"Law and Disorder"


STANDARD DISCLAIMER: See: Chapter 1. ADDITIONAL: Beautiful perfume belongs to Estée Lauder.


Chapter 2


Doctor Rodgers was continuing her exploration of the victim's chest cavity when they arrived. At the sound of the door opening, she looked up from her gruesome work.
"You're not going to believe this," she told the detectives without preamble. "Your victim has two hearts. Two hearts." She made a sound like a sigh of resignation. "Stabbed neatly in each of them, too. Once in the right ventricle of the right heart, once in the left ventricle of the left one." She glanced at the Doctor, noticing him for the first time. "Who's this?"
"The Doctor," Green said.
"Who?" Rodgers asked, frowning.
"I'd tell you that he's a mysterious stranger from another planet who says he can travel through time, but you wouldn't believe me" Briscoe deadpanned.
"Today I'd believe almost anything," Rodgers said with another sigh. She turned her attention to the Doctor. "I'm Elizabeth Rodgers. Normally, I'd shake your hand, but…" her voice trailed off and she gave a little shrug, holding up a bloody gloved hand.
"I quite understand," the Doctor said quietly, looking down at the autopsy table sadly.
"What can you tell me about the victim?" Rodgers asked him briskly.
"She was my friend," he replied absently, reaching down to smooth a lock of hair back from the victim's face.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Rodgers said, taken aback. "I didn't know." She turned a meaningful look on the detectives. "Have you two lost your minds?" she demanded angrily. "What are you doing bringing one of the victim's friends to her autopsy?"
"It's quite all right," the Doctor said, visibly collecting himself. "I asked to come. I'm probably the only person on this planet who can help you find her killer."
"So you knew that she was…" Rodgers indicated the victim's strange anatomy with the wave of a hand. "…whatever she was," the medical examiner finished lamely. The Doctor nodded.
"Gallifreyan. Yes, of course."
"How do you spell that?" Green asked. The Doctor saw that the detective had his notepad out again, and spelled the alien name for him with a slight smile.
"I thought you said she's a Time Lady," Briscoe said. The Doctor closed his eyes for a moment.
"Yes, yes," he said with a sigh. "Time Lady is a title. Gallifreyan is a species."
"And you're one too?" Briscoe pressed.
"Yes, that's right. I'm a Time Lord," the Doctor agreed in a we've been over this already sort of voice.
"Look, I'm just trying to get all the facts straight here," Briscoe told him. "Unlike you, we don't see stuff like this every day - not even in New York!"
"You have two hearts?" Rodgers asked the Doctor suddenly, staring at him in disbelief, almost as though the evidence before her on the autopsy table wasn't enough to convince her. The Time Lord sighed.
"Look, this really isn't difficult," he assured them, sounding exasperated. "Eva and I are of the same species. We come from the same planet. We were at the Academy together."
"All right, forget about all that for now," Green said, sensing that the Doctor's patience was coming to an end. "Why don't you help Doctor Rodgers with this autopsy, and then we'll see where we stand."


Several hours later, Briscoe and Green were summoned back to the medical examiner's office, where they found a dazed-looking Rodgers sitting behind her desk and a weary-looking Doctor sprawled in a chair in front of it with his head back and his eyes closed. Both doctors wore crumpled, sweaty surgical scrubs and both had small glasses of amber liquid sitting in front of them on the cluttered desk.
"What've you got for us?" Briscoe asked, taking a seat next to the Doctor, who opened his eyes, flicked them briefly in the detective's direction, and closed them again.
"No sign of sexual assault," Rodgers said as Green sat down in a chair next to his partner. "Cause of initial death was the stab wounds to the hearts. Cause of final death was the stab wound to the back of the neck."
"Just as I told you back at the police station," the Doctor said quietly without opening his eyes.
"The angles of the chest wounds suggest that she was taken by surprise, attacked from behind," Rodgers continued.
"Did she know her attacker?" Green asked. Rodgers shrugged.
"No way to tell." She took a sip of her drink and grimaced. "She fought back, though, took a chunk out of him. There were some nice skin scrapings under her fingernails. We're running the DNA now. God only knows what we'll find… Martian DNA, maybe?" The Doctor opened his eyes.
