Chapter 11: Flash Of Light
"It's time", Jane announced in his calm, instructive voice, gently drawing the lapel of his shirt toward his lips to render himself audible to the people awaiting at the scene. His tone bore its usual tacit confidence. No hint of stress. Or demand.
Unlike the situation that seemed to unfurl at the restaurant.
Lisbon's gaze skimmed through the various camera angles on the surveillance screens. Apart from the kitchen, they had eyes at the entrance as well as trees that provided communication with the white-laid tables.
There appeared to be a universal outburst of hyperactivity. Dishes clattering in the sink; chefs shuffling around, screaming orders; waiters carrying platters with food and wine. And amidst all that, a great deal of huffing and eye rolling. The kind of behavior that seemed to fascinate Jane, who seemed to be studying each single one of the serving personnel with a keen eye.
Earlier, the manager had gathered all the employees to pronounce the arrival of "Virgil Drummond, one of the most renowned restaurant critics in the country". According to him, it was an honor rarely done to their establishment and as such, should be treated with their utmost dedication.
Virgil Drummond pushed the double-leaf door of the entrance and sauntered inside, his chin raised in a derogative manner, eyes regarding his surroundings with superiority.
Lisbon rejoiced in a cornered smile, finally seeing Jane's point in recruiting the man. Minelli was completely awe-inspiring.
Instinctively, she peeked at the consultant from the corner of her eye, keen to examine his reaction.
He was glorying in his creation, if anything, his elbows resting on the desk, body slightly inclined toward the front. He was still wearing his uniform, which she was glad for—it was a rare sight to see him in other gear than his slacks.
"Looking good, Virgil", he remarked casually. Not that Minelli seemed to need any further boost in his confidence.
The doorkeeper scurried to usher their special guest into the restaurant, failing to perceive how the old man rolled his eyes toward a spot hovering a little above their heads.
"Welcome to our restaurant, Mr. Drummond", he greeted with excess merriment.
"Let's hope it will be indeed as welcoming as you presume", Virgil spat.
His statement was answered with a stiff smile.
Jane was shaking his head, his grin almost reaching his ears. "The man is a professional", he plumed.
Minelli sat at one of the round tables and grabbed the wine list. Almost immediately, a waiter appeared by his side. He set the catalogue back on the table and regarded him with plain arrogance. "Your best kind of red wine, please?" he purred.
The waiter nodded once. "Right away, sir".
"The first test is always the wine", Lisbon recalled Jane's words from their phone call the night before.
"I don't understand", she protested, tired of his enigmatic allusions. "How is Minelli pretending to be a food critic and ordering wine going to help find the accomplice?" she cut him right to the chase.
"Always so impatient", he muttered. Suddenly, she was imagining him in his hotel room, lying on top of his bed covers, smiling heartily at hearing her voice. "Okay. I was planning to make it more suspenseful for you, but I don't want you to get angry. So, I'm gonna get right to the point", he blabbed.
Lisbon released the air that had gathered in her chest, her breath sounding irritable.
"We need to create a situation where our hypnotizer will be forced to use his skills, while we have our eyes on him", Jane enunciated. "Now, we know that his job as a waiter is of great importance to him. If he faces the threat of losing it, he will need to get himself out of the tough situation".
"So how are we gonna do that?"
The waiter took the graveled path that led back to the kitchen. When he reached halfway there, Jane pulled the lapel of his shirt anew.
"Van Pelt, you're on", he muttered.
Lisbon focused on the part of the screen that depicted the back side of the kitchen where the staff's door was located. At first, nothing happened. After a few seconds though, the panel of the door pushed slightly forward, creating a thin slit between the threshold and the hem of the door. The slit gradually increased in size and finally Van Pelt crept through the opening, dressed like a waitress and cradling a tray with a glass and a bottle of wine atop. Her eyes scanned her surroundings with caution. Assured that no one had seen her, she fixed the hem of her white uniform; raised the tray at the height of her shoulders and started walking confidently toward the front entrance.
The waiter met her just as he entered the building.
"Stressed from Minelli's behavior, once the waiter notices the glass of wine, he'll act out of instinct".
"Excuse me", breathed the waiter, stepping into Van Pelt's way.
