Chapter 27

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry, but we've called the police and they'll be here shortly." The acne-ridden tour guide and the paunchy security guard looked down at Laura, seated on a low wooden bench directly in front of the Mystery House.

Laura thought she was going to faint. She should have known that their plan wasn't going to work. She should have known that she was going to be caught. She was plainly and simply no good at this B and E stuff. She realized, as another wave of nausea hit her, that she would now have a criminal record in three states. If she wasn't thrown into jail, her mother was going to kill her.

"What were she doing in there, anyway?" The tour guide asked the Rent-a-Cop.

"Ya got me, Danny. I was turning the lights off in the Mauve Boudoir, and she was in there, standing on the piano bench and feeling up the suit of armor."

"I wasn't feeling it up," Laura spat. She decided to take a gamble. She pulled off her Leghorn hat and the ebony wig. "Do you know who I am?"

Danny looked at her for a moment, and a dawn of realization swept across his face.

"Aww, man! You're that girl who's looking for that Lady Violet treasure hunt thing! I saw you on the news! Ray, this chick is famous!"

The guard chuckled. "Hey, where's that gay blade you travel with? I saw him on Oprah. Whoa, Danny, was he ever a--"

"Gentlemen, is there a problem?"

Laura looked up. Her eyes widened. Then, they bulged.

It was Mike.

"Uh, sir, the house is closed. Everything is under control here," Ray the guard rumbled, hiking up his droopy drawers.

As if they were in a movie, Mike whipped out a badge, encased in a thin wallet. "Michael Sherrill, FBI."

"What?!" Laura gasped.

"I'll handle this from here," Mike said calmly, ignoring her. "I want you to go down to the road meet the police at the gate, and tell them that the situation up here is over. . .that you made a mistake."

"Jesus," Danny breathed. "What did you do, lady?"

"Move," Mike commanded.

Ray and Danny stared at him wordlessly.

"I said MOVE!"

Ray and Danny took to their heels, and sped off across the parking lot.

Mike smiled down at her. "Hi."

Laura sobbed. Her humiliation at being caught, the fear of her impending arrest, and her utter bewilderment at Mike's behavior broke like a dam, and tears poured from her eyes.

"Hey," he said gently, sitting down on the bench beside her. "It's ok. You're ok." He put his arm around her. "Where's Will?"

Laura took a short, gasping breath. "He's. . .he's still in the house. Mike, what. . . what the HELL are you doing here? Are you an FBI agent?"

Mike sighed. "Well, actually, I'm CIA. I have a temporary interorganizational clearance transfer while I'm working on this."

She looked at him, mystified, disbelieving.

"I'm really sorry, Laura. I should have told you before. I--"

"What are you working on? Why are you here?"

"I came because I think I have some advice for you and Will. I'm. . .I've been investigating Simon Waterbury for about a year now."

"Simon Waterbury? What are you talking about? Does this have to do with Sooner than Never?"

"Not really. Well, it may. It's regarding some. . .business. . .that he was involved with a while ago."

"What kind of business?"

"I--I can't tell you that. Not yet. But I think I've got a clue for you and Will. I've been waiting for the two of you to be alone, but you're always with someone else or traveling like hell! Waterbury's a shady character. There's a lot that he's been mixed up with. And I've been watching you guys, and following the hunt. . .I think what you need to do is to look at the big picture. Total things up. I think if you--"

A great roar shook the earth. Laura instantly thought it was thunder, and then briefly considered an earthquake. Mike pointed towards the roof of the house. A thin plume of white smoke was trailing from the balcony of a high cupola. Another explosion sounded, and in the flash of light that accompanied it, Laura saw that a medium-sized cannon was positioned on the piazza.

A grinding, mechanical noise engaged deep within the house, and an impossibly tall flagpole emerged from the roof of the cupola in priapean grandeur. A black flag unfurled from it.

It was a Skull and Crossbones.

Another cannon shot shattered the night.

"Oh, my God!" Laura yelled over the din. "Will must have found the next clue!"

The cacophony grew as every alarm in the Mystery House suddenly kicked in, and almost instantaneously, Will threw open the wide front door and ran out onto the porch, shrieking as he came. He glanced in their direction, saw Mike, blinked twice uncomprehendingly, then raised his wavering arm.

Sebastian's revolver was leveled at Mike's head, rather awkwardly.

Another cannon shot boomed. Down on the freeway, Laura heard the wail of sirens.

"Laura!" Will shouted, in a voice that echoed the tone of the cannonballs, "Get away from him!"

"Will, what are you doing? Where did you get a gun?" Laura screamed.

"Get away from him!" Will came down the steps, slowly, deliberately. Every fiber of his being was shaking uncontrollably. He kept the gun pointed unsteadily at Mike.

The cannon sounded again. The ground shook.

"He's a maniac. And a liar. He planted that bomb in the car in Chicago. Whatever he's telling you, it isn't true. He wants to kill us off, so he can take the lead!"

"Will, he's an FBI agent!"

Either Will didn't hear her, or simply chose to ignore her words.

"Do you think I won't use this?" he questioned, waving the gun gently. "I will!" Will raised the gun high over his head, and fumbled with the trigger. After three tries, the sharp crack of gunfire added to the alarms and cannon firings.

As if on cue, fireworks began spewing from the high cupola. . .brilliant, white hot, sparkling fireworks, which whistled and whinnied like the Fourth of July. Laura and Mike glanced up briefly, awed by the spectacle.

Will charged forward. He had never hit another person in all his life--except in the fourth grade, when he slapped Rachel Starbird for cheating at dodgeball--but he brought down the butt of the gun onto Mike's shoulder with all of the force in his good arm, which had built up considerable strength after the accident. Mike crumpled to the ground.

"Mike!" Laura screamed, and started to kneel down beside him. Will grabbed her about the waist.

"We've got to get out of here! Laura, come on!"

Laura saw the red glow of the approaching police reflected on the berms of bougainvillea which surrounded the parking lot. Will dragged her to her feet, gesturing in the direction of the truck. Her mother's face flashed through her mind. Instinct seized her, and she followed Will.

The fireworks continued as they made their pell-mell dash.

"It wasn't me," Will breathed as they ran. " I didn't find the clue. It was the Chinese guys."

They sprinted across the lawn and down the driveway, in the direction of the Good Guys strip mall and their beloved jalopy.

Suddenly, brilliant white lights shone in their faces. Will stumbled, momentarily blinded. He heard muffled shouts of "Here they are!" and "Go live, go live!"

Laura stopped in her tracks, certain she was about to be cuffed and stuffed.

Then, Will heard another voice. A familiar voice.

"We are live now at The Winchester Mystery House in San Jose, California, where Will Gilbert and Laura Dial have apparently discovered another clue in the Sooner than Never treasure hunt--"

A figure stepped into the pool of light in which they stood. Will's eyes had adjusted. It was David Nimoy.

"What exactly happened up there, Will?" His ex-boyfriend shoved a microphone into his face.

Outraged, unhinged, thoroughly nonplused by the evening's events, and acutely aware that he was incredibly out of shape, Will took a few gasping breaths, and then promptly vomited onto the outstretched microphone.

Laura grabbed his arm and they ran from the cameras into the night.

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