Chapter 11: In the End

Now it was starting to get strange. Jane had been able to cope with the small prison cell for the first night, and also for the second day. The most time of that second day he had been outside with the FBI-Agents and the late Timothy Carter´s lawyer in the isolation-block-visitors room and talked about the accusation of perjury and murder. He had been really happy this day to get back to that small, quiet prison cell, because his throat was hoarse because of the great amount of talking, and he had been also mentally exhausted. There had been so much to discuss and think about that he was so tired that he fell to sleep almost in an instant; he hardly had thought of the dinner.

But now? He seemed to be forgotten in that small room. »Hello?« he tried it again, and knocked at the door from the inside. He was in this cell almost the whole day now, and even this fact he could only see by the light level that could be seen through the small window behind the toilet. It was late afternoon again; twenty four hours had passed since that door was closed behind him and… nothing happened any more. »Hello-oh!«

In here there was no clock, no sound, no book… simply nothing. Once, a few hours ago, he had tried to let the faucet dripple in the exact time frame of a second, so that he would have at least some kind of thing that told him how much time passed. But this had no effect except maybe one: The time seemed to crawl even more slowly. So he had turned the faucet off again and listened to the muffled silence in his cell.

It was difficult for a man like him to stay calm with absolutely nothing to do. The only breaks in this day had been "lights on", the breakfast and the lunch. Boring, boring, boring…

»Excuse me, is there anyone out there who wants to talk to me?« He sighed. »What a shame. I could provoke Levine now, if I was out in the common detention block.« he murmured to himself. »How nice would that be, seeing him to get wild…« He smiled.

It was strange… why was there not a single bit of information? Yes, ok, he was in the "mind cracking" isolation block, but they could give him at least the morning paper or… someone could call. Wasn´t it his right to have one phone call per day? He wrinkled his brow. Or was the access to the phone only allowed if one was in the common block? He growled, and made a fast step to the door again, to knock against it, and…

»Wow!« In the very last second he stopped dead, his hand already prepared for a mighty knock. The door flew open to the outside and the prison guard was suddenly so close in front of him that he would have knocked his hand on the head of the guard, if he hadn´t managed to stop so fast. He lowered the arm and smiled: »Sorry, I… ehm, just wanted to test if the inner cover of the door is as smooth and slightly upholstered as the walls are.«

The guard replied without humor in his voice: »Follow me, Mister Jane.«

»Follow you? Where are we going? Do I have my half of an hour walk in the garden?«

The guard shook his head. »No. You are free. You can go.«

»I can what?« It was hardly possible to surprise a man like Patrick Jane, but in this minute he was very astonished.

The isolation block had also separated corridors, so they reached the prison´s office block without getting in contact with other jailbirds. At the last wire gate the two FBI Agents were waiting, in addition to that the director of the prison, and also Special Agent Wainwright and Agent Lisbon. She had the paper bag with his personal belongings with her and smiled slightly as a "welcome back", and there was also another thing that she wanted to tell him, but it was not the time to talk now.

The two FBI-Agents took over the lead. The smaller of them explained: »Mister Jane, we can only apologize for the mistake we made. We explained everything to the prison director; your colleagues from the CBI took a major part in the investigation. We have to confess that the letter, from what we thought it was an evidence against you, had been faked. In the meantime, since that letter, we received no less than eight other messages concerning the same topic. There were four e-mails, two phone calls and one report on TV, also a second, hand written letter that was thrown over the fence of the CBI Headquarter.«

Now FBI-Agent Percly had the word: »All the letters either were from "somebody" who claimed to know Mr. Timothy Carter; and they were so different in their content, that we are in very great doubts now. Some say that he was Red John, some say that he was not Red John, one says that he never used that name but that he did cruel things, and so on and so on. So we must count the first letter to this bunch of false or joke letters too; above all the signature of the lawyer was not real. The other messages concerned the murders of Agent Mallory and Ramirez. Even the press knew that there was something about Red John at this crime scenes; we could not keep that secret. And almost instantly there were people who claimed to be Red John, one of them said that he did that to honor his big idol, one said he had done it because he wanted to try how RJ felt when he killed. So we have many persons that claim to be a "new" or "better" Red John – so we are not so sure that the "real" Red John is really back, you know?«

Wainwright added: »And there were clear facts of evidence, that our Agents Mallory and Ramirez were killed by a fare-dodger who only simulates to be Red John. The paintings on the wall were wrong, and also how the bodies were shown to the public. As every one of you knows, Red John liked it, to put on a great show when he presented his victims. At first one saw the smiley, second the body, and most times there were no other blood traces than in the direct surroundings of the victims, where he murdered them. Here we had blood on a window, but not a smiley, only a splattered line; and we found the dead persons ere we realized the wall paintings. So we have strong prove that Red John did not do the killings.«