"Mmm, doubtful," he said seriously, sitting up and taking a sip of his drink. "This is marvelous scotch, Elizabeth." She inclined her head in thanks. "I think it's more likely that her killer is another Time Lord."
"Why would you think that?" Green asked curiously.
"Because I know what she was doing here on Earth," the Doctor replied, sipping his scotch. There was a long silence.
"Are you planning to tell us?" Briscoe finally asked.
"it's a very long story," the Doctor told him earnestly.
"I don't know about Ed or Doctor Rodgers, but I have plenty of time," Briscoe replied.
"And I have plenty of scotch," Rodgers said, producing the bottle from her desk drawer and an empty glass for Green.
"Thanks, but I'm on duty," Green told her. She shrugged, topped off the Doctor's drink and her own, and put the bottle and the empty glass back in the drawer.
"About a hundred Earth years ago, a renegade Time Lord called the Master tried to steal the Eye of Rassilon from the Panopticon on Gallifrey," the Doctor began. Briscoe opened his mouth, and the Doctor held up a hand to forestall his question. "This is quite a long story, Detective Briscoe. Please do not interrupt. The Eye was created by Rassilon himself, the greatest Time Lord who ever lived, long before your planet was even a proverbial gleam in the Universe's eye. Legend has it that the Eye can be used to see any timeline that ever did, will, would, could, or can exist."
"Huh?" Briscoe asked, unable to help himself. The Doctor sighed and sipped his scotch.
"Look, every time you make any sort of decision, the timeline forks into what you did do, and what you could have done. Every decision, every single choice you make, creates another fork and another set of timelines." Briscoe was frowning, puzzled. The Doctor began to take another sip of scotch, but Briscoe took the glass out of his hand and set it down on the desk out of the Time Lord's reach.
"Listen, Doc, the more of this stuff you drink, the less sense you make. Believe me, I'm the expert." The Doctor looked exasperated.
"I'm a Gallifreyan. It would take fifteen bottles of that scotch to get me drunk. You're just not paying attention… or perhaps I'm not explaining it well." He thought for a moment. "When President John F. Kennedy was shot, he died and Lyndon B. Johnson became president, correct?" Everyone nodded. "Everyone with me so far? Good. Now, there exist other timelines, ones in which the bullet missed and Kennedy finished out his presidency, or in which he was grazed and made a paraplegic, or… or… or whatever. With the Eye of Rassilon, you could see every possibility that ever existed played out before you like that," he finished, snapping his fingers. "If the Eye ever fell into the hands of an unscrupulous Time Lord who did not feel bound by our doctrine of noninterference…" He spread his hands expansively. "You can imagine what would happen."
"You could change history," Rodgers whispered softly.
"Oh, no… not just change history," the Doctor corrected her soberly. "Any Time Lord can do that, though the results are wildly unpredictable and we are expressly forbidden to do so by our own noninterference laws. With the Eye as a guide, one could change history in whatever direction one wished, and be completely confident of the outcome, because one could watch the ripple of the change cascade down through history in the Eye without ever actually having to do anything. Changing history is a tricky thing and best not attempted even by people like me, who know what we're doing; however, the Eye would make it quite easy to achieve whatever goal one wished."
"Wish I'd had access to that thing before I got married the second time," Briscoe cracked.
"So, this 'Master' guy tried to steal the Eye…" Green prompted.
"Yes," the Doctor said, leaning forward to retrieve his glass of scotch and taking a sip. "And from what I understand, he very nearly succeeded. After that very embarrassing debacle, the Lord President and the High Council decided to send the Eye into hiding on an obscure little planet of no real consequence, with a Time Lord to guard it just in case."
"Or a Time Lady," Green said, beginning to see where this was going.
"Yes, exactly," the Doctor said, nodding.
"Do you think this 'Master' is behind Doctor Newton's murder?" Briscoe asked. The Doctor shook his head.
"Oh, no, no, no… the Master fell into the Eye of Harmony a few years ago," he said dismissively.
"Oh… well…" Briscoe said, shrugging. "Ask a crazy question…"
"If the Eye shows the future, wouldn't Doctor Newton have seen her own murder in it?" Rodgers suddenly asked, horrified by the thought.
"She wouldn't have ever actually used the Eye," the Doctor told her. "She wouldn't have been permitted. It's a very dangerous object. In the wrong hands, it could literally be the most dangerous object in the Universe."
