Red Cross

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, and I don't want to make money with this story. This is just an idea I had. I enjoyed writing and hope that the readers like it. I am not a native English speaker/writer, but I tried my best – if something is clearly wrong or could be misunderstood please tell me in reviews.

I´m not good in writing summaries – and maybe I would tell too much, when I try to do it. But the rating might be T later on, for language and content.

Chapter 1: ICU

It was an ordinary early-summer-day in Sacramento, not too hot, but sunny without any sign of clouds or rain. There was no wind and the temperature was moderate. It was nine a.m., and the most of the agents had arrived at the CBI-Headquarter. Usually there was a longer line in front of the security check at the entrance, but now almost everyone had passed and was at his working place or desk, right as it should be at this time of the day.

The more embarrassing it was for Agent Wayne Rigsby, to arrive now, a few minutes past nine, at the parking lot. He got up late, and it seemed to him that everything was going wrong this day. Maybe this was the fate of someone who overslept, but there were really a lot of small incidents that slowed him down. He nearly burnt his tongue with his coffee, the toast was much to black, when he finally was able to get back the bread slices from his toaster. The toaster caused short-circuit, because of the harsh treatment, and Wayne recognized that fact when he wanted to use the electric shaver. So he lost more time - he had to restore the electricity in his home.

At last he left, and found his usual route blocked by an accident. The detour was longer, and only one lane wide, so he again had to be very patient. And now, finally, all the good parking-positions were gone, and he had to search for another one, far away from the entrance to the CBI-building. Much more time would pass by, what a shame!

»Ha!« he smiled, and turned the wheel. »There he goes…« he muttered with himself.

The parking space, that Lisbon usually used, was still empty. So his boss was not here either, or she had been here so early that she got an even better place. Wayne parked his car in that space, grabbed his things and started to go to the entrance at a very fast pace, almost running.

The security guys at the entrance check smiled at him widely, since the last minutes they had not seen an agent coming to work, only visitors or cleaning personnel. »Late, eh, Rigsby?« one of the men joked. »At least, you are the first in line now.«

Wayne frowned and started to place all his belongings into the tray for the x-ray, then he stepped through the metal detecting archway. He was clear, so he took his bag and things and wanted to start upwards.

That moment the postman entered the building and smiled at him. Of course they knew each other, for the postman had been working in this block for a long time. »Agent Rigsby.« he said. »May I ask you a favor, would you please be so kind to take the today´s letters to the internal distribution unit? Usually I do this myself, you know, but…«

»It´s ok, man, don't worry. I´ll do it, of course. Send it through, please, and I will bring them to the secretary's office.« Rigsby smiled, and turned round to get the letters and small packages from the other end of the x-ray. Nothing was allowed to be brought into the CBI-Building unchecked, therefore Wayne waited patiently until the last of the letters was through the x-ray security control. So at least he had an excuse for his delay.

»Do I have to sign something?« Rigsby asked the postman.

The older man shook his head: »No, there is no registered letter today. Ah, but… I remember, one of these letters… yeah, the big brown envelope, carries a wrong, too cheap stamp on it, so the rules say that the full postal charge has to be paid by the receiver. But forget it, that's peanuts. I am so happy that I didn't have to undress and dress again to pass that security control… eh, see ya.« He waved and turned round.

»Thank you, Ronny, bye.« Rigsby replied and went on. He was really interested in that letter, so he looked at the brown envelope. It was a bigger format than usual and a special kind of envelope, made for breakable contents, isolated with aircushion. He looked at the address, and then he put it back between the others. This letter was meant for his boss, Special Agent Teresa Lisbon, and he wasn't curious enough to break the secrecy of the post.

A few minutes later he placed the all the letters and parcels at the front desk of the internal post distribution and collecting service, and explained shortly why he was the postman today, and not Ronny.

Then finally he went upstairs to the bureau. Sighing, he opened the door and tried to sit down at his desk unnoticed, but there was no chance. Everyone in the room was busy although there was no new case – but whatever everyone was doing, he or she looked at him for a few seconds, ere they carried on with their business.

His teammates, Kimball Cho and Grace Van Pelt still looked at him, both smiling a little bit. They said nothing, but Rigsby knew. »Yah, I got up late, ok?« he said harsh.

