When Abe and a slightly soggy Henry got home an hour later, Jo was waiting for them, thanks to a call from Abe en route to the river. As predicted, she was not happy.
Henry appeared at the top of the stairs, and his son came up behind him, looking much more like the disapproving parent between the two of them. "Well? Do you have something to say to Jo?"
"Abraham, now is not the time. We have a murder to stop."
Abe answered sternly, "Henry, we talked about this in the car. 'Jo, I'm sorry I ran off like a blundering moron and got myself killed again.' " He recited the apology by way of a sing-song prompt.
"I never agreed to say moron." Despite his protests, Henry looked cold, waterlogged and a bit sheepish, and Jo could only sigh.
"Never mind, Abe. Thanks for picking him up."
The man shrugged. "It's what I do. You two talk, I'll make coffee."
While the apartment filled with the smells of coffee and toast ("You both look hungry"), Henry filled his partner in on what he had seen in the warehouse: the CEO of TrusMart strapped to a chair, a series of improvised electrical contacts running from his bare chest to some very large trunks of wires.
"Right now the factory's automated equipment is dormant, but I believe that when it activates for the day—"
"Walker rigged it to electrocute Trussell," Jo finished.
"From comments Walker made, I believe the system is set to automatically power up very early in the morning. It could be any moment."
Jo was already pulling out her phone to call Hanson. With a few quick words she gave him the instructions he needed to find out about stopping the automation, while skillfully avoiding mention of where she got this lead. Henry watched and waited for her to finish the call with a fretful look on his face. She suspected she knew why.
"How did it happen?"
"Gun shot to the heart at close range. It happened quickly." His statement was scientific, as matter-of-fact as any autopsy he'd summarized for her, but Jo couldn't prevent the answering clench in her gut. This was Henry's cause of death; Henry's heart at close range. But one more swim in the river wasn't why Henry looked so unsettled. She put the pieces together with a frown.
"Close range? Does that mean…"
He nodded once. "He saw me vanish. I'm sure he did."
Jo shook her head. "Henry, this guy thinks he's saving the world from the Dark Side of the Force by killing rich guys. No one is going to believe a word he says about vanishing bodies."
Henry wasn't comforted. "You'd be surprised what people will believe. And what if there were security cameras? He knew I was there somehow." He took the cup Abe offered and clutched it tight. "I'm sorry, Jo, but I can't be part of this case any longer. I can't risk him seeing me again."
Jo was half-inclined to agree with him, if only to keep him out of the line of fire for once, but it was Abe who spoke first.
"On the contrary, Pops, you're the one person he definitely should see again."
Jo and Henry both turned to him with bemused frowns. "Hear me out," he said, and sat at the table with them, leaning forward with excitement. "This nutjob is obsessed with Star Wars, right? Thinks he's the latest Luke Skywalker or some such nonsense?"
"Yes," Henry drew out.
"Well, you just died and disappeared without a trace right in front of him. According to his twisted movie logic, that makes you the person he trusts most in the world. Maybe the only one he'll let in without killing Trussell." Jo caught on and exchanged a skeptical look with Abe, who only shrugged. "Hey, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em."
After a moment Jo shrugged as well; he had a point. She turned back to her partner. "Here's hoping your movie night research stuck. You just cast yourself as Obi-Wan Kenobi."
Henry had moved to the wingback chair near the fireplace. Jo suspected he was craving something solid and reliable, and predating the invention of motion pictures. She and Abe had each pulled up a chair to face him and close ranks. Jo had already called in an expert who was on his way, but in the meantime, they were taking turns explaining what exactly they were asking him to do.
"Trust me, Henry—this is a golden opportunity." Abe was really getting into the plan now. "Dying and disappearing in front of a delusional Star Wars fan? You couldn't have planned this any better if you tried!"
"I'm glad to hear my latest untimely demise was conveniently located," Henry answered dryly.
"But he's right." Jo leaned in. "To Blake Walker, you just became Obi-Wan Kenobi. His trusted mentor. I don't think he counted on you showing up, but now he can't ignore you. We've got to press this advantage."
Henry looked from his partner to his son and back. "And you both think that because this man saw—because of what this man saw, he will let me in without protest? That I'll simply tell him not to kill Ron Trussell and he'll agree?"
"Well, he'll at least listen," Abe qualified.
"It's a lot more than we have otherwise," Jo admitted. "I heard back from Hanson. The automation is scheduled to power on and run a self-diagnostic every Saturday night at 1:15 a.m. Normally the foreman can override remotely, but there's a backup power system. We have to assume that Walker knows about it, and that he's using it to cut off outside control."