The smaller FBI Agent started again, clearing his throat: »Well, we are somewhat cornered here. You, Mister Jane, and the team of Agent Lisbon are the Red John experts in California. Would you… um… please take over that case again? We are not retreating, not really, I mean. But the charges against you, that we had started to investigate on, will dissolve into nothing if it is proved that these murders were not done by Red John. We´ll keep in touch with the CBI and your unit, and pass on all further information that we can find to you too. Which means, shortly said: You are free, and back in your job.«

»Thank you.« Jane simply replied. »I will do my best to clear this one.«

Lisbon could not believe it. He had no sarcastic, no nerve racking or provoking words for the FBI Agents, that kept him in detention awaiting a new trial, he only thanked them and that was it. Also Wainwright seemed to wonder himself a little bit that Jane showed none of his typical reactions; but he was happy about it, because that saved a lot of discussion. After filling in a little report in the office of the prison director, they could all go.

Jane arrived at the car, that was waiting in front of the gate as the last one; he had to change clothes ere he left the jail. So he took place at the back seat row; Wainwright was driving, Lisbon sat at the other front seat.

»Have you heard anything in your cell, or did they really keep you in perfect isolation?« Lisbon asked, when they started to drive.

Jane answered: »Yup. My last contact to the outside was the questioning in the visitors room, with the FBI and Mr. Carters attorney. Why? Did something good happen? I mean except the fact that the "big evidence" against me seems to be not so big anymore?«

Teresa replied: »You heard the FBI-men. Cho and Rigsby met with them today to discuss the Red John files and the Mallory/Ramirez murder, and then there were so many messages concerning the reappearance of Red John, that everything was in doubt again. You can look through it when we arrive at the Headquarter. And… Lazar Levine is free. His lawyer, Delanor, got him out of the jail yesterday. But that is not so good.«

»He´s what?« Jane had had no clue about that.

Wainwright explained: »We all cannot understand this, because the evidence against Levine is beyond doubt. We never know which counter-evidence his attorney may have. As soon as you cleared the "Fake Red John" case, you will please support Agent Price and his team with the Levine case. We have to see through this before they start a trial at court.«

»We will.« Lisbon answered. But that might come sooner than you think. She decided that for the time it was good enough not to talk too much with Wainwright, she had revealed all her suspicions once before, the day that the FBI took Jane to the questioning. She was also not entirely sure what would come next, and above all, she wanted to have a talk with Jane alone to update him, and then with her team. Another difficulty was to tell them everything she had discussed with Red John himself, without giving away her secret.

:-:

Finally they met in the Irish Pub in the evening. They had looked through all new evidence in the bureau, but decided to have the real talk outside. It was dark already, because Jane, Lisbon and Wainwright had been stuck in the afternoon traffic jam of Sacramento and reached the bureau not earlier than six thirty pm, and it needed another two and a half hour for Patrick to be up-dated with the latest news concerning the evidences. The day had been long enough again; but they were not burdened with sorrows for the time being. It was a big relief for them all to see Jane free again, and it looked very good for him; as soon as they had the proof that Red John wasn´t back, there was no need to doubt that Jane really shot the right man… at least for a while. So this part of the trouble would be solved soon, because they were very confident that they could reach that goal. To celebrate this and get a little more distance between them and the hard work and time of the last three days, they had retreated to their usual bar, and took some drinks, while Jane had informed them about everything he had heard, seen and spoken of while he had been behind bars. He had explained that in such a funny way that all of them had to laugh.

»But there is still the threat Levine will be for us.« Rigsby said, changing the topic from the easier part to the heavier problem. »If Delanor really has this proof that Levine is not guilty we might get in big trouble. Even if Levine is not gonna try to kill us, he still can ruin our lives. If we have to go to court… em, I mean, we did break in Price´s office, and we lured Levine into a trap, and Jane really provoked him…«

Lisbon shook her head: »There was no time to talk about this in the bureau, and I think that only concerns us alone; maybe Price´s team too… but first of all I want you to know it. I don´t think that Levine will wait so long, until his attorney has put on a new trial at court, to seek his revenge. Maybe he even won´t risk it. We do not know exactly what kind of evidence Delanor got, that made it possible for Levine to go free on bail; perhaps it is weaker than they confess. Maybe they don´t want to risk a discussion in front of a jury because of that… let´s call it, vague evidence. I think Delanor himself did something, maybe this evidence is also faked, only to get his client out.«

Cho was confused: »But why should he, right now? I mean, Jane was in the direct way to Levine, free bait for revenge in the prison. And as soon as Levine was out he had no access to him.« he wrinkled his brow. »You want to say that…«

»Yes.« Jane joined the discussion. »Maybe they changed the plan somehow. We knew that they put on that whole Red John story to deliver me to Levine in the prison, but maybe they now thought that it would be too risky for Levine to have his revenge in there. If he would get me – all of us – somehow out of the prison, he could get away with it, if he leaves no traces, and could still be free. But if he would have been caught while torturing or murder me in prison, he´d be on the straight way to the death penalty.«

»Which means, he´s more dangerous now than we thought of.« Van Pelt said, looking down at the plaster on her arm, which had already the signatures of all CBI Agents on it.

