The moment they entered the theater, the cock of a gun clicked right next to Lisbon's ear. She stopped, and Jane nearly ran into her. He put his hand on her hip to steady them both as the door closed behind them, and Lisbon turned her head towards the sound.
A tall, slightly heavyset woman in her early fifties stood there, pointing a Beretta handgun at Lisbon's head. "Hello, Agent Lisbon," she purred, a malicious gleam in her gray eyes and an electronic earpiece visible in one ear. "So kind of you to join us."
Lisbon glanced to her right and saw two more of Red John's people on her other side, one a small, reedy man with mousy brown hair and another man with a dark complexion and the height and build of a professional football player. They each had a gun trained on her and Jane.
She looked back the woman, whose face she recognized as belonging to Clarissa Allen's killer. "Irene Gregson," Lisbon greeted her coolly.
"You're all by your lonesome today?" Gregson inquired. "Excepting Mr. Jane, of course." She sneered. "Your white knight. Red John said he would come, but I wasn't sure. I shouldn't have doubted him, though. He's never wrong about these things."
Lisbon ignored this. "My team is outside. They won't interfere."
"No storming the castle gates?" Gregson asked mockingly. "No gang of cops ready to ride to your rescue at the last moment?"
"It's just us," Lisbon replied.
"All right, then. Hand over your cell phones," Gregson ordered, gesturing with the gun.
Jane and Lisbon reluctantly handed over their phones to the smaller of Gregson's companions, who had his hand outstretched for them.
Once this transaction was complete, Gregson lowered her gun and walked around to face Lisbon. She looked her up and down appraisingly, her lip curled. "Awfully bold, aren't you? Walking in here without even having your weapon drawn. Wouldn't they give you some kind of police demerits at cop training school for that sort of thing?"
"I didn't come here to shoot anyone," Lisbon said calmly. "I came here for the boy. Where is he?"
"All in good time," Gregson said dismissively. "You're to come with us first, and then we'll see about the child."
"Come with you where?" Jane asked.
She flashed him a grin, and Jane noted that her eyes held more than a little bit of crazy in them. "Not far, Mr. Jane," she said, sounding amused. "You needn't accompany her—you can wait here if you like. You can always be collected later. Red John won't want you to miss the show, after all. Come along, Agent Lisbon."
Lisbon didn't budge. "I'm not going anywhere until I have proof that Ben is still alive."
Gregson smiled. "So impatient. Not to worry. You'll see the boy shortly."
"You give me evidence he's alive right now, or you'll have to drag us kicking and screaming wherever it is you intend to take us," Lisbon said harshly.
Gregson looked at her askance. "Very well. I suppose we can indulge you on this point." She pulled a baby monitor out of her pocket and handed it to Lisbon.
Lisbon snatched it out of her hand and hastily switched it on. It had a video display as well as audio. Jane peered over her shoulder to get a look as well and they both saw Ben sitting on a red cushioned chair, playing with an antique silver rattle. "Ben!" Lisbon said desperately, her fingers tracing over his figure on the monitor.
Ben looked around inquisitively at the sound of her voice, although the monitor wasn't a two way and he couldn't see her. "Ta?" he said uncertainly.
A live feed then, Jane thought. Not recorded footage, if Ben was responding to the sound of Lisbon's voice. His shoulders relaxed, ever so slightly.
"Ben, honey, it's going to be okay," Lisbon said to the monitor, practically crying with relief. She knew Ben couldn't understand her, or know who was speaking to him, but she didn't care. She was just so unspeakably relieved he was okay. All they had to do now was get him out of here. Or wherever he might be being held.
"Tata?" Ben said, shaking the rattle.
Lisbon turned to Gregson. "Where is he?" she demanded. "Where are you keeping him?"
Gregson took the baby monitor away from her and stowed it in her pocket. "You'll see soon enough. Now you've had your proof, perhaps you'll be a bit more cooperative."
"I'm here, aren't I?" Lisbon said. "What more do you want?"
"It's not about what I want. It's about what Red John wants," Gregson said smoothly. "And for now, what he wants is for us to make sure you are a bit more suitably attired for your grand debut."
"More suitably attired?" Lisbon said blankly. "What the hell does that mean?"
Gregson eyed Lisbon's blazer and jeans and smirked. "You will be furnished a change of clothes more appropriate for this momentous occasion."
"A change of clothes?" Lisbon said incredulously. "What for?"
"Red John would like you to look a little more… feminine for your first meeting."
"Forget it," Lisbon said firmly. "I'm not changing my clothes to indulge some ridiculous whim of his."
