Chapter 1: First impressions
Of course she'd read the files and seen the photographs of him in his heyday, but nevertheless Agent Lisbon entered the room with a degree of trepidation, not knowing quite what to expect. The untamed hair was longer than the slicked back style of the images she'd previously seen, but far from diminishing from his appearance, it afforded a boyish air to him. Unexpectedly playful blue green eyes danced with excitement as Lisbon took the seat on the other side of the table. Jane leant forward in his chair with an air of expectation, relishing the prospect of a new challenge.
Having been reduced to alternately terrorising and charming the limited pool of people who'd been looking after him, he was looking forward to some mental stimulation. Tired of the institutional garb, Jane had insisted on dressing for the occasion. Rather than making an issue out of the matter and risking a dangerous mood change, his whims had been catered for. Naturally he hadn't missed Lisbon's double check, when she first opened the door and was greeted by a dazzling smile. He could still turn the charm on when it suited him.
Lisbon was uncharacteristically nervous, although she'd been warned what to expect, she was still surprised when Jane assumed a casual familiarity and started calling her by her first name. Jane sniffed the air appreciatively "Umm subtle but spicy, a modern woman's fragrance that transcends the obvious overtones of sentimentality in favour of a chronicle of flux and discovery. A present no doubt. A practical woman like you would never spend that much money on a luxury item. A niche or custom fragrance n'est-ce pas?"
Lisbon knew all about his party trick, but was impressed nevertheless. "Perfume workshop, it was blended especially for me."
Jane leant back in his chair, content that he had set the right tone for the session with a demonstration of his prowess. Of course it wasn't all he'd noticed, his eyes had raked appreciatively over her form when she came in. Her slight but perfectly proportioned frame was by no means stripped of its femininity by the utilitarian pantsuit and scoop necked top. The habit of playing with the cross round her neck immediately conveyed that this was something of meaning to her, and that was consigned to the memory palace for future reference. With her hair pulled back into a small bun at the nape of her neck, and minimal makeup, she was unfussy but approachable.
His eyes crinkled in amusement, as she psyched herself up by shuffling her papers for the umpteenth time, readying herself to make the first move. Lisbon inhaled deeply, pulling herself up straight. "I believe you know why I'm here Mr Jane, shall we get started?" She glanced down at the grisly dossier containing the redacted case notes of the ten known murders, largely women, all characterised by the killer's distinctive calling card.
"What's the rush Teresa, we've barely exchanged pleasantries?" Jane's voice said persuasively.
Knocked off her stride, a little furrow appeared between Lisbon's brows, not entirely sure how to cope with the situation. Lisbon had been forewarned about this, and had been told not to be drawn into to his mind games, but it was easier said than done.
It was instinctive on her part to jump when he reached out and took her wrist; she tried in vain to disguise it. Not being overly tactile at the best of times, her first reaction was to draw back, but she guessed it was one of his tricks and it was better to affect disinterest. She knew all too well the purpose of his rough thumb pad slowly rubbing her pulse point, and she summoned all her will to bring her heart rate back under control.
Of course he'd seen her reaction and a self satisfied smile crossed his face. "So the perfume workshop, it must have been a very good friend?"
"I really think we need to concentrate on matters in hand."Lisbon's attempts at deflection made no difference. A chink in her armour had been exposed and would be ruthlessly exploited.
"Ah, I see you're no longer together. The possessive type I would guess, tried to take control of your life... No, you wouldn't like that." No words were spoken for what felt like an eternity, but were in fact just seconds, while his eyes seem to delve into the deepest recesses of her psyche, teasing out involuntary responses, scything through her defences at will. "Ooh that serious" He quirked his lips speculatively. "Even introduced you to Mother to see if you were bride material."
A flash of fire behind Lisbon's eyes told Jane everything he needed to know. The memory of that particular episode was still an open wound; she'd been made to feel like a piece of white trash having her past and connections raked over. Lisbon prided herself on making her own way in the world and wasn't going to be looked down on by anyone.
Sheepdip! This was just what she had been warned about, letting him get inside her head.
Jane relinquished hold of her hand and sat back comfortably in his chair. The soft lighting and comfortable chairs had been carefully chosen to create a benign ambience conducive to conversation, quite the opposite of the CBI where suspects were deliberately made to feel off kilter. There was no doubt that Jane was savouring her obvious discomfiture. Her opening gambit had been met by a solid defence, and like a chess master Jane was slowly sweeping up her attacking pieces. With his elbow resting on the table, his fore finger lightly tapped on his closed lips as he contemplated his next move.