Lisbon added: »And he has to be really sure that Jane gets free of all charges again, so that the FBI lets him off the hook and observation. I think he…«

As if her words were some kind of forecast or this was a strange kind of coincidence, the bar keeper suddenly turned the TV, which had been only on mute screen, and in the background; waiting for the tonight´s basketball match, loud. Everyone in the bar turned round to that unexpected sound and fell silent.

»I am Red John!« a mad-sounding voice of a man yelled that moment.

No one of the guests in the bar had any clue what that meant, because these words lacked every context. It was part of a dark, monochrome video clip with unsteady camera moving. It showed the dark front garden of a house, the scene was only enlightened with the ghastly colors of flashlights, maybe red and blue, but the video was not in much color, it seemed as if one person had just taken a cell-phone-camera with night-scene mode, to film that scene; and he used a flashlight to get more light to it; so sometimes there were more colors to be seen. Jumping up and down the maniac tried to get rid of the two policemen in uniform, that held him at the arms and dragged him between them to their car.

The man yelled again: »I am the better Red John, I am the new Red John, I did things he never dared to, I am famous! I killed policemen, I am very brave! I am better than anyone!« His high pitched, mad voice broke into manic laughter, and screaming, while the policemen stuffed the person into the back of a police car.

Everyone in the bar was dead silent. What was that? It was not news time, but a line of words that ran through the lower part of the screen said, that this were local breaking news. The camera pictures were not really life, but maybe only a few minutes old, ere they have been sent to the reporters. The man seemed not to care much about his camera pictures, because without turning the camera off, he started to follow the police into the house. The pictures of the video jumped up and down very fast, while he was running for the door of the house. The policemen switched on the light and for the flash of a second there was the sight of a terrible, bloody mess that covered the whole entrance hall, everywhere there was the red smiling face, in different sizes, painted with slowly drying blood.

Then one of the policemen turned round and raised one hand to the lens of the camera: »No! No filming, who are you, get out of here! Immediately! If you don´t stop filming, we must arrest you! Go away!« the picture was already darkened by the hand of the policeman, the last words that could be heard were: »Francis, get this nosy man out here!« Then the video stopped with a muffled mix of colors and a grunt.

That moment the face of a studio reporter appeared in a side frame. She told: »We got this little, very interesting video only fifteen minutes ago on our web-site, with the comment that the freedom of the press was violated again by the police. We of course checked it, and according to the local police of Southern Sacramento, this video is not a fake. They are looking out for the man who filmed it because he might be an important witness. And this is what the chief of the police told us: A person from the neighborhood informed the police that there was a big trouble at the house next to him, and that a man was screaming for mercy, and that he heard the name of "John" a several times. When the police arrived, all had been dark and silent again, until suddenly a man with a bloody shaving blade came running at them through the front door. This was when the anonymous must have turned on his camera; absolutely without permission, but they were so much in trouble with arresting the maniac that they noticed it too late. As you could see on the pictures, this is not a professional video, it was made by chance. If you want to look at it again, please visit our web-site, where you also will find the latest updates to that case. Finally I need to say that this is a very interesting development… not long ago there were rumors that a man named Red John killed two law enforcement officers, also in Sacramento. It is allowed to say – without any doubt, that this might be another attack of this killer.«

Immediately after that report the people in the bar started to discuss about it, and of course most of them were shocked; the only ones who had expected it somehow were the four CBI Agents and their Consultant.

And it was that moment, when a very tired Agent Wainwright called Lisbon, and told her: »I think you have seen that report right now, and I am afraid that they will send it again in the late news… the police informed us too. The victim is a man, but they know nothing more, in fact the body seems to be so mangled that they can hardly tell anything. I know it is late and I know you had a rough time, but please have a look at the crime scene, will you?«

Lisbon replied: »This is our job, Sir.« then she ended the call and said to her colleagues: »Let´s pay, and go.«

:-:

The crime scene was horrible, a berserk had done his work there. It clearly was the work of a sick mind, and it would be a hard piece of work to put the victim so much together again, that they could try to find out who he was… but during the first questioning of the murderer the police found out that the man who´s fingerprints were all over the house and the murder weapon was under a great amount of drugs, and still high. He was constantly claiming that he was the "new Red John" and "better than the original" and so on and so forth; and, what was one of the most important things he said during the whole questioning; that he knew the man whom he had murdered very well.