The latter pretended to be startled.
"Mr. Drummond seems to be quite capricious", he puffed. "Would you mind serving another glass of wine and giving me this? It would take time to go down to the cellar", he explained.
Van Pelt hesitated a little at first. Then, she shrugged her shoulders. "Sure", she chanted.
She handed him over the tray.
"Thank you", he gratified her, before turning back toward the exit in a haste.
Even though Jane had predicted this outcome, Lisbon still felt astonished at how easily the waiter had trusted Van Pelt.
"Whenever someone chooses a bottle of wine from the cellar, they're supposed to test it first. Knowing that, the waiter won't even question the quality of the wine. He'll immediately take Van Pelt's judgement for granted", Jane explained in her memory.
Once her part was finished, Van Pelt returned to the rear of the kitchen and, in the same scrupulous manner with which she'd entered, she slipped outside.
"Excellent, Grace", Jane commended.
"Thank you", replied she, with her familiar ringing voice.
Their attention was soon engaged back at the monitor, where Minelli was accepting his order. The waiter stood in anticipation, as the critic brought the rim of the glass under his nose and pretended to value the scent with professional mannerism. Finally, he lowered the glass to his lips.
He'd hardly taken a sip though, before his face was turning all sour and squeamish. The next instant, he was spewing out the liquid, while obtaining the waiter's horrified look.
"If this is a joke", spat Minelli, "then you've chosen the wrong person to mess with".
"Mr. Drummond, I don't understand what you're talking about", the waiter wavered, his face as white as a sheet.
"You mean, you didn't know the wine you served me was spoiled?" demanded the critic.
"Sp-spoiled?" he stuttered, while taking the glass to taste the wine himself. His reaction mirrored Minelli's.
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I honestly didn't know—"
"You didn't know? So what, you just brought me a random glass of wine?"
"I-I…"
Minelli took a napkin from his table and gently wiped his lips. Then, taking a deep breath, he calmly announced:
"I wish to speak with all of the staff. I will not forgive this mistake, unless I find who failed in checking this wine's quality".
"So let me get this clear. You're all saying that you saw a red-haired woman carry the said tray with wine", Minelli jeered, his gaze belittling the twenty or so people that had huddled in the manager's office.
There majority of the gathered responded with a nod, while a few of them looked around in ignorance. Minelli continued.
"And somehow it turns out that not only this waitress is currently nowhere to be found, but also not listed as an employee here... And you have the nerve to expect me to believe that!" he snarled.
The response was complete and utter silence. Finally, the manager of the restaurant, who was standing by his side, took a step into his visual territory, protruding a consoling hand.
"Mr. Drummond", he said calmly. "I'm truly sorry for the behavior of my workers. I can only assure you that I will interrogate each single one of them thoroughly and find who did this", he promised.
Virgil's eyes sparked with fresh interest, as he regarded the man.
"Pardon me, but I would like to take that pleasure to myself. You see..." he turned to face the attending crowd. "I'm exceptionally skilled at reading others".
His remark had the majority of them staring in confusion.
"You mean, like a psychic?" the manager joked after a moment.
It was time for Jane to interfere.
"Okay, Virgil", he said on the speaker, moving his shoulders back and forth like a boxer that was preparing to enter the ring. "Repeat after me now: Mr. Gartner, tell me, does your wife know that you're still smoking behind her back?"
Minelli smiled enigmatically at the manager, before quoting Jane's exact words.
Mr. Gartner became visibly stiff. "I-I'm not…" his voice faded.
Virgil raised his eyebrows inquiringly. As realization gradually set in the room, he announced: "I will be interrogating each one of you separately in this office. Anyone who leaves will be immediately assumed as the perpetrator".
"So what? We know that none of them did it. What motive will the accomplice have to use his skills, if he knows that his hands are clean in the first place?"
"There's a motive even stronger than covering one's guiltiness, Lisbon. And that's proving one's innocence. The thirst for vindication can make people do irrational things. If Minelli provides enough reason that evidence is on them, it will upset them… Except for the hypnotizer. Because he will know exactly how to get himself out of the difficult situation", Jane explained cunningly.
"So, that's why Minelli has to pretend to be a psychic", Lisbon finally felt the pieces of the puzzle match together.
