape dispenser.
    “Now I’ve got a lot of work to do, Agent Mulder. I was already up to my nose in responsibilities, and now it’s gotten even worse. Add to that the fact that I’ve been pulled out of my comfortable offices and stuck in this godawful hole trying to make do, working on a project in a barracks building where I can’t even pull out any of my classified papers.”
    Mulder thought of something else as he stepped to the door. “I noticed in Dr. Gregory’s