"Look, I'd love to help you guys out, but I honestly have no idea where the thing is."
Myka sighs, and tries not to look like she's avoiding making eye contact with the guy they've been sent to Los Angeles to talk to. It's not very professional of her, she knows, but... she can't help it. She also can't imagine what a disaster all that sweating must be for the poor guy's personal life. The restaurant, at least, seems to be used to it enough that the staff isn't saying anything about it, though she thinks she caught sight of someone standing by with a mop.
"Our paper trail has you as one of the last people in contact with it," Pete says. "With... good reason, I'm guessing."
The guy (who gave his name as Moist, which had prompted Pete to ask, "Really?") shrugs. "After Dad... tried it out, he moved it to the basement, and I haven't seen it since. For all I know, it's still in New Jersey. You'd probably have better luck asking the FBI."
"The FBI?" Myka asks, despite herself.
"You think someone bringing dubious Soviet technology into the US was a popular move in 1987? Granted, I was twelve before they caught on to everything he was smuggling in - and out, I'm sure, but I never asked - anyway, they had enough to bust him four or five times over, at that point. They might've had the chance to confiscate the thing, if Dad actually brought it out here."
Pete sighs, and starts digging in his pants pocket. "Great. So I guess we'd better call Artie and tell him we're on the wrong--"
"Wait!" Myka puts out a hand to stop Pete before he's got the Farnsworth out. "Not until we're outside, Pete. We've only got two of those, and we don't know what'll happen if you get that out with..." She trails off and glances at Moist, realising she wasn't very subtle in her actions. "Sorry."
Moist waves her off, with a wry smile. "Don't worry about it. I get stuff like that at work all the time. By all means, take care of your equipment."
"Thanks." Pete pulls his hand out of his pocket, and adds, "I didn't ask earlier, what is it that you do?"
"You probably don't want me to answer that question. Unorthodox government is still government."
"And what makes you say it's unorthodox government?"
Myka shakes her head. "Really, Pete, he's got a point. What normal government agency would be looking for a radioactive humidifier?"