Krycek was strolling down the street, Dog in tow, another evening out and about. It seemed all that he could do in this place was take walks to get away from things. He idly contemplated a spot of target practice again in the woods. It wouldn't do to get rusty now, not with the situation with Mulder as it was.

Dog's run off to play somewhere. He left him off the leash more often than not. Had the police stop him twice for it, too. He waits, looks for the black dog that's scampered off across the street, down the beach and towards the waves.

He chanced a look around. This was where the money was in Margate. There might have been a speculative expression on his face.