It was Friday, the afternoon of the fifth and last day of their interview fishing expedition. With only a couple left to interview, Myka and Pete were very frustrated, not to mention almost out of their minds from having interviewed sooo many people. It's not surprising that they felt that way. Almost fifty interviews, all for nothing.

The next interviewee wasn't too impressive, physically. A thin blond fella a little below average height (he looked like he was five-foot-six, maybe seven - Myka was even taller than him, but to be fair, Myka was tall for a girl - about five-nine), but he had an air of quiet studiousness and confidence about him that impressed people and made them believe he knew his stuff, and based on his records, he really did know his stuff. He impressed Pete and Myka right away.

He was a forensic scientist for the New York police force, one of the best, but he wanted more than just being trapped in the lab. When Pete asked about it, Lieutenant McMasters sighed and explained that people in the CSI TV shows aren't real, that being a forensic expert is a very boring, workaday kind of job, and though being a forensic scientist helped him get dates a few times (because of the TV shows) he felt like a fake. And he always thought he could have been of more service to his city, but it wasn't to be.

So he took an academic leave and went to the New York State Police Academy. In eight months, he graduated near the top of his class, rose through the ranks at breakneck speed when he got assigned a regular police officer posting, and ended up as a police lieutenant in a few short years.

"So, it's like a dream come true, then?" Myka asked.

McMasters smiled a little wistfully and shrugged.

Thing was, though, he explained, he still couldn't escape his forensic scientist rep, so what he ended up doing a was a mix of the duties of a regular police officer and a forensic scientist. In a funny way, he ended up being like the fake CSI guys on TV.

"But, isn't that a cool thing?" Pete asked.

"You would think so," McMasters answered. "But because of that damned TV show, the other police officers thought either I was putting on airs when I tried to help with investigations, or felt I was holding back when I didn't. A lot of them watch CSI, apparently." He sighed.

"That's too bad," Myka said sincerely.

"And I couldn't really go back to my old job. My colleagues at the lab? They think I think I'm too good for them." He sighed again. "Plus everyone resented my promotions, and my passing over so many senior officers."

Being a driven agent herself, and being promoted so quickly, Myka empathized and nodded in understanding. "Is it really that bad at work?" Myka asked.

"No, it's not that bad... but it's not good either. Anyway. Here I am."

"I'm curious," Pete said. "How did you hear about us? What do you know about us?"

"Well, I know next to nothing, really. A few months ago, a strange black woman from the government, with glasses and her hair in a bun, came and 'visited' me in my apartment." He made the quotations gesture with his fingers when he said "visited."

Pete and Myka looked at each other in recognition. It was Mrs. Frederic that McMasters was talking about. There must be something to this guy if Mrs. Frederic took a personal interest in him, enough to actually make the effort to recruit him herself, Myka and Pete thought.

"She talked about an important assignment," McMasters continued, "that would undoubtedly help save thousands of lives, but she wouldn't give any details. I was intrigued, but I said that I couldn't commit to anything without more information. She said she understood, but that I should give it some more thought. And that was that. And then a few days ago, I got a call from a Dr. Arthur Nielsen, about that visit of Mrs. Frederic, and he said he was scheduling me for an interview. I said to myself, no harm done if I go. And who knows, I might be able to get more details."

"What intrigued you about it?" Myka asked.

"That lady - Mrs. Frederic - she was pretty impressive on her own. And scary, too." The three of them laughed at that. "But I was pretty intrigued by that phrase she used - 'a world of endless wonder'..."

Pete and Myka nodded at that.

"Can you tell me something about the job?" he asked.

"Top secret for now," Pete said. "But it IS very important. Save thousands of people, like she said. When we're done with the interviews, and if you pass, we'll tell you then, and then you can decide."

McMasters nodded at that. It was what he expected. The interview seemed to be over so he stood, and Pete and Myka stood with him. He shook both their hands in turn.

"Thanks for the opportunity, anyway," he joked. They all laughed.

"Thank you for coming in, Lieutenant McMasters," Myka said.

"Devon," he corrected pleasantly.

"Okay - Devon... We'll keep in touch." And with a final nod, McMasters left.

Pete turned to Myka, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Pete said. "Jackpot at last! I think we found him!"

