"Sometimes people like that don't, or can't, make a distinction."
A van passed them, music blaring from its open windows.
"Acceptance," Mulder said then.
"What?"
"Acceptance. Power equals respect equals acceptance."
"Equals fear," she added quietly.
He agreed. He also agreed that murder was sel-dom as uncomplicated as most would believe. He and Scully could probably talk about it all the way back to Washington, and they still wouldn't have the complete answer.
The only one who did was Nick Lanaya.
"Scully," he said while she tried to follow the signs to the airport, "what do you think would happen if, for example, the man who replaces Velador in that circle gets a notion? Like Lanaya did.
Lanaya didn't know exactly what went on in the kiva. He made a few guesses, got a few answers from the old man, who didn't know he was giving them, and did the rest on his own.
"What if one of the circle decided to turn mean?"
She didn't answer.
He had no answer.
What he knew was that Nick could possibly have gone on indefinitely, killing those he didn't like, killing those he took a dislike to for no rea-son at all. He could have, mostly because no one else believed.
He watched the city, the cars, saw an airplane drifting low toward a landing.
Those old men may be wise, but they aren't all old, and none of them is perfect.
Imagine, he thought.
Imagine the power.