»Yes, this stupid asshole!« he cried out, when Cho tried to ask him again about the identity of the victim. »Of course I knew him, a friend, I thought, my admirer, I thought, I showed him the pictures you know, from my first doing, but he did not believe me.« He choked. The man who still called himself the "resurrected, new born RJ" had disgusting foam in the corner of his mouth now. »He did not believe me, that ignorant lemming, that dumb piece of mud, and I thought he was my friend. He answered that anyone could take these pictures, that they are only pictures, he said! Only pictures! No, they are the beginning of my work, yes, really! The proof that I am like my big happy idol, no better.«

Cho was still calm, although his opposite yelled and shrieked out his words. Kimball only hoped that the man would not start to spit round, or something. »You have pictures?« He said. »That sounds interesting, would you please show me? Then it would be easier to believe that you really are who you claim to be.«

»Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!« the ill minded murderer answered, in an eager voice. He did not notice that this could be major evidence against him, and he had not called for a lawyer yet. »My phone. They are on my phone.« He smiled, when an office came only five minutes later with an evidence bag, that contained a rather new smart-phone.

Cho searched for the pictures with his rubber gloves on and found some photos that really made him silent. There were several photos that showed Agent Prices Team. They were still all alive, safe and sound in these photos, but it was clear that the pictures were taken to spy them out. There was one that showed all four of them walking into the CBI HQ in the morning, another one showed only Hollyman, another was of Agent Price, who bought a newspaper at a store not far away from the CBI. Then there were pictures of Agent Ramirez who had his lunch at a Hot dog booth, and of Agent Mallory leaving the CBI in the evening. The following pictures showed the license plate of Mallory's private car, and then her home house, when she parked the car in the garage, and left for the main entrance; and two other photos showed the house from other sides. An additional photo could be found, where Agent Mallory was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She was clearly spied out. There were no pictures of the killings, but it was enough to see this.

The mad murderer cried out: »You see, you also believe me, that I did it. Why did my best friend not? Why must I show him that I mean it serious? We could be happy at home now celebrating my work, but… he was such an ignorant!« Now he started to cry. There was no chance to get any more out of him right now, so the policemen transferred him to a holding cell for the night.

Everyone talked about the fact that this crazy killer was possibly the murderer of Mallory and Ramirez, and this impostor must have tried to fake the reappearance of Red John. So the real RJ was dead, no mysterious resurrection had taken place. Not a bit of it was funny, but it was, nevertheless, a good plan. Levine and his associates had lost no time to prove that Jane definitely was accused because of an error.

:-:

Lisbon was still wide awake although the sky had started to get grey again. She had not heard a word of her "friend" Red John that night, but that had not been necessary. All the things that had happened were some kind of self-explaining and had absolutely – absolutely! – nothing to do with Levine and Delanor. Of course she and her team knew that this was totally different, but the puppeteer pulled the strings behind the scenes and avoided it strictly, of course, to reveal his secret. To all the public and all the police, even the FBI, it was only important that they had found and finally stopped that crazy minded Red John impostor. They were happy that this danger was eliminated, and of course that meant too, that Patrick was, for the time being, freed of all accusations.

So the FBI officially dropped the case that morning. Also the Mallory/Ramirez murder was linked to the arrest of the crazy man, and this was the investigation of the CBI. The FBI Agents retreated and closed their investigations, returned all files to the CBI and apologized once more for the inconvenience.

Bertram and Wainwright were relieved and both content that they could concentrate on their own investigations again, without having the FBI supervising them like a pain in the neck. Nevertheless they wanted fast results. It seemed as if that would not last long; the photos of Prices team, the new murder and the crazy confessions of the suspect seemed to fit it all… No one ever asked about the things that happened to Lisbon or Cho; because they never told it officially, and the hit and run in which Van Pelt was injured, was officially counted as an accident that was definitely not related with the murder case.

:-:

It was so quiet as rarely before in the past weeks; and so they found finally some time to talk. »Teresa?« Patrick asked into the bureau, carrying a cup of tea. »May we have a short chit-chat, if you like, I mean, only if I do not bother you…«

»You don´t, Patrick. I also think it is time for a talk. I hope I did not overrun you with my decision… I am sorry, if I did. Um… it is just, you know, I do not wish to kill your child. And I am sure, that it is yours. I told you before that the "visitor" did not harm me, and a few days ago I got another proof that I was right.«

»What proof?« he asked, not suspicious, but friendly interested.