"I think so, too. But we still have one more to go."

"Ahh, nuts..." Pete grumped, and went to change the camera's chip.

Myka pressed the buzzer, and the last interviewee came in. This one was a beautiful, tall blonde, maybe six-foot-eight and covered in muscle, and she looked like she could break Pete in two without even half trying. Her bicep was easily as big around as both of Pete's arms combined. Pete looked at her goggle-eyed, and the girl laughed at Pete's reaction.

The girl giggled again as she shook Pete's hand. "Simmer down, darlin'," the girl said in an enchanting Georgia accent.

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"I'm in love," Pete mumbled.

The girl giggled again and turned to shake Myka's hand. "Hi," said. "Ah'm Randy."

Myka forced a smile. "Hi. I'm Agent Myka Bering and this is my partner, Agent Pete Lattimer."

If Pete could have bobbled his lips, like in a cartoon, he would have. But he settled for an expression of dumbfounded admiration.

The girl was Randy Simpson, one of the best US Marshals in New Orleans, with commendations up the kazoo. Besides which, she was a medal-winning athlete with several Ironman titles to her name, a long-distance marathon winner and an Olympic-level target-shooter. Through all of that, all Pete said was, "wow..."

Myka asked about her job, and how she felt about it. The girl was very enthusiastic. Myka felt a little uneasy when the big, muscly girl talked about taking down escaped convicts and hardened criminals, or protecting federal judges from gangland-style executions like a teenage girl talking about a fun excursion to the mall. And she talked about her extensive gun collection like Carrie Bradshaw would about shoes.

Despite this, Myka persevered with the interview. Pete was totally useless.

Initially, Myka felt an intense dislike for the girl, but it was hard to hate her when she was so open, friendly and enthusiastic. Eventually, Myka's feelings about the girl made an about face, and she found the girl to be totally hetero (thank god - she was worried that this would be another Agent Francis) and feminine, and totally likable. Myka finally noted the girl's outfit. Far from making her outsize muscles look bad, her outfit actually enhanced her look. Myka also noticed her makeup: it was expertly done and achieved the all-natural no-makeup look that all girls knew was hard to achieve.

"I like your top," Myka said, and it was like a light switch - Randy was just like before, but this time she talked about clothes and shoes. Myka finally concluded that Randy was all girl, except for the fact that she had several deadly hobbies.

As expected, Randy had the same questions as the others about the assignment, and Myka deflected them in the same way she did with the others.

There was only one remaining thing left that worried Myka - Randy's overly-peppiness, and her well turned-out physique. She couldn't help but think that she was on some kind of drug. But Randy had an answer to that as well.

"Listen," Randy said in her captivating drawl, "Ah know y'all probably think ah'm sorta cracked or somethin'. Or Ah'm on some kind of mood enhancer, and maybe steroids as well... So as soon as Ah got that call from yore Dr. Nielsen, Ah got these here papers from mah medical file." She handed a small sheaf of papers over. "Y'all notice it's less than a month ago so it's current, but ah'm willin' to take any test you want."

Myka and Pete looked over what she gave, and it turned out to be a complete physical, as well as a complete battery of chemical and drug tests. Myka noted the Federal seals on the papers, and then looked for the drug test results. They were all negative. She felt guilty for doing that, for being suspicious. But it was part of her job to do a thorough interview, after all.

"Ah know what you'd be thinkin'... She shrugged apologetically. "Ah know what kind of impression ah make on people. But this is just the way ah am. I like mah job, ah like workin' out, an' all that. So sue me."

Myka reached out. "No need to be sorry," she said. "You're fine."

Randy smiled a small, grateful smile. And suddenly, it became her big, sunny smile again. "Ah am?" she grinned. "Have ah got the job, then?"

Myka giggled with her. "No... but we'll let you know ASAP."

"Ah shore do appreciate that. Thank you." Myka and Randy both stood up, and Pete followed suit. She and Myka shook hands warmly, and then the girl turned to Pete.

"As for you, cutie," Randy said to Pete, giggled and then shook his hand. "You can give me a call any ole time." She took out a business card, scribbled her home number on the back, and handed it to him. Pete continued his imitation of a fish out of water.

