There isn't anything across the street, so - looking out the window - Mark doesn't feel like he's in particularly immediate danger of getting shot at. Of course, if it happened to one guy, it can always happen to another ...

Mark actually finds himself looking down a broad boulevard which ends in a T-intersection six stories below the window. Thus, there obviously isn't anything directly opposite the window (at least, not at six stories in the air).

The boulevard itself is very wide ... several lanes of traffic, with opposing directions separated by a wide meridian (large enough for several statues of tanks, cosmonauts, and the like to be lined up on it). Judging the angles, it wouldn't be possible for someone to have shot from one of the buildings on the sides of that boulevard.

Mark can make out something all the way at the opposite end of the boulevard ... some kind of building built across the street, or which the street ends in front of. The distance is extremely long - he has enough experience with snipers to know that you'd have to be very good, and have very good equipment to make a shot like that.

However, it is admittedly the case that he can't see anything else that even vaguely resembles a possible position to shoot from. Maybe someone on the ground, a very long way down the street, but the angle would be even more difficult, and one would assume that - even in Kaliningrad - someone would call in about someone standing in the middle of the street with a sniper rifle.

Clay informs Raphael:

"As I understand it, the Society's paid off the locals to the point that they're just going to forget this ever happened. I think they'll have some people to come in and clean up after us when this is done, too."

"Regan McLachlan, Professor if you prefer. Granddad's Doc Lock."

"Regan, please call me Janos," Janos says then he gets a twinkle in his eyes.
"Your Doc Lock's granddaughter?"
Another nod as he escorts Regan to the elevator,
"I think he tried to kill me once. It was an accident really. I was in the wrong place and at cross purposes. How is he doing these days?"

It can't escape Regan's notice that the way Janos talks about her Grandfather is as a contemporary, though he can't be 30 years old by his looks. She might even notice that Janos takes a guardian's posture toward her.

"Still breathing. He wasn't a young man when he Inspired, and herbs can only do so much," she answers, shifting her embroidered leather backpack on her shoulders.

"I would have called you Janos anyway. Unlike some, I do not find the figures of the days of yore to be any more impressive than myself."

Janos actually laughs when she says that last part.
"Ha", he chuckles. "Why would anyone think of us as impressive. What did we accomplish? Another World War, the Cold War, Overpopulation, disease, brushfire wars around the globe, famine ..."
Janos shakes his head.
"We fought eadh other and wasted 75 years as the world grew darker around us. No, we shouldnt' be considered impressive. Pitied, perhaps, to see all that we failed to do, but not impressive."
Janos takes a breath and adds,
"I am glad he still lives, your Grandfather."

"He's happy to know you're still breathing too," Regan answers with a crooked smile. "He says too many of the good enemies are dead."

The blonde woman appears to look elsewhere for a moment. "We've got the power to change history. That conflict was between those who wanted to rule and those who felt we should stay out other people's business. The next one will be between those who watch, and those who act."

Janos nods.
"That is why my Grand-niece drew me out here. I would prefer to be back in my native land, restoring my families home. She says this is a second chance ... that we can't afford to repeat the mistakes of the past."

As they go outside, Janos' eyes begin to scan about casually.
"It is easy to find conflict even when the goals are the same. Worse, as you of the New Breed try to change the world, believe that forces will work against you ... as I am afraid Mr. Styles remembered too late."

Regan's smile was sardonic.

"I am trying to find a middle path between observation and action, Janos. Unfortunately, there's still much of the Old Guard around who feel they ought to be running things because of their supposed age and might. But it comes down to a very simple thing - 'change or die'."

She lets Janos do the scanning, so the old guy won't feel left out.

Another chuckle.
"As one of my old commanders told me, Fine, you were a hero last week, a titan yesterday, but what can you do for me today, which holds very true today. I've commanded a regiment of soldiers and been alone, starving and on the run, and none of that means anything today. If we don't both grasp the future, we will find ourselves grasped instead."

All the while, Janos keeps his vigil.

"I really hope Reagen and Janos spot something," grumbles Mark quietly, "Cause, from here, I got nada."

Raphael laces his fingers and reverses them, emitting a series of audible pops and cracks. Wiggling his fingers he crouches by the body once more and begins to take a closer look.