She answered: »One of the men that tried to kill Grace said something, ere he died. He confessed that he and his partner did the attacks against my team and me; and that he was ordered to do so by this Mister "D". He tried to free his soul, I think. He said that they only painted me with the felt tip pen, and did not touch me otherwise. That's it, Patrick… so… our little… interlude changed it all. I… do not expect you to… well, do anything for the baby if you do not like, but if you want, and insist on a DNA test, we will do this of course…«

»Teresa, what are you talking about?« he was almost out of words, and placed the tea cup on the table. »How could you ever imagine that? Do you think that is important for me? Gosh, I really thought you´d know me better than that!« he smiled, and for a short moment he could not speak any more, he was laughing with tears in his eyes; then he continued: »It is yours, Teresa, your baby, that´s been all that mattered to me from the beginning on. You´re my best friend, and yes, I love you, I really do love you… and I would have cared for that little thing, no matter who´s the father. Only because it is yours. Understood? But of course I could not be happier than I am now, knowing that it is mine.«

He stepped closer, still smiling with small tears in his eyes: »I´ll always be there for you, however you´d like that to be.« He took a deep breath and tried to smile again. »But… may I be part of your little family, somehow? Perhaps as some eccentric uncle, or a close friend…«

»You could be there as father, if you like. Exactly one half of the baby is yours, you know?« She had some tears in her eyes too now.

For a moment they were silent, they needed no words to agree on that.

Then Lisbon said with an amused grin: »But I don´t think that I will ever marry you.«

»You don´t have to, if you don´t want.« he replied. »But now let us have some breakfast tea, and…« he changed the topic a little bit.

A knock on the door made them look around. It was Rigsby and his face was stern. He had of course not heard the conversation, but he came with news: »He is dead. The murderer, I mean, the man that the police arrested last evening.«

»What?« Lisbon and Jane exclaimed at the same time.

Wayne confirmed: »Yes. He fell into withdrawal symptoms in the very early morning hours, the police said his character changed radically from this agitated behavior to deep sorrows and angst. Cho said that the man had first symptoms of the withdrawal when he was still questioning him, but it had become worse when he was in the holding cell. The police doctor treated him against the symptoms, but in the morning they found him dead in the cell. He somehow managed to violate his pulse arteries with a sharp splinter of a ballpoint pen casing; the same pen they had left him there in case that he wants to write a confession. And he did, while he died. The police will send it over to us.«

Only half an hour later they had the confession in front of them, through the blood it was hardly readable, but it said: »This is the truth and my confession…. At least I want to die with true words in my mind. I am afraid, I am afraid, I don't want to die but I have to, anyway. I need to do it myself ere someone else comes for me. This is the better way. I was the man who faked to be Red John and killed the CBI Agents. It was ordered to me. I killed the man who was my friend. I am afraid… « now the letters started to get weaker, more creaky and crumpled. At times the pen did not work properly because of the mass of blood. »This is the end« was the only thing that they could decipher at the bottom.

Jane sighed: »I somehow expected that…«

They looked at each other. Now it was definite that this case would be closed soon; the murderer had confessed, and he was dead now. But what would come next?

Above it all one could not be sure who intimidated the man so much, that he chose to commit such a cruel suicide. Was it Levine that threatened him beyond the measures of a sound mind; or was it Red John, who somehow had his hand in this? Whoever did drive this man into suicide, this person must have an immense power over the minds of others.

:-:

After all that mass of work and overwhelming events that had kept them busy, the following days seemed to be boring. The whole team felt like as if they were not doing anything at all; although they were back to their usual working day procedure; and the closing of the Mallory/Ramirez case. Slowly enough their exhausted minds and also bodies found back to normal and after two other nights the most of them were back to a good sleeping rhythm, and could recover a little bit. But the storm was not over. It was like being in the quiet eye of a hurricane, so to speak. A wall of big trouble had passed them, but there was still something to come, and that "what there was to come" seemed to surround them in every direction. No one knew from which direction the big strike would come, and what it would look like.

Maybe… Teresa thought once, there won´t be anything, and Red John would take care of Levine and Delanor before they could do something. But she had not heard from him for a longer time now. They had had more communication, and to be honest she waited for something to happen. Just to be sure, she wrote another e-mail to the address, where she told about the confession of the mad murderer, and that they had closed the case concerning the reappearance of Red John. She got no answer, and that was what she expected. Red John got everything what he wanted now; Levine was out of jail, Delanor too, and the mercenaries, who had done the odd job, faking to be him, were already dead. He did not need her anymore, and it seemed as if he had dropped her, and refused to pick up the contact again. But maybe that was the best. He had helped to get Jane out of prison and out of the immediate danger to be accused for perjury… so in fact he had done what he had promised. It was the best that the strange coalition was over now. Nevertheless, to be honest, a small part of her was disappointed that he even refused to say goodbye or something like that. It was just cut and gone… that was impolite and did not fit him.

