“…Get Bob Long over here!”
Fred keys in the number of Sergeant Long’s own cell phone. When Bob comes in the line Fred hurriedly tells him the situation.
“Leo, slip outside and give us a reading! Joe, Jane, look around!”
Leo slips through the ceiling, apparently to look around above the house. Then Joe and Jane Bradley, the husky man and tall buxom woman, stand up, squint slightly, and look around as if they are scanning the skies with powerful radar.
Bob Long calls back. He’s a few miles away. Fred tells us, “He got a location!” Then Joe and Jane suddenly turn and face towards the south-southeast. Professor Fields goes to the screen door in that direction, and looks out past Loochy, who is cowering outside. Fred tells Fields, “Bob is zeroing in…3…2…1…NOW!!”
We hear a distant squishing sound and the bombardment of casaba melons stops. Jane Bradley writes down a location, latitude and longitude, and hands it to Fred.
In a few minutes we hear a siren. Bob Long has arrived and he comes directly around to the outside door to the Purple Room. He gets the information from Fred and Jane, and goes back to his car and speeds off.
A few minutes later he calls back. He’ll be back with us directly. It seems Kurt Todd escaped, and got back to a plane, and flew towards the Sharps’ mansion with a load of outsize casabas. Sergeant Long arrives and tells us my errant cousin has been arrested again, and will be taken to a state detention facility on Terminal Island in Los Angeles County. The FAA has also been notified.
We are all somewhat shaken, even George Galloway. Jack pulls a cord near the wall, sounding a bell to summon the other servants. They, and we, catch our breath and straighten things out as much as we can. Interestingly, no serious damage has occurred, though Jack tells us he’ll have a structural engineer come out and make a survey, just to play it safe.
When things return to normal and we get back to the meeting table, Bob Long introduces himself to the others.
Then Jane speaks up. “Well, _______, Alice, you didn’t know Joe and I were with the DXM League ourselves. Joe and I have radar-like eyesight and we could detect aircraft clear to the horizon.”
This impresses me, although I’ve known both of them for a while; it’s an impressive power for Joe’s steel-gray eyes, but also for Jane’s big blue eyes. Her eyes are much the size of Alice’s brown ones or Gwen’s green ones. And being 5’10” and having a 48-27-48 figure doesn’t hurt either. 
“So the Bradleys have radar eyes,” I comment. “Yet more DXM people! Next thing I know Lena Martínez will turn out to be—”
“Yes, I am a DXM person too,” Lena says.
“What is your special ability?” I ask.
“I have a strong psychic sense. It’s not foreknowledge but a clairvoyance—in this case, knowing whether someone is still on the loose and able to oppose you. I was able to see the cops as they approached your cousin’s plane, which had just touched down in an open field—”
“Why would the plane do that?” asks Alice, who has clung very close to me since the melon bombardment.
“Psychokinesis,” say Professor Fields and Sergeant Long in unison. “Remember the cantaloupe and the red onion?” continues the professor. “We were able to follow the trajectory Leo and the Bradleys gave us, and pinpoint the location of Todd’s plane, and together we caused the angle of attack on the plane’s wings to fail, gradually, causing the plane to descend."
“Do you know of anyone else involved in this?” I ask Lena.
“Only that little bearded man—Clell O’Houlihan.”
Alice and I react. “It looks like he has reneged on his promise to name names,” Alice comments.
“Well, it won’t matter,” says Fred. Unless I’m mistaken, only yesterday did he make a statement about what—and whom—he knows. He may have decided to get in one last stab at you before he winds up in the slammer.”
“He may have other problems, too,” says Lena, now seated and in a posture suggesting she is “channeling.” “O’Houlihan has suddenly begun suffering from some serious health problem—I don’t know what yet—and he is being whisked to a hospital by paramedics. I’d say whoever is after you two, well, their star is flickering.”
By now we’ve pretty much straightened things out in the Purple Room. Jack Sharp’s structural engineer has arrived and has begun a thorough inspection of the mansion’s structure, finding nothing but several dents in the exterior wall. “It looks as if ‘giant fruit’ has been bombarding the place,” he tells Jack and Eloise with a slight chuckle. “I don’t see any structural damage.” No injuries to any people, or Buster, or Loochy, or Duke, the Sharps’ Great Dane; the only casualties inside the house were in the Purple Room—a tall mirror, an exterior windowpane, two green vases, and a glass picture frame that fell off the top of an armoire.
We return to our business. Jack has also summoned the same insurance adjuster Paul Terwilliger called—Harriet McKenna—and she comes out. She wears a vertically-striped brown-black-and-purple dress, black pumps, and a gamin haircut. She is all business as she does insurance adjuster stuff, writing things down on a clipboard and snapping pictures of damage with a Minolta much like Alice’s. When she is satisfied, she returns to the Purple Room to discuss the matter with Jack and Eloise. I notice Lena is again attracted to Ms. McKenna; but then so am I. The prim businesswoman has quite an immodestly shapely figure, and I happen to note that her dress buttons down the front, and a red brassiere and red panties are visible beneath. I only glance at this furtively; I know staring would be improper and certainly unfair to Alice. And I notice that Ms. McKenna, even as she deals seriously with the Sharps, seems to be trying to get my attention, in really subtle ways. I just smile politely, not wanting to distract her from her work.
After Ms. McKenna leaves, the meeting continues, though of course the bombardment of melons and our reaction, and now our comments prolong it.
I am particularly shocked. It’s my own cousin who did this. Alice senses my sadness and snuggles close, a look of assurance in those big brown eyes. “Don’t blame yourself for what Kurt Todd did,” she says. “You are not responsible for him.” I clasp her hand; I can tell she understands my grief at knowing that a relative did this.
“The FAA said they have a flight record on Todd’s plane,” says Sergeant Long. “And there were still some melons in the plane—it’s been photographed.”
Mentally weary, I turn to Lena and ask, “I hope there aren’t any more of Sikes-Potter’s minions on the loose.”
“Not a one,” she answers. “In fact I’m a little upset with myself for not realizing he had gotten loose. But all the others are still under lock and key.”
Jane approaches. “Lena, I have an idea what we might do about them, to keep them that way. She sits down and looks around with the radar-eye posture. Those big blue eyes…
And she clasps Lena’s hand as if at a séance. Then she says in her contralto voice: “All those entrusted with the confinement of the minions of Henry Sikes-Potter and Victor Lemoyne. Be observant in your duty to keep these persons confined…”
Then Jane and Lena let go and Jane says to us, “It sounds stereotypical but it works just fine. All of those people—Sparr, Beach, Cott, Yates, and so on, are in custody and have no hope of coming after you.”
George Galloway says, however, “As always, we should play it safe.” Leo, Lena, and Buster seem to concur.
We now resume the business we had called the meeting for, in the first place. Leo stands, or rather hovers, before the group, which has recovered from the melon episode—and I now glance outside and see the melons, now normal size and color, and quite squashed.
Now George Galloway, Professor Fields, and Fred Moreland begin a routine, and quite cordial, questioning of Leo about the situation with the Morpheus and the silver cache.
Alice and I know, of course, within a day or so we have to journey to Stockton to give depositions in the state appellate court.
George begins the discussion with Leo:
And George Galloway is there.