The orderlies set the body down on the central table. The medical examiner finished putting his gloves on as he spoke, “File L-195397C. Subject is a Caucasian male in his late thirties. Apparent cause of death and preliminary finding is blunt trauma caused by three bullet wounds to the chest.”

The phone rang and the examiner turned off the recording device. He walked into his office and picked up the receiver. “Westchester County Medical Examiners Office, Chief Examiner Michaels.”

“Mr. Michaels, this is Director Paul Jimenez of the FBI. You have received the body of the shooter in the Congressman White case, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Put that body in a locked container and do not touch it. I have men on their way to your location.”

“This is my jurisdiction. I hope you have a court order.”

“I don't care about jurisdication. I care about your health. You are in grave danger.”

“How?”

“I can't tell you. All I can say is that body is not safe.”

“Jones, Patel, move the body back into code storage,” Michaels says with his hand over the phone receiver. They rush off. “When will your men be here?”

“Five to ten minutes.”

Jones returned to the office. “Sir, the body is missing.”

“Missing?”

“What's missing?” Jimenez asked.

“Where could it have gone?” Michaels asks Jones.

“It's just not there.”

“Director, apparently the body is missing.”

A stream of curses spewed from the director's mouth. “Lock down the facility as best you can. But if you see anyone you don't recognize, do not engage. They should be considered armed and dangerous.”

When the FBI agents arrived, no sign of the missing body was found.

* * *

She looked down at herself before exiting the Venn machine. Martin had been turned into a woman in her twenties, long blond hair, 5' 7”, 130 pounds, dressed in yellow and green striped capris, a white ruffled blouse and a jean jacket. At least the heels aren't too high this time, she thought.

His wife, Carrie, came into view of the door and said, “What do you think, Martie?”

“I think we need to go shopping,” she said. It always surprised her that she enjoyed these Venn shopping jaunts so much. As Martin she could barely tolerate the mall. But right now she just wanted to buy something cute to wear. Carrie said she never did anything that might alter her mind when they venned one another. Martie was just always inside her apparently.

The shopping spree was just a few stores. Martie already owned more women's clothes than she would like to admit considering she did not spend a lot of time as a woman. Still, she ended up coming home with a delightful pair of pumps, a new bra and panties set in gold silk, and a long red dress with a high slit that she probably would never get to show off in the proper setting.

When they got home, Carrie and Martie spent a few hour exploring each other in the bedroom followed by a short nap.

The nap was interrupted by a text on Martin's work phone. She looked at it and sighed.

“You have to go?”

“Not until morning. But it does mean I'll be cutting this venn short.”

“Many people go to work venned. You should be able to too.”

“I can't see how that could work,” she said.

* * *

Martin arrived at the FBI building at 7:45 sharp, dressed in a dark gray suit, white collared shirt and solid dark blue tie. He checked in with his team before heading to the director's office. “Good morning, Paul,” he said.

“Martin, have a seat.”

Martin closed the door and took a seat. Jimenez handed him a dossier as he sat down. Inside were photos of four prominent men whom he recognized from recent murders, Congressman White being the most recent one.

“These cases are linked?”

“Not a direct link. Certainly not by motive. But method? Yes. In each of them, the assassin was killed by the local police only to have the killer's body disappear from the morgue within a day or two.

“The so-called killers were all different in age and fitness. One of them was a woman, the rest men. We suspect they....”

“They were all venned.”

“Yes. I know you have experience with the Venn machines so I'm putting you in charge of the cases. There are currently two agency teams looking into the two political murders. Up until now, the other two murders were being handled by local authorities. Our teams will be reporting to you after our meeting.”

“So we really know nothing about the killer except that they know how to use a Venn machine.”

“Essentially. The current theory is this person is a contract killer.”

“Probably also a masochist if they're always getting gunned down after they do the job.”

“Perhaps.”

“Why me?”

“I've read your reports about using the machines, Martie. So you might have some insight other officers don't.”

“I didn't think anyone really read those reports.”

“No, we do. And because of that. I know I have an agent with extra knowledge of those insane machines.”

“Yes, sir.”

* * *

Martin went back to his desk, thinking about how much detail he would put into future versions of those unusual hobbies reports. He was checking his mail when a woman and a man approached his desk.
“Special Agent Sapretti?”