Gregson tsked her disapproval. "Now, now. You wouldn't want to meet Red John looking less than your best, would you?"
"I'm not dressing up for that man," Lisbon said, disgust evident in her voice. "The deal was that I turn myself over in exchange for Ben. I've done that, so now it's time for your boss to hold up his end of the bargain. Give Ben back to his father."
Gregson raised her gun again, and the two men on the other side of Jane and Lisbon took a step closer to them. "I'm afraid I'm in a position to insist," Gregson said sweetly. "We still have the boy, if you recall."
Lisbon hesitated. "If we go with you now, then you'll take us to him?"
Gregson flashed her crazy smile again. "Certainly. Red John always keeps his promises. Mr. Jane here can vouch for that."
There was a crackling sound and Gregson jumped as her earpiece buzzed static in her ear for a moment before a voice came onto the other end of the line. "Yes?" she said breathlessly at the sound of the other person's voice. "Yes, we have them. We're bringing them now." She listened for a moment, and her face fell. "Yes," she said again, looking disappointed. "I understand."
The line crackled again and went dead. Gregson shot a venomous look at Lisbon, then gestured brusquely to the taller of the two men. "You," she snapped. "Take them to the next station. Me and Richards will stay here to guard the entrance for now. I'll be along in a minute."
The man who wasn't Richards nodded curtly. "Let's go," he said roughly to Jane and Lisbon, prodding Jane in the back with his gun.
Jane and Lisbon exchanged glances and did as they were bidden.
Their guard escorted them down the hallway and through a series of doors until they were deep in the bowels of the building. He finally halted in front of a non-descript door. "You can change in here," he said to Lisbon gruffly.
Jane, who knew where they were due to his careful study of the building's blueprints, asked, "What, no gold star on the door?"
The other man looked at him without changing his expression, then looked back at Lisbon. "The clothes are inside."
Lisbon took Jane by the hand and pulled him towards the door. "Come on, Jane."
Before Jane had time to marvel at the unexpected development of Lisbon voluntarily pulling him by the hand towards a door behind which she intended to take off her clothes, their guard put a meaty hand on his chest to stay his progress. "Orders are you change in there," he said to Lisbon. "He waits out here."
"No deal," Lisbon said flatly. "I've agreed to this ridiculous request, but only on the condition that we stay together."
"It's orders."
Lisbon met his gaze levelly. "Either you let him come inside with me, or you can just go ahead and shoot us right now. But I don't think your master would take it too kindly if you ended his fun prematurely that way, do you?"
He gave her a surly look. "Have it your way. But there are conditions."
"What conditions?"
"You will turn your weapons over to me when you come out," the man said sternly. "If you do not give them to me voluntarily, I will take them from you."
Lisbon scowled. "Fine."
"You have ten minutes to come out in the clothing that Red John has provided you, or I come in after you," he said. "Do you understand?"
"Yes," Lisbon said impatiently.
He released Jane from his grip. "Go ahead."
Lisbon kept a firm grip on Jane's hand and opened the door, revealing a tiny dressing room.
She dragged him inside, closing the door behind them.
"How many do you think there are?" she said urgently, as soon as the door was closed. "Two to guard the main entrance, another to guard the two of us. Do you think that's all of them? All the followers he brought with him?"
"No," Jane said. "There are nine exits in this building. He will have brought enough people to cover all the exits, plus a few more to guard the team and prevent them from calling the police. I'd guess he's got about fifteen of his people in here all together. Maybe more."
"Fifteen?" Lisbon said, aghast. "You think he has that many followers left? I thought we'd reduced his numbers more than that."
"I think we took out some key players. But those were just the ones we discovered through the course of other investigations. He's bound to have more that we've never heard of. I'd wager the ones he connected to through the military are a bit better at hiding themselves. More disciplined, better trained, that sort of thing."
"Great," Lisbon muttered. "Soldiers in service to a psychopath. Just what we need."
"It's not like that's never happened before. Just look at Nazi Germany."
"Another comforting analogy. You're just full of those, aren't you?"
"Cheer up, Lisbon. At least Red John doesn't seem to have any ambitions to world domination."
"Yeah, that's really reassuring in the current circumstances," Lisbon said. "I wish I could think of some way to hang on to my weapons until we know for sure that Ben is safe."
Jane shook his head. "No, I think we'd better give them up peaceably for now. Unfortunately, they have all the leverage as long as they have Ben, and they know it. We have no choice but to do as they say until we figure out a way to get him out of here."
"Maybe Red John will see our cooperation on this point as a show of good faith," she said, trailing off as she looked around and took in the contents of the room. "Oh, no," she said in dismay.