"Misha, another pair of gloves please, oh, and a plastic bag or two if you have them ... thanks."

Raphael pulls the new gloves on and begins to physically search the body. He starts by removing the watch and checking for operation before removing the wallet and checking it for anything unusual (or the lack of anything usual). With any luck Misha can produce a plastic bag which Raphael will place the items into for travel.

"We're going to need some better equipment here, Clay do you have access to some forensics equipment and/or facilities nearby? If not I'll have to requisistion some from ATI which will slow us down a bit."

Raphael continues to thoroughly search the body before starting to open the man's clothing, looking for signs of struggle or other unusual markings on the body itself.

Misha produces the gloves as well as a small assortment of sealable plastic bags as well as solid plastic containers from the pockets of his wardrobe. Given a little bit of preparation time he can easily stuff his vast pockets with a variety of things.

"Dr. Bradford, do be careful, the bullet might be only part of the attack. It would be too easy to get other...perhaps biological weapons? The black market is the only market here. If someone was attacking the society, that would be an easy way to get the material and expose to many of the top people, yes?" Misha says as he looks around the room which includes the highest ranking people in the society.

Clay nods, pulling out a PDA and consulting for details.

"The SBS Marie Curie is inbound. She was posted out on the Baltic for an oceanographic study, so she was convenient to divert here ... it looks like it'll be between thirty and sixty minutes before she arrives."

"She is outfitted with a full lab - not specific to forensics, but it should do the job."

It does occur to Mark that, whatever that is at the end of the street, a shot taken from there wouldn't be utterly impossible - just nearly so. He's known a few people from his time in the military who might have been able to pull it off, and of course he knows that Old Man Jameson is supposed to've been able to do utterly ridiculous things with a gun.

Already by the window, Clay notes Mark's comment and takes a look for himself. Who knows ... he's an aviator of a sort, so he might have better eyes. Tasha is beginning a careful search of the room, taking time to avoid disturbing anything enough to confuse forensic evidence.

Styles' watch is keeping perfect time (as well it should, to judge by how much it must have cost). Raphael also fails to notice anything unusual about the contents or condition of Styles' wallet. It contains a handful of credit and ID cards, a couple hundred dollars in dollars and rubles, and two photographs - an old one of him and Max Mercer and a wedding photo of him and his (stunning) wife.

Going over the rest of the body is messy - most of Styles' clothing is stiff with dried blood, crackling as Raphael disturbs it, and wet blood still pools under the outer layers of clothing. But Raphael has done more than a few autopsies before, so this is relatively small stuff.

The only thing of particular note Raphael uncovers by searching the body is a double-folded bunch of papers in a pocket on the inside breast of Styles' jacket. They are soaked through with blood, but at least they were on the side of his chest opposite the hole that got blown through him.

Raphael notes no unusual markings on the body. He would have to conduct a full autopsy to be sure, but it doesn't look as if there are any obvious resistance injuries or anything similar.

Isiah Tsedek, still engaged in the apparently-interminable process of adjusting his apparatus, abruptly mentions (before returning to his machines):

"The gun wasn't fired here. Assuming a gunpowder weapon. There is no chemical residue in the air. You understand? Even considering the window open, the ventilation is poor - there would still be residue. The gun was fired from a distance, or it was not gunpowder-based."

Tasha, at first (very briefly) taken aback by Tsedek's suddenness, now questions:

"Could you use your ... equipment ... to study Dr. Bradford's collected evidence? For forensics?"

It is clear that Tsedek has not been particularly paying attention to activities in the rest of the room, rubber-necking to focus on Raphael:

"What is it which requires analysis?"


Now on the street, Janos and Regan quickly reach conclusions to similar Mark's. There simply is no location from which a sniper could have gotten an angle on Styles - neither from the ground or from one of the buildings lining the sides of the boulevard stretching out and away from the hotel.

(They can not see the opposite end of the boulevard, and the building which seems to be down there ... it is too far away to notice from the ground.)

Regan sighs.

"We can go check out the other building or see what the others have found out."

