Category: Crossover (CSI:NY, Criminal Minds)
Summary: When a serial killer brings the BAU team to New York, an old acquaintance is renewed and a new relationship emerges.
"Was that wise?" Sheldon asked the following morning after Don told him about his suspect.
"Are you kidding me? You think we should have let him walk?" Don cried incredulously. "We ought to be able to nail that bastard for the attacks on you and Reid and the attempted murder of a New York City cop." He placed a plate on the table as he spoke and returned to the kitchen. "With any luck, we'll find evidence that links him to the five other murders as well."
"You haven't got any proof, Don," Sheldon replied calmly.
"Come on! He practically peed in his pants the moment he saw Mac!"
"That's not proof," Sheldon insisted. "A good attorney will coach him into explaining it all away as intimidation. You need hard evidence." He winced slightly, waiting for the explosion certain to follow that declaration, but to his surprise, it didn't come. Instead, Don sat down across from him and picked up his coffee.
"Officer Donner can and will identify him. She got a good look at his face before he tried to off her. Hey, let me ask you something," Don said thoughtfully. "You'd be able to tell what caused a wound by looking at a scar, even after it's healed, right, Doc? Messer told me you did that sort of thing when you were in the ME's office."
"I can usually tell, though it would only be an educated guess. But even an accurate one wouldn't prove anything in this case, Don," Sheldon explained, "absent other evidence that places him at the scene."
"Such as his DNA," Sheldon said. "I was in the middle of running those tests at the lab. If we're lucky we'll be able to connect Bingley to the crime scene at the loft."
"Mac said you all went to the loft looking for something else," Don interrupted.
"Yeah--we wanted to check the locks," Sheldon said as he reluctantly picked up a slice of toast. He wasn't hungry, but Don had gone to the trouble of preparing breakfast for both of them. He felt obligated to eat. "Trace evidence on the locks could show that they'd been changed recently, or at least that a residue similar to that found on the victims was also present at the loft." Sheldon glanced up at Don and grew suspicious. "Wait a minute. What time did you get back here last night?"
"A little after two," Don confessed sheepishly. "And don't look at me like that," he spat defensively. "I wasn’t going to lie around and sleep while the lowlife who put you in the hospital was out on the street."
"You know, Don, if you really cared about my wellbeing--."
"I'm not going to apologize for what I did," Don continued unrepentantly. "We followed up on a legitimate lead and found the guy who hurt you. Had we waited until morning Bingley might have disappeared into the wind."
"That bastard hurt three people and possibly killed five others. So what if I lost a little sleep? In the end--."
"Don?" Sheldon said, holding a hand to his head. His lover fell silent. "Look, all I was going to say is that if you really cared about my wellbeing you would lower your voice."
"Sorry, Doc," Don said circumspectly. Sheldon reached out and gave his hand a squeeze. Don smiled softly, then looked at his watch. "I've got to go," he said, rising.
"What? Why? You don't work today."
"I've got to follow up on that evidence. I want to know if Bingley was the guy who worked with that locksmith. We need to get everything we can on this guy before we charge him."
"Hey, don't get ahead of yourself, Don," Sheldon warned. "I know you want to nail this guy, but don't work backwards. Let the evidence guide you."
"You've been hanging around Mac too long, you know that?" he replied gruffly. But he immediately softened and reached out to caress Sheldon's cheek. "How are you feeling, Doc?" he asked, squatting down to look into Sheldon's eyes.
"Does it matter?" Sheldon said wryly. He rose to his feet and shuffled toward the bathroom. "You're going to leave again, anyway."
"Aw, Doc don't be like that," Don said. He ran his hands over his face and sighed.
The members of the BAU assembled in Hotch's room for a brief meeting before they headed out into the field. Hotch asked Derek to bring the team up to speed on what had happened the previous night.
"What made you decide to go looking for Bingley last night?" Emily asked when Derek was done.
"It was Flack's idea," he explained. "He thought we should follow up on the two people we'd missed at the Spider Bar. I thought it was a good idea. We started with Bingley because he lived closer to the bar and hit pay dirt."
"What about the other one?" JJ asked.
"We still have to track him down," Derek said. Hotch ordered him to follow up on Bingley while he and Emily tracked down the last person unaccounted for.
"JJ, you go back to the lab and continue working with detectives Taylor and Bonasera."
