Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
"No, Marshall." Katherine was insistent.
"It would be perfect." Marshall couldn't take his eyes off his wife. This Ames woman had chosen her clothing and she had outdone herself: A little bit Dark Lady of New Orleans, a generous amount of Prue Halliwell and just a hint of Ghostwhisperer, the M-rated version, for good measure.
Ilsa looked fantastic and the mark, a rich oil magnate whose trust they needed to gain, was sufficiently interested. It shouldn't take much to convince him of her supernatural powers under these circumstances. On the other hand the man's reputation of being a keen bastard didn't bode well… This was not going to be an easy job, but when was it ever?
"Just a short message." Marshall was practically pleading.
"No." Despite his desperate tone, Katherine didn't budge. "We're not allowed to. Aside from that you would scare the living daylights out of her and ruin the mission. What about their client? If this fails they'll never manage to free him. We've got to stay out of this."
"So, Lady Isabella", the mark began. "If you're as good as you claim, you can surely tell me, what was the name of my best friend when I grew up?"
"That would be his dog, Ilsa. Spell "Dougle" – D-O-U-G-L-E." Guerrero's voice via earpiece.
Ilsa did as she was told and lightly moved the Ouija board's planchette. The mark nodded in appreciation as she slowly formed his long deceased Great Dane's name, but from the way he studied Ilsa – her face, not her cleavage, both Marshall and Katherine knew he was nevertheless still suspicious.
"I'm going to write down my next question on a piece of paper", he said. "And you're not going to read it out loud. You're going to read it in silence and answer it in silence." His voice was low and dangerous, the veiled threat unmistakable.
Katherine couldn't help but admire the mental strength of Marshall's wife in this suddenly very volatile situation. Not the slightest flinch or twitch gave away that they were facing a giant problem out of the blue.
In the van Winston was cursing and Chance was getting ready to interfere. The oil magnate had killed at least two people who had gotten in his way, he was likely to hurt Ilsa, should he smell the rat.
But she only nodded, confident that her team would find a solution.
"Katherine, we must do something!" Marshall was not pleading anymore. He was fiercely determined.
Meanwhile the mark had written his question down: "Whom did I meet on Christmas eve two years ago?"
"Marshall, how are we supposed to know that?" Katherine really wanted to help him now, but being dead doesn't mean you're suddenly omniscient.
Chance was out of the van by now, Guerrero in close pursuit. They'd go in, get Ilsa out, find another way to save their client. Yes, this was risky, but how else…?
"I've thought of something." Marshall explained his plan to Katherine.
Only seconds later, Ilsa felt the planchette suddenly moving. "F" it said. Then "I".
The mark snorted.
"R" and "E" spelt Ilsa.
The mark's snort became a contemptuous laugh. "You're totally wrong, Lady."
Katherine knew she didn't have much time left. Quickly she caused the planchette to point at the other letters.
"Fire in the kitchen?", the mark read. "What in the world is that supposed to mean?"
Ilsa was just as puzzled as he was. Then they smelt it. The mark hurried into his luxurious kitchen and there it was, the plate warmer, producing heavy smoke. Small blue flames were slowly consuming the inside.
Thank God Marshall was good with technical devices.
"That was impressive", said the mark.
"I swear the planchette was moving on its own!", Ilsa insisted, a couple of hours later back at the office.
Guerrero shook his head. "It's called "ideomotor effect", boss. A psychological phenomenon - subjects make motions unconsciously. The body reacts to ideas or outer stimuli without the brain registering. You probably perceived the smoke without realizing it."
Ilsa's burner phone rang. "Lady Isabella", she said.
It was the mark.
"I've had the microwave checked. Not outside manipulation. You really are as good as you claim to be. We should meet again."
This was good news. One step closer to saving their client.
Shortly after, everyone went to sleep. Everyone except Guerrero, that is. He put up the Ouija board and stared at it for a long, long time, till the coldness in the kitchen became too unbearable even for him.
"Ridiculous", he grumbled as he walked upstairs to crash on Chance's couch. Strange, up there it was much warmer.
In the guestroom Ilsa and Ames were bunking together. Sound asleep they struggled with each other for the blanket because suddenly the room temperature had dropped significantly.
Marshall sighed. He hated that he could never stay long at his sleeping wife's side without her starting to freeze. But tonight it didn't hurt as much as usual.
This had been much better than a message. He had been able to help her.