Janos nods.
"Nothing we've seen so far suggest the proper vantage point. We should check back in. I hope they've had more success."
As they turn around, Janos gives one last look down the boulevard then looks back.
"If the shot came from the far end, it was beyond a superhuman shot. That leaves a trick shot, or someone suspended in air."
Janos looks at Regan,
"Know any levitators? I think a helicopter would have been noticed."

Regan snorted.

"I've never met a flyer... yet."

Raphael turn toward Tsedek, "Any chance your equipment can discern the text on these blood soaked papers? I could do it myself once I get into a lab but the more time we have the better."

Raphael takes a few more photos of the body with the jacket and shirt open before returning to his examination. "I would like to take a blood sample before the clotting is complete. Misha, the med kit should have empty syringes ... thanks. Also could somebody look through the dresser and Style' luggage, perhaps we can find something of intrest there as well."

Mark steps back from the window and focuses his attention on the room.

"Damn difficult shot. No matter how you slice it."

Misha hands the requested items from the medkit to Dr. Bradford, they look absurdly small in his gigantic hands.

"I'll check his luggage Dr. Bradford." He first goes to the cases and trunks and piles them on the bed. He picks up the first case and examines it, seeing it is locked. "Is there a key?" he looks and sees shrugs from the group. "Nevermind." he says as he pries it open with childish ease with his steely fingers. From there he proceeds to carefully remove its articles and set them aside neatly, checking the clothes and then when it's empty going through the suitcase itself, checking for compartments.

"I've never met a flyer... yet."

Now it is Janos' turn to snort. Quietly, he says,
"Menschheit! Zum Himmel! Does that sound familiar?"
Janos looks up at the window of the room the rest of the group is in.
"Don't take things for granted, and be careful who you trust. I, for one, would like to know two things. Who knew he was here? It wasn't like his itinerary was well publicized. Also, what information brought him here? All in all, that can't be a long list of suspects."

"You know, a shot from that distance is possible if it was Annabelle doing it," Regan notes clinically as she dusts off her jeans.

"Shall we?"

"Shall we?"
"Of course", Janos responds, offering his arm to Regan. Half-joking as they go up the steps and back into the hotel,
"If it was Mrs. Styles, I would feel safer staying out of it."

As they walk to the elevators, Janos adds,
"Is it true she is on her way here? Do you think someone should meet her at the airport, just in case this is a grudge against the Styles' family?"
Janos seems definitely concerned for his old foe's safety.

"I'd say so - for Chrissakes, he was her husband," Regan points out, declining Janos' arm. Old World courtesy just wasn't her thing.

"And Annabelle's not the only sharp-shooter out there. Just the oldest of them."

Raphael moves to a spot a couple feet in front of the foot of the corpse, roughly where he guestimates Styles was standing when shot. He crouches partly to get a "wounds eye view" out the window using the hole in the wall to judge the angle of the incoming shot.

A few moments later he speaks, "Jameson could make that shot, though he has no motive to do so, otherwise I am guessing we're looking at a stealthed helicopter or perhaps some advanced hovercraft/VTOL device.

"Either way it likely that even with active stealth they would only have shown up once Styles was here, taken the shot, and then fled. Either they had Styles followed from the get go or they had some way to know when he got back to his room.

"All of this is conjecture, of course, I'll need time to model everything before I can know exactly how far the shot was taken from, etc.

"In any case we still have no clear motive, and our list of suspects is unsatisfyingly short."

"Not necessarily," chimed in Mark, "There is a point down the street that someone, who is a better shot than me, could turn a body in this room into a corpse."

He then agreed.

"It would still take some one of the Old Man's caliber to pull it off."

Raphael looks at Mark a mildly irritated look on his face, "I didn't say it wouldn't be possible, but let's face it, it is just as likely that the shooter was in place in a helicopter when he fired.

"I'm not ruling anything out, which is why i want to model this, based on the wound, bullet depth in the wall, calibre, etc. I should be able to determine the precise location of the shooter. Until then everything else is speculation."

Raphael turns back toward Tsedek, "So can recover the text off those documents? Or should I start requesting the chemicals and apparatus I will need?"

"Just sayin'." Mark adds indifferently although he seems pleased that he managed to raise the hackles of his cousin somewhat.