"It's a foreign national, one . . .ah . . .Jesef Mumballa. Second year engineering student at Columbia." The young cop looked down and spoke quietly. "He didn't make it." "I'm not surprised. Look at this mess." The Lieutenant took it in stride. "Just what McDonalds needs. Another massacre. Any- thing on him?" Kavitz asked half suspecting, half hoping. "Clean. As clean as rag head can be." "Ok, that's enough. What about the van?" "The van?" "The van!" Kavitz said pointedly at the patrolman. "The van! What's in it? Has anybody looked?" "Uh . . .no sir. We've been working with the injured . . .I'm sure you . . ." "Of course. I'm sorry." Kavitz waved off the explanation. "Must have been pretty rough." He looked around and shook his head. "Anything else officer?" "No sir, that's about it. We still don't have an exact count though." "It'll come soon enough. Soon enough." Kavitz left the young patrolman and walked into the bloodbath, pausing only briefly before opening the driver's side door. "Let's see what's in this thing." * * * * * "D'y'hear about the mess over at Times Square?" Ben Shellhorne walked up to Scott Mason's desk at the City Times. "Yeah, pretty gruesome. The Exchange . . .McDonald's. You really scrape the bottom, don't you?" Scott grinned devilishly at Ben. "Maybe some guys do, not me." Ben sat down next to Scott's desk. "But that's not the point. There's something else." "What's that?" Scott turned to Ben. "The van." "The van?" Scott asked. "Yeah, the van. The van that busted up the McBreakfast crowd." "What about it?" Ben hurried. "Well, it was some sort of high tech lab on wheels. Computers and radios and stuff. Pretty wild." "Why's that so unusual? Phone company, computer repair place, EPA monitors, could be anything." Scott seemed disinterested. "If that were true, you're right. But this was a private van, and there's no indication of what company it worked for. And the driver's dead. Personal ID only. No company, no numbers, no nothing, except this." He handed a sheaf of computer printouts to Scott. "Look familiar?" Scott took the papers and perused them. They were the same kind that Scott had received from Vito, his unknown donor. These were new documents as far as Scott could tell - he didn't recognize them as part of his library. They only contained some stock tips and insider trading information from a leading Wall Street bro- kerage house. Pretty tame stuff. "These," Scott pointed at the papers, "these were in the van?" "That's what I said," Ben said triumphantly. "How did you get them?" Scott pushed. "I have a few friends on the force and, well, this is my beat you know. Crime, disaster, murder, violence, crisis, death and de- struction on the streets. Good promo stuff for the Big Apple." "Are there any more?" Scott ignored Ben's self pity.