10 AUG 1995

Karl stands next to the detective, hands on hips as he takes in the scene. "And my ex says I’m a mess..." he says under his breath. "What’s with the radios?" he asks, "Is there a reason they’ve been moved?"

King didn't see anything of note in the mailbox, but the sight that greeted him through the open door more than made up for it."I was at the Vatican some time back. Reminds me of the Sistine Chapel, but postmodern." The scene was, disturbing. He walked straight into what he judged was the centre of the room, looked for signs of heavier wear and tear on the floorboards there, and, unexpectedly, lay down on the floor and looked up at the ceiling. "Everything's reversed. Let's have a look the other way round."

Giuradanda nods in response to Karl's question.

"Yeah, we figured that we might be able to trace the serial numbers on the electronics, but didn't have much luck. As you can see." He picks up the CD Walkman and holds it in the air in front of him as the insides dangle out of it. "Serial numbers are still stuck up there somewhere. Couldn't get anything down without damaging the evidence. Tore a whole chunk outta the wall."

Anything out of the ordinary. blood, scuffs, tracks, paint, out of place detergent bottles. recent use. anything i can see.

While the others comb different parts of the apartment, Karl looks over the radios, checking the station the transistor radio is dialed to, looking to see if there's any media in the other two, or any other distinguishing features that would make them out of the ordinary.

Cool. I'll take one of the papers, the oldest one and find a bench in view of the place and so my surveillance.

"I... Don't touch that thing."

"And so it begins." King did not stir from his position on the floor when Karl turned on the radio, but his ears pricked up at the lyrics. "Someone talking to us." His hand instinctively patted the sidearm under his jacket.