Then another voice said: »Well, at least you are here earlier than mommy, aren't you? She´ll never knew.« anyone could hear the gloating, but still friendly smile between that words. Patrick Jane, the CBI Advisor, sat up on his couch and grinned. »Never seen you so late, Rigsby, something wrong? Tell me. I´m bored.«

Van Pelt said: »Jane, it is good when major case teams are bored. That means, no one has been killed. And it is not even half past nine a.m.; it will be a long day. We´ll get plenty of work once the boss is here. She´ll find something for us.«

»Yeah, but you yourself said a few minutes ago, that today will be like yesterday and the day before. You´ll have to recheck old cases for the internal revision, clean up your desk, and so on. That's boring.« Jane leaned back.

Cho replied: »That's work, Jane. We have to do it, so we´ll do it.«

»Nah.« Patrick responded and decided to get up. »I´ll go somewhere else.«

Van Pelt tried to hold him back: »But Lisbon won´t be happy to find you gone… um... You know that she gets nervous, when she doesn't know where you are. And especially… what you are doing there, wherever you might be.«

»Try to hold me back, then.« Jane answered, and went to the office exit at a fast pace. He was half through the door, when he turned and smiled: »Anyone wants to come with me? It´s gonna be fun. Promise.«

»No, thank you.« the three others replied in unison. No one looked up from his work, everyone was pretending to be very busy.

Patrick Jane wrinkled his brow and stepped back in: »So really no one…« he never finished his words, because of another distraction. At least something happened, no matter that it would not distract him for long.

Brittany, an older woman with brown hair, stepped out of the elevator, carrying the post for this floor, in addition to that, three packs of new paper-sheets for the printers, and some internal files that were sent from one department to the other.

»May I offer my help?« Patrick asked her.

Brittany nodded: »Yes, thank you, Jane.« but then she got aware, that he was looking very eagerly at the few files she was carrying: »No, not them, they are meant for private eyes only. I think I can get along alone…« That moment she stumbled slightly and the letters and parcels on top of it all began to slide. Patrick immediately stepped forward and prevented them from falling.

»I really want to help. Just give me whatever you want, Brittany.« he said.

She sighed: »Well, ok. Take the last new office-paper-package from my hands and the three letters with the yellow tags. This would be for Agent Lisbon's bureau. So it will be easier for me. Thank you.«

Jane took the few things, and Brittany went on, but the door to Lisbon's room was still locked, because she was not there. So he decided to go back to his couch, leaving the office-paper at Van Pelts desk, but he snatched the letters and sat down on his couch.

A few seconds later he said: »Ah, Rigsby, this one is for you. Since when do you know a woman called Mindy Parson? And why is she sending you a perfumed letter into the office? Shouldn't that be a private thing?« he waved the letter in the air.

Rigsby, who had had enough embarrassments for that day, rose and took it from him with a fast snatch: »She is the woman of an old client, ok, maybe she liked me a little bit. I don't want her to be sad so I accepted a few letters during the last months, and I answered her. But I don't like her so much that I would give her my home address. That's it.« he explained, but Jane wasn't even listening to him. Or maybe he was, because he claimed to be al multi-tasking person.

Patrick Jane was looking closely at the brown, thick, air-cushioned envelope. Something in his gaze was so interesting, that Cho and Van Pelt stopped their work. Several minutes passed, and Jane did nothing - except looking at the letter, turning it round, upside down, then he shook it a little bit. Maybe, that there was a very small sound from the insides, but respecting the noise level in the office, no one of the others heard anything.

»I have to check something with that thing here.« Jane finally said. »Does anyone want to come with me now?«

Rigsby advised: »But this letter is for the boss. She will freak out if you do some mischief with it.«

Patrick rose and said: »I'm not up to some mischief – why does everybody think that? – no, I just do not like this letter. Has it been checked at the entrance security?«

Rigsby nodded: »Yes it has, I´ve been there myself. Why are you aware? It´s only a big letter, what else? The postman brought it with his daily delivery. And he also said, that he knows that there is a wrong stamp on it, if you criticize that.«

Jane replied: »Yeah, I really was aware of that; it's one forty-four cent stamp, and should be two of them, respecting the oversize; but also of a few other details. First, the envelope is very clean, as if it never was in a mailbox. It also seems as if it was not carried all too long in the postman´s bag, you can still smell the original fresh-paper-scent and not the worn out leather-and-fabric scent of a bag, nor the slightly gasoline and car-perfume smell that parcels get when they travel in the mail-delivery-car. Second, the postmarks date and location sign is some kind of strange, it is shabby and you can hardly read it. But I think it is a postmark from Los Angeles, four days ago. That would mean a longer way by mail service, wouldn't it? And that does not fit the facts I explained before. Last but not least, there is no sender´s address. I do not like big brown letters without a sender´s address.«

Van Pelt nodded: »Ok, that's an argument. Let´s go to the laboratory and check it. Maybe this is a trap, or something more dangerous.«

All together they stepped into the elevator. No one was talking, and no one was too nervous, but they knew: Whenever Jane was on something, it could be serious.