"Which we can now assume has been stolen by some Time Lord shtarker who wants to change history," Briscoe said. "That's a cheerful thought." The Doctor shook his head.
"No, it may not have been stolen. It's possible that the person looking for it didn't find it. The Eye is not something that Eva would have left lying around in plain sight… errrr, no pun intended."
"All right, so we'll go to the museum and look for it," Briscoe said, rising. "Just give us a description."
"That's a problem," the Doctor admitted, looking up at him thoughtfully. "You see, I've never actually seen the thing myself; it was always kept strictly under lock and key during my days on Gallifrey. I'll have to come along and help you look for it."
"I thought you said you've never seen it," Green said, sounding puzzled.
"I'll be able to feel its presence. Any time sensitive would, though not many of them would understand what it was they were sensing."
"Looks like you get to be our Geiger counter," Green agreed, standing. "Come on, let's find your clothes and get out of here."


A return visit to the museum proved fruitless; before they'd even entered the building, the Doctor was able to tell them that the Eye was nowhere near the place.
"How can you be sure?" Briscoe asked. The Doctor shrugged.
"Just am."
"Maybe it's in the Rose Center," Briscoe pressed.
"It is not anywhere around here, I promise you," the Time Lord told him firmly.
"Well, this was a wasted trip," Green said, shielding his eyes against the late afternoon sun and staring up at the museum's impressive stone edifice, which was currently hung with a huge black banner depicting a swirling galaxy overlaid with white lettering that read, The Search For Life: Are We Alone? The detective laughed out loud at the irony.
"Perhaps she kept it in her TARDIS," the Doctor mused. "Yes, that would make more sense." He didn't even wait for the detectives' inevitable questions. "T-A-R-D-I-S," he spelled out. "Stands for Time And Relative Dimensions In Space. They're the vehicles we Time Lords use to travel through space and time."
"What do they look like?" Green asked, looking around as though expecting to see a gleaming silver flying saucer straight out of a 1950s B-movie sitting on tall spindly legs in a parking lot somewhere near the museum.
"They can look like anything," the Doctor answered. "Here in Manhattan, her TARDIS could be a garbage can, a telephone booth, a brownstone, a hotdog stand… anything. TARDISes have chameleon circuits that make them blend in perfectly with any environment… well, that's the idea, anyway," he amended in a rueful tone the detectives didn't understand.
"Oh great," Briscoe said, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration. "We're looking for the most dangerous object in the Universe, only we don't know exactly what it looks like, and it might be inside of something else that can look like anything."
"I want off this case," Green said mournfully.
"Cheer up, you two!" the Doctor said cheerfully, grinning and clapping both detectives on their shoulders. "I know just what to do. 'Use a TARDIS to find a TARDIS,' my dear old dad always used to say!"
"You have one of these TARDIS things?" Briscoe asked. The Doctor sighed, sounding very put-upon.
"Time Lords have TARDISes, Detective. I am a Time Lord. Ergo…"
"So, where'd you park it?" Briscoe asked as the trio started up the street together. The Doctor glanced at the detective and saw the look on his face. Realizing that he was being needled deliberately, he decided to play it to the hilt.
"One does not park a TARDIS, Detective," he sniffed in his best affronted tone. "One materializes a TARDIS." He dialed all of the regal, frosty disdain of a Time Lord of Gallifrey into his voice. "The very idea! Parking a TARDIS. Indeed." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Briscoe and Green exchange grins, and allowed himself a small, satisfied smile. They walked a few more blocks up Central Park West in companionable silence until the Doctor stopped in front of a large, ornate apartment building.
"This is your TARDIS?" Green asked, goggling up at the building in astonishment. "It has a doorman!"
"No, this is an apartment building," the Doctor replied patiently. "My TARDIS is…" He raised his eyebrows at Briscoe. "…parked inside."
"Oh," Green said, feeling stupid.
"Don't feel bad," Briscoe told his partner. "I thought the same thing. He did say it could look like anything."
"Well, mine can't," the Doctor said briskly, leading them through the lobby to the elevators.
"Why not?" Briscoe asked as the Doctor pressed the button for the elevator.
"Because it's broken." The elevator arrived and they got on, the Doctor pressing a button for the floor labeled P. "I once took it to 1960s England where it turned into a police box and promptly froze that way."
"They don't make 'em like they used to, huh?" Briscoe commiserated.
