thanks for the reviews and the likes... if you'll be nice enough, I amy even get to post the epilogue this weekend!
As soon as she had listened to Jane, she looked at the USB drive in her hand, and played a little with it, like she was studying a foreign object.
"Angie wanted for me to have it just in case. She hoped that if Thomas didn't know where to find it, he would have left her be." He said, leaning against the counter of his kitchen, Teresa sat at the table, deep in concentration.
"Yeah, it really worked out pretty well, that plan of yours." She sarcastically told him, more an afterthought to herself than a lecture to him. She didn't blame him for Angela's death, nor the woman herself. There was only one culprit, and it was Thomas McAllister.
"Angie didn't want to hide. Thomas had always had mistresses. She thought that until she didn't leave him for me, he would have been all right." Teresa turned, and in silence she looked at him with a lifted eyebrow. Jane rolled his eyes, and crossed his arms, pouting like a petulant child who had just been lectured by a stern parent. "Yeah, I know. In retrospect, I should have seen his Irish pride coming."
"It's not just that." She told him, checking on her phone for stores nearby that sell USB storage devices. "Thomas has always been extremely possessive. Not only of Angie, but of the whole family. Of everything. You know, I think that in… thirteen years they had been married, he never referred to her, not once, with her given name. Only my wife. What does it tell you, mister profiler?"
Jane smirked. "I'm not a profiler. Nowadays, what I do is referred to as mentalism." He paused for effect, like the showman he still felt sometimes, also because she wasn't giving any sign she understood him. "A mentalist is someone who uses mental acuity, hypnosis and, or suggestion."
"Aka what you do makes you a master manipulator of thoughts and behavior." She closed the internet page on the burned Pete had provided her with, and turned to look at him, clearly not amused. "You know that you shouldn't broadcast such things when you talk with the woman you are sleeping with and claim to have feelings for, right?"
"Lisbon, Lisbon, Lisbon…" he tsk-tsked her like she was a child, and got closer and closer to her, giving her a peck on the nose. "I'm being honest here, I think you should appreciate it. After all, isn't this why you and Walter didn't work out?"
She didn't answer, but stood up and took her car keys and her jacket. "I need to go to buy something, but I should be back in…"
"No" he said, thinking deeply. "No, coming here again would be a mistake. I think we should elaborate a plan right here right now. And then part."
She looked around, her heartbeat increasing rapidly as she remembered the hours, days spent hiding from Red John's men. "You are right." she admitted, sighing, falling on the same chair she had been previously sitting like she was dead weight.
"Ok, so what?" she asked, clearly annoyed. She wasn't mad with him- yes, a tiny bit, she had to admit, because she hated have to say that he was right –but mostly it was the whole thing. With the USB device now decrypted, they knew who they were supposed to trust, but there were things she had preferred didn't discover. Her world was crashing down all around her, and people she had always trusted to be friends and allies, she had just discovered they had been enemies all along.
"Are you all right?" he asked, already knowing the answer to his silly question. Teresa wasn't alright. She just couldn't be- not when she had tried to turn her life around just to find this wall of lies and deception all around her, a wall built by the same man she had tried to escape from: Thomas McAllister. Red John.
He sat on the chair close to her, and took her in his arms, allowing Teresa to bury her head in the crock of his neck, and draw invisible patterns on her clothed back, trying to reassure her, and himself too, careful not to touch her shoulder. What they were about to do was dangerous enough, and it killed him to think that, just when they had found each other, there was a big chance that neither of them would come out of it alive.
"We can't keep the USB with us. If something was to happen to us…" She told him, sniffing, once parted from him. "That's a quite common model, replacing it and copying the data will not be a problem. I've got a friend in Quantico, I'll send the original to him. He'll know what to do."
"Do you still have your old documents?" he asked, as she took a fake driver ID from her jeans, putting it on the table. "Just in case. They may ask you for an ID."
"I know. I was planning to give it to them anyway." She looked at the device on the wood of the table, and skimmed the surface with a manicured nail. "Then what? I lure Thomas out?"
Jane shook his head. "You may have been family once, but you stopped the day you left them, and besides, you are a cop now- and a clean one. He knows you'd never get back to them, not even if your life depended on it."
"Ok, so… I deal with my boss. Keep him occupied, but do you honestly think that Thomas will grant you audience? And even if he did, there's no way in hell he'll be there alone."
But Jane just shook his head. "You told me before, Lisbon. Thomas sees himself as an owner, an all-powered being. He'll never see me as a threat. To him, I'm just a gigolo who tried to steal money from the crème de la crème, a low-life who doesn't deserve the attention of his people. Besides, as he thinks I tried to steal Angie for him, he'll see this as personal, and he'd be offended, were he to delegate this job. No, trust me. he'll do this on his own- also because calls his friends in the Police would risk exposing them too much, and he can't risk losing precious allies, especially right now, when the circle is closing around him."
