Chapter 21 – Sleep, Teresa

A while after dawn

Two trucks had arrived at first. Now they were a dozen. Spilled on the highways.

Cho had followed one, along with Rigsby in separate cars, Abbott and Van Pelt had tailed the other. The trucks' windows were obscure, so they couldn't really have a glimpse at the driver's seat. Cho didn't understand how this would turn into a huge shell game, as Jane had predicted, until they reached the first crossroads where one more identical truck shuffled with the first one. They chose different exits of the highway, so he and Rigsby had to separate. The next crossroads appeared and two more trucks mixed with the one he was following.

It was impossible to distinguish the right one after a while. And when they parted ways, he could not keep up.

"Lost them," announced Van Pelt on the radio.

Cho pulled over at the side of the road. He got out and kicked his door, palmed his forehead.

Rigsby's voice crackled through the white noise.

"It all depends on Jane and Lisbon now."

Lisbon counted. Seconds, minutes, hours maybe. Time and numbers disappeared in here. Her thoughts lost track many times, so she started using fingers. Then fingers proved ineffective as well. Her legs were asleep. She could not afford to panic, and yet her entire body nerves could not help but register the danger. She sat in the exact place where girls had left their last breath in agony. And she would sit again in a few hours. Emerging now would be uneventful. But the second time, the second time she would fight oncoming water, and then she would emerge holding a gun, ready to use it on whoever would be expecting her. She imagined aiming right through his camera lens into his brain. The thought made her feel better, stronger. Silent knocking came on the metal that surrounded her. Jane had been better at counting.

She heard metal retreat as he opened the lid. But no light came yet. She raised her arms over her head, palms facing upwards until she met glass. She eased upright, moving the surface above, until hands relieved her of the fragile burden.

Finally, air.

Jane grinned once he saw her. "Oh hello there," he said playfully.

She smiled despite her intentions, thankful for his attempt at cheering her up. "Hi." She bent inside and picked up the slab of concrete she was carrying with her.

Jane took it from her and then he held her under the arms. She gripped his shoulders as he helped her out, her fear-crumpled heart now fluttering with joy, having his scent and touch so close to her skin. The moment lasted seconds. When he placed her on safer ground, their eyes lingered on each other for a while. Wide. Wistful. They secured the two containers, then ventured at the back of the moving truck, where they sat low, adjusting the two glass surfaces on the front, so that they would be completely invisible.

And now the longer waiting.

A while before dawn

Lisbon had an ill feeling looking at the endless rows of metal containers. When they had checked on them the previous night, it had been dark, so the effect was cloaked. But now, it shined in all its monstrosity. They were arranged ten at a row, a corridor dividing them.

The warehouse had two entrances, one through a set of corridors inside the mansion, and an external one, which she was heading towards to open now.

Cho and Rigsby marched in, coordinated on time. Rigsby carried a trolley with two boxes, Cho another box in his arms, reading 'Careful, Fragile Material' on the carton. Jane guided their placement. He moved to open the top of the boxes on the trolley. Inside, there were slabs of concrete matched to Jane's weight and then a small one matched to Jane's weight difference from Lisbon. They filled the containers from the third on the left to the last on the right with the slabs, moving in unison, careful not to break anything.

Rigsby loitered at the middle of the floor, his gaze roaming across the compound.

Cho crossed him, carrying another slab. "Why are you standing there looking like a retard?"

Rigsby frowned. "I'm not—" He sighed, then addressed Jane. "What if he chooses the containers on the other side? And how are we sure you and Lisbon will end up in the same truck or in any truck at all? We don't even know how many there will be."

Jane spoke with a busy tone. He was examining one of the glass surfaces in the other box. Camouflage mirrors. To hide under. "People's most direct instinct is to start from left to right, reading-wise. And we're sure they're going to take at least the first two containers for the puzzle to work. So those first two are going to be where me and Lisbon hide. If they happen to choose the wrong containers, which I doubt, our pal Ren will indicate to them the ones they need to lift, claiming the others are flawed."