Jane followed her gaze. The room held a dressing table, a chair, a red dress, and matching shoes. "It's not that bad," he assured her. He walked over to the dress hanging on the back of the lone chair in the room and fingered the silky red material. "It's a beautiful dress."
Lisbon was eyeing the strappy red high heels that were evidently meant to complete the outfit doubtfully. "How am I supposed to walk in those?" she groaned.
"You wear high heels all the time," Jane pointed out. "I'm sure you'll manage."
"High-heeled boots," Lisbon said darkly. "With ankle support. And a sturdy heel. Not stilettos. I'm never going to be able to fight in these."
Jane looked at the pointy heels. "I don't know. If worst comes to worst, you might be able to puncture a critical organ with one of them."
"Small comfort," Lisbon grumbled. "I'd rather have a semi-automatic any day." She removed her service weapon from the holster on her hip and set it on the dressing table with a look of regret.
"Thought you didn't come here to shoot anyone," Jane remarked.
"I didn't. Not until Ben is safe, anyway. Then anybody helping Red John try to kill us is fair game," she said, lifting one leg and setting her foot on the chair to remove a second gun strapped to her ankle.
Jane watched this process with interest. "How many guns did you bring, anyway?"
She straightened and pulled a third gun from a shoulder holster. "This is the last one," she said. "Well, plus this," she added, producing a small pocket knife from her jacket pocket and holding it up for inspection.
He took it from her and examined it. "This is the knife you brought with you to a showdown with Red John?" he said skeptically. He unfolded the knife to reveal a tiny two inch blade. "Confronting him with this would be like attacking a shark with a toothpick."
"It was the only knife I had," Lisbon defended. "Why, what did you bring?"
Jane tapped his temple. "My rapier wit."
"Seriously?" Lisbon said, dumbfounded. "You're finally facing your enemy after all these years and you didn't bring a single weapon with you?"
"Not all of us have a personal arsenal available to us at a moment's notice, Lisbon."
"Uh-huh," she said, unimpressed. "Like you couldn't have lifted a weapon off of any agent passing down the hall if you'd wanted to."
He shrugged. "It just seemed rather pointless. Red John was bound to have some plan to strip us of our weapons, so why give him the satisfaction?"
Lisbon shook her head in disbelief as she continued to empty her pockets, setting her badge and wallet on the table.
He looked at the dress again. "Of course, I didn't realize that his plan to strip us of weapons would be literal, in your case."
She looked at the dress with loathing. "Don't remind me." She sighed. "I suppose I'd better get this over with." She made a shooing gesture with her hand. "Go over there and turn around, will you?"
Jane instinctively obeyed, turning and taking several steps away from her before his brain caught up with him and he changed his mind. He turned around to face her. "No."
"No?" Lisbon echoed, startled. She'd already been halfway through shrugging out of her jacket when he turned around, but now she hastily shrugged back into it and pulled it closed across her chest under his unexpected scrutiny.
"I'm not going to turn my back," he clarified.
Lisbon stared at him. "You're not?"
"No. I've decided the view facing this direction is much more interesting," he said, meeting her eyes.
"More interesting?" she repeated, her voice going a bit high at the end there.
He shrugged. "I'm probably going to die soon. Might as well see as many natural wonders as I can before I go."
"You're planning to just stand there and watch while I change my clothes?" she said incredulously.
"Yep."
She shook her head. "Not happening, Jane."
Jane wasn't about to give up the idea so easily. It was one of his better ones, really. "What are you going to do to stop me? Shoot me?"
"Don't tempt me," she muttered.
He tried a different tactic. "Please, Lisbon."
"No."
"What if I told you this was my last dying wish?" he wheedled.
She stopped. "Your last dying wish is to watch me take my clothes off?"
Well, if he got that wish, he'd probably have a few more that would immediately be added to the list. However, given their time constraints and the fact that they had a guard just on the other side of the door waiting to take them to a madman, Jane would take what he could get. "Yes."
She looked utterly flummoxed. She looked so cute standing there, torn between hitting him with the chair and giving in to her natural instinct to comfort him in whatever way she could.
Jane knew better than to laugh at her at this critical juncture, however, so he suppressed his first impulse and focused on making his expression pathetic and imploring.
She frowned at him, evidently suspecting he was manipulating her, but to his surprise, she wavered and relented in the end. "Fine."
"Really?" he said, delighted.
She shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, you are walking to your death for me. I suppose it would be churlish to refuse to grant you your last dying wish, under the circumstances."
"Too right," he agreed enthusiastically.
She sighed. "And I don't suppose it matters much, at this point."