Teresa snickered. "So, you think that Thomas' arrogance will be his downfall… but what do you say about yourself? You sound exactly like him!"
"Well, it's not arrogance if I'm being honest, don't you think?" he asked, trying to lower the tension. "So, we all set?"
She nodded, and without adding anything else, she gave him a lingering kiss, putting all her emotions in it. when she left the house, she turned one last time at the door, looking with longing and despair at Jane, his eyes fixed in her own. She was already in her car and leaving, when Jane took the burner and called a number Teresa had found in Angie's phone, the phone rang, but went straight to voicemail.
"Thomas? Hi. I'm Patrick Jane- but I guess you'll probably already know by now. I just wanted to let you know that, if you want back your list, tomorrow I'll be at the Alexandria Cemetery chapel, Angela's final resting place, at ten AM. If you don't want all your dirty secrets laundered on the Los Angeles Times, be there with two millions dollars, I'm sure it'll not be a problem for you, especially given what you could lose if I spill my guts. Bye, Tommy boy, I'm sure I'll see you soon."
He closed the call and looked at Teresa, speeding away in the distance in a red convertible. Now the games could truly begin, it was time for everything to end. In less than a day, he would be free once again, and this time forever. And with any luck… with the marvelous Teresa Lisbon at his side.
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The was no doubt who Red John would call in case things went wrong with Jane: his first lieutenant. So, at half past nine, it was in his office Lisbon stormed into, deadly serious.
"Stay here." she ordered Rigsby as she entered in the office, despite the secretary's protest. But she didn't want to listen to any of this, so, once inside, she locked the door at her back.
"Detective Lisbon? What can I do for you?" he asked her, his voice trembling a little as his hand tried to go, stealthy, to a drawer where she guessed a gun was hidden.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you." she told him, grunting very un-lady like. She walked slowly in his direction, with a malicious smile printed on her luscious lips, and she cornered him in his seat, her hands each side of his body, trapping him where he stood.
"Tyger, Tyger, burning bright, in the forests of the night; what immortal hand or eye, could frame thy fearful symmetry?" She said.,. chuckling, staying erect and proud at crossed arms before Bertram.
"Its'… it's impossible. I would have known if you were…" she gulped down mouthful of saliva, his eyes huge, dark and scared like he was a trapped animal.
She tsk-tsked him. "Oh, please. The association is need-to-know. Why should you have known that we are all but pawn in a much bigger game?" she giggled a little, skimming over his chest, leaning over him. She saw his pulse thundering in his neck, and she felt delighted and powerful like a goddess. "Besides, why should I have betrayed my family? He set us all up in motion, Gale. He decided what was our place to be long before he allowed you to become director. Nothing I have ever did in my life was to defy him, but to please my lord and master."
"I don't… believe you." He said, opening and closing his eyes. He was struggling for words, but she simply shook her head. She didn't care about how he felt. All she wanted was to keep in control. Was to keep him talking, punishing him for his betrayal.
"All right. if you want proof, I'll grant you proof." Sighing, she parted from him, annoyed, and took off her jacket, throwing it on Bertram's desk; then, slowly, like she was sensually strip-teasing for him, she unbuttoned her shirt, and stood in just jeans and black lace bra before her boss' eyes. Again she kneed so that she was eye-level with him, showing off her left shoulder to him, where three big dots could be spotted- a tattoo. Bertram, almost reverently, skimmed over her skin, but before she could actually touch the drawing, Teresa kicked his hand away, and stood, angry and proud, and got dressed again, like she wasn't having a care in the world, like she wasn't embarrassed at all.
"I… I don't understand." He tried to tell her as he stood and looked at her confused; Bertram was showing a stranger amount of respect for her, something he had never done before, and the thought made her sick to her stomach. When they had been both just cops, he had dismissed her, like he dismissed everyone else but himself. But here, with the words leaving her lips and the dots adorning her frame, she was like a queen, and him a peasant.
She wanted out, now.
"There' been a change of plan. My uncle wished for you to allow him to take care of Jane on his own. He doesn't want your men to get involved." She said, calmly, cold, like it was everyday business. Bertram was about to say something else too, but she stopped before she could add anything else. "He wish to teach a lesson. Our family… our society. It can't be betrayed. And to steal from us, is to ask for certain death."
