Thanks to traffic and the fact he was heading uptown on a Saturday night, Shane arrived at the crime scene the same time as Ryan and Esposito. He was barely out of the OCME van and nodding at the uniform - clearly a rookie from the greenish tinge to his skin as he stood post - when the Irishman was falling into step with him while Esposito was taking notes from an ashen-faced man in a utility-worker's uniform.

'Hey, Shane, can you settle a debate for me and my homie?' Ryan asked as they walked up the aisle of a wide alley on West Eighty-Fourth Street.

'Ryan, you know the more street you try to be, the whiter you sound? And right now you are hitting Fluffernut levels,' Shane replied dryly.

'Whatever, can you settle the argument or not?'

'Let's hear it,' Shane sighed, and Ryan could hear more than just jovial resignation in the man's voice. There was something else there, a kind of melancholy and grief-stricken combination.

'Shane, are you okay?'

'No, I'm not and it's not the time to discuss it, so tell me your problem instead.'

'Okay then.' They'd been friends for far too long for Ryan to push him; he knew it would shut Shane down even further, so he jammed his gloved hands in his pockets. 'Esposito says in a celebrity death match, Morpheus would kick Obi-Wan's ass. I say the Jedi wins hands down. What do you think?'

'Well, are we fighting in the Star Wars universe or inside the Matrix or outside the Matrix?'

'Neutral zone.'

'Does Morpheus have access to his uploads? And can Obi-Wan use the Force?'

'Yes and yes.'

'Then Morpheus.'

Ryan squawked in indignation, but let it go, since Shane was in a pisser of a mood. 'Why don't we deal with this DB waiting for us, huh?'

Shane nodded, glad that Ryan wasn't pressing him to spill his guts as they walked up to the body where Esposito was waiting for them in his warm-looking overcoat. Dull light from the street lamps refracted off his freshly-shaven head, which made his dark eyes appear even deeper.

'Beckett's on her way for this one,' he told them, his collar turned up to fight the November chill near his ears.

'Good. Let's see what we have.'

It was a man about his age, clearly dressed for indoors - heavy linen shirt, jeans and shined loafers which meant was probably a guest of the hotel that formed the southern side of the alley. What was left of his skull showed there was thick, curling black hair that was styled in a shag down to his shoulders, and the open mouth showed good dental work had been one of his priorities.

Ryan patted down the pockets and found the man's wallet in his back left pocket. 'Looks like he's one of your countrymen, Shane. He's got an Israeli driver's license. Name is...Yassir Lew-er-tow.'

'What?' At the mention of the name, Shane's head snapped up as he opened his kit. He tossed his gloves back in, pulled himself up from his crouched position. 'What did you say his name is?'

'Have a look for the record. Yassir Lewertow.'

'It's pronounced Leh-ver-tov,' he replied in a low voice. 'His father was a Polish Jew who survived the Krakow ghetto and moved to Tel Aviv after the war. Everyone called him Paulie, even though his name was actually Solomon. He wanted his son to fit in with the Middle Eastern culture so he gave him an Arabic name.'

'How you get all that?' Esposito asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

'Because we were friends.'

'Oh, damn, bro, I'm sorry.'

'Help me with his pockets.'

Both detectives blinked. 'Come again, Doctor?' Ryan said.

'His pockets, gentlemen, there's something I need to see before I get into any other examinations.'

Completely baffled by both Shane's solemnity and his breaking of procedure and protocol - something they could never recall him doing in his twelve years as an ME - they patted down the body and Esposito paused by Yassir's heart, felt the sturdiness beneath it. 'Is this it?' he asked, reaching in and pulling out a badge case.

'Yep, that's it. Open it up.'

Esposito did so and even his street-salted eyes went wide - it was a very official looking badge, with very official looking photo and thumbprint identifiers, and a silver seal by his signature.

'Dude,' Ryan breathed looking over his partner's shoulder, 'Is that what I think it is?'

'Yep. Our corpse is an agent. Which means,' Esposito realized, 'we're going to be swarmed.'

'Reporters are part of the gig, Detective.'

The men all glanced over, saw Beckett in her heeled boots and warm red coat. She'd gotten festive and added a matching red tam to protect against the light whisper of snow just beginning to fall.

'Not exactly, Detective Beckett.' Esposito handed over the badge and watched her shift.

'This changes nothing, Espo,' she reminded him. 'This is still a homicide in the city of New York and that makes...Yassir Lewertow ours. NSA, HLS, CIA, FBI and all those other initials can do that dance all they want, but until we have any evidence to suggest it, we can't assume because he works for Israeli intelligence that this was a politically motivated killing. Ryan, take a few uniforms, see if anyone heard anything, Espo you have the guys who called it in?'

'Yes ma'am, Detective.'

The Ry-Sposito monster parted ways on their tasks, and Beckett turned to Shane, motherly concern in her hers. 'Are you okay to do this?'

'You mean being distracted by my fiancee or the fact that I knew this guy twenty years ago when we were in the air force together?'

'Either one.'

'Alexis is going to be fine and I want a task to focus on to keep me from calling her every ten minutes, and if that means taking care of an old friend who got his brains bashed in, then so be it.'

Beckett heard the determination in his voice and nodded briskly. 'So what can you tell me so far, Doctor?'

'Cause of death is blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. Looks like someone used an aluminum Louisville Slugger or maybe a smooth pipe of some kind.'

'Not wooden?'