"Exactly. We're on a mission to save a child and then nobly give up our lives for the cause. This is no time for your Puritan modesty."
She glared at him.
He raised an eyebrow. "You'd better get a move on. Bubba out there is probably going to bust in here any moment. I'm sure he wouldn't mind getting an eyeful, either, but—"
She pulled off one shoe and threw it at him.
He caught it handily and set it down. "Excellent start, Lisbon."
She avoided his eyes, busying herself with taking off her other shoe and stripping off her socks. "So what do you think his plan is?" she asked, addressing her remaining boot. "Do you think he's going to kill us here, or take us somewhere else?"
"He won't kill us here if he can help it," Jane said immediately. "The team knows where we are, and if he gives up Ben to them, they won't have anything to lose by calling in reinforcements. That puts a time lock on the deal. If he keeps us here, he'll have to kill us right away and then make his escape. He won't want to do that. He won't want to be rushed. He's unlikely to have another kill in the near future that will be as remotely satisfying to him as this one will be—he's going to want to savor it. He'll want to move us to a more secure location so he can take his time."
"So we should delay him here as long as possible," Lisbon concluded, straightening up and taking off her blazer.
Jane watched the collar of her blouse gape open interestingly in the front as she tossed the jacket on the dressing table. "Yes."
"All right," she said, untucking her shirt. "And if we're going to make an attempt to escape, we should do it here. Once Ben is safe, of course. If we let Russo take us away from here, the team may not be able to find him again."
"Correct," he responded, craning his neck for a better view as she started to unbutton her shirt.
"Once Ben is out of here, I can probably take down at least one guard. Maybe two," she mused as she continued to pop each button out of its hole, revealing an ever growing expanse of creamy flesh, inch by tantalizing inch. "Which exit do you think would be the best option if we do manage to get away from Red John long enough to make a run for it?"
She let the blouse slip from her shoulders as she said this last, and Jane lost his train of thought. In fact, the train derailed completely as he openly stared at her standing in front of him in her jeans and a plain black cotton bra.
He really hadn't looked down Lisbon's shirt often enough over the last decade, he reflected. She had amazing breasts. How had he not devoted more of his time to the effort of catching a glimpse whenever possible? And she had a really cute belly button. An innie. He couldn't believe he'd managed to know Teresa Lisbon all these years without knowing that she had such an adorable belly button.
"Well, what do you think?" Lisbon said impatiently.
His mouth was rather dry. He licked his lips. "Huh?"
"I said, which exit do you think is our best option if we do manage to pull off an escape?"
"Hm?" he said distractedly, still staring.
She waved a hand in front of his face. "Jane. I need you to multi-task here."
He raised his eyes to her face and searched his mind for some clue as to what she was asking him about. "Exits?" he said vaguely.
"Yes, which exit would be the best for an escape?"
He shrugged, returning his eyes to the constellation of freckles disappearing into the valley between her breasts. "Whichever one is closest at the time."
She huffed in exasperation, unbuckling her belt and tugging it out of her belt loops. "Thanks a lot, Mr. 'I Only Brought My Rapier Wit.'" She unzipped her jeans and did one of those sexy little shimmies that all women seemed to do unconsciously when they took off their pants as she wriggled out of them. "Really helpful." She stepped out of the jeans and threw them on top of the dressing table along with the blazer. She looked back at him, one hand on her hip. "Is that all you have to say for yourself?"
She was magnificent.
"Wow," was all Jane could manage to say. "Now that is a sight worth seeing before dying."
He was treated to an uninterrupted view of this glorious vision only long enough to see that her entire body flushed when she was embarrassed. She looked down and hastily snatched up the dress. She pulled it over her head, tugging it down over her chest and hips and reacting with dismay when she tried to tug the hem down and she realized it only came halfway down her thighs.
Giving it up as a bad job, she reached around to the back of the dress, fumbling awkwardly for the zipper.
"I can help with that," Jane said quickly, crossing the room and stepping around behind her with alacrity.
She twisted away from him. "I can do it, Jane."
He ignored her and managed to get his hands on the zipper despite her attempts to evade him. She went still under his touch. "I insist."
She swallowed. "Okay."
He stepped close to her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her skin. He pulled the zipper up slowly, indulging the instinct to let his fingertips brush against her soft skin as he went and making himself light-headed from breathing in the scent of her shampoo so deeply.
The zipper stopped halfway up her back, just above the line of her bra. Not quite ready to stop touching her, Jane permitted his fingertips to trace lightly along the lines of her delicate shoulder blades.
