Disclaimer: The Mentalist and Hawaii Five-0 are not mine. This story, all of it, is.

There it is! The revelation. Short and sweet. I'd rather make my story brief but concluded rather than long but dragging. Always, reviews are loved.

TWO

"Excuse me, I think I'd like to smoke a bit." Rigsby rose.

Van Pelt and Cho followed.

Van Pelt: "Bathroom, boss."

Cho: "Yeah, we've got a long journey."

Rigsby walked out the diner, cigarette between his lips already; while Van Pelt and Cho headed to the bathroom, disappearing behind the door soon enough. Fortunately for the CBI, the diner used filmed windows, and the bathroom and the Chinese' corner were at the same direction.

Couldn't spook these people, Lisbon thought. Three people, trigger-hairy, with assault rifles. Last thing she wanted to see was firefight in a place full of civilians. Almost unconsciously, she reached down to her waist. Her gun. Her most trusty friend, after her team—

"Relax," Jane said. "Don't think about all those things you fear."

Lisbon grunted.

"Lisbon. Have some faith."

"On that waitress you picked out less than two minutes ago?"

Less than two minutes ago, Jane called their waitress.

"Yes?"

"We're with the CBI," Jane said, pointing at Lisbon's badge. "We're thinking that those Chinese on the corner want to do something criminal. We need your help."

"Of course, obviously, anything. What should I do?"

"First, I'd like to order the fried lobster and French fries. Make it two. Take home."

The waitress opened her note, wrote the order. A waitress serving customers. She didn't seem to understand how fried lobster and French fries could help. Lisbon had no time to explain. The order was to give the CBI team reason to hang around even though their dinner was finished. So we seem to be waiting, Jane had said. So the sudden exodus—Rigsby's getting out for smoking and Cho and Van Pelt's trip to the bathroom—didn't look suspicious.

"Second, we need to borrow your cigarette and lighter."

"How do you—"

"Your lips are black, your fingers are stained, and you smell too much mouthwash to cover the halitosis. Now, please?"

She handed her lighter and Morley.

"Finally, we need you to…"

Bringing a pot of orange juice with her, the waitress passed the Chinese' table—

Then tripped and spilled all over it.

"Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry—"

"What the hell?"

"What did you do?"

"Damn it. Clean it up, for God's sake, woman!"

"I'm sorry," the waitress muttered. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." She wiped their table as clumsily as she could, knocking and shattering out the Chinese' plates. She was more messing than cleaning, and that occupied the Chinese.

Exactly then, Jane sent OK texts to Cho and Van Pelt and Rigsby. Quietly, Cho and Van Pelt stepped out the bathroom and stole toward the scene, their hands on their holstered guns.

"Hey, waitress," Jane shouted across the diner. "Where's our order?"

The waitress looked up. "Coming, I'm coming, sir." Then hurriedly left—

At the same time when Cho and Van Pelt reached the table, their guns out and up at two of the Chinese.

"CBI. Hands where we can see them."

A strong knock at the window followed. Rigsby. He took the one Van Pelt and Cho didn't cover, shouting a stern "don't even think about it".

"What is this?" one of the Chinese said. "What do you people think you're doing?"

"Preventing a crime from happening," Lisbon heard Jane said. They were walking to the scene, joining their compatriots.

Perfect ambush, Lisbon thought. Bold, but beautiful. At times like this, she was always thankful Jane was with them.

"A crime? What crime?"

"An attempt on someone's life. Also known as an assassination."

Those Chinese turned pale.

"Sir, please stand up and step aside," Lisbon said. "Now. That's an order."

The Chinese had no choice, obeyed. As Cho and Van Pelt watched them, Lisbon patted their duffels down. And felt what felt to be rifles. "Weapons." She zipped them open.

Three AK74s. Fifteen magazines. Forty five hundred bullets.

Not under my watch, Lisbon said to herself. She turned around, her gun out. "Cuff them."

Steve arrived at the diner. The scene inside stunned him. On a table at the corner, there sat three—Chinese, cuffed and guarded by cops. Kaye? Wo Fat? Steve rushed there, fear and questions boiling inside him."Excuse me, excuse me, what's going on?"

The smallest of the cop turned around, held her hand up. "Please back off, sir. We're with California Bureau of Investigation. This is a crime scene."

"I know it is. What did they do?"

"It's an official investigation and we may not—"

"Lisbon."

The small lady turned to her blonde partner, who didn't look like a cop to Steve. "What?"

The blonde stepped forth, staring at Steve. "You're a cop, right? Are you supposed to meet someone here tonight? A secret meeting?"

"Yeah. But how did—"

"Civilians don't confront cops on crime scene if it doesn't involve them. You came here, asking what did those people do, meaning you're worried if these guys hurt someone related to you. And your response, when my colleague Lisbon told you it's a crime scene, that's way too harsh if you're not a police officer yourself."

It took exceptional men to startle Steve, and this blonde was such. For a moment, Steve was silent. Then: "Yes, all you said is true. So what?"

"Whoever called you to come here wants to kill you."

Steve and Lisbon: "What?"

The blonde turned. "Cho. Give me one of these guys' iPhones."

An Asian cop tossed it to the blonde, who then quickly accessed it.

Kaye sets me up? That's impossible, Steve thought. Then said aloud the last part: "That's impossible."

"Impossible schmimpossible." The blonde put the iPhone up. Steve saw—

Himself.

END