A solemn looking federal officer met them at the mortuary and an equally solemn coroner addressed Henn sarcastically. "Mr. Henn, it’s about time you arrived. This time I hope we’re not going to have another example of Pia wimpyness, more fainting fits or spewing up?"
    Even though Henn’s lip curled slightly, as usual he managed to keep his cool. "I can assure you that there will be no fainting. Now tell me, what condition is this body in? I hope we’re not witnessing one of your morbid prances."
    This remark only resulted in a frown from the coroner and he asked questioning, "What are you on about? It’s just a corpse. It was chest shot, nothing scary. Now to the matter in hand, the mortician is getting the body ready now. We thought that we’d use the rest room this time instead of the morgue. Ha, it’s not quite so cold if you happen to have a weak stomach. Or maybe, if you prefer, you can use the monitor?..."
    "No."
    "That way you wouldn’t actually be in the same room as the body."
    "No!"
    " OK, if you go to the waiting area I’ll come and get you when we’re ready."
    Henn took the opportunity in the peace of the morgue to mull over the problems with Bayfield and the stress symptoms some of his agents seemed to be exhibiting. His concentration was disturbed by a book being waved under his nose, "Look at this, Alex. Don’t you think it is tasteful?"
    Henn snorted at the title, The Dead Zone and picked up another book from a small table. "Great, here’s another tasteful little number, From here to eternity."
    A hearty laugh was emitted as two more titles were read out, Gone with the wind and Cooking with left over Meat. With his lip twisted in disgust Henn chortled, "No wonder Bayfield had problems here, these mortuary guys are warped."
    They did not have time to peruse over more books as at that moment the coroner arrived to inform them the body was ready for viewing. Wordlessly they followed him into a small room, the inside of which was pleasantly bright and warm. Perfume from the many arrangements of flowers drifted towards them and plush red curtains were closed across a large window casting their pinkish warmth across the white walls.
    In the center of the room covered with a crisp white sheet lay the body and as Proctor approached it Henn hung back to question the federal officer. The grinning mortician slowly pealed back the sheet from the man’s face and Proctor suddenly found himself reeling, his stomach began to tighten so violently he was forced to cough. As soon as the mortician saw the reaction he began to laugh loudly and shouted, "Ear mate! Get this! Another Pia tough guy bites the dust."
    Henn swung around angrily then froze, what he was seeing was unbelievable. Proctor was stood with one hand raised frantically signaling him to go back ,whilst with his other hand he gripped the table so tightly his knuckles turned white, matching the color of his face. Slowly, he spoke. "Alex!... Oh, God, for a moment I really thought it was him."
    Henn moved quickly towards him, but stopped as he looked down on the body. His legs began to tremble and a strange cold laugh came from deep within his throat as he touched the cold unyielding face. Somehow Proctor regained some of his composure and whispered, "It is not him. We both know he is back at headquarters, but God, it looks like him."

Henn began to blink quite rapidly now as he felt a sudden sting at the back of his eyes and again he looked at the face. Blond lusterless hair hung limp across the stony forehead half open eyes stared fish like back at Henn. The mouth set in a permanent snarl of anger or shock, echoing the pain and disbelief of death. Henn lowered the sheet and sucked the air through his teeth as he saw the bloodless, blackened hole in the chest. It had been such a perfect shot and the one every agent dreaded, straight to the heart and ending everything in an instant. He lifted the cold hand slightly and held it gently as he quietly spoke.
     "Vacily? Why? They said they had killed you but I didn’t believe them. I thought we’d both escaped this death, a final bullet. It should be old age that takes us now, so why were you killed? Why, my friend?" Henn looked into the glass-like, unseeing eyes of the corpse as if he fully expected an answer that caused Proctor to shudder.
    Henn continued to talk but in a voice raised in anger. "Vacily, do you know that you never said goodbye? You never said anything did you... Ever. It would have been so nice to hear you say it had been good working together, we were so nearly brothers, Vacily."
    "Alex?"
    "We’ve been through so much; shared so much; the laughs and pain; fears and joys. I loved you like a brother. But did you even care? Just slightly? If it was me lying there and you stood above me what would you say? Oh well, it was bound to happen one of these days? Or would you cry? No, my friend, you didn’t know how to did you?"
    "Alex! Stop this!"
    "They said when you fell that you didn’t even cry out, was it because you didn’t have time or didn’t you even try. Not one moan; didn’t you have one regret, nor good-bye, my friend?"
    The room was as silent as the very grave itself, then Proctor whispered as if not daring to damage the still air. "Alex, what are you doing? This is not Vacily. He is back at HQ and today he became an active agent. This man is his double, you know that... Alex... Think about it!"
    Henn still held on to the cold hand and a sob escaped before his voice. "Joseph, no you think about it, how long have I known him? We’ve worked and relaxed together for more years than I care to remember. I knew him as well as he knew himself... Maybe better."
    "It is not him."
    "I know every scar on this body, a double? Even if they got hold of every one of his records they couldn’t reproduce every scar. You knew him well, very well. He didn’t run to the doctor for every knock, that wasn’t him. So how did Kijac know every single scar." His hand brushed against his neck and as he sighed he pointed. "This small one, hardly noticeable unless like me you know it’s there. You see I did that. We’d had too much to drink and there were some pretty ladies, bravado you know?"
    "Stop it." Proctor gripped him hard on the arm, hoping to wake him or maybe to wake himself.
    "They bet Vacily that he dare not stand still while I threw a knife at him. You don’t bet Vacily! Of course he stood there and I missed, not by much but I missed. Did you know that?" Proctor could only shake his head. "There is a double, Joseph. Now I think about it I’ve known all the time. He’s so different you see. Oh, he’s like Vacily, but like he was, the one I knew years ago. Young and fit."
    "No, there must be an explanation for that, he has been working out, that is all."
    "It’s true, that limp, where’s it gone and have you ever heard of someone doing perfect back flips at fifty-seven? Even if they work out? Oh, come on now, that’s not Vacily. Tomorrow I want that... That man in debriefing, I must know who he is and who he works for and... Above all, I want him removed. Joseph, sign the forms here will you? I need to be by myself. Vacily Sukoloff is dead." With that he slowly turned and left, leaving Proctor stunned as the ghastly truth seeped into his numbed brain.
    "Is he one of your men?... Mr. Proctor? Does he belong to you?"
    Proctor looked again into the marble face and touched his icy cheek. "Keep running, my friend, wherever you are. Yes, this man is... Was Pia. One of our best."

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