She stepped away and turned around to face him, smoothing the dress over her slim hips nervously. She gave him an uncomfortable smile. "Not exactly my usual style, is it?"
The dress fit her like a glove. It had a square neckline and cap sleeves, but all Jane could process was that it hugged every curve she had, and red was his new favorite color. "It looks really nice with your freckles," he said stupidly, feeling a bit dizzy.
Lisbon frowned at him. "You're choosing now to make fun of me?"
"I'm serious," he said. "Your freckles do it for me every time. As enchanting as the rest of you is, I could write sonnets about your freckles alone. They're sort of… mesmerizing."
"My freckles?" she said, shocked. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. You look beautiful," he told her, thinking that 'beautiful' was an entirely inadequate word to describe her in that moment.
Lisbon glanced in the dressing table mirror and made a face. "Thanks. It's a nice dress, I guess. I'd like it better if I weren't wearing it for a date with a serial killer, though."
"Lisbon, I—"
She cut him off. "It's okay, Jane. We'll just take each moment as it comes, okay?"
She stepped up to the dressing table and trailed her fingers over her service weapon where it rested on the dressing table. "Guess there's really no way I could hide a gun in this dress, is there?" she said ruefully.
Jane's gaze raked over her again. "I wouldn't think so, no."
She squared her shoulders. "Maybe it's a good thing."
"What, that you're forced to face him unarmed?" Jane said incredulously.
"No. This whole absurd thing about dressing up to meet him."
"How could that possibly be a good thing?"
She shrugged. "I think one of the problems we always had with him was that he seemed almost inhuman to us. He was too clever, too good at vanishing like a ghost just when we thought we were getting close to catching him. But here he is, wanting to see a woman dressed up in a pretty dress just for him. He's just a man, and he has normal male instincts, normal human weaknesses. Maybe we can use that to our advantage."
Jane didn't find the idea of Red John having normal male instincts towards Lisbon in that dress nearly as comforting as she did. "I hope you're right."
"Guess it's good I brought this along, after all," she remarked, looking at the tiny pocketknife. She picked it up from the table and tucked it carefully inside her bra.
Jane watched this process in fascination. "What are you doing?"
"I said I would give myself up," she said grimly. "I never said I would go down without a fight."
Jane shook his head. "Bubba's going to take it away from you."
"No, he won't," she said confidently. "Men are awful prudes when it comes to searching women for weapons."
"You seem awfully sure of that."
"I used to work with vice back when I was with SFPD," she told him. "I can't tell you how many times I saw women hide pepper spray in their cleavage . They knew most male officers would blush like schoolgirls and avoid that area like it had cooties if they had to do the searches."
"You worked vice?" Jane had never known that.
"Just for my first six months on the force."
"Got out of there as soon as you could, huh?"
She nodded. "I hated it."
Jane could imagine. "I'll bet. Did they make you do undercover work?"
"Yeah. I was terrible at it, though."
Jane had trouble comprehending the idea of Lisbon being less than excellent at any task assigned to her. "You were?"
"Yep. I was awful. I had a tendency to glare when men approached me on the street. Apparently the potential johns found that behavior intimidating, and would back off before they got too close."
Jane chuckled despite himself. "I'll bet."
"Bosco said I had the worst entrapment skills he'd ever seen," Lisbon said, smiling slightly at the recollection. "He said he asked for me to be transferred onto his team just to save the vice squad from the millstone around its neck."
"He saw your potential," Jane said. "He knew you were being wasted there."
She shrugged. "Maybe. Anyway, I think I'll be all right with the knife. I know it's not much, but it's better than nothing."
"Bubba isn't a police officer," Jane pointed out. "I doubt he'll have any scruples about searching you thoroughly."
"You can see practically everything I've got in this dress," she countered. "He won't think it's necessary."
Jane was unconvinced.
She gave him a half smile. "Bet you five bucks he won't touch me."
Jane looked at her again, hoping this was a bet he would lose, but not nearly as confident as she seemed to be. "You're on."
There was a banging on the door. "Time's up," Bubba called roughly. "Come on out of there."
She slipped the red shoes on, and gestured for Jane to bring the guns. "Come on. Let's go get Ben."
Jane hesitated, and pocketed her badge and wallet, strangely reminded of carrying his wife's cell phone and lipstick for her when they went to a party together and she didn't want to carry a bag. In any case, he didn't like the idea of leaving them there for anyone to find. He tucked the badge into his breast pocket, where it rested next to his heart.
She strode to the door, and Jane followed, carrying the weapons awkwardly in his arms.
Irene Gregson was there, having rejoined Bubba at some point during Jane and Lisbon's interlude in the dressing room. She smirked at Jane. "Having fun yet?"
