Read Online Whirlwind by Charles Grant - Free Book Online

passed. Another hour lost, and so was their connecting flight.
    â€œCursed,” Mulder had said at one point. “This whole thing is cursed.”
    By the time they landed in Albuquerque, she was ready to believe in curses; by the time Red Garson had sped them in his Jeep out of the city, north to Bernalillo, she was ready to spend the rest of her life walking.
    The man beside her shifted to get her attention.
    She opened her eyes and smiled at him wanly.
    Red was as Mulder had told her, a tall, lean, middle-aged man whose lined face and hands spoke of time spent in the mountains and the desert. She had no idea where he’d gotten his nickname, because his blond hair was pale, his blue eyes dark; part of his left ear was missing, bitten off, he told her, in a fight with a man who had a strong aversion to spending the rest of his life in federal prison.
    Hardly a stereotypical FBI agent.
    When he smiled, only his lips moved; he never showed his teeth.
    He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “You think he’s fallen asleep?”
    â€œI doubt it.”
    A pickup chugged past the Inn, backfired twice, and left a curl of black smoke behind.
    â€œDana?”
    She nodded to show him she was listening.
    â€œWhy does he call you Scully all the time? I mean, you do have a first name.”
    â€œBecause he can,” she answered simply, without sarcasm, and didn’t bother to explain. Just as it would be hard to explain why Mulder was, without question, the best friend she had. It was more than just being partners, being able to rely on each other when one of them was in danger, or when one of them needed a boost when a case seemed to be going bad; and it was more thansimply their contrasting styles, which, perversely to some, complemented each other perfectly.
    What it was, she sometimes thought, was an indefinable instinct, a silent signal that let her know that whatever else changed, whatever else happened, Mulder would always be there when he had to be. One way or another.
    At that moment she heard a footfall and grinned. “Here he comes.”
    Garson looked startled, looked around and saw him walking along one of the stone paths that wound through the courtyard garden. She had to admit he looked strange without his suit. Over his shoulder he carried a denim jacket, not for appearance but to hide the holster he wore on his left hip.
    He also looked as frazzled as she felt.
    â€œIt’s hot,” he said, dropping onto the bench beside her.
    â€œIt’s July, Mulder,” Garson reminded him. “It’s New Mexico. What did you expect?”
    â€œHeat I can get at home. An oven I already have in my apartment.” He scratched through his hair and shook his head as though trying to force himself awake.
    â€œIt isn’t for everybody,” Garson admitted, adding without saying so that “everybody” must be crazy if they didn’t instantly fall in love with this part of the country. “And remember, you’re a mile farther up than you were in Washington.Thinner air. Take it easy for a while, understand? You go shooting off in fourteen directions at once, you’re going to drop.”
    Mulder grunted, then stood again. “Hey, look.” He headed for the gate.
    â€œMulder,” Scully called. “We haven’t time—”
    He turned, grinning, and pointed to a small dust devil spinning lazily in the road. “We used to get these things at home. Leaves, you know?” He moved closer; it was no higher than his shin. “We’d try to get inside.” His foot inched toward the dervish’s base and apparently broke some unseen barrier. The dust devil fell apart, and Mulder toed the place where it had been.
    Scully, who was already feeling the effects of the altitude, let the silence settle for a few seconds before she said, “Mulder, come over here, I think we’d better not waste any more time.” She checked her watch;