With a cheery wave, she stepped out of the room.

Pete turned to Myka. "Myka, we gotta have her!" he said.

Myka nodded. "I think she'd make a great warehouse agent," she said. "But that doesn't make Devon any less great."

"But, come on, Mikes! How can that guy even compare!"

"Check your hormones at the door first, Pete, and think this through. Let's do a pros-and-cons."

"Okay," Pete said, and sighed exasperatedly. He held up both his hands. "One, they're both qualified." He held up one finger in both hands, counting out the pros. "Two, they come well recommended and they got what it takes." He held up another finger in both hands. "But, Myka, she's an incredible hottie!" He counted out with all the other fingers in his right hand and flashed the fingers over and over.

"Pete..."

Pete sighed. "Dammit..."

"What would the regents say? What would your mom say?"

"So, you're saying we should get McMasters?"

"No, I'm not," she said.

"Huh?" he said, puzzled. "So, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that both of them are equally good. But we're only allowed to pick just one."

Artie took that moment to pop in, big, battered doctor's bag in-hand as usual.

"So," he said, "I'm back. All done?"

"Artie!" Pete exclaimed. "How was Germany?"

"Usual. Lots of signs, lots of beer, lots of Germans."

"Dug up anything?" Myka said.

"A dead end." He laid his bag on the interview table and sat down. "As you know, the scalpel was not actually owned by Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld but by an assistant, Dr. Walter Neumann. It was just attributed to Hirschfeld because he was better known. The knife remained with Neumann's family, but any family member or family friend that knew anything about the scalpel, or the doctor, are all dead. About its reputation for being surrounded by death - no one knows how it got that reputation - the older people that are now conveniently dead were the only ones who knew. In any case, no one in the family wanted to have anything to do with it, and they eventually donated it to the institute. As for the foundation, aside from its lineage, no one knew anything of its history, and that includes the people in the hospital. And that's about it."

"Artie," Myka said, "Pete and I have been trading some ideas, and we're thinking that it might not actually be an artifact."

"We'll get to that later," Artie said. "So. Are you done with your interviews?"

"Well, yes..." Myka said.

"What do you mean, 'well, yes?' Are you done or aren't you?"

"We're stuck, Artie," Pete said.

"Stuck? Stuck? How can you be stuck?"

"We've done all of the interviews. And we got two candidates selected..."

"Out of more than fifty, you got two?"

Pete shrugged. "Sorry, Artie."

"Lemme see the videos of these two."

Myka looked through the pile of memory chips, fished out the one with McMasters' interview. She plugged it into her laptop and Artie sat through it, fast-forwarding it in certain spots.

After he saw the video clip, he turned to Myka. "Okay. So let's see the other one."

Beating Myka to the punch, Pete ran to the camera - the chip with the girl's video was still in it. Pete popped it out and handed it to Myka. "Ummm, I just thought you might... ummm, need some help gettin' the chip."

Myka didn't comment but couldn't stop her eyebrow from rising in amusement. She replaced the chip in the computer and started up the girl's video.

Artie watched the video through this time, without fast-forwarding any part of it. Pete watched the video with him. Myka giggled but didn't comment. She just turned on the other computer and randomly surfed the net to pass the time.

When the video was done, Artie shut the computer and turned to Myka.

"So," he said, "you guys can't decide between these two?"

"No, Artie, we can't. They're equally qualified and equally capable, and they both have the right kind of attitude."

Artie nodded and reclined in silence.

After a minute of quiet contemplation, and with a rising sense of tension from Pete and Myka, Artie sat up.

"I am going to pick McMasters."

Pete reacted. "But Artie!"

"Let me explain," Artie said, waving Pete down.

"You say both are equally acceptable," Artie said. "I agree. I am therefore picking the one who would be less controversial, all right?" Seeing Myka about to protest, he raised his hand again. "I know that sounds unfair, but given everything is equal, there are no other characteristics that would tip the scales for one of them, either positive or negative." He looked at Myka. "The girl's looks would raise comments with the regents and the public at the very least. So I am picking the guy. But how about we hold the girl's name in reserve, when we have another opening?" He looked at the both of them. "Is that good enough for the both of you?"

They nodded, if a little half-heartedly. "I guess," Pete said.