A few minutes later they reached the laboratory and Cho informed the two scientists, who had the morning shift. The two men prepared all standard checking methods. They dressed on in protective clothes, gloves and clean shoes and stepped into the special "clean room", a part of the laboratory that looked like a big glass box and could be closed entirely. If something really dangerous was in this letter, it could not get out of this chamber. At first they sent the letter through the anthrax-test. They all were sure that it was definitely not a bomb attack – the security agents at the gate check would have noticed that for certain.

Jane said: »As long as they test here for anthrax, other diseases or some poison, I´ll go down to the entrance check and take a look at the x-ray of that letter.«

Rigsby said: »I´ll come with you, I think I remember when it passed through the x-ray. So we can find it faster.«

Not much later they were at the security control station. Only one of the officers was there, but he offered his help immediately. »I hope that we´ll find it. The system only keeps a certain amount of pictures in the reverse line, the others are continuously deleted. See… if one new picture is made, the oldest one in the reverse line is gone forever. The only exception would be if you safe one picture. But… sorry, we never knew that we should safe the pictures of the mail. They all looked usual, nothing was suspicious.«

Sighing, he pressed the reverse-button and lots of images ran by. After twenty scanned items the reverse line ended. »I go forward now, from the oldest picture to the newest one. Here, the date. That's today, one of the letters.«

It was somewhat of a bad feeling, not to know if they would find it, but then Rigsby said: »Slow down now. That was the big printer cartouche, after that will be the brown envelope. It was one of the last, I remember, immediately after the biggest parcel.« He sighed relieved. »Yes, there it is.«

The three men looked closely at the picture. It was strangely plain, showing, that only one item seemed to be the content of the envelope. It was a very thin, black chain, bearing a black cross on it, nothing else. Suddenly Patrick Jane turned on his heel and darted away in a fast run, without saying a word, but leaving a very, very uncertain atmosphere behind.

Rigsby, who knew him well, took a second look at the x-ray-picture. »It seems to be a golden chain and cross, no?« he asked.

The security officer said: »Yes, correct. Gold appears blackish on this unit, paper and other things orange. There might be a one- or two-sheet letter with that chain, but definitely not more. No further packages, and nothing that gives a hint, that there is a dangerous content. What shall I do now?«

Rigsby ordered: »Try somehow to get a safe copy of that picture; we might need it in a short time. Do not risk, that this is deleted. Ask someone from the technical unit, if you need help. But don't lose that picture. I have to go.«

Patrick never waited for the elevator to come back to the ground floor; he used the stairs and rushed into the laboratory. »Where is the envelope now?« he asked Van Pelt.

She answered: »They haven't found anything at the quick test, no poison, no anthrax, no radiation, and no other contamination, It seems to be ok, but you look like as if you have another clue. What is it?«

Jane hesitated, then he said: »I hope that I am wrong.« he rushed forward, opened the glass door and paid no attention to the furious scientists, who tried to hold him back from stepping into that clean room with his street clothes. »I´ll be gone soon.« he replied, while he put one rubber glove on his right hand. Then he took the envelope. Without waiting he opened it. The scientists in the closed laboratory panicked, and hurried to put on their mouth-and-nose protection, but Jane still carried on, and the content of the envelope fell in his right hand. Cho and Van Pelt watched him through the glass front of the laboratory; Rigsby arrived that second and stopped dead. No one said a word.

For one moment Jane looked at the small thing in his hand in a very distraught way.

Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt had seldom seen him being so disturbed, and they all did not like it. To be honest, they hated it, to see him like this. The few seconds seemed to enlarge up to hours. Then Jane made a sudden, fast movement; he took a piece of paper out of the envelope, and showed the few letters to his colleagues, right through the glass front.

»ICU.« there was nothing more: »I´ll see you.«

Then they looked at the other thing he was showing them; a thin golden chain, bearing a small, golden cross. It was clearly visible, that there were traces of blood on the shimmering gold.

»It´s Lisbon's.« Jane said with a blank voice.