Jane ignored this. "Where do you want these?" he asked, raising his arms slightly to indicate the bundle of weapons he carried.
"Give them to Yager," Gregson said carelessly, gesturing with the gun in her hand.
It actually took a second for Jane to process that Yager was Bubba's real name. He handed the weapons over to the other man, who tucked them away in his jacket and at the small of his back.
"Make sure he doesn't have any others," Gregson instructed Yager.
Yager obeyed, jerking Jane roughly against the wall and patting him down for additional weapons.
Jane thought this grossly unfair, since Lisbon was the one who had brought all the weapons in the first place, but he accepted the treatment without complaint, deeply relieved that Lisbon had been right, after all. Their captors didn't seem to think it possible that she could be concealing anything potentially dangerous in the confines of the skin tight dress she was wearing.
When Yager was finished with his search, Gregson indicated for him to cover Jane and Lisbon with his own weapon as she put away the gun she was carrying. She pulled a small tube from her pocket and grabbed Lisbon by the hair without warning, jerking her head back with a grin of savage pleasure. Lisbon yelped in pain and surprise as Gregson forced her to tilt her head back and applied a streak of bright red lipstick to Lisbon's mouth with unnecessary force.
She completed her handiwork and unceremoniously let Lisbon go. Lisbon glared at her and massaged her scalp, but Gregson ignored her, slipping the lipstick back into her pocket and taking out her gun once again. "Let's go," she said brusquely, prodding Jane in the back with her sidearm. "It's time."
Jane and Lisbon allowed themselves to be guided around the corner and down another short hallway, and then they were in the wings of the theater's main stage. Jane slipped his hand into Lisbon's again, and she clutched his hand right back.
"Go on," Gregson ordered, indicating for them to go out onto the stage. "You're the stars of the show."
Lisbon and Jane exchanged glances, and then Lisbon took a deep breath and walked forward onto the stage. Jane followed, his hand still in hers.
A bright floodlight came on as they stepped onstage, zeroing in on them and catching them in its glare.
"Welcome, Patrick. Teresa." The soft, eerie voice greeted them as though they were old friends. Jane recognized the voice that had taunted him so long ago. Tyger, tyger, burning bright, in the forests of the night. What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry? "Come to the center of the stage where I can see you better."
The spotlight tracked their progress to the center of the stage as they complied with his request.
Lisbon looked out into the auditorium, trying to locate the source of the voice, but the light was nearly blinding, and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust.
She saw dark figures standing in the wings, positioned at each entrance to the theater, looking like rather dour ushers. She counted four on the first level, two on the second. It looked like Jane had been right about Red John's level of reinforcements. Dammit.
Then her eyes fell on a man seated on one of the plush red velvet seats in the center of the theater, watching her and Jane with an amused smile on his face. It was a handsome face, with sleek black hair graying at the temples, high, sharp cheekbones and a pointed chin with a cleft in it. His hazel eyes met hers almost merrily, as he shifted in his seat, revealing the burden he held in his arms.
Her heart leapt into her throat: Ben was seated on Red John's lap, still playing with the ancient silver rattle.
She let Jane's hand fall from hers and started forward unconsciously, and Red John raised his right hand, idly twirling a long silver knife in it. "Careful, Teresa," he said lazily. "My hand might slip."
Lisbon went still. "You let him go," she said in a tight voice.
"All in good time, Teresa," Red John said smoothly. "I have need of him yet. Do not fear, however. He's perfectly safe at the moment."
Ben caught sight of the knife and reached for it, thinking it was a new play object for his amusement.
Red John laughed and held it away from his reach. "Not yet, young man. Later, perhaps."
He returned his attention to Lisbon. "I can't tell you how pleased I am to meet you in person at last, Teresa. I've heard so much about you."
"You'll understand why I can't say the feeling is mutual, Mr. Russo," Lisbon returned, her eyes still on Ben.
There was a slight hesitation. "Ah. You have discovered more of my secrets than I realized, my dear."
She shrugged. "No one can skulk in the shadows forever. It was always a matter of time before we found you."
He chuckled, displaying a perfect set of pearly white teeth. "Yet you are only here because I summoned you. I'm afraid time is no longer on your side."
"We'll see," she said coolly.
Russo turned his attention to Jane. "And you, Patrick? You're awfully quiet, for once. Haven't you anything to say to me – a greeting for your old friend?"
"Only this," Jane said. "Let Lisbon go, and the boy, and I'll do whatever you want. Just don't hurt them."