"I… yes, of course, but it was my understanding that…"
"It doesn't matter what you believed to know." she said at low voice, hissing the words. "He is Red John. If anyone is allowed to change their mind… it's him. don't you think? Besides, as I told you, this is a family matter. My uncle says that, with Angela cheating on him so openly, Ray got some weird ideas, about taking matters into his own hands. And who do you prefer in charge of our little secret society of villains, a fully functioning sociopath like my uncle, or Ray, a man with enough demons to fill an entire asylum? And that's not all, and you know if. Were my uncle to fall and ray to follow into his footsteps… the other gangs wouldn't like it. if my uncle fall, there will be a war, and blood will be spattered on the streets of our marry town. And whose head do you think will fall first, uh?"
He simply nodded, and make to leave, when he called her back. He was still sitting in his chair, still startled and scared. "I'm… Teresa, I'm so… I'm sorry. If I had known… I would have never threated you the way I always did. Will you… will you put in a good word for me with Thomas? I'm sure your uncle will understand the situation if you'll explain to him that…"
"So, what should I tell him, uh? I should tell the great and power Thomas McAllister, the mighty Red John, that you, Gale Bertram… are scared that he'll punish you because you haven't played nice with his niece?" she took few steps back in his direction.
"I've… I've always respected him, and I've always done what he asked me to do. If you'll put in a good word for me, Teresa, I'll make sure you'll have everything you want. But please, try to make him understand that.."
"Enough of this!" she said, and as soon as she screamed the words, her voice filled with rage, Wayne tore down the door, and pointed his gun at him, as Teresa took a pair of handcuffs and closed the around her (former) boss' wrists, Steiner following them, opening Bertram's mouth and examining his teeth.
"He is clean." He said, and Teresa nodded. She lowered a little the sleeve on her left arm, and then, with natural water, she wetted a napkin Bertram had in his pocket, and passed roughly the thin material over the dots. Soon the drawing disappeared, while on the white fabric were left angry dark stains.
"It's henna, you idiot." She told him as officers were bringing him away. She turned towards Wayne, re-adjusting her shirt.
"Do we have all on tape?" she asked, and he nodded. She sighed in relief, massaging the knots in her necks, when her phone rang, and she looked at the display with fear and anticipation.
It was never a good thing when her phone rang. Even if she already knew who could be there. Even if she was scared of what he would have told her… despite feeling in her heart that her worlds was crashing down, due to Patrick Jane's actions.
She repressed a sigh of despair as dread filled her very being; she had always knew that her life had been written in the stones, marked at birth by her father's surname. A long time ago, she had hoped to escape her destiny, and for a short time she had believed herself to be free. But now, listening to the thrill of her mobile, she knew she had been wrong all along.
Her life, and her future, were written in blood red ink. And from something like that, there was no escape.
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Jane entered in the chapel of the cemetery right on time, and from the heavy door, he could see the silhouette of Thomas McAllister in the distance, in the first row of seats of the chapel. The man's body language talked about security and a man in control of himself, his persona and anything and anyone around him, and the thought made Jane mad with anger and resentment. McAllister thought he could buy anyone, force people to do as he pleased, but it was time to teach him a lesson: having Angela killed was going to be the last of his sins, no matter what.
"Hello, Thomas." Jane said, walking casually in direction of the small altar, hands in the pockets of his pants like he belonged there. He joined the older man, and stood before him. "You know, I don't see any money here…"
McAllister chuckled, shaking his head. "In few minutes' times, Bertram will be here, and he will arrest you for Angela's murder, so I didn't see why wasting time collecting money."
Jane made an amused face. "Yeah, well, unfortunately, I've got people on board, and they are stopping your accomplice from joining us." Jane grinned, and took away a small gun from his pocket, and pointed in at the older man, making McAllister shiver in fear. Jane grinned: McAllister was trying to keep it cool, to fake a control he didn't possess any longer, but the truth stood in his eyes; the grey irises were shining in fear, and Jane could see the slightly accelerated heartbeat on his pulse point. Anyone else would have missed it, but Jane had been raised to see everything, read everyone, and he was a master in what he did, the best that there was.
The idea of McAllister's fear was igniting something in him, it kept the adrenaline pumping in his whole being. The mobster had spent his live thrilled by the fear he ignited in people, getting off on the power he held upon them. He could have been the head of his clan, but he was no magnanimous father nor king, but merely a tyrant, ruthless killer who used blood to make sure everybody stood within his ranks. Teresa had betrayed the families by saying no to a forced marriage, and she had been casted away, her own blood unable to fully understand the length of her sacrifice, while Angela… Sweet, loving, brave Angela had paid the price twice, once with her freedom, and the a second time with her own life.