"They certainly don't," the Doctor said. "And there are some who say they never should have made them like the Type 40!"
"The Edsel of TARDISes, huh?" Briscoe asked.
"Something like that," the Doctor agreed.
"If it's a lemon, why don't you get a new one?" Green asked as the elevator stopped. The Doctor led them off the elevator and up the hallway.
"This one's comfortable," the Doctor replied with a shrug. "Like an old pair of shoes. Here we are," he said, stopping in front of a door. "My daughter's flat," he explained, knocking. Almost as soon as his knuckles hit the door, it flew open from within to reveal a petite woman with short, curly brunette hair. She was beautiful, the two detectives decided… and furious.
"Where have you been?" she demanded immediately, anger thickening her Australian accent.
"Sounds like my first wife," Briscoe said quietly to Green.
"I – " the Doctor began. The woman suddenly frowned and leaned towards him, sniffing.
"Hell's teeth!" she exclaimed. "Have you been drinking?"
"Sounds like my second wife," Briscoe added in the same tone. Green suppressed a laugh.
"I – " the Doctor began. She suddenly noticed that he wasn't alone.
"Who are these people? More detectives? What have you gotten yourself into this time, Doctor?" He was silent for a long moment; when no further outburst seemed forthcoming, he finally spoke.
"Do you think we might come in first?" the Doctor asked in a quiet, calm tone that earned Briscoe's heartfelt admiration, for the detective knew from firsthand experience in similar situations how difficult it must have been for the Time Lord to manage it. Glaring angrily at the Doctor, the woman pushed the door open further and stalked into the apartment.
"Wife?" Briscoe asked in a sympathetic tone.
"No," the Doctor said shortly, leading the two detectives into the apartment.
"Angelina told me all about her visit to the Museum of Natural History today, Doctor," the woman continued angrily as they entered the living room. "How you got her all caught up in a murder investigation and sent her home with a homicide detective for her protection!"
"That's not exactly how it – " the Doctor began.
"A homicide detective, Doctor! Leave it to you to turn an ordinary visit to an interesting place into something gruesome and terrible!"
"Gruesome and terrible… sounds like Munch all right," Briscoe said sotto voce; Green fought and thankfully won a heroic battle to stifle his laughter.
"Tegan, I only –" the Doctor was saying.
"That's par for the course with you, isn't it? Everything that was supposed to be nice always turned out to be bloody awful – even our holiday on the Eye of Orion turned out badly in the end, with the Time Scoop and Rassilon's Game and – "
"Tegan," the Doctor said quietly.
" – the next thing we knew, we were in the Death Zone with Cybermen and – "
"Tegan," he said again in a slightly louder voice.
" – a bloody Raston Warrior Robot and the Master – "
"Tegan," he said again, this time really raising his voice.
" – and a Yeti and – "
"Tegan!" the Doctor shouted. The woman's outburst immediately subsided. There was a very long silence. The Doctor cleared his throat. "Tegan Jovanka, may I introduce Detective Lennie Briscoe and Detective Ed Green of the New York Police Department."
"Charmed," Tegan said shortly, moving forward to smile at the detectives and shake their hands in greeting. She shot a glare at the Doctor. "Now, what's going on, Doctor?"
"Not now, Tegan," he said wearily, rubbing his eyes. "I've had a very long day, and it's not over yet."
"I know you. You hardly ever drink," she said suspiciously.
"Yes, well, I hardly ever autopsy old friends, either," he retorted bitterly. She blanched.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, all of the fight seeming to go out of her. She went to him, laying a gentle hand on his arm. "Oh God, Doctor, I'm so sorry." Without a word, he pulled away from her and moved briskly towards something that looked like a blue phone booth standing in the corner; oddly enough, the two detectives had been so caught up in the argument between Tegan and the Doctor that its incongruous presence in the apartment hadn't consciously registered with either of them until that moment. He produced something on a chain from an inside jacket pocket – the detectives realized that it wasn't something they'd seen among his possessions when he'd emptied his pockets for them earlier that day – and used it to unlock the door to the blue phone booth.
"Gentlemen?" he said quietly, motioning them towards the open door.
"I'm just off then," a new voice said. They all turned to see Angelina entering the living room in a fragrant cloud of Beautiful perfume. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a loose chignon, and she wore a light pink shirt and a pair of jeans, and carried a little white purse with beige handles and pastel lettering all over it.