:-:

It happened so fast that it was shocking; and no one could foresee, where the blow came from. Two weeks had passed since the suicide of the "Red John" impostor in prison, and they were all re-working on the Levine case now. All two teams that were involved knew and somehow expected the danger, so they always kept an open eye on their surroundings, but Levine seemed to have totally vanished. The Agents could only reach Vincent Delanor, who was strongly on his clients side and very uncooperative. Sometimes they had no other chance than to talk to the lawyer about some case details, because he was Levine´s attorney since the first trial.

And then, one fine September evening, Vincent Delanor could not believe his eyes and ears. Levine was back from his secret hideout, where he had been for the last two and a half weeks. Levine invited him for an eye-to-eye talk in his car, where no one could overhear them. At first Delanor thought that they finally could talk about a term for the new trial, because he had nearly worked his head off for Levine. It was very likely that they would win the case, and get loads of money.

Levine said: »My dear old friend, you follow me like a little dog-puppy admires his master. I always liked that, but now you are not longer needed. I do not want a new trial, because I know that the evidence against me is stronger than everything else. I have friends, who are able to give me a new identity, and I will be back again and free, maybe for a while outside the States, but the Africa or South-East-Asia markets are also full of blossoms. So I do not need anyone else who might know me… but after all you could do me a last favor.«

Delanor was very white in the face now, but still he asked: »What can I do for you? Buy you a ticket out of the state? Do you want money, or… «

»No. I want a trap.« Levine answered, smiling.

»A trap?« Vincent did not understand this. »How could I help there?«

Levine still grinned: »You will be the bait in the trap. The CBI would never expect that I´d kill you, after all that you´ve done for me, and all you promised to do for me in the future. If they find you dead, they won´t suspect me behind this, at least not at the first sight. And when they all come to look at your fat, dead body, they will step right into my trap. I´ll get them all at one time, and then I´ll be gone.«

Delanor cried: »But you cannot do this, I am your friend!«

»I need no friends, I only need tools. And if the tools are useless, I throw them away.« Levine answered and the next second he stung an injection shot into the bare neck of his attorney. A few seconds later Delanor was unconscious.

Levine stopped the car at the side of the Industrial Blvd. Bridge and opened the second front door. With a heavy bit of effort he threw over the bridge side and listened to the disgusting sound when the other man hit the ground about twenty meters below.

:-:

It was a surprise for both teams, when the corpse of Vincent Delanor was found below the bridge about one day later. This area was rarely visited; the old industrial area was too iffy to be a nice place for a walk with a dog or a jogging round. It was a homeless man who was looking for a place where he could spend the night, that discovered the victim. The man was honest enough to call the police without touching the body, although he must have noticed that the dead man must be rich. Delanor still had his thick wallet in the back pocket of his trousers, and a big golden watch on his wrist.

Senior Agent Price took over the case for the CBI, because the death of Levines attorney was strongly related to their current investigations. It was important to find out if Delanor had had an accident, or if he had committed suicide, or if it had been an attack.

»But why should a man like Delanor go for a walk to that area and over that bridge?« Jane asked, just to put this question in the room. »This man hardly ever moved, and I don´t think that he was a friend of walking round just for fun. No, I think there is something more behind that. Maybe our friend Levine tried to get rid of him.«

»You think?« Price replied. »But I do not understand why. They could have put on a very good trial, and maybe they would have won it. And if all our previous investigations were right, Delanor was a major accomplice in that big plan Levine carried out.«

Cho was also suspicious: »And that is why he maybe got rid of him. I also think that we deal with murder. Levine wanted to get rid of him.«

Lisbon said nothing in the discussion. She thought about something else. Red John had told her that he would be out to kill the heads of that conspiracy; he wanted to get his revenge on everybody who had to do with the abuse of his sign. Maybe it was Red John who killed that lawyer; in a way that no one suspected him, just like he promised. But should she ask him? If it was a part of Red John´s revenge, maybe she should try something to… keep him out of it? But he never left traces before, so also here he would have been cautious. But… a promise is a promise.

»One moment please, I need five minutes ere we can go.« she said to her teammates.

Agent Price nodded: »Hollyman and I drive to the office and the home of Delanor to see if there is any note or letter, maybe a computer file that tells us that he committed suicide. We try to talk to the secretary too.«

»Ok, then we take over the crime scene.« Teresa promised. »Five minutes.« she said again. and went to the ladies room while Price and Hollyman left for the elevator.

She was alone in the room, and called the phone number RJ had given her; but to her disappointment it looked like as if this phone was not longer in use. Sighing she gave it up after a second try, but then her phone rang out. It was a new number, but Red Johns voice.

»Yes?« he asked, polite, but a little bit surprised.

She answered: »I assume that you did not wish any further contact, because you have everything you want now… but I need to know whether you killed Vincent Delanor or not… and if you have, is there anything I have to… let say not look at?«

He cleared his throat and answered: »No, I never would leave any trace that one could follow, you know that. And a second no, I did not kill that man. I was up to, and was watching him for a while now, to find out the whereabouts of Levine, but… he´s dead? That is bad, I would have needed him to guide me to his client first. How did it happen?«

»Fell off the Industrial Blvd. Bridge, about a day ago.« Lisbon explained.