"An intriguing offer, Patrick," Russo said with interest. "One I will need to consider most carefully. For now, though, we will proceed with my original plan."
"What plan is that?" Lisbon asked warily.
"Why, to ensure Patrick understands exactly how much he has to lose in this world. You'd think he would have learned by now, but he still doesn't seem to appreciate the gifts that have been bestowed upon him."
Lisbon frowned. "You don't seem surprised to see him here."
He laughed. "Why should I be surprised? I planned for it."
"But the note—you only asked for me," Lisbon said, her mind reeling.
He shrugged. "I knew if I could come up with the means of inducing you to come here, Patrick would follow. All I needed to do was set the scene."
"Set the scene?" Lisbon repeated. "Is that why you made me put on this horrible dress and come out on this stage to meet you?"
"Don't you like the dress? Pity. I took special care in choosing it. If I do say so, you look lovely in it, Teresa," Russo complimented her. "Far more fitting attire for the leading lady of our little drama than your usual tomboy clothes."
Lisbon didn't trouble to keep the scorn out of her voice. "I suppose you think you're the main character?"
He chuckled. "Certainly not. That would be Patrick."
"Which makes you what?" Jane asked.
He smiled slightly. "The director, of course."
"Is that what this is about?" Lisbon said, her voice thick with disgust. "You get me to put on this ridiculous dress and have us come out on this stage so you can jerk us around like puppets on a string for your amusement?"
"'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women only players. They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts,'" Russo quoted.
Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Please. You couldn't come up with a line less cheesy than that?"
"Shakespeare isn't your cup of tea, is he?" he asked her. He turned to Jane. "She doesn't have the most refined tastes, does she, Patrick? I know you, on the other hand, have a keen appreciation of the finer things in life. I'm surprised she would appeal to you so much. Pizza and beer in a sports bar rather than champagne and caviar at the symphony. She's not at all your usual type."
"You don't know anything about my type," Jane said, his voice carefully controlled. "And you don't know a thing about her, either."
"I know far more than you imagine, Patrick," Russo said silkily.
"I don't care what you think you know about me," Lisbon said flatly. "Let's just get this over with. Let Ben go."
"I think not, Teresa," he responded, idly stroking the top of Ben's head. "Once he's gone, I don't think you'll be quite so biddable as you have been so far, and I require you to be biddable a bit longer."
"What, for your little play?" Lisbon snorted. "Fine. Give me my lines, and I'll say them back like a good little parrot, if that will make you let Ben go."
He ignored this. "Shall I tell you how you first came to my notice, Teresa?"
"I already know the answer to that," Lisbon said impatiently. "I was assigned this case right after I was promoted to head of the unit. I'm sure you made it your business to know who was investigating you."
He chuckled. "As fascinating as I find the politics and bureaucracy surrounding law enforcement promotions, I confess I paid no attention to you whatsoever at the time. You were a nonentity to me. No more or less interesting than any of the other estimable civil servants who tried and failed to catch me. No," he continued. "I first took note of you when dear Patrick here shot and killed poor Dumar Tanner to save you. I had grand plans for Patrick, at that time, you see. I had drawn him in, and would have had him, if not for your interference."
"Glad to hear I succeeded in screwing up your miserable little plan, then," Lisbon said in satisfaction.
He laughed again, a chilling little titter. "I really ought to thank you for that, you know."
This threw her. "Thank me?"
"Oh, I was upset at the time, of course," he said carelessly. "But it made me take note of you, and your role in Patrick's life, and for that, I must be grateful, because it has led us here."
"Patrick, you see, was growing rather boring to me back then," he explained. "I admit at first my vanity thrilled at his fruitless efforts to catch me. I delighted in stymieing him, and thwarting his plans was always a diverting challenge. There are few men in this world with the caliber of mind that Patrick has, you see, Teresa. I quite enjoyed having him as a playmate once I observed his obsession with bringing me down. But after awhile, I started to tire of the game. He was so broken, so miserable, it was hardly any fun to tease him anymore. He didn't seem to care about anything but revenge, not even his own life. I thought perhaps I could take him in, school him in my ways, and finally have a deserving acolyte for my teachings."
"You thought I was going to join you?" Jane said incredulously. "That's why you lured me to Sparrow's Peak? To kidnap me and try to what, brainwash me into being a killer like you?"
"Perhaps, although I wouldn't put it so crudely. I hadn't completely decided what I was going to do with you, to be honest. I admit the thought of watching you try to kill me only to fail time and time again was somewhat appealing to me, but that could only last so long before your spirit became completely broken by the weight of your failures. In any case, I thought that if I had you by my side, you could be more entertaining to me than if you continued to run around California playing the brilliant detective. And certainly, if I could turn you, that would be a triumph indeed."
