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It was nearly dawn when a very disgruntled group of detectives staggered back to the 96th Precinct from Queen's Park. "Okay, so now they're taking the body with them when they leave," Mulder was saying. "But where could they have put them?" Schanke asked. "There aren't that many hiding places in a place like Queen's Park. We checked all the flower beds, and the Legislative Building was still locked with no sign of entry...it's a pretty obvious thing to be strolling down the street carrying a headless corpse." Scully, ever enamored of the Scientific Method, asked, "Are we sure this was the same perp or perps we've been following all along?" "I'm pretty sure," Mulder countered. "You saw the burned grass. It was just like Casa Loma." "Yes," Scully said, "but there was no sign of damage to the nearby buildings..." "That's only because the explosion or whatever it was happened in the middle of the park, far enough away from the buildings," Mulder riposted. "And the shape of the pattern was wrong...it was much larger..." "From what I could see," Mulder said, "there were multiple explosions this time. I detected three distinct blast patterns superimposed on each other -- as if they took place right next to each other." Scully knitted her brow. "Then, that would imply that there was more than one body we just lost -- possibly three..." The discussion was stopped short as the group approached Captain Cohen's office. They could see, through the open door, that the Captain was not alone. She was facing two familiar, but unwelcome faces: the agents of the "North American Anti- Terrorist Directorate." The blond woman was now dressed to the nines in a stylish long calf-length black skirt by Prada, a leather bustier, and spiky Manolo Blahnik stiletto shoes. The brunette Gallic man was in a black silk knit turtleneck and a black wool Versace suit. The fashion plates were frowning -- and it wasn't just a runway pout. "What's going on, Cap'n?" Schanke ventured. The well-dressed male spook gave him a contemptuous glare, as if he were an offending insect. "Your jurisdiction has failed to retain custody of the tangible," the man said with his Parisian accent. "Your people lost the body," the woman translated through her Australian drawl. She sounded tired. "We discovered it was missing a few minutes ago when the guards changed shifts." Scully's eyes slowly grew to anime proportions. A high flush came to her cheeks again. "WHAT!" she shrieked. Cohen flew to her feet. "Look here, you two!" The spooks spun to face her. "I'd like to point out here that it was YOUR people on that watch -- you didn't trust US to guard the Casa Loma body. None of my people was even near the scene! It was YOU who fouled up here! Maybe you should spend a little less on clothes, and use the money to train your agents in basic guard duty!" The spook-man pursed his lips into a tiny moue. "Je suis enerve," he muttered. (Only Knight understood that he said, "I am royally pissed off" in French.) The lady spook held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Look, look, there's no point in getting our knickers in a twist around here..." Mulder, examining the line of the woman's tight-fitting skirt, couldn't help but tell Scully, sotto voce, "And does she even wear knickers? I see no panty lines from here." Scully scowled at him, but Schanke, who had been within earshot, had to stifle a chuckle. Either ignorant of, or deliberately ignoring, this exchange, the lady spook went on. "Captain Cohen, I know you realize the enormity of what's going on. That body was our only link to what could be a very dangerous group of terrorists." "I am fully aware of that. That's why I wanted to perform the autopsy right away and collect valuable evidence. But I was thwarted..." "There's no sense in arguing over jurisdiction now," the lady spook interrupted. "All we ask now is that you work more closely with us in the future -- lest our superiors go over your head and wrest all local control away from you." Cohen narrowed her eyes, and her face took on the frightening contortions of a demonic mask in Noh drama. Then she sighed. "All right. You can consult with Detectives Knight and Schanke on what they've found so far. But," she added pointedly, looking to Scully and Mulder for assistance, "the FBI is totally out of my command structure. You'll have to negotiate a separate agreement with them." The lady spook nodded graciously to her. "Thank you, Captain Cohen." "You're welcome, Agent Nikita. Agent Michael." Cohen was clearly clenching her teeth, but otherwise trying to look accommodating. Michael nodded imperceptibly in her direction. Nikita took her comrade by the arm and led him out to the hall, where the other detectives had been gathered. "Well, we seem to be back at square one," Scully said. "No body." She and Mulder had exchanged meaningful glances which meant "pretend we have less information than we really have." They trusted no one, particularly shadowy uber- governmental international organizations. "Not completely at square one," Nikita said. She produced, from her black leather designer handbag, a sheaf of photographs. "We took pictures of the body and head. We'll send them to our headquarters for possible identification." She went over to an empty desk, and pulled out a tiny slim computer from her bag. She opened it up, and used a minuscule built-in scanner to scan the pictures. Then she spoke into an earpiece/microphone she was wearing. "Birkoff, I have an ID for you to run. Try the Red Cell database -- see what the recent intel has picked up within the past week or so." There was some kind of acknowledgment, and the job was done. She snapped up her computer and stuffed everything back into the bag. Schanke watched this whole exchange with awe. "That is so cool," he said. Nikita gave him a winsome smile. Knight, Scully, and Mulder all gave him a wounded look. Knight whispered, "Since when do you sympathize with the Frog James Bond?" "Since Pussy Galore stuffed herself into that leather tank top," Scully muttered derisively. To the Anti-Terrorists, Mulder asked, "Now what?" Nikita shrugged. "We wait. We know where to find you." With a flounce, she and Michael sashayed out. "Have we made any progress in this case at all today?" Scully exclaimed disgustedly to no one in particular. "Yes we have," Mulder said. "The Cold Squad gave us a profile." "Oh, right," Scully taunted. "Vampires." Knight corrected, "Well, we concluded that they were probably normal humans who think they're vampires. Or have embraced them as a metaphor." Schanke yawned. "Kids, I think it's time for us to pack it in for the day. I need a few hours of shuteye and everyone is getting very cranky." Knight agreed, looking at his watch. "It's almost dawn. I need to get home, too." "Yeah," Scully grumbled. "I suppose we ought to get some rest ourselves. Sleep helps the mind work better." Schanke and Knight bade their partners goodbye and shuffled off. When they were alone, Mulder took Scully by the arm and pulled her to a quiet corner of the office. "Listen, Scully -- I think, tonight, we should go see Knight alone at home, before his shift starts." "Why?" "I suspect...the stealing of the Casa Loma body was an inside job." Scully blinked at him a few times, bleary-eyed. "Why do you say that?" "You know Section One is not a bunch of yahoos. To get past them would take an insider's touch -- or someone connected with the case. Someone like Knight." "Wouldn't that Nikita woman or the Michael guy have mentioned if Knight had been at the scene of the crime?" "Maybe. But you've got to admit, Knight had the window of opportunity. He left the Cold Squad HQ alone, and he was gone for a while. The Coroner's office is near Queen's Park -- and he got there before we did -- as if he'd already been in the area." "But why would Knight steal the body from his own morgue?" "Maybe he did it for us. To keep Section One from carrying off the evidence. Maybe he'll let us look at the body. He seems to be on our side." Scully gave him the hairy eyeball. "You, Mulder? You're TRUSTING someone?" "I don't necessarily trust him. But he might trust us." "Hmm..." with her sleep-deprived voice all raspy, she sounded like Marge Simpson. In a singsong tone, Mulder enticed, "You might get to do your autopsy..." Scully relented. "Okay, okay. We'll go today, right before the shift starts. But right now, I think our Canadian friends are right -- we need to sleep. This weird nocturnal existence is giving me jet lag." Mulder nodded. He was going to get to the bottom of this thing with Knight, all right -- but it wasn't the Casa Loma body he was after. He wanted the Truth.
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