"And considering his reaction to finding me," Henry added, "we know he's willing to use a gun if his more dramatic methods don't suffice."
"Blaster." All three of the room's occupants turned to face the new voice. Lucas was standing at the top of the stairs, cardboard box in hand.
"He probably calls it a blaster," Lucas continued. "More in line with canon for Luke Skywalker." His gaze roamed around the apartment for a moment before he shook himself stepped forward, setting aside the novelty of a rare invitation into Henry's inner sanctum for the sake of the urgency of the case.
He dropped the box with dramatic flair on a side table, muttering an apology when the action dislodged the book resting there.
"Are you sure you're okay, boss?" He looked at Henry with genuine concern. "Jo said you had to play dead after he missed, then sneak out. That sounds pretty much…terrifying."
"I was lucky," Henry assured him, silently thanking Jo for her explanation. "As it turns out, you were right, Lucas. I should have waited for backup."
"Well, no harm, no foul, right? Nobody died," Lucas said briskly, trying to lighten the mood. The other three occupants of the room traded glances.
"Did you bring everything?" Jo asked, changing the subject.
"And more! Here, take a look." Lucas reached in and drew out a long hooded robe. "Visually accurate to the one Alec Guinness wore in New Hope."
Henry stood up to better eye the coarse brown fabric. "You think this will convince a delusional killer to stop killing?"
Lucas looked at the robe, then back at his boss with a dismissive snort. "No, of course not. Not without the rest of it!" He thrust the robe at Henry, who was forced to drape it over one arm while his assistant dove into the box again. He pulled out an off-white robe, brown mock turtleneck, and brown leather belt, handing each piece to Henry in turn. "Our shoe sizes aren't exactly similar, so I'm hoping you have brown riding boots?"
"Well, yes, but—"
Lucas nodded. "They'll do in a pinch."
"I'll grab them," Abe offered, and disappeared down the hall.
"Lucas, this is perfect," Jo commented as she held up one corner of the robe in Henry's hands, and Lucas beamed. She looked up to give her partner a challenging look. "What do they say, Henry? 'The clothes make the man'? Think you can pull off Sir Alec Guinness?"
"You know, I saw him in Twelfth Night opposite Laurence Olivier once. The performance was quite remarkable." Henry got a fond, distant look on his face as he remembered a stage somewhere in London, somewhere in the improbable past.
"I didn't know he was in a movie with Olivier." Lucas perked up at the idea of an obscure—though as it happened, nonexistent—film he hadn't seen yet, but Henry was spared the trouble of a cover story when Abe returned. His search had been successful, and he added the knee-high brown leather riding boots to the pile.
"I couldn't dream of matching Sir Alec's nuanced interpretation of Shakespeare," Henry deferred, but then added, "However, given the situation, I believe I can manage a basic Wise Magician archetype."
"Good enough." Jo gave him a guiding push between the shoulder blades in the direction of his bedroom. "Suit up, Obi-Wan. It's nearly midnight already."
Once he had reluctantly disappeared down the hall, she turned back to Lucas. "Did you bring the other one too? And the gear from Tech?" He nodded and started rummaging again until Jo froze him with a warning finger. "So help me, Lucas, if you pull a metal bikini out of that box I'm going to—"
"I wouldn't do that," Lucas assured quickly, but ruined the effect by continuing. "I mean, not that you couldn't pull it off if you wanted to. Which you wouldn't, obviously. I mean, the chafing alone—"
"Yep! Okay, thanks," Jo interrupted. "This will work." She grabbed the costume he held out and headed for the bathroom, calling over her shoulder, "Get those comms ready, would you? His idea of 'Basic Wise Mage' may not cut it without some prompting."
Henry stood once more in the darkened corridor of the TrusMart Distribution Center, listening outside the heavy metal door that concealed a killer and his next victim. This time, he hoped the encounter would be different. For one thing, the Tech team had detected and disabled the signal from an infrared motion sensor rigged up in the corridor, so he at least had a better chance at using the element of surprise.
Also, he was dressed like Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had barely known the character even existed until a few days before, but using the persona was a factor that his partner, assistant, and son unanimously insisted would make all the difference.
To top off his new "advantages" this time around, he wasn't alone. To Henry's growing chagrin, Lucas had constant access to his ear via hidden comm, and he was making full use of it.