"Exactly. Minelli will say the exact same thing to each one of the servants".
"You did it, didn't you?" Virgil reproached, his expression a mask of incredulity and disappointment.
The servant boy occupying the seat across the desk tensed, uncertain about the seriousness in the critic's accusation. Virgil maintained his firm looks.
"What? I-No!" complained the waiter in a deep voice, his long dark hair falling in his eyes.
"How much do you earn, Mr. Coop?" Minelli continued unaffected, echoing Jane's voice. "I bet you thought, why care about thoroughness when I'm being paid mere crumbs for it? Why care about my loose hair intermeddling with the customers' orders? Why care about checking a wine's quality?"
Coop took a shaky breath and cleared his throat.
"I admit, my payment isn't as high as I'd prefer, but that doesn't determine my job performance", he defended.
"Is that what your co-workers say about you?" Jane returned.
Minelli forward him.
Coop hesitated, his discomposure visibly escalating.
After a few moments of silence, Minelli cleared his throat. "I'll take your silence as a confirmation of my assumptions, Mr. Coop", he stated with a sound of finality.
Coop started shaking his head with disbelief. "No, Mr. Drummond! I swear, I didn't do it!"
"He's not our guy", Jane interfered then.
Minelli stared blankly at Coop for several seconds, before loosening his expression.
"Fair enough. You can go".
Again, the waiter stalled to weigh Minelli's gaze, before standing up and heading toward the door behind him.
The rest of the inquisition unraveled in a similar style. The majority of the interviewed would have an almost identical reaction: brow furrowing, mouth twisting and shrugging. And then a few would verge into tears or sweat uncontrollably.
Not a single one of them, though, would stare back calmly or reach across the desk to touch Minelli.
"So, you're gonna sleep at Virgil's hotel after all?" she asked, once she'd quelled her curiosity for the more critical issues, her tone becoming noticeably warmer.
"Well", Jane mused, his voice sounding wistful, "Minelli has to take care of a few things at first—like say goodbye to his wife for that matter—so I ended up booking a room for the night. It's our room, by the way. Though, I have to say, I preferred the one we shared in Sacramento better", he said, his tone acquiring a suggestive note.
Her thoughts flurried with memories of the night he was referring to. She realized, after a moment, her fingers had gripped onto the leather that spread beneath her.
This was Jane, a part of her marveled—mainly the part that was still recovering from the surrealism of it all. It was him making flirty innuendos about the last night they'd spent making love to each other and it was him, whose voice grew soft and tender, just because she was the one clinging to the other side of the line. Few months ago, she'd never have believed in this moment.
"What about you?" Jane muttered, interrupting her reverie. "Where are you going to sleep?"
"A couch", she answered with sarcasm. "Found one in the precinct. I think Abbott and Cho are gonna take a nap in their car..." her voice faded, as the feelings of worry and guilt stung her stomach anew. She rubbed her fingers nervously on the surface of the couch.
Jane seemed to notice her sudden fogginess. "Teresa, are you there?"
"Yes", she responded.
"What is it?"
She hesitated for a moment.
"It's just... I can't help feeling that I should be doing something now instead of lying on a god-damned couch", she blurted.
Jane didn't answer immediately.
"I know. But trust me, there's nothing you can do right at this moment. Plus you'll need your strength for tomorrow", he consoled her, using the same words she'd used at Cho.
"But what if Wylie and Vega are somewhere suffering right now or being forced into a square box or—"
"You can't know that yet. All you can do is focus on the action", Jane reasoned.
She nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her.
"What time will you be here in the morning?" she asked then.
"Around ten. Don't worry, we'll see each other soon", he said with a smile.
She felt the corners of her lips twitch upwards.
"Goodnight, Jane", she chanted.
"Goodnight, Teresa".
Lisbon emerged from her reverie in time to witness the sudden rouse of stir on the screen of the monitor.
The door to the manager's office had banged open with a clatter, sending both Minelli and the blond waitress he was questioning out of their seats.
"What is he doing?" Lisbon wondered out loud, her gaze fixed on the thin, gaunt figure of a man that formed under the door frame. He was rocking from side to side, his hands adjusting his cuffs repeatedly, his gaze half-covered under the curtain of his eyelashes.