Martin turned. “Yes, call me Martin.” They all shook hands. “You're Agents Rebecca Surman and Kyle Tenefly. I recognize you from the files. Let's get a conference room and you can fill me in on what you have.”

The initial meeting in the conference room lasted for several hours. They went over each of the crime scenes step by step. Then they discussed the various ways the gunmen were killed during capture. In each case, the method of operation was different. In one case, the killer used a sniper rifle to kill his target. In two other cases, he shot the target up close. And the fourth case was a stabbing. The look of the assassin was always a nondescript person that would not stand out in a crowd.

Martin ended the meeting with some orders about going through camera footage at the malls with Venn machines to see if they might get a before and after image of what the killer looked like.

They also redoubled their efforts to determine who had the best motive for wanting these people dead. It was not much to go on, but it was all they had.

* * *

At home that evening, Martin and Carrie were having a quiet dinner when Carrie broke rule number one. “So you were given something new today, right? What was it?”

“You know I can't discuss cases with you,” he said.

“It was that Congressman's murder, wasn't it?” she said. “It was. I knew it.”

“I didn't say anything.”

“You didn't have to.”

“But they killed the shooter. What else is there to look into?”

“Carrie...”

“A conspiracy of some kind. Something involving the deep state, maybe?”

“There is no deep state.”

She winked. “Right, there's no deep state.”

He sighed.

“I'm just teasing,” she said, getting up and sitting on his lap. They kissed. “It's just frustrating that I can't ask you about your day.”

“Well, I can ask you. How was your day?”

“That's deflecting. But it was good. I showed a few apartments. Tomorrow's my big day. There are three different closings. They're in three different boroughs so I'll be on the subway all day. But getting paid is always fun. And it's always a good excuse for a shopping day.”

“I don't know if I'll be able to do that this weekend.”

“Oh, pooh,” she said standing up. “Work reasons?”

“Actually, boss reasons. Paul called me Martie today.”

She laughed, “He did? How did he know?”

“I put in my unusual hobbies reports. Like I always do.”

“You tell your boss you spend time as a woman?”

“If I want to keep my job I have to.”

“So he also knows about the time you were my evening dress for the realty banquette? And the time I turned you into mannequin and rented you out to a store for the weekend? And all the times you were just a dildo? And....”

“Yes, he knows about all of that and stuff I did before I met you.”

There was a pause until she finally said, “Such as?”

“I don't kiss and tell.”

“No, you kiss and write a report about it.”

“I don't write about the kissing parts.”

“You can't leave me hanging.”

“You said we should never talk about our past sex lives. I'm sticking to that rule.”

“Okay. I'll respect that. For now.”

* * *

A few days passed, the teams going through the Venn footage had a few partial matches but they were inconclusive and contradictory. The visage of the man who killed White was seen at multiple Venn locations, all on the day of the murder, for example. And there was no footage of that man exiting a Venn machine.

More telling was the bank records sweep of all the suspects. Two persons of interest, in two different murders, deposited large amounts of money into the same bank account within days of the individual murders. So they knew who two of the people were who paid for the assassinations. But the account was a dead end for now. They would continue to monitor it.

A week later, the account received a deposit. They traced the payment to Horatio Moore, a mutual fund manager. He was brought in for questioning and eventually admitted he had paid to have his wife killed. They now had a time and place the killer would be.

* * *

“How do I look, Horatio?” Martie said.

“Is this really a good idea, sir?”

Martie whispered, “Do I look like a sir? Stay in character, Tenefly.” Martie was the spitting image of Donna Kerian Moore, heir to the Kerian fortune. And Agent Tenefly was a body double of Horatio Moore. The Moore's were in protective custody. The faux-Moores left their apartment and entered the elevator. They were headed to a gala fashion exhibit, where, according to the real Mr. Moore, Mrs. Moore was going to die.

“This is just so unorthodox,” Tenefly said. “You aren't even wearing a vest.”

“Where would I conceal a vest in this off the shoulder dress?” Martie said. “Besides, we have a bunch of officers in place at the show. We'll catch the guy alive this time.”

They finished the elevator ride in silence. But as the doors opened, Tenefly asked, “How in the world do you walk in those shoes?”

“Practice.”

As they exited the building, a shot rang out and blood trickled out of a hole in Mrs. Moore's forehead. Tenefly radioed for help but Martin was already dead by the time his body hit the ground.