"Where are you going?" the Doctor asked, frowning. "Not somewhere with that tiresome little rock singer, I hope. I thought I told him – "
"No, silly," she said laughing. "Detective Munch is taking me out to dinner." Munch? Briscoe and Green exchanged incredulous looks, and then turned apprehensively to see the Doctor's reaction; surely, they thought, he wouldn't be pleased with this development.
"Oh well, that's all right then," the Time Lord said, astounding them further. She bounded over to kiss him on the cheek.
"I won't be late, I promise," she assured him.
"Well, I may be," he replied.
"You can bring me up to date on everything whenever you get back," she told him with a smile, and then went to kiss her mother. "Goodbye, Detectives," she called, waving at them over her shoulder as she hurried out the door.
"Munch," Green said quietly, still in shock. "Munch and a supermodel."
"Well, I'll be a son of a – " Briscoe began.
"Munch and Angelina," Green muttered. "Angelina and Munch." He shook his head. No matter how he rearranged it, it still didn't seem to fit.
"Gentlemen?" the Doctor said again, an impatient note creeping into his voice.
"We're all going in there?" Green asked dubiously.
"Don't worry," Tegan assured them. "It's bigger than it looks!"
Indeed it was; the detectives stared around at the console room, awestruck by the vaulted domed ceiling which was currently displaying a view of the night sky as seen from the surface of God only knew what planet; neither detective could pick out any familiar constellations in the alien skies.
"Come on," the Doctor urged, bounding down the steps and heading for the control console, which was set in the middle of the room. It looked like something that belonged in an H.G. Wells novel, Green decided. And although the levers, dials, switches, and gauges all had an antique look to them, there was the sense that it all hid a technology that was so advanced as to be unimaginable to the two detectives. This is the most amazing thing I will ever see in my entire life, Green thought to himself with absolute certainty as he watched the Doctor bend over the control console, his hands playing quickly over the controls, flipping switches, moving dials, and watching numbers and letters scroll by on a small viewscreen. "Mmm," the Doctor said to himself, frowning. At last he had it. "Washington Square Park," he announced triumphantly.
"Great, that's in the Village," Briscoe said, heading for the doors. The Doctor looked up at him.
"I can get you there faster," he said with a grin, patting the control console.
"Hell yeah!" Green suddenly exclaimed, his eyes alight with excitement. "Let's see what this baby can do!"


Several visitors to Washington Square Park turned at the bizarre sound just in time to see a blue police box gradually appearing next to the famous stone arch. Before the blue light on top of the police box had stopped flashing, a man in a long velvet coat emerged, followed by two men in grey trench coats. The seeming elder of the unlikely trio held up a badge at the crowd.
"Police business," he called out as they walked by. "Nothing to see here." The man with the velvet coat strolled over to the inside of the arch, where he felt along the wall for a moment, and then produced something on a chain, seeming to draw it out of the stone itself. He appeared to insert the object into the solid stone arch, turning it as one would turn a key in a lock. To the crowd's astonishment, a door swung open and the man motioned the two police officers to precede him inside. When the door swung shut behind them, several people wandered over to feel along the wall for themselves, but found no sign of a doorway or a secret hiding place for what could only have been a key. Someone from the crowd speculated that what they had just witnessed was an elaborate piece of performance art, you know, like the stuff that freaky Ono chick did over in Central Park back in the Seventies. A group of teenagers who had been smoking a joint quickly threw it to the ground, grinding it out and vowing never to touch marijuana again, because that stuff really screws with your head, dude. One brave soul wandered over to the police box and rattled its door, which remained firmly shut against him. His friend tried to deter him; he wouldn't want to be arrested for damaging what was obviously NYPD property, would he? Look you moron, it says right here, "Police Public Call Box"… and there were cops inside it! Duh! After awhile, when nothing new happened, the crowd began to lose interest and disperse. After all, this was New York City; strange things happened here all the time, and odd encounters with inexplicable characters occurred with mind-numbing regularity… just ask anyone who took the train into the city every day!