"I did it, Mr. Drummond. Please, stop questioning my co-workers", he implored.
Time stilled, like grains at the bottom of an hourglass.
Lisbon tilted her chin toward Jane, before her eyes followed the movement.
He had bent forward, eyes glinting, the outsets of a smile molding his lips.
"Virgil, listen to me carefully", he instructed. "I want you to go and gently pat him on his shoulder. If he has the slightest response, like recoiling at your touch or stiffening, nod to me once. Otherwise, I want you to shake your head negatively".
Lisbon held her breath, as Virgil casually paced toward the waiter. Once he was close enough, he sneered and huffed through his nose, before placing a mildly comforting hand on the man's shoulder. The seconds felt like centuries, but finally, Minelli lowered his head and lightly shook it, as if he was disappointed.
Though, his gesture had a whole different meaning for them.
"The hypnotizer got to him", Lisbon voiced the inevitable conclusion.
Jane was quiet, his pupils flaring from side to side.
"It's okay. Drop the issue, Minelli", he finally concluded, his voice plotting.
Lisbon furrowed, rocking her head questioningly at him.
Jane dipped his hand in the air, as if to halt her. "Make it seem like you've changed your mind now that he has confessed on his own and find an excuse to leave", he continued. "Also, I need you to remove the camera from your tie and clip it on him".
The aura at the restaurant obtained its initial lull, once the fastidious critic had left. There was plenty of huffing and cussing, as everyone returned to their posts. Few would exchange weary looks. Or glare at blank.
"Jane", Lisbon lisped, tempered.
He bore into the screen. If he'd heard her, he chose not to show.
She clung to the monitor, trying to finger the shape of his thoughts.
The steady image they formerly derived from Minelli's tie was now swaying, displaying a wobbly door here, the flickering edge of a counter there. A bottle of water. Shaky hands unscrewing the lid.
"Jane! A little enlightenment here?" she pressed.
"The hypnotizer suspected something", Jane breezed. "But still, he couldn't be sure, so he did an experiment. If Minelli's dismay over the spoiled wine was truly the case, he would unleash his anger upon finding the identity of the perpetrator. Of course, Minelli could claim that the man is lying about his guiltiness. Except, that was exactly what the hypnotizer expected in order to confirm his suspicions. So, instead, I asked Minelli to simply drop the case. Now, after he's been assured of his security, the hypnotizer only has to take the man out of his trance".
Lisbon's gaze lingered on his wide water blue eyes for a fraction of a second, before easing back toward the screen.
There was a blur of movement; the waiter was in motion again. Fortunately, some of the other cameras installed in the restaurant managed to capture his movement at times, offering them a clearer perception of his position. However, that privilege was removed by his moving to the back yard of the restaurant.
The twinkle of the lamp posts was the only source of light there. For once, the camera was fixed.
There was the fleeting image of a cigarette and the sudden blaze of a flame. The air gradually filled with little clouds of smoke. At some point, Lisbon thought the lamps flickered, but she blamed it on the shakiness of the camera.
Abruptly, smoke and street lights were startled into a whirlwind, making Lisbon's eyes blink rapidly a few times.
When the image focused again, the back door of the restaurant was in sight. The camera froze on it for several seconds. Then, suddenly, the waiter threw his cigarette and started heading back inside.
Lisbon blinked rapidly a few times. "What did just happen?"
When no response came, she searched for answers with her eyes.
Jane's features, for once, were strained; his eyes narrow and distant. "He's awake", he wavered, uncertain.
"What?" she exclaimed, her gaze snapping back to the screen. "But... how?" she worried.
Jane's pupils bounced repeatedly on the corners of his eyes, before he was leaning forward, fully alarmed.
"The trigger", he realized. "That's why I couldn't find Loop's trigger, Lisbon. It's neither something physical nor something verbal".
"W-What is it?"
"The sudden flash of light".
Lisbon remembered how she had earlier thought she'd only imagined the lamp posts switching momentarily off.
This time, she was the one to snatch Jane's lapel.
"Cho", she breezed at the wire there. "He's at the electric board that's controlling the street lights. Go now!"