“My molecules are flying across the country,” Shawn said. “We need to stop them. We need to catch them. I need my molecules back.”
“I’m ordering you to remain silent,” Voges said to Shawn.
“And so am I,” Lassiter said.
“Can’t stay silent,” Shawn howled. “Must tell the entire country to look out for my molecules. Alert the entire population to watch for them. Got to tell the press the entire story… every bit of it.”
Major Voges glared at Shawn. “This is an issue of national security. It must not be reported.”
“No one is going to interfere with national security,” Lassiter said.
“Must tell the whole country,” Shawn moaned. “Starting in Washington DC. I think a lot of my molecules are there right now.”
“If you want him to shut up you’d better get a court order fast,” O’Hara gasped. “But you’d better choose the right judge, because there aren’t a lot who will grant an order of prior restraint.”
“Or maybe we can all just work something out right here,” Gus said quickly. “Releasing Detective O’Hara would be a good first step.”
Voges turned her glare on Gus for a moment, then signaled the forklift driver, who backed off. O’Hara took a deep breath of air into her lungs, held it for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.
“This must not go public,” Voges said. “I can’t explain the reasons, but this must remain secret.”
The major slipped her gun back into her purse. After a moment, Lassiter reholstered his.
“All we want to do is solve a murder,” O’Hara said, still breathing heavily. “You stand out of our way; we’ll stand out of yours.”
“I cannot let you examine this device,” Voges said.
“And we can’t let you take it back to Washington until we do,” O’Hara said.
“Kids, kids.” Shawn strolled over to the two women and put his face between theirs. “Didn’t Mommy and Daddy ever teach you anything about sharing? If you can’t play nicely together with your toys, then Mommy and Daddy have to take them away until you can.”
“Get back, Shawn,” O’Hara said.
“He’s right,” Lassiter said, although the look on his face suggested that it was painful for him to do so.
“Detective Lassiter!” O’Hara warned from between clenched teeth.
“We have a standoff here, Detective,” Lassiter said. “And it’s not going to be settled at our pay grade. We need to back off and let our superiors work this out.”
“And until then?” O’Hara said.
“We put the seal back in place,” Lassiter said. “And we’ll put a guard on the place.”
“Like I’m going to trust some Santa Barbara police officer to keep you out,” Voges said.
“About as much as I’m going to trust one of your goons,” O’Hara said.
“We’ll each put a guard outside the door,” Lassiter said. “They can watch each other.”
O’Hara and Voges considered it, and then both took a step back. Shawn clapped Lassiter on the back.
“Nice job, Lassie,” Shawn said. “We make a pretty good team. If that multiplex gig doesn’t work out, you’ve always got a place at Psych.”
“Get away from me, Spencer,” Lassiter said.
“I will,” Shawn said. “But don’t you think you ought to mention the morgue?”
“The morgue?”
“You know, the place where they keep the bodies?” Shawn said. “The ones you might want to investigate later?”
Lassiter thought this over, then turned back to Voges. “Do we need to post guards at the morgue as well?”
“Only if you plan to keep me from taking the body back to DC,” she said.
“Then it’s done,” Lassiter said.
Major Voges snapped her fingers and her three agents retreated to the doors, slipping through without ever turning their backs to the tank.
“I can’t believe you’re letting her get away with this,” O’Hara hissed to Lassiter. “You were willing to throw away your career for a look at that tank.”
“My career, yes,” Lassiter said. “But not my nation’s safety.”
“She works for the FCC,” O’Hara said. “She’s in the equipment authorization department. She probably spends her days testing TV remotes to see if they cause carpal tunnel syndrome.”
“James Bond officially worked for Universal Exports Ltd.,” Lassiter said. “That doesn’t mean he didn’t have a license to kill.”
“You told me there was no such thing,” Shawn said.
“He was right,” O’Hara said. “It’s fiction. All of it was fiction.”
“I understand your frustration,” Lassiter said. “I share it. But I look at a situation from every angle, I eliminate everything that’s impossible, and then I know that what’s left over, no matter how improbable, must be true.”
“Sherlock Holmes is fiction, too, Carlton,” O’Hara said.
Shawn clapped his hands over Gus’ ears. “Don’t say that,” Shawn said. “I haven’t told him yet.”
Gus shook Shawn off his head in time to hear Lassiter say, “We’ll look into this woman. We’ll check her out in every way. But for right now, there’s only one explanation that makes sense, and that’s that her FCC ID is a cover for some secret position. If that turns out not to be the case, we’ll take turns dunking her into that tank until she talks. Until then, let’s err on the side of national security.”
Detective O’Hara thought it through, then jammed her gun into her purse unhappily. “I’m not getting chased off this case.”
“I’m not, either,” Lassiter said.
“Us, neither,” Shawn said.
“Oh, joy,” Lassiter said.
Shawn and Gus left the detectives standing outside the showroom, facing off silently against Major Voges and her agents until a uniformed officer could be found to take guard duty. As they walked down the steep hill to the parking lot, this time unmolested by electronic guard dogs, Gus tried to figure out what had just happened.
“Do you really think that scary woman is from the government?” Gus said.
“Definitely,” Shawn said. “Did you see her shoes? Plain, dull, comfortable, and moderately priced. The hallmark of the government worker.”
“But is she with the FCC or Homeland Security?”
“That depends on who P’Torky P’kig really is.”
“P’tol P’kah,”Gus sighed, knowing that Shawn wouldn’t explain any further without the obligatory correction.
“Right, that guy,” Shawn said. “If he’s a holographic projection from a new kind of projector, she’s probably with the FCC.”
“We felt the floor tremble when he walked.”
“So probably not a holograph,” Shawn said. “Which means she could be who she doesn’t say she is.”
“Why would Homeland Security be chasing a missing magician?”
“Maybe he really is a Martian,” Shawn said. “Or maybe he’s a spy. He uses the magic act as a cover to travel from town to town, stealing secrets and passing them to his undercover contacts wherever he goes.”
“A brilliant idea,” Gus said. “Except that he didn’t travel from city to city. He never left Las Vegas. What kind of secrets can he steal there?”
“Which casino has the best buffet?”
“Couldn’t the undercover contacts just try all the buffets and find out for themselves?”
“Not if they had a small budget,” Shawn said. “Despite what you might think, some of those places are really expensive. And then they put a lot of cheap items up front so you’ll fill up on bread before you can get to the good stuff, like the crab legs and lobster tails.”
“Let’s come back to this later,” Gus said.
“Good. Because I’m suddenly hungry.”