"What about Spencer?" she asked. "One of us should check up on him."
Before Derek could speak, Hotch volunteered to stop by and see if Spencer needed anything. Derek felt another surge of jealousy and was glad that the meeting broke up immediately after that. He left as quickly as possible, not wanting to hear the message JJ gave Hotch to pass on to Spencer.
He pressed the button for the elevator and paced restlessly until it arrived. Derek almost managed to escape, but had to hold the elevator when he heard JJ call him by name. He swore under his breath and pushed the button.
"I would have thought you'd want to send a message to Spencer, too," she said when the elevator was underway.
"I'll call him later," Derek said dismissively, not trusting himself to say more on the subject. "Right now I need to catch up with Detective Flack." He pulled out his phone and brought up Don's number, ignoring her look of curiosity as Don's phone went to voice mail. Swearing to himself, he shut the phone.
"Since you're probably headed in that direction, can you drop me off at the lab?"
"Yeah," Derek said penitently. He led the way to the garage more or less ignoring JJ, who seemed intent on filling the silence with meaningless chatter. But when she mentioned Hotch's concern for Spencer, Derek abruptly turned to her. "What did you just say?"
"I don't mean to imply anything by it," JJ replied, backtracking slightly. "It's just that I've never seen this side of Hotch before. He's really worried about Spencer."
"We all are," Derek said brusquely. He unlocked the doors to the car and got in. He waited for JJ to strap in before starting the car.
"I think it's kind of sweet," she said smiling, but her expression faded in the face of Derek's glare. His phone rang, and he answered it as she pondered the reason for his mood.
"Morgan," he said tersely.
"You rang?" Don replied.
"Yeah," Derek said, focusing on the road before him. "I'm headed to the precinct. Hotch and Prentiss are going to talk with Sparks while we follow up with Bingley."
"I'll meet you there," Don said before ending the call. Derek looked at his phone for a second and smiled humorlessly. It seemed that Don was in a similar mood.
"Are you two getting along any better?" JJ asked. Derek sighed inwardly and decided to try and play nice.
"Actually, we work pretty well together," he admitted. "Flack's a decent guy and a good cop." He's also a pain in the ass, Derek thought, but he was man enough to admit that a good part of Flack's attitude toward Derek was Derek's own fault.
"What's his beef with you?"
Derek smiled briefly.
"The usual--turf issues."
It was a long and tedious morning. Officer Donner positively identified Bingley as her attacker before he was booked and arraigned. Derek and Don spent the rest of the morning sequestered with the US attorney and the district attorney, who were both angling for jurisdiction in the case. In the end, the locals won out on the grounds that the attempted murder charge on the police officer was more important than the assault on a federal agent.
Derek watched the two attorneys spar with amusement. He glanced over at Don, who looked totally pissed. But when he caught Don's eye, Derek realized that the irony wasn't lost on the young detective. Don signaled with his head and the two left the lawyers to duke it out.
"We've got real work to do," Don said as he went to his desk to collect his weapon. "Have you checked in with your boss? Why haven't they brought in Sparks?"
"I don't know," Derek replied, reaching for his phone. A few minutes later he shut the phone and swore.
"What?" Don asked, frowning.
"No sign of Sparks. He's not at home, hasn't shown up for work, and they're trying to secure a warrant now to search his place."
"Do you think they're in it together?" Don asked, flopping into his seat.
"There's only one way to find out," Derek said.
"Two," Don said, rising again and grabbing his jacket. He started to walk, crossing the squad room in long strides. Derek had to jog to catch up with him. "We could ask Sparks--when we catch him." Don stopped at the entrance and turned to Derek. "Or we can get Bingley to flip on his accomplice."
But Bingley wasn't forthcoming about Sparks or anyone else. On the advice of his attorney, he refused to answer any questions about the case. After fifteen minutes of trying to prod a useful answer out of their suspect, Derek gave up.
"This is a complete waste of time," he said as they left the jail. "His lawyer isn't going to let him talk unless we're willing to give him something in return."
"If that's the case, then we're well and truly fucked," Don replied. "The DA looks very unkindly on people who try to kill cops. Bingley's getting no deals, no bail, no nothing unless a jury of his peers sees fit to find him not guilty of attempted murder. And we're not about to let that happen."