"Okay, Henry, remember: Obi-Wan is a character with complex motivations and a burden of guilt he never fully lets go until his death. But Walker thinks you just died! Cool! So act complex, but also kind of resolved? And a little ghosty?" All was silent for a moment, but Henry only managed to get through half a sigh before Lucas began again. "Also, he might not be fully crazy enough to think you're the 'real' Ben Kenobi, so let's aim more for Obi-Wan-esque. His own personal Jedi mentor, if you wi—."
"Are you still talking?" Hanson's irritated voice cut in across Lucas's coaching. "Stop tying up the frequency. Okay, Henry-Wan," he continued with a smirk Henry could hear, "you're good to go. Team is standing by in case your Jedi mind tricks don't work."
Henry suppressed a heavy sigh. He didn't break character—not when he was about to go on stage, so to speak—but he was sorely tempted. Jo thought that having Lucas on comms would be necessary to feed him character-appropriate lines, and Hanson was necessary to coordinate the backup team, but at the moment the one-way connection was merely annoying.
Henry returned his attention to the closed door before him. He could hear a muffled voice from inside the room, but only one. Hopefully that just meant that Walker was doing all the talking, but the time when the building was scheduled to power up and electrocute the CEO of TrusMart was no more than fifteen minutes away. Plant engineers had just confirmed that Walker had cut off their ability to cancel the process from the outside. It was time to find out if this plan was brilliant or insane.
"Blake." Henry pitched his voice to sound slightly distant and hopefully mysterious. The murmurs within stopped abruptly, and he took that as his cue. "Blake!" His voice rose.
"Okay, good. Now just wait. Don't open the door! Remember, you're a ghost. Wait for him to come to you."
"Yes, thank you. I remember," Henry muttered under his breath. He was tempted to mutter more when there was a heavy clank and groan as the bolt slid out and the door swung slowly a few inches open.
"Who's there?" Walker's voice came through the opening, sounding strained. His face appeared, and right below that the gun Henry had recently become familiar with. He took one look at Henry and blanched. "You. I saw you die. Who are you?"
"Okay, here we go. Say this: 'Stretch out your feelings. You know who I am.' "
"Stretch out your feelings, Blake. You know who I am." As instructed, Henry kept his stance relaxed, hands folded serenely within in the folds of the robe, which despite looking remarkably similar to the costume he'd seen in the film, smelled slightly of sweat and those horrid cheese curls Lucas seemed to prefer.
Much to his surprise, Blake Walker didn't shoot him on sight. Instead, he lowered his gun, though he didn't put it away. "I thought I was the only one. The only one left."
"Oh! Try this: 'No, Blake, there is another.' "
Henry dutifully repeated the line. He also pressed his advantage and took two deliberate steps forward into the man's personal space. Walker barely seemed to notice. He stepped back and paced into the room, running his free hand through his shaggy hair distractedly. Henry followed him in, noting that Trussell was now gagged, though he appeared unharmed.
"I can't believe it," Walker said mostly to himself. "But it also makes sense, you know? I've always wondered if there was someone else out there. But no! It must be a trick!" Walker turned on him and lifted the gun again with an unsteady hand.
Rather than waiting for Lucas's prompt, Henry said the first thing that came to mind. "What evidence would you have of my reality beyond that of your senses?"
Walker frowned in confusion. "What?"
"Why do you doubt your senses? Do you think me an undigested bit of beef, a blot of mustard, a—"
"Wrong ghost, Henry." Jo's voice broke in on the comms for the first time. "Get on with it. Try to draw his attention away from the door."
Henry covered the interruption with a throat clearing and paced across the room, hoping to put some of the nearby machinery between Walker and a clear view of the room. He also got back on-book, repeating the line Lucas had suggested earlier. "Do not be seduced by the Dark Side of the Force, Blake. I see that you are angry, and you have every reason to be. But anger leads to hatred. And hatred leads to…" How did this tripe go again? The line wasn't even in the movies he'd seen.
"Suffering."
"—suffering." He finished with what he hoped sounded like merely a dramatic pause.
"Suffering? What about my suffering?" Blake strode forward to follow Henry, and the next moment they were out of sight of both the door and the intended victim. "What about the suffering of all the other people they've hurt in pursuit of their own power?" Walker was arguing with him, but Henry realized with fascination that it had taken on the tone of an argument between equals, perhaps even of a student with his master. He followed that thread.
"Indeed, young Walker, you have suffered greatly. But continue down this path and you will only become a master of evil. For this," he gestured dramatically toward the unseen Trussell and the tangle of wires that would very soon kill him, "this is but murder most foul, strange, and unnatural."
"Wrong ghost again." Jo's hoarse whisper sounded in his ear. "Keep him talking for a few more minutes. Almost done."
