He sat, staring at the now limp body under the harsh sterility of the lights.  He sat looking at his old friend and mentor, with a look of sadness in his eyes.  It was not true sadness, he had not felt a true emotion in a good year now.  It was simply a shadow, a wisp of the former sadness.
     Some would have seen the act he just committed as murder.  Some would see it as mercy.  But for those he served, for those he now walked among, they would not care.  The one he just took the life of was a sheep to them, no more fitting a second thought than last night's prime rib to any other human.
     He sat still, thinking of what was next to come.  The wine glass swirled in his hand, the blood within clinging to the side of the glass for but a moment before swirling back into the mass below.  Slowly the swirling stopped, as his mind steeled for what had to come next.  After a moment, he drained the glass dry.
     His hand gripped at the stem suddenly, sweat breaking out on his brow.  He could hear them coming, the murmur from the recesses of his mind.  They became louder, the voices of the past.  Rushing, flooding into his mind they came.  The stem of the glass snapped in his hand, shards of glass digging their way into his skin as the head came crashing to the floor, spilling broken glass everywhere.  
     This is the sight that would greet investigators later, the broken glass on the floor beside an empty surgical bed.  Though they would try to investigate, the chief would eventually declare it unsolvable due to lack of evidence.  The scandal that would ensue from the “missing” evidence though, would be enough to put a new chief in the office a few months later.  In the chaos of the new hierarchy, the case would be lost, put to the back of a vault somewhere.
     In the meantime though, thoughts flooded his mind.  Voices of all ages called out to him.  His hands clutched at his head, attempting to press it inward, to contain all that had just entered.  He fell panting to the floor, biting his tongue as not to cry out.
     Memory after memory flooded into his mind, until there, just out of the corner of his mind's eye, he could see what he was after.  He steered his consciousness through the waves of memories, until he reached the one he was looking for.  It was a fragment, a single image of a memory.
     It was an old jade statue, part man, part beast.  The stylized head of the Aztec jaguar seemed to bulge out, while the squat body of a man held a club.  This is what he had come for, what his Masters had wanted.
     Now to just find out where it was....