Scully and Moronica stand in the hallway and chaw about the case. They basically have no idea how to find this guy. They step dejectedly into the elevator, which contains one other passenger: Wayno. Scully shoots him an apprehensive look, but Moronica just stands there. Where are your "feelings" now, Moronica? Finally, the elevator shudders to a halt and the girls get out, Wayno holding the door for them. "Thank you," Scully offers, then looks down at his hand and sees the Ring of the Devil. There's a whipping noise on the soundtrack. Seriously. It's like a bullwhip being cracked. I don't know. I just don't know. Scully steps out of the elevator, then turns on her heel and draws her gun. She barks at Wayno to step out of the elevator. He raises his hands tentatively in the air, offers that "it's going to be cool," and then shuffles around until the doors close on him. Scully yelps. "It's him!" she tells Moronica. "It's going down," Moronica says. "Stairs!" Scully says, and they race for the door. Mark Snow cues up Cavalry trumpets. No, seriously. Cavalry trumpets. I'm beginning to think that Chris Carter got some really potent bud this week and just passed it around the office.
Stairs. Cha cha cha. The girls pile into the parking garage just in time to see a car speed out and the gate close in their face with a clang. "Olé!" shouts a French-accented voice on the soundtrack. Indeed.
The girls trudge back to the stairwell, Moronica trying without success to get reception on her cell phone. And the door is locked. "Great," Scully grouses, punching random numbers on the security pad in hopes of lucking out. "There are all the numbers on this case except the ones we need," she says. Moronica just shrugs. "Someone will come in soon," Scully announces. Moronica wonders if it's possible that the person in the car wasn't Wayno. "The killer could still be in the garage," she offers. The girls draw their guns and walk around, yelling about being armed federal agents.
Eventually, they happen across a man sitting in his car. It's Burt, who obediently emerges with his hands up, smiling. Scully asks to see his ID. "I don't have a wallet," Burt explains apologetically. He's just waiting for a friend, he says, adding, "We have this regular game. Checkers." Scully rolls her eyes. Burt comments that he has the checkers in the truck if "either of [them] play." Scully purses her lips. "Sir, does it look like we're here to play checkers?" she asks. "No. What are you here for?" Burt responds. Moronica shoots Scully a look, then pats Burt down. He's clean. "Let's pop the truck," Scully says. Inside are, indeed, checkers and many, many CDs. "I love music," Burt says, "especially the classics." Scully and Moronica just stare at him. "You like them? Keep them," Burt offers. Scully asks when his checker-playing friend is due to arrive. Burt looks at his bare wrist. "Soon," he chirps. Moronica wonders what the hell they're supposed to do, all locked in the parking garage. "I don't know, I don't know." Scully says. "I have some nice dance music," Burt pipes up. Scully shirtily informs him that they're chasing a serial killer, not looking to boogie. "How are you going to catch him?" Burt wonders. Scully tells him that they're not -- not stuck in a parking garage. "Can I help?" Burt asks. He doesn't have a cell phone. He doesn't have the combination to the door. The girls look downtrodden. "There's always checkers!" Burt says.