»This is really strange.« Red John answered. »You go there now, I assume?«

»Yes, we do.«

»Have fun then.« he replied, and was up to end the call, but then he had another idea: »But be careful… the death of Mr. Delanor does not fit in my plan.« Now he was gone.

»Be careful.« Lisbon repeated his words. »Hm.«

:-:

Only an hour later they were at the accident site. They did not definitely know by this time if it was murder, so the police had lined out the area, but no one spoke of anything but an accident. Van Pelt and Rigsby at first joined the policemen who had been the first to find the body, Cho talked to the homeless man who was the first and only witness; Lisbon and Jane were next to the dead man.

It all seemed to be just an accident. The front side of the body was so destroyed that one could hardly say who it was – if there weren´t the wallet and all his papers still on his body. It was a disgusting view to look at and this time even the men who came here to bring the body away in a special big plastic coffin seemed to be close to vomit, although they were used to see dead people. Two of the policemen with one of the police cars that had been here, accompanied the coroner´s van to the morgue, the other two policemen and their second car remained; so did the CBI Agents.

And then the hell broke loose. The dusk had been creeping along fast, and it was almost night. Suddenly a faint eruption of light disturbed the darkness in the messy thickets around. It was the flash from the muzzle of a gun; but there was hardly a sound, it must have a silencer on it. One of the policemen toppled over, screaming in pain, and ere they really realized what was going on, the second of the policemen was shot at, and went down.

Van Pelt and Rigsby dived into cover behind the police car, but that safety was doubtful, there was a second source of gunfire from the other side, aiming directly at them. They were not safe there, but could not move either. The only thing that helped them a little bit was the increasing darkness.

Cho pulled the homeless man down with him, and tried to get him to a shelter place behind a mixed heap very old plastic boxes and the side of the bridge, but that was useless too. Someone stood at the upper side of the bridge and shot from there. The homeless man was hit directly in the chest, but the shooter at the bridge cursed loudly; he had hoped that he had hit Cho – who fired back without hesitating. It was a constant shooting and firing, like in a mad shooter-computer-game; it all had that unbelievable taste of surrealism on it.

Within a few seconds it was clear that this had been a trap, and this needed no further explanation. The death of Mr. Delanor had been stage-managed to lure them out here. And the shooters all round did not care for anything, they only wanted to see everyone dead.

Suddenly there was the chance to get at least one of the snipers down. Lisbon could see the faint glow of a cigarette, which must be in the mouth of the sniper that shot like mad at the police car, behind which Van Pelt and Rigsby were in cover. There was hardly a place in the car left that had not been shot at already; and still the constant rattling filled the air. Police sirens were wailing in the distance, but they were still much too far away.

Teresa left her cover next to Jane, which had been a rather good place to hide, made a fast jump, two further steps, and then she shot four times at the sniper behind the bushes. She must have hit him; he screamed out loud and his gunfire lost target, went to the air at first, and then stopped abruptly. That moment Rigsby and Van Pelt used to give cross-fire to the man that was on the bridge; to help Cho. Suddenly the aggressors seemed to be in the worse position, but then another man joined the shooting.

No one had seen him approaching, maybe he had just waited at the other side of the bridge in some hideout, but now he came walking through the shadows so surely and straight forward, as if he himself was a ghost. He raised a gun. He was close to Jane now, whom Lisbon had left alone at the side of the bridge, while she´d taken out the one sniper.

But the new arrived man did apparently not see Patrick, who – Thank God – seemed to have the ability to stay in the shadows without moving; but the new opponent had the best position to take out Lisbon. And he knew that he was not on danger, he was out of reach for the other Agents with guns. He aimed at Teresa, smiled, and pulled the trigger…

»Jane! Jane, stay down!« Lisbon cried, when she realized, that Patrick had left the safe site. »Jane, no!« She could not see what happened now, because an unexpected event took every sight from her. A person who came running at her collided with her from the left side and she fell down, but did not hit the ground … whoever had knocked her down, shielded the fall, so that she landed on his body, not on the stone- and dirt-covered earth.

The shot rang out in the same instant; she knew that the person who had knocked her down maybe saved her life.

»You ok? Teresa?« the voice was well known and she tried to get a look at the face of the man next to her, but another sight distracted her completely: Jane was in front of the man with the gun now, and a second shot rang out…

She struggled to get free from the firm grip of Red John who still shielded her with his body; she tried to get her gun, but it was out of reach, she´d lost it when she fell. So much happened now, that it was almost too much to notice it all.