"We've still got that warrant to serve," Derek said, holding up the envelope in his hand. "Maybe we'll find something at his crib that will give us some leverage."
"Yeah," Don replied, clearly unconvinced. "Let me call Mac. We're going to need some of his people with us when we go in."
After serving the warrant on Bingley's apartment, Don and Derek returned to the lab with Mac, Stella, Danny and Lindsay to meet up with the BAU team and discuss their findings. Don followed Danny to the lab, discussing the physical evidence in the case. He froze when he spotted a familiar figure walking into a lab a few doors down. Don abruptly turned and headed for that lab, leaving Danny talking to himself.
"Hey!" Don called. "Hey!" He stormed into the lab and grabbed Sheldon by the shoulder. "What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be home in bed!" Sheldon gritted his teeth against the mild throbbing in his head and glared at him.
"I'm doing my job," he said before gently but firmly pulling himself out of Don's grasp.
"Doc, you suffered a concussion yesterday. You're not supposed to be--."
"Don, I'm fine."
"The doc at the hospital told you to rest for a week," he protested.
"She also said I could return to work when I felt up to it."
"It's barely been twenty-four hours since that guy laid you out! You aren't in any condition to be carrying out complex scientific experiments and whatnot."
"You're going home, now, Doc," Don said. "Right now."
"Is there a problem here?" Mac said from the doorway. Don spun around and Sheldon looked up. Neither man spoke, but their looks conveyed all he needed to know. He entered the room so as not to be overheard. "I'm not about to pry into your business," he said quietly, "but this is not the place for a personal argument."
"Agreed," Don said, lowering his voice and turning back to Sheldon. "You're his boss, Mac; you tell him he shouldn't be here."
"What are you doing here, Sheldon? There's no need for--."
"Look," Sheldon replied, his soft-spoken voice showing a hint of anger. "I know better than either of you what my condition is and what I should and should not be doing in that condition. Now if you'll excuse me," he said, stepping around Don to return to his bench, "I've got work to do." Sheldon turned his back to the two men, effectively ending the discussion.
Mac and Don exchanged a glance. Mac undoubtedly agreed with Don in principle, but he knew that there was no way he could argue with Sheldon's assessment. He hesitated for a moment.
"You're working on that blood analysis?" he asked.
"Yeah," Sheldon said as the throbbing subsided due to sheer force of will. "I wanted to get these samples done and into--."
"You've got a lab full of people who could--."
"Don," Mac said sharply, turning to glare at him. Don glowered at both men and stormed out. "He's right, you know," he said when they were alone. "We could have picked up the slack."
"I need to finish this, Mac," Sheldon said calmly, still not meeting his eyes. "I'll go home as soon as I'm done."
"Let me get through this meeting and I'll come back and give you a hand," Mac replied. He patted Sheldon's shoulder and left. Sheldon exhaled and shut his eyes. After a few moments he opened them again and got back to work.
While the BAU team waited for Mac, Don and Stella to join them, Hotch got his people caught up on Spencer's condition.
"I spoke to the doctor. He said that Spencer's still pretty much out of it and sleeping most of the time," Hotch said as he sat on the edge of the conference table. "In fact, he slept pretty much the whole time I was there." He glanced up at Derek and though it was a meaningful look, it was one that Derek could not decipher.
"I'll stop by and check on him after lunch," JJ volunteered. Hotch nodded, with another unfathomable look at Derek.
"Where the hell did you go?" Danny asked when he met Don in the corridor.
"Sorry, I took a wrong turn. Did you know the Doc was in today?" he asked bluntly. Danny looked over his shoulder.
"Hawkes is here? What does it take to bring that guy down, a silver bullet?" he quipped. Don smiled weakly and continued to walk. They reached the conference room where the daily briefing had already begun. Hotch was relating his failure to find Michael Sparks and speculating as to whether or not he might be involved in the killings.
"So the question is," Stella said, "Is Sparks an accomplice or a victim?"
"Why would the unsub kill Sparks? What's his connection to the four women who were killed?" JJ asked.
"Well, as a bartender at the Spider Bar, he was very likely known to the four women who were killed," Derek suggested.