He wasn't going to allow McAllister to walk free, whatever he had promised Teresa. He knew that, despite their words, she was aware of his intentions, and deep down she shared his motives. After all, what was the alternative? McAllister would have never seen a prison, he had too many friends, too many means, one way or another he would have walked free. And him out there, it meant that neither him nor Teresa would have never been away from his shadow; they would have been forced to always watch their backs, waiting for the day he decided to strike and get his revenge, and that was no life.
"Stand up. I'd feel bad about firing at a sitting man." Jane chuckled. Besides, he already had a plan. He had a gun with him- another one- and it would have been easy to fake self-defense. Maybe it was a rushed plan, maybe he hadn't thought things trough, but he wasn't going to allow that man to walk away alive. One of them was going to die in the Chapel: and if he was going to have things his way, it was McAllister's blood that was going to be spilled on the marble floor.
McAllister did as he was told, but he never stopped smiling, walking in front of Patrick, like to dare him to do something; the conmen and gigolo just kept walking backwards, feeling his resolve being eaten away with each step he took. "You'd never do that, kid. You don't have it in you." McAllister told him, taking the gun in his hands and putting the barrel against his chest, right on his heart. "C'mon, show me you are a real man. It's just that easy…."
Jane gulped down a mouthful of saliva, his eyes huge and scared, his pulse point throbbing insistently on his neck like he was a scared animal. McAllister dismissed him, shaking his head, shaking like an exasperated parent, and took the gun away from the hand of his adversary, throwing it away.
"I told you, you don't have it in you." McAllister said, punching Jane in the jaw. Jane was younger, but he was smaller, and lacked strength and exercise, and with just two hits he was on his back on the cold floor, Thomas on his, keeping punching him. Jane's eyes were turning black, his whole face was dirty with blood belonging to both of them. he took the beating, and didn't say a word, wasn't able to fight in any way, so he didn't do anything when McAllister searched his pockets for the USB stick, and took it for himself. The mobster took few steps, and retrieved his jacket. Chuckling and singling to himself, he dialed a number on his phone, and talked with someone, just few words Jane didn't catch as he was too busy trying to stay alive and think about how escape his sorry fate.
"I told you, kid. No one steals from me and get away with it." McAllister told him as he still gave Jane his back; the man half-turned, and when he did so, he swore under his breath and turned as white as a sheet, and gunshots filled the air. McAllister fell on a row of seats, and soon, on trembling legs, Jane joined him, the spare gun in his hand. He felt again the power and the adrenaline, as he understood that the criminal knew it was his time.
"Please don't… don't kill me." McAllister plead, his voice low as his blood was running on the floor.
"Oh, now you want mercy? After everything you've done?" Jane snickered, his weight on the dying man's body, the barrel of the gun against his chest. "And please, don't get me wrong. I'm not hesitating here- just savoring the moment."
A heavy thund was heard in the distance, followed by a feminine shriek, and then frantic sobbing.
"He…help me! he wants to kill me!" McAllister screamed, his voice broken and uneven. The woman looked around, scared, and then, at her feet, she saw Jane's gun. With trembling hands, she took it, and pointed it at the blonde man.
"Let… let him go…" the woman said, between sobs as she got closer and closer.
"Listen to her… please… let me live…"
Jane's gaze went from McAllister to the woman, and he saw something in the corner of his eye. There was a little change in her, her hands were shaking a little less, her grip was a little more secure. It indicated that not only she wasn't scared in any way of the situation, but that she was accustomed to firearms. The breath died in his throat as he realized it had been a trap all along: maybe Bertram wasn't even supposed to be there to begin with, and that woman, and that alone, was the backup.
"Tyger, Tyger…" Jane said, and as soon as muttered the next few words, he was game, and fired another shot without hesitation, this time to the brunette, just to turn to McAllister once again.
"And now, it's your turn…" he said, but as soon as he said the words, McAllister, with whatever force was left in him, hit him. the adrenaline and the fear gave him enough strength to run outside, an hand covering his injured side, but soon he was thrown on the ground as Jane tackled him from behind like he had seen Lisbon doing once.
"Please… please..." he begged, again and again and again as tears were filling his eyes. But Jane didn't relent, and put his hands around the killer's throat, his grip firm and strong as he hushed him with bloody red eyes.
"I want you to blink once for no and twice for yes… Are you sorry you killed Angela… and tried to kill Teresa'" McAllister breathed hard, and blinked, twice. "Good. Good. And are you afraid to die?" McAllister blinked twice again, and without hesitation, Jane tightened his grip around the man's neck, until his gurgling didn't stop, and he stood behind him, motionless, eyes wide open and as clear as the sky. He breathed, unevenly, and then, as he quickly walked away from the crime scene, sniffing lightly, he took his phone, and called the only person in the whole wide world he wanted at his side in that moment, the only one he cared about, and he wanted to escape with.