A/N: Sorry for all the hate against lawyers in this chapter. If it makes it any better, I'm really just picking at my own profession. I'm glad people are reading this. Please stick with it and review and give me feedback! I've never written for SVU before, and this is a new genre for me, as well.
"Jack the Ripper? So, we're looking for a British guy, about 150 years old? Should be easy, where do we start?" Finn quipped.
"I'm serious, the pattern is identical," Huang replied.
"Yeah, and since all the details on the Ripper killings have been kept out of the press since 1888, there's no way this was a Copycat crime."
"I'm not actually suggesting that we are looking for the historical Jack the Ripper. We are probably looking for a Caucasian male, well educated in history, and possibly a lawyer."
"If you're looking for a lawyer by day, criminal by night, I can get you a list of all the defense attorneys in Manhattan." Casey Novak had joined midway through the discussion.
"But seriously, why a lawyer?" Benson asked.
"Well, investigators always suspected that the Ripper was an affluent professional because of the times of day and days of the week he killed. One of the primary suspects, Montague John Druitt, was a lawyer. He killed himself before a case could be built against him. But that isn't why I suspect this killer is a lawyer. See, a lawyer would have the necessary research and criminology skills to detail and replicate the crime. He would be likely to have a good grasp of history, and, no offense Casey, but attorneys do have a poor track record for the addictions and mental illness that could lead to the type of psychotic break necessary to do this."
"No offense taken. You forgot to mention the tendency towards self-righteousness that would lead to this type of target."
"Yes, there is that, too."
The profiling was interrupted by Captain Cragen bursting out of his office. "Benson, Stabler," he summoned.
They went into his office and Cragen shut the door behind them.
"Are we really looking at a Jack the Ripper copycat?" He asked.
"It looks like it, Cap." Stabler answered.
"This is going to be international news if it gets out. So make sure it doesn't. We don't need news crews from Washington to White Chapel beating down our doors while we are trying to solve a murder. Do you have any prints or DNA on a suspect?"
"No prints. Warner is sorting out DNA now; the body was a mess. I have a feeling this guy left the scene clean, though." Benson said.
"No one leaves the scene clean," Stabler reminded her.
"Is it really him, Doc?"
"I hope not. He swears he gave it up years ago. I don't believe him, but I would think that he has become skilled enough at disposing of his victims to not leave them in plain sight in a New York City alleyway." Henry shuddered at the matter-of-fact way Magnus described her ex-fiance's homicidal mania.
"That's not particularly comforting."
"It wasn't really meant to be. I assume NYPD is launching an investigation of its own?" She watched as Henry typed furiously, hacking deeper into the NYPD database.
"Yup. They are keeping it very hush-hush, but Manhattan SVU is handling the investigation. Detectives…Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler. Let's see what's in their jackets." More typing. He read over their personnel files, Magnus looking over his shoulder. After a few minutes, he whistled. Magnus nodded her head.
"Indeed. For officers of the law they seem to have little regard for it, in all of the best possible ways. Their record for solving crimes is exceptional…"
"But it is because they are damned determined to catch the guy, no matter what it takes."
"This could be complicated. Usually NYPD is pretty easy to handle, but these two may require a more unorthodox approach." Henry glanced at her sharply.
"You mean full disclosure?"
"I don't know about full, but we definitely can't just send an email to One PP and have this case go away. They'll never stand for it."
"You're going to New York." It wasn't a question.
"Yes. As limited as my time may be, this just became priority."
It had been almost 24 hours and they hadn't found a thing. Not a shred of evidence at the scene or on the body. Nobody on their radar that matched the profile. It was a total dead end. Olivia sat at her desk, elbows propping her head up in her hands as she stared at the pile of Nothing on her desk.
"Go home, Liv." Stabler ordered. She looked up drearily.
"You first." The showdown was classic and routine at this point. "We have to find something. I mean, a ghost certainly didn't kill that woman." She was still a Jane Doe, and that bothered Benson more than the absence of leads.
"Are you entirely sure about that?" Both the detectives turned to find a stranger standing in the doorway. She couldn't have been more out of place. She was tall and lean but curvy. She was dressed in solid black: snug black pants tucked into knee-high black leather boots with a leather jacket. She wore her shoulder length dark, curly hair loose. She looked to be in her thirties, and she carried herself with a confidence that suggested that even if she wasn't carrying one or more weapons (which Benson suspected she was) the woman didn't really need them to defend herself. After all of that, her thick British accent almost seemed like an afterthought.
Munch had seen the woman walk in and was staring, as well. "Let me guess, you're MI-6, here to cover up some British conspiracy," he suggested.
"And you must be John Munch," she replied. "I assure you, I am not with MI-6." Munch didn't miss the fact that she did not deny that she was here on a cover-up mission.
"Who are you?" Stabler asked, regaining his senses.
"My name is Helen Magnus, and I believe you need my help."