"The thing that gets me about this whole case is that there were two very different types of murder committed," Emily said. "The first murder was a violent stabbing. That implies anger, a lack of self-control, maybe a spontaneous, visceral reaction to something. Passion…rage… But the murders of the four women were anything but. Are we really convinced that all the murders were committed by the same person?"
"I'm not," Stella replied. "I do think that the murders were related, but I just don't buy the idea that the same man committed them all."
"I agree with Stella," Hotch said as Don and Danny entered the room. "We are still lacking concrete evidence that the two cases are related or that they were committed by the same person." Derek and Don immediately protested that conclusion. Hotch raised his hands. "I know that the two of you have been working on that assumption and Spencer and Dr. Hawkes were looking for evidence to prove that yesterday before they were attacked. But we don't have that proof yet."
"I respectfully disagree," Mac said from the door. He held up a batch of photos in his hand. "I think we can draw reasonable conclusions from these. But before I get to that, I just had a talk with Dr. Hawkes," he said with a self-conscious glance at Don.
"How is he?" Stella asked.
"He's determined to finish that blood analysis," Mac said cryptically. "He's not done yet, but--."
"You mean he's here? Here at the lab?" she said, glaring at Don accusingly. Don had no idea why, but he kept his eyes on Mac and pretended not to notice.
"Yes, but he'll be going home very soon," Mac replied. "He's still conducting his blood analysis," he continued, "but I just found his preliminary report on my desk. Our unknown victim at the loft was male and so is the blood from the other two donors."
"That's another nail in Bingley's coffin," Don said.
"We're running a DNA sample on Bingley," Mac replied. "When we get the results we'll know more. The blood analysis might not be conclusive; the samples were somewhat degraded due to age. But I do have good news based on another piece of evidence Hawkes had the chance to study this morning." He handed the pictures across the table to Stella, who pinned them up on the wall as the others crowded around. "See this? And this?" Mac said, pointing at the throats of the victims on each photo.
"They appear to be consistent," Emily said, peering more closely at the images.
"There are five pictures here," Hotch declared, frowning at Mac.
"There were five strangulations," Mac replied. "One of those throats belongs to Officer Donner. Dr. Hawkes was able to determine that all five women were strangled by the same person."
"Just from photographs?" Derek said doubtfully. Mac shook his head.
"There are a number of methods for obtaining precise and accurate measurements," he said. "We can tell with a strong degree of certainty that these women were strangled by the same pair of hands. I'm just using photographs to make my point."
"That point being that Bingley strangled all those women--including the police officer at the loft," Derek said. Mac nodded.
"Yes!" Don said, pumping his fist. "We've got the bastard." Mac gave him a slightly reproachful look, but he inwardly felt the same way.
"Let's not get too excited yet. I believe we've got Bingley for the murders of the four women and the attack on Donner," he said warily. "What we don't have is motive."
"We don't need motive to lock up that guy and throw away the key, Mac," Danny said, speaking up for the first time. "Let the DA worry about motives. Oh wait--this is a federal case," he said disdainfully. "Let them take that slime bag off our hands and go home." Mac shook his head.
"We aren't done yet, Danny," he said with another reproachful look. "Maybe the feds have made their case for the four women, but we've still got that murder at the loft to solve. We've established a clear link between the two cases. I think the key to solving the first murder is identifying the missing body."
"And how do we do that?" Emily asked. "You don't have the first clue as to who it might be. Where do you even begin?"
"We wanted leverage," Derek said, turning to Don, who nodded curtly. "Maybe we've got enough to make Bingley talk to us now."
"I'll put a call in to the US attorney," Hotch said. Mac reached for his phone to call the district attorney's office. The others began to scatter, but Don and Derek hovered in the office awaiting further instruction. Stella gave Don a look before she left that made him frown and follow her out into the hall.
"Stell? What's going on?" he asked.
"Don't you think Sheldon should be home in bed and resting?"
"Yes," he replied evenly. "I told him so when I saw him."
"Well, why don't you see if you can talk him into leaving?"
"Hey, I already gave it the old college try. He blew me off."
"That was before," she said. "There's no need for him to stay now."
"Why not?" Don asked, frowning again.
"You heard Mac; we've got Bingley dead to rights--even without the DNA evidence."
"Don't you see?" Stella replied. "Sheldon needn't rush to get through that analysis. He can go home and rest for a few days and follow up later."
"Well, good luck trying to pry him out of that lab," Don said, turning to go back into the office.
