Lisbon's mood had not improved much with Defouque's arrest, since he had thus far refused to give up Jane's location.
"Let me in there, Tenet" Rigsby said, cracking his knuckles. "I'll get him to talk."
"I don't think so," Tenet said, already poised to enter the interrogation room. "This is my case, and no one but me and whatever scumbag slime ball Defouque hires as a lawyer is going in there."
"What do you think you're playing at, Tenet?" Lisbon said. "You didn't mind us coming along to the marina. One of my teams' lives is on the line. We have the right to--"
"I don't have to defend how I'm working my case to you," Tenet said. "Nor do I have to include you in the interrogation. I will, however, seeing as your consultant is involved, inform you of any new developments. Agent Rigsby, you're blocking the door. If you could just…Ah, thank you. Excuse me."
"That little…" Rigsby said as soon as the door had shut behind Agent Tenet.
"He's right, as much as I hate to admit it," Lisbon said. "It's his case. We can't go in there without his say so."
"We should be doing something," Van Pelt said.
Lisbon, Rigsby, Cho, and Van Pelt were silent for a few moments.
"What if we decided to aid Agent Tenet by go over the evidence collected at the scene?" Van Pelt finally asked, apparently quite seriously. "He seems too busy interrogating a suspect right now to go over it himself."
A wink and a nudge would have been quite appropriate, but the closest person to Van Pelt was Rigsby, who might have taken it the wrong way.
"That is very thoughtful of you Van Pelt," Lisbon said, just as seriously. "I never knew you were so in supportive of inter-department cooperation. I'm sure Tenet would appreciate the help looking for clues as to Jane's whereabouts."
"You and Rigsby go check out what they've gotten from the car," Lisbon said, addressing Van Pelt. "Cho and I will go through Defouque's personal effects. Report anything you find to me, and then I'll report to Tenet."
Lisbon and Cho headed in one direction, while Van Pelt and Rigsby went in another. Lisbon had no difficulty persuading the evidence room to let them go over Defouque's personal effects, and she hoped that Rigsby and Van Pelt were as lucky with Defouque's car. They sorted through the evidence bags for a few minutes before Cho called Lisbon's attention to a small rectangle of paper that, according to the tag, had been in Defouque's jacket pocket.
"The report says they found some partial prints on it, all Defouques'," Cho said, handing Lisbon the bag containing a business card with 'The Maison' printed on it, as well as a phone number. "They also found a single bloody thumbprint, definitely not Defouques', right there on the front. Says they ran through the criminal database, but got no hits…"
"Well Cho," Lisbon said. "Unless you can recognize the print I don't think it's going to help."
"Actually, I think I do recognize it" Cho said, ignoring the note of sarcasm in Lisbon's voice. "See that line across the print? That's consistent with a scar. Jane has a large scar on his right thumb, runs all the way down to his palm. I've asked him how he got it, but the story kept changing."
"CBI keeps copies of our consultants' prints on file," Lisbon said. "We can run it against that."
"I don't think we need to, it's fairly unique. I'm almost certain it's his print." Cho said, and then paused again.
Lisbon had to restrain herself from rushing her employee. Cho was normally fairly quiet, but when he said something, you could bet it was important. Experience had taught her that it was best to give Cho time to get out what he had to say, but her nerves where already frayed as it was, and the anticipation wasn't helping.
"Do you think it means anything, or are we just grasping at straws here?" Cho finally asked.
"It's Jane," Lisbon said, reassuring herself as well as Cho. "He'd at least try to give us some kind of clue. Knowing his style, I was expecting something along the lines of big flashing neon sign saying 'HERE I AM', but this looks promising."
Cho, Lisbon thought, did not look particularly reassured. Then again, it was Cho. Cho never looked particularly anything. He flipped the card over, examining the back.
"Look," Cho said. "He had a meeting at this Maison place the day his went missing; wrote it on the other side of the card."
"That's definitely his handwriting," Lisbon said, taking back the card. "Ooh, wait. Defouque owns a restaurant called The Maison. I read it in his file."
They looked at each other.
"We've got to tell Tenet," Lisbon said. "I think we just figured out where Jane is."
Cho shuffled through the rest of Defouques' personal effects as Lisbon called Tenet on her cell phone, thinking that a big neon sign would have been a hell of a lot less ambiguous. Just as he started to put the evidence bags back in the tray they had arrived in, Lisbon snapped her phone shut.
"Alright," Lisbon said. "We're heading to The Maison with Tenet's team right now. Let's grab Rigby and Vanpelt."
Patrick Jane regained his senses by degrees. First, he could have sworn he heard the familiar noise of a deck of cards being shuffled. Then his sense of smell pulled itself back out of oblivion, bringing with it no particularly useful information, though it did tell him a shower was in order as soon as he got out of this mess. His sense of sight came back next, though he kept his eyes tightly shut in order to cut down on confusing sensory input. Sight was followed shortly be his sense of pain, which reminded him why he had decided to black out in the first place; his head was pounding, and thinking was like trying to swim through a bowl of tapioca pudding.
Jane made the noise similar to the sound a college student emits after waking up with his first hangover. He then opened his eyes. He was still in the same room, no surprise there. Two men Jane didn't recognize sat at a card table in the corner, which Jane supposed had been dragged in while he was unconscious, and where playing what looked like Go Fish. One of them, a 300-pound biker-type with an impressive mustache, looked up and saw that Jane was awake.
"Hey hey," the biker said, elbowing his friend. "Look who's up. Got any kings?"
"Go fish," said the other, who looked a bit like Michael Tyson.
"Man," Biker said, with a voice like gravel. "I've got to say, Baker or whatever your name is, you've got balls. Standing up to Ivan like that? And the boss? That was the shit."
"Oh," Jane said. "…thank you."
"No one liked Ivan," Tyson-look alike said. "He was a real asshole. Got any twos?"
"Nah, go fish," Biker said, then turned back to Jane. "The boss must respect you. Otherwise you'd be dead as Ivan right now. Got any sevens?"
"No damn it, I don't! And I'm tired of Go Fish," Tyson-look-alike said, throwing down his cards. "We always fucking play Go Fish."
"You guys want to play some poker?" Jane asked. It was worth a try. "You'd need at least three, but I'm always up for a game."
Biker and Tyson-look-alike exchanged a glance. Tyson look alike shrugged.
"It's not like he's fuckin' going anywhere," Tyson said. "Ivan smashed his foot up pretty good earlier."
"What the hell," Biker said with a shrug. "Better 'n Go Fish."
They un-taped Jane as best they could, who hobbled over to the card table and took a seat. He took the deck of cards from Tyson and spread them out in a half-circle, face up. Time for a little showing off.
He turned them all over with a flick, gathered them back together, then shuffled and bridged the deck a couple of times, adding a couple of flashy, but simple flourishes. He finished with a one handed deck cut. Not bad for a man with a busted foot and a concussion. Biker and Tyson looked suitably impressed.
"So," he asked. "What are the stakes?"
