The temptation to form premature theories upon insufficient data is the bane of our profession.
—The Tragedy of Birlstone
NOTE: The Mentalist is not mine. The story, all of it, is.
Thanks to those who reviewed and followed. You guys are cooler than the other side of my pillow.
"What are they?" Jane said.
"Well..." Lisbon hesitated. Then she pressed on. "Aren't you and Stiles kind of, you know, friends?"
Jane smiled bitterly. "I wish."
"Aren't you?"
"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."
"But what about all the things he'd done for you!"
"The things he'd done for me? Bret Stiles has never done anything for anyone but himself. Name them."
Lisbon considered. "He gave us Kristina Frye."
"He did."
"Why would he give us Frye if he protects Red John?"
"Exactly because he protects Red John he gave us Frye."
"But Frye is a lead."
"Is she?"
"Of course. She shows us just how badly Red John could mindfuck people. She thinks she is dead."
"And then?"
"And—" Lisbon trailed off.
"And nothing. She's never told us a thing. In fact, she diverted our attention from Stiles. Instead of alerting the Indonesian authorities, we were busy trying to figure out what to do with a catatonic. Chess players call her a poisoned pawn."
"Get the pawn, lose the king."
Jane nodded.
The explanation didn't satisfy her fully, but Lisbon couldn't rebut it. She thought for something else. Stiles had been giving her the creeps, and she'd be glad to put Red John murders on him. But Jane didn't think so.
"He freed Lorelei for you."
"I don't—"
She shook her head. "We're past that."
"Fair enough. What I am about to say isn't true, so if you tell anyone about it, I will deny it."
Lisbon laughed.
"What?"
"Even when you tell me the truth, you lie."
Jane was silent.
"Continue."
"Let's pretend Stiles freed Lorelei for me. Why does that make you think it made us allies?"
"Because she was a minion of Red John and you've been trying to talk to her and Stiles' freeing her from prison gave you the chance."
"You read Harry Potter, the first book."
"Sure."
"Turns out Snape is the one who's been trying to save Harry from Quirell. Not out of love for Harry, but because he owed it to James. For saving his life."
"So?"
"The idea's the same. Last year I rooted out dissents in Stiles' inner circle. Stiles knew he had to repay that debt to me ASAP; otherwise there was no telling what I might have asked him."
"He could have refused."
" I would have gotten suspicious. He'd given me Frye before, for free. Why couldn't he give me Lorelei now? Especially now that I had a leverage. And just like that, with Lorelei out of prison, he was done being in my debt. Even better, it made me trust him."
"But what if Lorelei snitched?"
"Impossible. Lorelei was head over heels for Red John. She wouldn't have told me a thing. I tried to cajole her all the time on the road. Couldn't. Had you not found out about her sister's death, she wouldn't have betrayed her boss." Jane chuckled. "But in the end it all worked out for me. Lorelei's jailbreak led to her discovery of her sister's murder, which led to her rampage on Red John's minions, which forced Red John to get out of hiding. Stiles, Red John, Visualize, they wouldn't escape now, those fuckers. I'll get them."
Lisbon was silent. Jane was having that smile he'd shown when he told her about his handshake with Red John. She was spooked. Nothing good could possibly come out of that smile. What Jane had in mind when he had that smile was anyone's guess; hers involved homicides. She patted his shoulder to bring him back.
"The list."
"Yes, the list. Let's go over them one by one."
She groaned.
"What?"
"Can you just tell us who Red John is?"
"Where's the fun in that?"
"I have a feeling this is gonna be long."
"Possibly."
"Just don't do a Ted Mosby on me. Guy's been talking for eight years and we still don't know the mother's name. I pity his children."
"Scout's honor it wouldn't be that long."
Honor was among the last things Lisbon associated with Jane, but she let it slide. "Begin."
Jane walked back to the desk, took the photos. Ever a showman, she thought. He sat facing Lisbon, the photos spread like a poker player's cards.
"We've crossed Stiles." He put away Stiles' photo. "Which leaves us with six. The first one." He lifted a finger. "Smith."
"I knew it."
"Really?"
"He's fat, bumbling, short-tempered. And we dealt with him only once. I was surprised he was on your list."
"Me, too. But I wouldn't have dismissed him simply because of the reasons you mentioned."
"So, what, then?"
"Back in Vegas, when I was in the limousine, he told me he has a friend in the FBI. A friend in the FBI. He's not FBI himself."
"Maybe he lied."
"No. He was gloating. Why lie when gloating? All those bridges I burned, Lisbon. I got myself fired from the CBI, faked the deaths of you and Rigsby, led your team in an unsanctioned operation somewhere we absolutely have no jurisdiction over. Red John wanted to show all those had been for naught."
"He could still be playing with you.
"Unlikely. Think what would have happened if Darcy's squad didn't catch up in time. I would've lost two fingers, Lorelei would've disappeared, and our team would've been fired. It's my loss."
"But what about Wainwright? Didn't Red John bound him in the car so he'd be killed in the crossfire?"
"The thought occurred to me, but no. Lorelei was in the limo, too. Anything that happened to Wainwright might also happen to her. Most likely Red John planned to kill Wainwright later, in someplace safer, after he finished gloating over my loss."
"So Wainwright's death and Lorelei's capture are both real. Not some sort of tricks he pulled."
He nodded.
"Then, from there, because Red John was counting on making a clean escape, and because he actually said 'a friend in the FBI,' you conclude Smith isn't him."
"That's right."
He put Smith's photo away.