Mustering all her determination, Lisbon attempted to bring attention back to the case files. The parameters she was working within had been strictly defined; she was not to directly challenge him, or spell things out to him. Although Lisbon could act upon any knowledge gained, any statements could not be used as evidence, as the courts would almost certainly rule that any waiver of his Miranda rights was neither knowing nor intelligent.
The first case file was discussed in a purely abstract way, like an academic would consider a case from all perspectives. The gruesome details were withheld, not wishing to precipitate a shock reaction, but photographs of the victims in happier times allowed Jane to do a cold read on them. She was led to believe he would have no prior knowledge of events, but his perceptive insights made her speculate how he could glean so much from case notes alone? There hadn't been a flicker of recognition when confronted with the images of the victims; listening to his pithy observations would have been ironic, if it hadn't been so downright weird.
It was all too easy to see how he could make people dance to his tune at will, he conducted himself with aplomb. Disturbingly even Lisbon wasn't totally immune, the room suddenly felt claustrophobic. She played with the collar of her jacket feeling flushed in the oppressive atmosphere; her heightened senses making her uncomfortably aware of his animal magnetism.
Deep down she knew she should hate him, but there was a curious attraction to him, despite her better nature she couldn't help being drawn in by the mellifluous tones and measured cadence as he cast his spell. She bit down hard on her bottom lip to remind herself why she was there. For all her deep rooted cynicism, she was oddly affected by the charlatan before her. On an intellectual level she knew it was just a game to him, the way he stared into her eyes was just a charade, the apparent concern being just a smoke screen allowing him to pry. He's very much a false prophet, a ravening wolf disguised in sheep's clothing.
And yet despite knowing all this, his charm offensive felt very real. He regaled her with an amusing anecdote, boyish mischief written all over his face. Very much against her better instinct she smiled.
"You should do that more often." Lisbon tried to ignore the blatant flattery. "Smile. It lights up your face – you have a little dimple just there." Jane touched her cheek by way of explanation.
Another nervous smile instinctively followed, her self control was all over the place. He had really finagled his way under her guards.
A tap on the window alerted her that their time was nearly up, with frustration she realised she had nothing to show for it. Any attempts to bring his attention back to the case files were futile; he started to look weary and distant.
"I've got to go now Mr Jane, but I'll be back before long." The intention had been to wrap it up in one visit, but it was obviously going take longer than that. Lisbon glanced back over her shoulder as she left the room; you wouldn't have a clue if you hadn't read the case files. The shackles round the ankles were the only sign that something was terribly wrong with the situation.
She took a last look through the observation panel, but ever the consummate performer Jane wasn't going to make a rookie mistake like that. Well aware of her presence, he nonchalantly brushed some invisible fluff off his arm, while casting a surreptitious look toward the observation window. A flicker of a smile briefly crossed his face. Lisbon couldn't be sure who the smile was aimed at, as Dr Miller was watching Jane just as intently as Lisbon.
"How can it be possible he remembers nothing?" Lisbon kept her eyes on the subject as she asked the question.
Never one to tolerate fools, Dr Miller bridled slightly, resenting her professional judgement being called into question. "With dissociative disorders, memory loss of the events of certain time periods and people is not unknown."
"But his wife and child, surely he must remember something?" It seemed inconceivable to Lisbon that anyone could completely wipe the slate clean like that; surely there should be some vestige of memory?
"They never existed as far as he is concerned, nothing happened." Dr Miller just shrugged matter of factly, tiring of having to answer to the uninitiated. "I'll email a paper I've written on the subject to your office, it may help you understand."
Lisbon spotted the voice recorder on the desk in the observation room. "Did you record that session?"
"We always do as a matter of course, but those are just my observations on the interview for my private use. I really don't know what you hope to get out of these visits Agent Lisbon, Patrick has no memory of what happened." Miller slipped the recorder into her pocket, there was no way anyone was having access to that; her observations were strictly for her benefit.
Sensing she was being dismissed, Lisbon left without further ado. Sophie Miller turned off the recorder before making her way into the room. "All done now Patrick. How are you feeling?"
"I'm so tired of it all Sophie, why do they keep asking me questions?" He leant his head against her her side, and she ruffled his hair comfortingly.
"I'll see what I can do to stop it, if you want." Miller had misgivings about amateurs bumbling into territory they didn't understand.
Jane paused for a moment. "No, I'll see her again she interests me." He noticed Miller's face fall slightly, and smiled sardonically."You're not jealous are you?"
Miller started laughing. "Oh Patrick, what have I got to be jealous of? You're sorely mistaken if you think Agent Lisbon is your friend, that couldn't be further away from the truth. Just be careful around her Patrick."