"What am I supposed to do? Just let it all happen? Let everything slide into darkness?" Walker yelled in agitation. The gun swung widely as part of his gestures, and though he wasn't intentionally aiming at anyone, Henry feared he was nearly as dangerous.
"The world is dark, Blake. There's no doubt. But you can't fight darkness with darkness. If you've learned nothing else, surely you've learned that from all those movi—" Henry caught himself and corrected, "—ving lessons from Jedi Masters."
Walker's gun had sunk to his side. He stood silently, obviously in the midst of a serious internal struggle, when the sound of metal dropping on concrete thudded from the unseen other side of the room.
In a blink, the moment was gone. "You betrayed me!" Walker yelled. The gun snapped up to Henry as Walker walked sideways, trying to both keep an eye on him and hurry past the machinery to discover the source of the noise.
Henry broke character and put his hands up defensively. At least it was only Walker in view. The man had already seen all there was to see of his secret, no more damage to be done.
But the shot never came. Henry chanced to step forward enough to see Walker clearly. The man was frozen, wide-eyed.
"There really is another!"
Jo would have made it out free and clear if it weren't for the damn costume.
She was wearing Leia's "Battle of Endor" costume of dark blue military trousers, high boots, and a wide-necked camouflage poncho belted down with a holster. She had tried to turn down the matching helmet, but Lucas had refused to let her leave without it. The things she endured in the line of duty.
She was here because sending Henry in was bad enough; sending Henry in with no backup was almost guaranteeing another trip to the river for Abe, not to mention requiring a lame excuse from her for his sudden absence. Instead, she'd borrowed a Star Wars costume from Lucas; she chose not to ask why he had it. If she needed to go in to bail Henry out (and she assumed she would) and Walker spotted her, appearing as part of his delusional fantasy would buy her a little time and goodwill. Or so she hoped.
Much to her surprise, Henry had been doing well. Once he had drawn Walker out of the line of sight, she had gone in. Thankfully Trussell was smart, and he hadn't made a sound. She had detached the electrical leads on his chest and shins. She was now working on cutting the zip ties binding him to the chair.
That's when the wardrobe malfunction struck.
The holster on her belt was accurate to the movie and the perfect size for carrying prop blasters, but it was a little too loose for an actual service revolver. She was leaning across Trussell to reach the restraint around his opposite wrist when her gun slipped loose and clattered to the floor. She heard Walker call out.
Shit. She dove for her fallen sidearm and stayed low, training the weapon on the place where she thought he would appear. He did appear, but he promptly froze, mouth open and gun still aimed distractedly behind him toward Henry.
It took a moment of tense silence for Jo to realize what he was seeing: Princess Leia, backed up against a big metal wall defending herself, just like in Return of the Jedi. Thank God Lucas had insisted on the helmet.
"Put the gun down, Blake." When he didn't move, she stood up slowly, made a show of setting down her own gun, and took one cautious step toward him, then another. "It's over. We won. Let's go home…brother."
Jo was afraid for a moment that she had taken the charade a step too far. He tensed, looking from her to Trussell, then to Henry/Obi-Wan. He looked back at Jo.
"How do you know?" His expression was no longer tense or threatening. Instead, he bore the pleading look of someone truly seeking an answer. "How do you know they won't come back?"
"We don't, Blake. We can't know anything for sure." Jo didn't believe in lying to suspects, or anyone else. In Blake Walker's case, she sensed that it wouldn't be the right move anyway. "I do know this: if the Dark Side comes back, the good guys will be there to stop it. We always are." She didn't move any closer or try to signal Henry or the waiting team outside; she simply held his gaze and didn't flinch.
Walker seemed to hold his breath for a moment, then with an exhale, he lowered his arm. "I did what I could. I tried." Jo stepped forward at last, and when he didn't protest she gently but firmly took hold of the gun, threw it aside, and cuffed him in a swift, smooth move.
"It's my turn now," she answered, her voice also gentle but firm. "It's time for the rest of the, uh, Alliance, to continue the fight."
"I'll take that as my cue to send in the uniforms." Hanson's voice broke the radio silence. "See you in a minute, Princess."
She repressed an eye roll. He couldn't see her anyway. She nodded to Henry where he had been quietly watching the confrontation unfold, and he moved quickly to Trussell's side to finish the job of freeing him from his restraints.
"The Force is strong with that one," a slightly awed voice stated over the comms. Henry smiled and looked at Jo.
"Lucas, I entirely agree."
A/N: Just one chapter left to wrap it all up. Thanks for your patience, everyone, with my much slower-than-normal pace on this story. Almost there...