An hour later, the sniper sat in the interrogation room with a stoic look upon his face.  He’d already been to the hospital and had been treated for the bullet wounds (upon closer inspection, Shawn had purposely grazed the man instead of giving the guy two bullets to deal with.)

Shawn sat across from him, the same stoic look on his features.  He’d been at it for twenty minutes, trying to coax something, *anything* out of this guy.  His usual ‘psychic detective’ line had no effect, nor did his ‘I’m just like you’ bit.  Sighing, Shawn realized he’d have to use some, questionable, tactics.  Things he hadn’t used since his days in D.C.

“All right.  Obviously you aren’t going to say much more than your name.  I get it, I do.  Stay quiet to make sure you stay alive.  The problem is, though; I’m not a very patient man.  My patience is wearing super thin.  So thin, in fact, you can see right through.  I’m done being nice.  So,” Shawn reached out and grabbed the guy by the collar, pulling the guy’s face to his own, “No more Mr. Nice guy.  Comprende, Amigo?”

The guy merely smirked, which made Shawn a little hotter under his collar.  He reared back his hand, about to punch the guy into submission when the Chief’s voice came over the speaker.

“Mr. Spencer!” she warned.

Shawn looked at the two way mirror, “He’s not talking, Chief.  I’m going to make him talk!”

Lassiter stood on the other side of the glass with a smile on his lips.  He actually liked this Shawn.  None of that pansy psychic junk, just down to the proverbial brass tacks. 

“Let my detectives come in and help!” Karen said, more ordering than asking. 

Grumbling, Shawn let the guy go as Juliet and Carlton walked in, both with their arms crossed over their chests in irritation.

“See these two?  They are the best detectives possibly in the country.  You will talk, or else,” Shawn warned.  He got up and gestured for Juliet to sit down.  Lassiter took the seat next to her and sat himself down. 

Even though Jules and Lassie were in there, Shawn wasn’t going to give up on his own tactics.  It was a game he and Seamus used to play.  Not really Good Cop, Bad Cop, more like Bad Agent, Psycho Agent.  He figured, after a few questions, Lassie might just get the picture.

“Who do you work for?” Lassie asked.

“My name is Jean Luc,” he said in his French accent. 

“Yes, we’ve established your name.  How about something else?  Anything else?” Juliet asked. 

Shawn could hear the annoyance in her voice and smiled briefly.  She was cute when she got angry.  He cleared his throat.

“Listen, Jean Luc.  We don’t really care that you were named after the captain in Star Wars,” Shawn said.

“Star Trek, Shawn,” Juliet corrected.

“Star Trek?  I thought that was about big, enormous bugs attacking earth?” Shawn asked, his temper temporarily forgotten.

“No, that was Starship Troopers,” Lassiter said, a small smile on his face.

Juliet and Shawn looked at Lassiter in surprise.  Jean Luc cleared his throat, which made the three of them turn their attention back on him.

Shawn then thought of something a little unorthodox.  Instead of the Bad Cop, Psycho Cop, he turned to a different tactic.  One that he was sure would raise a few eyebrows, but would, hopefully, get some more info out of the guy.

“Dites-moi, mon ami, voulez-vous parler un peu français?” he spoke in French.

Lassiter and Juliet looked shocked.  Jean Luc looked at him with curiosity, then answered.

“Oui, je parlerais plutôt français.”

“Qui travaillez-vous?” Shawn asked.

“Je travaille pour Greenwood Enterprises,” Jean Luc answered, looking a bit more comfortable.

The name instantly hit a nerve with Shawn, “Greenwood Enterprises?  That’s the false company that Jacques Pierre used to fence his weapons!”

“Oui. Il dirige toujours l'entreprise sur un ancien entrepôt sur r03;r03;10th Street,” Jean Luc offered.

Shawn nodded, keeping a mental note until later about the location of the warehouse.  He decided to ask a different set of questions, hoping this guy would be as generous with the answers.

“Maintenant, pourquoi avez-vous tué les deux hommes avec moi à l'heure?”

“On m'a ordonné de. Agent Collins était une cible, tout comme l'homme de la voiture,” Jean Luc said.

“Okay, can we please speak some English here?” Lassie asked, irritated.

“Sorry, Lassie.  I get carried away sometimes,” Shawn apologized.  He looked at Jean Luc with an angry face.

“What?” the sniper asked.

“You said Agent Collins was a target.  Who was the man in the car?” Shawn asked.

“Pepe Dupere,” Jean Luc said finally.

“Okay, now we’re getting somewhere.  I’ll go look up his name in the database,” Juliet said as she got up.

“You won’t find him in your database,” Jean Luc announced.

Juliet turned, “Why not?”

“He’s a ghost.  Pepe Dupere was just a code name.  No one but Jacques Pierre himself knows the man’s true name,” Jean Luc answered, glancing at Shawn.

“Except Agent Collins, who’s now dead thanks to you,” Shawn added.

Jean Luc nodded, “You would be correct, Agent Spencer.”

Shawn felt his blood boil, “Lassie, get him out of here before I do something I regret.”

Lassiter got up and grabbed Jean Luc roughly, “Gladly.”

“Only one more thing, Agent Spencer,” Jean Luc said.

Lassie held him still as he continued, “There’s more at play here than what you know.  Not even the great Agent Shawn Spencer will know what comes next.”

Lassie dragged the man out, leaving Shawn to his thoughts.  Even though he didn’t show it, those last few words haunted him.

‘What did he mean by that?’ he wondered to himself as he left the interrogation room.  He suddenly stopped and turned. 

Looking underneath the table, he saw a tiny device attached to the table leg.  He recognized the material that held it.  C-4.

“EVERYONE CLEAR THE AREA!” Shawn shouted as he ran out.

A sudden explosion rocked the station, sending Shawn flying.