"Don!" Stella grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Take Sheldon home. He might be a little cranky, but this might be your best chance to make some points with him. I promise." Don looked her in the eye.
"Let go of my arm, Stella."
"Give it a rest," he said threateningly before pulling his arm out of her grasp and going back into the office. Derek had observed the scene through the glass and was openly curious. But Don ignored his questioning look and went to stand near Mac. Hotch shut his phone and joined Derek at the back of the office.
"Clayton's going to call the New York DA. It may take a while for them to negotiate their next steps. In the meantime, let's get back to work. I agree with Detective Taylor; the first murder is probably what triggered the other four and it's an important part of the puzzle."
"Agreed," Derek replied. "Want us to continue the search for Sparks?"
"Emily and I have already started making inquiries," Hotch said. "Why don't you go and see Spencer? He asked for you this morning."
"He asked for me?" Derek said, surprised by the revelation.
"Yes. Why don't you stop by the hotel and pick up his kit? He said he'd need a few things," Hotch replied as he dug out his notebook and handed Derek a list before he left with Emily to resume their search for Sparks. Derek frowned at the list and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Are we good here for a little while?" he asked Don when he and Mac were done speaking. "I've got something I need to take care of."
"Go ahead. We've got to check in with Sinclair and Mac thinks we should pay him a visit."
Derek nodded and promised to catch up with him later. He headed for the elevator and made his way back to the hotel. While he was tempted to conclude that Hotch only suggested that Derek visit Spencer in order to pawn off an unwanted errand, Derek couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it. He recalled the look Hotch had given him earlier, but he still couldn't decipher the meaning behind it.
Derek arrived at the hotel and went to the lobby in order to secure access to Spencer's room. He scanned the faces of the staff at the reception counter and selected the friendliest face.
"Good afternoon. May I speak with a supervisor, please?"
"Is there a problem, sir?"
"I certainly hope not. My name is Derek Morgan and I'm in room 1155. I need to get something from my friend's room. He's in 1169," Derek began, fully expecting the rejection to come. He reached for his wallet and produced his ID.
"I'm sorry, sir," the receptionist replied with a flirtatious smile. "I can't--."
"That's why I'd like to see your supervisor. I'm sure you heard that an FBI agent and two members of the New York City Police Department were attacked yesterday," Derek interrupted. "My partner is lying in a hospital bed and he needs a few of his things. Now I can go to the trouble of getting a warrant but that seems to be overkill for a toothbrush and a change of underwear, don't you think?"
"I'll get the manager," she replied. Derek returned her smile and within moments he was being escorted up to Spencer's room. Once inside, he grabbed the items on Spencer's list and after thanking the manager, went to his own room for a bag in which to carry them to the hospital. He arrived there about twenty minutes later. It was located a short distance from the hotel and he felt like stretching his legs, so he made the trip on foot.
When Derek peeked into Spencer's room he saw that he was no longer alone. Hospitals usually gave firefighters and law enforcement officers injured in the line of duty private rooms, but this one apparently didn't feel that Spencer's condition merited special treatment. Once the New York City mayor and the head of the local FBI office had visited him, Spencer was given a roommate. The occupant of the second bed was an older man, the victim of a vehicular accident. He was still recovering from surgery when Derek arrived, but his wife was at his bedside. She stared pointedly when Derek entered the room and even though the divider curtain was drawn, Derek felt as though he could not speak openly in her presence.
"Hey," he said softly. Spencer opened his eyes and smiled.
"Hey." He pulled the buds from his ears and set his iPod aside.
"Should you be listening to that in your condition?"
"It's Chopin," Spencer replied softly. "It's very soothing and I needed something to drown out the noise. He gestured with his head toward the curtain. Derek nodded. The beeping of the monitors would have driven him to distraction in a short amount of time as well.
"Are you well enough to get out of that bed yet?"
"Come on," Derek said, pulling the covers back. "Let's take a walk." Spencer moved gingerly, but he was glad to be up and moving around. He wrapped his gown more tightly around his thin frame and let Derek lead him to a lounge a few doors down.
"Thanks," he said gratefully as he eased onto a sofa.
"Now, how are you, really?" Derek asked, taking a seat beside him.
"A little better. I'm still a bit woozy and I still have no memory of what happened," he said frustratedly. "I probably never will."
