The blond woman raises her hand. “How do you think he wanted the illusion to play out?”

Illusion. I guess that’s the right word for this. Usually an illusion is much more benign. It only looks deadly . . .

I think for a moment. “If it was me and I wanted to convince you I was some kind of necromancer, I mean a real magician, I’d try to destroy the evidence that could contradict that, just like he did. Maybe I’d rig the body to combust when it was pulled out of the ground. Or perhaps I’d plant some kind of pressure sensor so it would burst into flames once it was in a confined space like a morgue truck. Maybe I’d try to make the combustion even more significant by having it burst into flames when the sun came up.”

The last observation gets several raised eyebrows. I realize I’m overstepping. “I’m just speculating. He’s obviously obsessed with the occult. It’s a theme for him.”

Knoll interrupts me with a question. “Do you think this person is a trained magician?”

I’ve been thinking about that a lot since last night. I don’t have a specific answer. “I don’t know. I’d say not. Magic techniques are available to just about anyone who wants to find them. Most magicians aren’t creators. And to be honest, magical thinkers, I mean people who invent tricks, are extremely rare. They usually find work elsewhere, in Hollywood, designing games and other stuff.” I leave out joining the FBI. “His method here is nothing like what would be used for a traditional buried-alive illusion. Superficially similar, but it ends there. He’s just very, very clever.”

I pause for any further questions. None. I breathe a sigh of relief. Everyone turns their attention back to Knoll.

The long burn is in the back of my mind. “There’s one other thing.”

Knoll sits back down and raises his eyebrows. I’m afraid I’m pushing, but it has to be said.

“If he’s thought this through, he doesn’t want us to solve it. That means he’ll do things to lead us down blind alleys. He’ll distract us. He’ll make us reach for the wrong conclusion.”

“How do you mean?” asks Knoll.

I remember an illusion I used to do for reporters and reach out to the conference table to pick up a set of keys from Knoll. I pass them from one hand to the other with my fists closed. “Which hand are they in?”

Knoll points to my right. I open the hand and show that it’s empty.

“I think this is more than sleight of hand tricks, Agent,” sneers the blonde.

“You’re right,” I reply. I open my left hand. I’m holding Knoll’s BlackBerry. There’s silence followed by a few stifled laughs.

“Well shit,” shrieks Danielle. “That girl just burned a room full of us FBI folks.” She gives me an approving look.

“My point is that smart people are smart because we are generally very good at knowing where to focus. Which means we’re sometimes the easiest ones to fool.” I look around the room. “Me too.”