"Guys," Van Pelt sounded from the speaker, her voice anxious. "They're here."

"What?" Cho fretted, looking at them. "Already?"

"How many?" Rigsby asked her.

"Two trucks."

Jane grew alert, standing upright. "Let's stay calm," he said.

Lisbon held his gaze, all the meaning in the world was there. "Jane, it's time."

He nodded and jerked into movement. They climbed into the compartments with the help of their colleagues. Her heart whirred as she lowered into the pit, holding the slab of concrete that would help match Jane's weight. Rigsby came, holding one of the camouflage surfaces.

"Be careful, boss," he told her, pressing his lips.

Lisbon smiled. "You will never get used to not calling me boss, will you?"

He smiled, a nostalgic expression crossing his features. "Old habits never die."

"Don't forget to block the locks from outside," she reminded him.

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "You'll come through." And she could see he didn't just mean this time. He sighed. "See ya," he said before securing the glass surface over her. The darkness came with metal finality. She sealed her eyes and started counting.

She heard the pull of tape and the hiss of sprays.

And then the bad guys finally arrived.

Cho watched from three rows down. He and Rigsby had taken coverage on either side of the corridor. The veteran had emerged from the internal door and scurried to offer passage to the criminals. Two masked men barged in with a trolley of their own, one taller than the other. Just as Jane had foretold, they headed straight for the two first containers on the left. Their movements were sharp, calculated. The short man waved his palm, gesturing for the veteran to open one of the containers. Ren obeyed.

Once the container was unsealed, tall man bent and looked inside. He lingered a while. Enough for Cho to tense. He shared worried glances with Rigsby. But then the criminal pulled back and felt the surface under the lid, just as they had expected. He paused and grinned. Then came the sound of tape being ripped. The man found the gun, the breathing device and the bug they had taped. They were painted silver on one side to match the color of the metal. He remembered Jane's words.

"Everyone stops searching after the first gun. Nobody ever suspects a second weapon."

And so did the masked men. They removed the tapes from all containers, then loaded their trolley and carried it outside. They made the trip two times, before the chase began.

Now

He felt it when their movement lost speed. It came with the sound of gravel protesting from underneath. They had entered a non-frequented road. After a few minutes, the truck finally came to a stop. Lisbon took a fortifying breath. He reached to give her hand a squeeze. She squeezed back.

And then someone yanked a door and light burst inside. It would be tricky to hide under the sun, he thought.

"Take them," ordered a female voice. Strangely familiar, though he failed to place it at the moment. Lisbon threw him a surprised look. He saw the suspicion cross her mind. That perhaps the serial killer was a woman after all. But he knew better.

They listened as they unloaded the water traps, then closed the doors behind. Once the clamor eased to quiet, they waited a few seconds and emerged from their hide-outs, taking the camouflage glasses with them. Hectares of land stretched before their eyes, with tall grass. They took cover behind the truck and peeked at the front. The building was an old farming house, the red color rusted on the walls. They were concrete walls-Wylie had confirmed it. Tractors and stables were scattered around, enough to provide cover. The other trucks never arrived. Hired thugs, Jane speculated.

They made it inside safely.

The windows were all sealed with logs here, so the sun would no longer be a problem. Little cords climbing the floor and the ceiling implied the existence of a power setup. They tiptoed further inside, crossing a hay storage room and to their utter surprise, a fenced area with an old-looking bull. Jane was briefly amused, pointing with his finger for Lisbon to look. She was charmed.

And then they heard the moans. Someone tore tape at the same time they heard Vega's voice as she screamed, "Help!"

"Nobody here to hear you, little cop," spat that same female voice.

Then came the crank of metal and Vega's screams came muffled. Jane's stomach churned. No matter how much cruelty he had witnessed in his life, the sight-and sound, for that matter-of cruelty would always shock him.