"Don't worry about it."
"What if we make an arrest and a conviction hinges on eyewitness testimony?" Spencer asked plaintively.
"Unless you've got eyes in the back of your head your testimony would be irrelevant. You were attacked from behind, Spencer. Besides, Officer Donner saw her attacker's face. We made an arrest last night and she was able to make a positive ID."
"Already?" Spencer replied, frowning. He sat forward and Derek gently eased him back on the sofa.
"Hotch didn't tell you," Derek concluded aloud. He sighed and told Spencer how he and Flack had come to suspect Bingley and brought him in for questioning, ultimately leading to his arrest. "If all goes well, he'll be indicted on four counts of murder and at least three for assaulting law enforcement officers."
"Wow," Spencer replied, stunned by his coworker's revelations. "And here I've been trying to develop a profile on our attacker all morning."
"You're supposed to be resting," Derek replied, rolling his eyes.
"I know, but--wow." Spencer was silent for a few moments while he processed all he'd learned. "And there was nothing at his place to give you any indication as to why he did it? What impelled him to go after those four women? Was there something in his past that could have predicted this sort of behavior or was it something that happened? Did you speak to his family, friends? Have you interviewed his coworkers? There has to be--."
"Whoa, genius! We haven't done any of that. We could still do the research, but it's moot point for now. We've got him. Of course, there's still the murder at the loft to investigate."
"Then it might not be a moot point," Spencer said. "It's possible that the four murders were necessitated by the first kill." Spencer nodded thoughtfully and slumped a little on the sofa. "Hotch came by this morning," he said after a minute.
"I was sort of expecting you."
"I had to follow up on--."
"I understand," Spencer said, in a voice barely above a whisper.
"He said you were still pretty out of it."
Derek frowned suspiciously.
"I pretended to be asleep," he admitted in a small voice.
Spencer shrugged and shifted uncomfortably. Derek slid over a bit to give him more room.
"Anyway, he didn't seem to want to leave without speaking to me so I 'woke up' and talked to him for a minute or two. That seemed to do the trick," he said with another slight shrug. Derek smiled and threw an arm over the back of the couch. Spencer took advantage of the opportunity and slouched against him.
"So I guess you aren't trying to get rid of me," Derek said wryly. Spencer shook his head and nestled even closer to Derek.
"You know, I've done a lot of thinking since I got here," he said tentatively.
"There's a shock," Derek replied lightly. "So?"
"Never mind," Spencer said, turning slightly away so that Derek couldn't read his face. That confused Derek, who sat up a bit, careful not to dislodge Spencer as he did so.
"Talk to me, Spence."
"Maybe now is not the time."
"It's really not important," he insisted. He looked up and pasted on a smile. "I'll probably be released tomorrow," he said, shifting back around to face him again.
"Well, I was hospitalized mainly for observation. The swelling has gone down a bit. I'll see the doctor again tomorrow and he'll probably release me then."
"We'll probably have to drive you back to Quantico when we finish up here," Derek said. "Trust me; you don' want to fly with a concussion if you can avoid it."
"Don't you think Hotch will send me home ahead of the team? From what you said earlier it sounded as though you might be here a while longer."
Derek shrugged and the motion was echoed in Spencer's face as he winced a little.
"I doubt it; we've got Bingley and even if we don't solve the last murder, I don't think Hotch can justify keeping us on the case beyond another few days. So when you're released from here, you can sit tight and rest up until I can drive you back to Virginia."
"You'd do that?"
"Yeah, I'd do that."
Spencer smiled crookedly and snuggled against Derek, who smiled and rested his arm on Spencer's shoulders for a moment.
"I have to leave in a minute or two."
"I'll come back later."
"That's okay. It sounds as though you've been running yourself ragged. You should rest."
"Seriously, Derek. I'm--."
The brief disagreement came to an abrupt halt when Derek's phone rang. He gave Spencer an apologetic look as he opened it and took Hotch's call. He snapped the phone shut after just a few moments.
"I've got to go," he said, rising. "Let me take you back to your room."
"What happened?" Spencer asked as he slowly got to his feet.
"They've found Sparks. He's dead."
"Strangled?" Spencer asked, half expecting the answer. Derek nodded.
End of Part 8
Onto Part 9