The two detectives peered around the console room, which was much different than the one in the Doctor's TARDIS. The walls in here were etched silver, with deep-set roundels that appeared to be made out of frosted glass and backlit with a light that gave off a soothing lavender glow. The console itself was sleek and modern-looking; every surface was brushed silver, the buttons were all inset plastic, and the displays were all digital. "I take it this is a later model than yours?" Briscoe asked the Doctor, who was staring at a screen on the console, deep in thought.
"Hmm?" he asked, looking up. "Oh yes, this is a Type 55. A bit more reliable than the Type 40, but somehow lacking the 40's charm, don't you think?"
"Yeah," Green agreed immediately. "This looks like something you'd see on a low budget sci-fi TV show. Yours looks like a time machine!" The Doctor beamed at him appreciatively. "Wait a minute," the detective said suddenly. "We're inside the arch. Are you telling me that the arch has actually been a TARDIS all along?"
"Oh no," the Doctor said. "It wasn't always a TARDIS. There is an actual arch. She must have materialized her TARDIS around it. You'll find it in here somewhere if you wander around long enough."
"I thought this is all there is," Briscoe said, indicating the console room with a sweeping gesture.
"Heavens, no!" the Doctor said, shaking his head. He led them to a door, pushed it open and gestured at what lay beyond. The two detectives hurried over to peer into the long corridor done in the same silver motif with inset roundels backlit with lavender light. They could see several other corridors branching off from the main one and exchanged a glance; searching this place might take a very long time, and they didn't even know what they were looking for. Briscoe sighed.
"Do either of you notice anything odd about the temperature in here?" the Doctor asked suddenly.
"No," Green said slowly. "It feels pretty comfortable in here to me."
"Yeah, me too," Briscoe agreed.
"Exactly!" the Doctor exclaimed. "Gallifreyans have a normal body temperature much lower than yours, and if I weren't able to regulate my metabolism I'd find it uncomfortably warm in here. She's set the temperature for human comfort. I do the same in my TARDIS, because humans frequently travel with me. Now, why do you suppose she did it, hmm?"
"She was a museum curator," Briscoe said. "Maybe she took her colleagues on tours through history so they could see it firsthand!"
"No one we interviewed at the museum mentioned anything like this!" Green said, indicating the victim's time machine with a sweep of his hand.
"So either I'm on the wrong track, or someone thinks they're protecting her by keeping quiet," Briscoe said. He peered up the corridor again. "I guess we should take a look around."
"Do you think we need a search warrant?" Green asked.
"Dunno," Briscoe replied, frowning. "Wanna call Jack and ask him if we need a warrant to search an alien time machine that's bigger on the inside than on the outside?"
"We're gonna need a lot more people," Green said.
"Do you think the Eye is even in here?" Briscoe asked, addressing this question to the Doctor. The Time Lord shook his head.
"It's not in here, Detective."
"Well, we'll still need to search the place. There may be clues here. Now, how're we going to do this?" Briscoe asked. "We can't have twenty or thirty cops filing through a secret door in the arch in the middle of Washington Square! Even in New York, someone's bound to notice something weird is going on!"
"This is a TARDIS, you know," the Doctor reminded them mildly. "It can be moved, and its exterior will change to fit into nearly any location. Where would you gentlemen like it?" The two detectives exchanged a wicked grin.


Executive Assistant District Attorney Jack McCoy was lying on the sofa in his office, reading the newspaper and sipping a glass of whiskey when a wheezing, groaning sound suddenly filled the room, and a black filing cabinet materialized out of thin air to stand with apparent solidity right in front of his desk. McCoy sat bolt upright on the sofa and rubbed his eyes, blinking owlishly at the sudden new addition to his office décor.
"What the hell…?" he muttered, running a hand through his thick graying hair. The front of the filing cabinet suddenly swung open, and a velvet-coated man appeared from inside, followed by a grinning Briscoe and Green.
"Surprise!" Briscoe exclaimed cheerfully to the flabbergasted attorney. "This is the Doctor," the detective said, indicating the stranger in the green velvet jacket. "Lucky for us, he's from the same planet our murdered curator is from and he's been helping with our investigation. We were tooling around town in his time machine when we decided to bring hers down to the two-seven. Figured it would be easier to search it that way."
"We thought we'd swing by here first 'cause we're going to need a search warrant for it," Green told McCoy innocently, gesturing at the impossible filing cabinet.
"And more men," Briscoe added. "A lot more men." McCoy finished his whiskey in one gulp.


Continued in Chapter 3