'Nope, wood splinters and this wound may be nasty but it's clean.' He dug out his liver thermometer, inserted it into Yassir's side and noted the reading in his chart. 'Based on liver temperature and given ambient air temp, I'd say he was toast between ten-thirty and midnight.'

'Okay.'

'His wallet and his badge were both there, so motive likely isn't robbery. I'll check for sex, drugs and rock-and-roll when I get him checked into my house.'

'Sounds like fun.' Beckett smiled at Shane, then dropped the look when his face paled, even worse than the previous night in the hospital with Alexis. 'What is it?'

'That.' Shane pointed with his pen at the sleek Suburbans parking on the other side of the crime scene tape at the entrance to the alley. Out of the passenger's side door of the lead vehicle popped a petite woman with silver streaked black hair and heavy-lidded eyes. She wore a stark black jacket over an equally stark black suit with a tomato red blouse, soft-heel black leather boots, and an expression that clearly read 'I'm running this shit'.

Beckett drew herself up to her full height and opened her mouth to speak when the woman speared Shane with a single stare and the wonder of how Shane knew the woman was put to rest at once.

'Scheine, what are you doing here?'

'My job, Mama. I'm on the roll tonight and was tagged for this homicide.'

'I'm Detective Katherine Beckett,of the NYPD, I am the lead investigator in Yassir's murder,' Beckett began, offering her hand.

'Katsa Shir Weaver, Mossad Special Investigations,' Shir replied, ignoring the outstretched hand as she continued to stare Shane down. 'You cannot investigate Yassir Lewertow's murder, Scheine, for a number of reasons. Not the least of which is your personal connection to him.'

'Detective Beckett has already been informed of my past friendship with Yassir. She is aware that we were in the air force in Israel together when we were teenagers, and after...I was done, I came to the states for university.' Shane paused for effect, to drive his next point home. 'This is the first time I've seen him in nearly twenty years.'

'Be that as it may, I cannot allow you to do this Scheine.' Shir dipped her hands into her pockets, came up with a stick of Juicy Fruit gum. It was one of her favourite American treats; she always stocked up on it when she had to be in the States. 'I am in charge of this case with Detective Beckett and there could be questions if my son is the lead pathologist on the case.'

'Can I speak to you in private, Mom?'

'Detective,' Shir said in a soft tone and Beckett made herself scarce. When they had some semblance of privacy, she stared her son down. 'Scheine, you know damn well why you can't do this post-mortem examination. Not only do you have yourself to think of, your job, you also have a young fiancee who would be just a ripe juicy morsel for them.'

'Alexis knows about my past, Mama. All of it.'

'As I raised you right, I expect nothing less than her to have full disclosure.'

From her spot near Esposito, Beckett watched the exchange and wondered if Shane knew he looked like he could be a twelve year old boy busted for sneaking out after curfew. When Esposito was finished with the man who'd called in the body, he edged closer to Beckett.

'So the loading dock manager said he was on his break in the kitchen from ten forty-five to eleven fifteen, and when he got back he didn't notice anything out of the ordinary.' He consulted his notes, making sure he had the details right. 'He was gone maybe ten minutes when he went to use the little boys room around ten to midnight and when he got back, he thought the noise he heard was the linen trucks picking up the daily supply, so he opened the rolling doors and instead of a truck, saw our boy Yassir there.'

'Which gives us a kill zone.'

'Sure does. What's all that about?' Esposito asked, pointing towards Shane, who was still arguing with his mother.

'That's Shane's mother who is a very uppity-up Mossad agent and wants Shane off the case because of his connection to Yassir.'

'What's going on with him? He's way off his usual beat today.'

Beckett hesitated only a moment, then shook her head. 'It's not my place to say.'

'Everything okay with him and Alexis? They didn't split up or anythign like that, did they?'

'Not at all, just...things going on that aren't my place to tell you.'

As Esposito understood this code quite well, he nodded in a subtle gesture that the matter would slide between them with a mental note on his part to ask Shane about it when he and Ryan got to the morgue.

Shir stalked over to them, then, and spoke with the tone of someone clearly not used to having their orders shut down. 'Shane has said he is going to complete the on-scene examination and then pass over the post-mortem examination to another doctor, a Lanie Parrish-Robbins.'

'She's in tomorrow morning at eight o'clock,' Beckett informed Shir, who sniffed derisively.

'Earlier would be better. Yassir Lewertow was a high ranking agent, an agent who had diploamtic status and immunity in this country, and if his death is not given priority, then I will be forced to speak to your supervisor as well as the chief medical examiner.'

'Shane are you okay with that?' Beckett asked him, and saw the weight of it on his shoulders.

'Don't really have a choice do I? I'll transport him back to the morgue, tag him for examination by Lanie at eight am.'

'Sharp,' Shir added.

'Sharp,' Shane agreed, and went with his assistants to load the body.

Beckett, Ryan and Esposito watched him go, watched Shir stalk off to the Suburbans. 'Guys, I want you to stick with Shane. He's got a lot going on in his personal life right now, and I don't want him losing his shit because Mommy Dearest has swept in and steam-rolled us.'

'Kate, what the hell is up? I saw him two days ago and he was on the ceiling because Alexis was going to be home for a week. Now he looks like someone turned Chubbs into sushi,' Ryan said, referring to Shane's pet tropical fish.

'Nothing I'm at liberty to say. But maybe, if you took him a little Thai food from Monsoon's, he might be up for a little bro-chat at the morgue.'