Apparentely Cho had managed to hurt the sniper at the bridge, the man did not shoot anymore. Rigsby tried somehow to make a fast run up to the bridge to look out for the shooter that Cho had hurt, and Van Pelt started to phone for assistance. The time had seemed so long until now; but only seconds, maybe half a minute had passed since that all started. It was only because so much had happened… Teresa could feel that the man in front of her put a gun in her hand, she never knew where he had it from. The very same moment she noticed that he had really taken that bullet for her. He was bleeding from his right upper arm, maybe this was the cause why he could not shoot himself.

And, to her surprise – or maybe not, if one thought about it, she remembered the face of Red John, he had been the "doctor" she´d talked to at the park bench in the summer rain, but… this was only important for time of one short heartbeat, then she turned away.

Lisbon fired at the man that was next to Jane; while Patrick – what was most unlikely for him, because he had always shown great respect from all kind of weapons – struggled to keep a firm grip on the muzzle of the gun. She must have hit the man, but not too bad, he only startled for a moment and let go of the gun. Jane was surprised to have the weapon in his hand now, but he still was quick-witted enough to throw that gun away. It splashed into the water of the river. And then Patrick went down, slightly swaying, to hands and knees.

»Let me go!« Lisbon cried, and finally Red John let her get up. Firing her new gun she ran at the single man, and knew at once who it was, when she was close enough. It was Levine himself, and now he looked in terror. He´d never expected a stranger to cross his plans. If that man had not thrown Lisbon down, she´d be severely hurt by now and would not be able to be a danger for him. So he simply started to run away.

»Patrick, are you…« Teresa asked; when she arrived next to him.

He replied, pain-racked, but with firm voice: »Get him! Don´t let him go away! Run!«

Cho also came running out of his shelter to support her; although there was still the second sniper in the bushes. Bullets hit the ground in a line right behind Cho. This was the chance for Van Pelt, she aimed at the distracted sniper, and although her plaster hindered her, she by chance hit the rifle of the man, and it blocked. The sniper tried to find his way in escaping and tried to get to the other direction, closely followed by Grace.

Within one second it was silent, and Red John and Patrick Jane were the only ones that remained at the original site. The sirens of the police cars had come a little bit closer, but were still out of reach. Slowly the man called Red John came back to his feet, while the CBI-Consultant could do nothing more than seek for support with his hands on the ground. Even kneeling was not enough now to stop him from swaying. He was breathing heavily, with rapid moves of his chest. He had never expected it to be so painful if one was shot at.

Red John slowly went to him and knelt down beside him: »Oh, this does not look good.« he said, not in his disguised, high pitched voice, but with a normal tone, only slightly worried, maybe. »This is a right through shot from almost no distance. You´re bleeding heavily. And the blood is very dark. Looks like your liver´s hit.«

»That means I am dying. They´re still too far away to be here in time.« Jane said.

»Seems so.« Red John replied. »In fact I am a doctor, and I can see if one is dying.«

»Teresa´s save, isn´t she?« He tried to smile, but couldn't manage it. »I got to thank you for that… I see…« he longed for breath, to formulate words: »You helped her. But why, by all means… why… you?«

»She´s safe.« Red John, alias Jon Herd, M.D. reassured him, with a friendly tone in his voice. »But let us put all the veils away now, Jane. You know who I am. Don´t you?« he smiled. »I do not have do disguise my voice to make you believe.«

»Yes. I am afraid, I do know you.« Jane smiled grimly. »What do you want here, now? If you want to kill me finally, do it quick...« he coughed.

»I don´t think that this is necessary.« Red John answered. »I could just sit here and watch, if I want. You´ll soon loose conscience. I am almost a little bit sorry that I am the one that is with you when you die. I think you´d prefer her, being at your side.«

»No, I don´t. She…« he took a deep breath: »She´s better off without watching that.«

Red John nodded: »Yes, maybe she is. You asked me, why I am here? Can´t you figure that out yourself? I am disappointed, Patrick, but maybe this comes because you are bleeding out. I am here because I do not like it if someone copies my work. This has got nothing to do with you personally, but you were part of the game, so…«

He interrupted himself, and did something that was almost unbelievable, but nevertheless a move of respect. He helped Jane to lie down flat on the floor, because Patrick did not longer manage it to stay in a kneeling position. The strength was leaving him fast now, but while he felt himself getting weaker, also the pain level decreased rapidly.

»By the way, you can be sure that I´ll keep an eye on her.« Red John said then, with a smile on his face: »And one day, I´ll raise your child as if it was mine.«

»You… what?« Jane stuttered. He started to lose sight, all blackish around him.

»You understood very well, Patrick. And if you don´t like the thought of it, try to hinder me. Simply manage it, not to die; if you want to see your child growing up.«

The flashlights of the police and paramedics were somewhat closer now. Red John stood up and walked slowly away, into the dark.