The atmosphere of the laboratory was cold and sterile. There were scientific cops walking here and there, exchanging papers and data, comparing their analysis and tapping on computers, but even their never-ending motion couldn't alter the feeling of uneasiness Harry felt, being here.

Thompson knew the people in charge of the case. 'Of course', Dempsey thought, 'nowadays SI10 is bound to work with scientific teams all the time, even if back in our days the resort to such methods were rare and often fruitless'. He really hoped that progress and technology would prove to be a real improvement.

The sergeant introduced them to Katie Sullivan who started explaining the progress they had made. She was a young woman with dark hair, cool and professional in her speech, dealing with facts and evidence in a skilled manner.

"Ok, so we've completed the victim's autopsy and we concluded her death was caused by severing of the aorta. The knife found near the crime scene is the exact same shape and length than the murder weapon and even if it had been wiped off we were still able to find traces of blood on the blade." She grabbed a plastic bag holding the knife and handed it to Thompson. "This is your murder weapon. Unfortunately, this is a standard knife which you can find anywhere, it won't help you much."

"Ok, what else?"

"We've found skin bits under her nails; she probably tried to fight them off." She offered as an explanation. "We couldn't find anything else which could help us build a profile. We'll need time to run the full tests. So far, the only info resulting is that the DNA belongs to a male; we also found light brown and dark hair that didn't belong to the victim. I can't tell you more, but we'll be able to compare the DNA we found with the DNA of your suspect."

"If we ever find one." Dempsey grumbled.

Sullivan raised her eyebrows at his grumpy interruption but continued. "Fingerprints now. The ones we found in the garage were only partial that's why we couldn't give you a name right away. Of course we tried to reconstruct one from what we found on the chair, the gag or the pizza box. But it wasn't conclusive. But..." She clapped her fingers victoriously. "The man who got rid of the knife left fingerprints all over the handle. He was listed on Interpol and once we had him, we discovered he had a brother, also on Interpol, so we checked with the first series of prints we had and it's a match. I'm 95% sure that these are our two guys." She hold out two criminal records that had just been printed.

"Katie you're the best!" Thompson thanked her.

Harry took the first file and read it aloud. "Bill Thorn, American, arrested twice for minor offences in 2000, but never convicted. Nothing else up to now."

"That's the little brother, you want to check out the big bro." Sullivan advised.

Harry put the second file on top of the other. "Mike Thorn, prosecuted for drug dealing, assault with a deadly weapon and so on... Arrested after a failed stick-up, spent six years in prison, got out only a year ago. Sounds like a nice fellow."

"Looks like Mike got his little brother to play in the major league with him this time." Dempsey was reading the papers over Harry's shoulder.

"I'll leave you now, if you got other questions you know where to find me." Sullivan excused herself.

Thompson grabbed the files from Harry and scanned it. "Mike Thorn has to be behind all this. Look, he started into drug dealing business at the time you had problems with Coltrane. Then they moved to Chicago and that's where he landed in jail. But then, he was spotted back in New York after his release. It has to be him."

"No, that's not him. It's someone else." Dempsey said matter-of-factly.

"How do you know?"

"It doesn't fit." was the curt answer.

"But how do you know?" Thompson repeated. He couldn't see why his theory wouldn't hold.

Dempsey tapped his nose knowingly. "The nose knows."

Thompson looked a bit baffled, but Harry simply rolled her eyes.

...

Back at the Met, they gave the last details to Chas. The superintendant was glad of the advance of the enquiry. "Good." Then he called out to Fry. "Do you know if our friend from the pizzeria is still here?"

Fry grabbed a phone, eager to do something. "He's still here." He announced brightly, hanging up, then he opened his mouth slightly as if he just had the most brilliant idea ever. "Hey! You could go and show him the pictures. See if he recognises one of them!"

Dempsey clapped his fingers. "You know something." He mocked. "That's a good idea."

As Thompson and the Dempseys left the office, Fry turned to Chas Jarvis. "Was that a compliment?"

The superintendant grimaced. "Not yet."

...

The delivery boy was fidgeting nervously on his chair in the interrogating room.

"How long is it going to take? Because I'm supposed to be back at the pizzeria in twenty minutes; I don't wanna lose my job!"

"It won't be long sir." Thompson apologised. He handed him the pictures of the two suspects. "Do you recognise any of these men?"

After a quick glance, he shook his head. "No. Can I go now?"

"What d'you mean 'no'?" Dempsey took a step in the direction of the man who recoiled. Harry put a hand on her husband's arm and he retreated slightly.

"Watch them closely. One of them must be the man you delivered the pizza to." Thompson insisted.

Sighing, he did what he was told, but his answer remained the same. "No I've never seen those guys. I already described the man from the garage, isn't it enough?"

Thompson scratched his head, frowning. "It's not logical."

"Maybe there was a third man." Harry suggested. "Do you remember anything about that man?"

"I already told you everything I remember." The delivery man was annoyed but felt he would leave faster if he cooperated. "I went there and I heard someone yelling out inside. But I rang all the same and that guy opened the door. He took the pizza box and fumbled through the bills, like he wasn't use to pounds. Mind you, he did ask for the change! Skinflint!"

"So nothing else?" Thompson checked.

"No." Then he looked up. "Wait, there was something fishy. Well maybe not fishy but I thought it was strange. The guy was wearing gloves. Big leather gloves, like a biker."

"Really?" Harry's eyes widened and meeting Dempsey's, she knew he had deduced the same. There really had been a third guy. But this one had been sensible enough to wear gloves and not leave any fingerprints.

"So that's our guy! Leather glove is our brain!" Dempsey declared as they left the interrogating room. "Didn't I tell you those thugs weren't at the centre of it."

"Well don't you tap your nose at me again!" Harry warned with a smile.