They followed Vega's voice until it led them to a spacious room. Industrial lamps lit this area. Huge cauldrons and pipes lined the concrete walls, like a witch's factory. This was probably a place where farmers used to brew milk products. Six people were huddled at the center, around the container with Vega.

"Ugh, the screams of this girl," complained a quiet, reserved voice. Also familiar.

His suspicions were becoming truer and truer.

It was time, he realized. Time for his plan to commence. He patted Lisbon's shoulder in front of him. She jumped a little, then gave him a questioning look.

"We need to create a distraction," he mouthed.

"How?"

He gestured for her to follow him. He led her back to the fenced area and grinned.

She frowned. "Unleash the bull? That's your big plan? Hell, do you think he can even walk?" Her questions trickled in a whisper.

He raised a finger in front of her eyes and with his other hand he fumbled in his jacket pocket. He pulled out the green balloon he was hiding there. Lisbon's eyes blazed. She shook her head, mouthing 'No!'

"Do you have a better idea?" he whispered. "We will open its door and scare it to movement. Then the others will be engaged with catching it again."

She hesitated and it was all he needed. He brought the balloon to his mouth and started blowing. Lisbon said, "Let's find cover."

They placed the camouflage mirrors at a shadowy corner. Jane wriggled his fingers and a needle appeared between his index and middle finger. He softly pinned the balloon, so it started losing air. They sat and he waited.

"Come on," Lisbon urged silently.

"Waiting for the opportune moment," he said. He reached out to her shoulder. "Be calm," he soothed her. He rubbed her arm, her elbow. "Everything's going to be fine. You're gonna be safe." His hand landed softly on the inside of her wrist. She stilled. "Safe and calm, Lisbon. You're safe and calm, now." She was only looking at the balloon before, but now her gaze locked on it. The tension slowly left her skin. He leaned toward her ear.

"Sleep, Teresa," he whispered. Her pupils moved backwards, her eyelids closed. She fell unconscious onto his shoulder. He patted the side of her head. "Sleep."

He blinked and the monster looked from within. He eased her onto his arm and then onto the floor. He carefully drew the gun from her belt, then adjusted the two mirrors to hide her entirely. He stood up and faced the criminals' direction, something dark and twisted spreading in his chest. He drew a cell from his vest pocket. It was untraceable. He had bought it yesterday, when everyone thought he had lost his mind. He pressed dial and put the cell on his ear. He answered at the first ring.

"Wylie," Jane whispered. "Now."

His eyes moved to the ceiling, to the million tiny cords there. Somewhere far into the compound, lights flickered. He heard the pause in his company's constant chatter, followed by the blast of an explosion on the opposite direction, where the power generator was located. There were steps and commotion so he scurried behind the fence for cover, gesturing to the bull to keep quiet.

"This way," announced the woman.

Once the path was clear, he scuffled toward the brewing area. Vega had stopped screaming. A worry grew in his bones, that she had perhaps fainted. He traced the surface of her container until he found the protuberance of the lock. He pulled.

Her head snapped upwards, a gasp escaping her lips. He brought his finger to his lips. She was in the process of loosening her bonds. Her eyes flooded with surprise, then relief, and finally tears. Though she never let them spill, instead wiping the corners of her eyes and scratching her nose. She smiled.

"I knew you would find me. I counted on you." Her voice was hoarse.

"Of course I would. But you should thank Wylie when you see him, he found where they kept you," he said. Then, "Michelle, we don't have much time, listen. You can escape with me now, if you want. I won't judge you, I promise. But here's the thing. I know exactly how to end this, if you'll be willing to help me." He drew out Lisbon's gun and a waterbreathing device, holding them out at her. "Do you trust me?"

She studied his palms. When her eyes rose to meet his, her fierceness and wild spirit shone through, despite the tortures she had suffered. Jane felt a ping of admiration. She nodded and took his offerings, then cocked the gun.

"What's the plan?"

A/N: Thanks for all the support! Four more chapters left! Next chapter features Volker.