Disclaimer: I do not own the Mentalist. The story is mine.

THE CBI HEADQUARTERS

THOMAS VOLKER stood in Teresa Lisbon's office.

He liked being in a police station. It reminded him that honest people existed, that they were willing to work for thankless pay for an abstract concept they considered sacrosanct. Take Lisbon's office. She was an unit leader, but her office was only as large as a probationary employee's in his company. Admirable. Very admirable.

But stupid.

In this life, Thomas Volker followed only two sets of laws: physics and mathematics. The rest are made by men. And because men fallible, so are their laws. There are always catches and caveats, the things that can make you above the law, if only you look hard enough. Volker always did.

Lo and behold, he was above the law.

Volker understood Teresa Lisbon. That little devil. She interested him. She was one of the few people who dared defy him. But like all men, she had her weakness: her vanity as a police.

This fucker did this murder, I caught it, and he thinks he's fucking better than me. Fuck him. He's about to find out.

If she wanted to avenge...Christ, he could not even remember the names of those two dead women. No matter. If she wanted to avenge them, all she needed was get her gun and shoot him while nobody was around. She could do that. But she didn't, because she wanted to see him rot in prison. And in America—yes, he did pay attention as to which law he needed to be above of—nobody could go to prison without trial, trial necessitated arrest, arrest required evidence of guilt, and ultimately evidence could not be gotten without judge's warrant. For months, through his legion of intermediaries, Volker had been quietly...investing on employees in judges' offices.

Are you in debt? Do your kids have trouble with the police? You cannot afford treatment for your parents? Perhaps I could help you. All you have to do—no, it's nothing criminal, I promise if you keep your mouth shut nobody will ever find out. All I ask is that you give me a call if Teresa Lisbon from the CBI ever gets a warrant on Mr. Thomas Volker's property. That's it. A call. Nothing more. Sounds good? All right. We have a deal.

IT WAS an expensive investment. But it paid. When Judge Davis ordered a warrant on his financial record, Volker knew he had to get rid of Charles Milk. The man had outlived his usefulness. But it would look suspicious if he was just murdered, and so Volker needed to make some arrangements to make Milk's murder an open-and-shut case, no conspiracy involved. A drive-by would do nicely. He ordered a team spend an entire afternoon researching the case.

Then he called an ally of his in the Crips.

"When I had you off the prison seven years early, it's not for free."

"It sure ain't. Whatchu need?"

"I need you to take care of someone."

"Who he be?"

"Charles Milk. You'll get an email about everything you need about him."

"When you want it?"

"The day after tomorrow." Click.

He made another call.

"Good evening, Judge Davis. This is Thomas Volker."

Something crashed on the other end of the line.

"No, no, no need to feel alarmed. Please don't hang up—I just want to ask how are you?"

The line stayed in silence.

"Judge Davis, are you there?"

Tremblingly: "What do you want?"

"Like I said, I only want to ask how are you. How are your kids?"

"What? What are you going to do—"

"Please, Judge. I'm a law abiding citizen. Like I said, how are your kids? Are they keeping well?"

"Yes, but—"

"That's fantastic, fantastic. Matthew and Darrell plays football, yes? Still trying to get athletic scholarship? Good kids. Don't want to burden his mother, a single parent."

"How—" But she shut her own question.

"Judge, please don't get me wrong. I just want to inform you about a good news. The recent recession has, excuse my language, fucked up people's finance severely. Even I am not invincible. Can't imagine how public servants like you make do, specially with all that downsizes and raise-freezes."

"Is this—"

"Now, before you ask if this is going to lead to bribery, I tell you, it's not. It's just...a friend of mine, this retired justice, he had been considering to make a new scholarship fund. It would give qualified children of officials in the legal system free ride through college."

"Free ride through college."

"Perhaps Matthew and Darrell could apply. And win." Click.

THE SOUND of footsteps broke Volker from his reverie. He turned. The door opened. In walked Lisbon. She seemed pissed.

"Agent Lisbon."