They grab the gurney from the rear of the van and hustle to the corpses. The first one looks like a ganger in synthleather, spikes and lots of body color and tats. The second one looks like a regular citizen, some suit. Cause of death isn’t exactly obvious and Monk for one doesn’t much care. After you’ve seen your first hundred bodies—munched and crunched and smashed, shot up, chopped up, shredded like for a meal—it gets to be pretty routine. They slam one gurney, then the other into the van, then fling the doors shut.