She motioned for the attendants to take him away; he was in good humour today he'd enjoyed sparring with Agent Lisbon.
Eschewing her usual glass of red wine in favour of keeping a clear head Lisbon ploughed through the paper that Dr Miller had tossed to her as a consolation prize. She suspected Miller thought it would be above her head, but Lisbon was well versed in criminal psychology and had carried her interest on well beyond what was technically required of her. The concepts were not unknown to her, but her incredulity had been based on the unblinking nature of Jane's demeanour. Either he was the best actor she had ever met, or he really didn't understand what was going on.
She prided herself on her judgement but she really struggled to reconcile the irrefutable facts with the man she had met today. Berating herself for allowing him to dictate the terms of the encounter, she knew that Jane had manipulated her totally, yet still she hadn't felt remotely threatened. It was as if he were just playing a game with her, he wanted to engage with her, to have a new sparring partner. In retrospect Lisbon had to concede that she hadn't put up that much of a challenge, the man had pulled her strings from the moment she sat down.
That ability to bedazzle people with such devastating charm would be a potent and perilous combination, when coupled with murderous intent. Of course they had a label for his condition, they had a label for everything these days, it was called dissociative identity disorder. Allegedly he wasn't aware of what had happened, his alter ego, the flip side of the coin, was supposedly the guilty party.
On reflection, perhaps Lisbon had learned more than she first realised. If Jane could manipulate her so easily, what was to say that he wasn't manipulating them all? Maybe there was no alter ego, just one person, no John, just Patrick. Could evil really be so ordinary, that it could share people's beds and eat at their tables without them knowing? And yet a serial killer had held her hand and she'd felt no particular revulsion or fear? She'd always imagined that in those circumstances her skin would crawl, but if she the most cynical of people, fully aware of his history, was flummoxed by it all - just imagine how less world weary people might react.
It wasn't just women he could charm; she'd seen the way he'd wrapped the male orderly around his little finger, asking about his family, making him feel like he had the full focus of Jane's attention, when undoubtedly Jane was simply laying the preparations for some future scheme.
She'd been in this game long enough to know there was a fine line between good and evil. Weak people may venture across the line, lacking the strength to walk away, without being inherently evil. But murdering your own family and then erasing all memory of them was a completely different matter.
These days alleged insanity wasn't reason enough for avoiding a murder charge - the law had been changed on that count to a strict mens rea approach, under the diminished actuality defense. The role of the psychiatrist was diminished and they could no longer pass opinion on whether the accused harboured intent. In practice it meant that a lower severity charge, perhaps manslaughter or second degree murder, was sometimes levied to guarantee conviction.
It was important to Lisbon to understand whether this was just an act of self preservation or whether Patrick Jane was really unaware of his alter ego's proclivities. The shrink wasn't exactly being helpful, even the most basic enquiries were being knocked to the outfield. The basic profile she'd compiled just gave a flimsy outline of his condition and background.
Apparently there was no surviving family, his mother died in childbirth as had his identical twin. The names Patrick and John had been allocated in haste. It was immaterial to Jane's father, Alex, what his son was called in the aftermath of his wife's death, he'd never warmed to the surviving child who could just as easily have been John as Patrick, in the end he became both. Secretly taking refuge into which ever personality suited him best at the time, although it was invisible to the outside world, who just shrugged at his occasional loss of control putting it down to little more than bad temperament.
From the outset the urbane front hid a cynicism in his dealings with others; while not necessarily illegal, his actions were certainly unethical. After all it was impossible to categorically prove there was no such thing a psychics, hell some deluded souls may actually believe they were blessed with powers, but Patrick Jane had cynically exploited people's weaknesses in a callous and manipulative way.
Whatever anyone said, traces of his alter ego had leached through the invisible membrane. Client's marriages had been needlessly wrecked. Others had been so driven to despair by his revelations that they had taken their lives. None of it could be directly be laid directly at Jane's door; Teflon Paddy just breezed on, his conscience untroubled by the havoc he left in his wake.
The Jane nest had been feathered by exploiting lonely people desperately clinging to the memories of their loved ones, wanting to believe whatever they were told and willing to pay handsomely. It didn't take a huge leap of imagination to believe that a cynical streak like that was symptomatic of a basic character flaw, and this so called alter ego was nothing more than a smokescreen for something that was already there.
Away from his influence, Lisbon was starting to get more and more sceptical, suspecting that Jane comfortably occupied the gray lands between black and white and was fully cognisant of the path he was following. Lisbon would adjust her strategy accordingly, the first meeting hadn't been a complete waste of time after all, but she resolved to be better prepared next time.