"Then why didn't you?" Jane couldn't help asking. "Why didn't you wait until the whole affair at Sparrow's Peak blew over, and take me then?"
"Why, because you confounded my expectations that day, Patrick. When you shot young Dumar, I learned that you did, in fact, care about something other than revenge. Or rather, someone," he said, with a significant look at Lisbon. "Suddenly you were interesting again."
"I don't think you were quite conscious of your attachment, at first," Russo mused. "You seemed unaware of your own feelings. But shooting Dumar was a wake up call, wasn't it? And then dear Rebecca reported that you were actually jealous of Agent Bosco. That was very amusing to watch, let me tell you. Oh, you were very subtle about it. I'm certain Teresa here never guessed the extent of your feelings, but I perceived the truth. At first your jealousy puzzled me, because it must have been as obvious to you as it was to me that she never loved him. At least, not in the way he would have liked her to. Yet your jealousy was undeniable."
"This was most intriguing," he continued. "I couldn't understand it. At last, however, the truth dawned on me. You were not jealous because you thought Teresa might be tempted to fall in with the stoic Agent Bosco romantically. You were jealous because she respected and admired him professionally. You were jealous because she had given him her trust." He smiled at Jane. "Imagine my surprise."
He looked at Lisbon. "That was when I truly started to pay attention to you for your own sake, Teresa."
"Really." Lisbon sounded unimpressed. "Because it sounds to me like you were still pretty focused on Jane."
He smiled. "That was when I started to observe you for myself from time to time, at any rate. To dig deeper into what made you so irresistible to our mutual friend here. It's true I never really understood what he saw in you. Oh, you're attractive enough, I suppose," he said, looking her up and down. "But what is that to a man like Patrick Jane? It would be easy for him to obtain any number of women as beautiful as yourself, if he chose to do so. Yet he seemed to have eyes only for you. Why?"
Lisbon ignored this. "Is that the reason you abandoned your plan to exact revenge on Noah Plaskett after we found Maya? Because Jane was more interesting to you than him?"
Russo raised his eyebrows at the reference to his connection to Noah Plaskett. "My, someone has been a busy bee," he drawled, but Lisbon thought she detected the tiniest note of uneasiness in his voice.
Good, she thought with satisfaction. They knew more than he'd expected them to.
She raised her eyebrows right back. "Well, was it?"
"In part," he acknowledged. "But also because I've learned over the years that if you want to keep your opponent engaged, you must allow him his own small victories now and then, or he may grow hopeless and lose interest in the game. To kill Maya Plaskett after you'd gone to all that trouble to save her would have had a deeply negative impact on Patrick's morale. If I wanted him to keep playing, it was in my best interests to give him the illusion that he had a chance of beating me in the end."
"Well, there was that," Jane commented. "And the fact that your revenge would never be perfect, after Hardy screwed it up for you by making Drake suspicious. After the stunt he pulled, Drake would never voluntarily join your followers. You were never going to have all three. Your satisfaction wouldn't be complete, so you left the Plasketts alone after all."
There was a tiny tic in the corner of Red John's eye at the mention of this, but he covered it well. "Dumar was young and overeager," he said smoothly. "I taught him to do better after that. He learned that lesson well, I think."
"And your other disciples?" Lisbon asked, watching Ben, who seemed content enough at his perch on Red John's knee for the time being. "Did they learn their lessons well?"
"Certainly," Russo said. "They were all most devoted pupils, once they committed to my cause."
"What cause was that?" Jane said. "Helping you kill innocent people? Or did you somehow convince them that they were actually serving some kind of higher power?"
"I teach them about Exaltation," Russo said languidly. "I help them find Serenity, and to experience the Sublime. And then they can see the truth—that right and wrong are illusions manufactured by society to bind them in chains and prevent them from exploring their true natures."
"You hypnotize them, you mean," Lisbon said flatly. "You use cheap tricks to gain their confidence, and then you dispose of them as soon as they outlive their usefulness to you."
"Not at all," Russo said, unruffled. "Each of my disciples is most dear to me. I reward them with the love and affection they need, and they are glad to volunteer when a sacrifice is required."
"I've been meaning to ask about that, actually," Jane said. "It's quite a confidence trick you've got going on there, convincing them that dying for you is in their best interests."
"All people are the same," Russo said dismissively. "They crave acknowledgment from those around them, and anyone will do, if he meets that need. They yearn for someone to love them completely and absolutely, without limits or reservation. I provide that love."
"Right until you kill them for their trouble," Lisbon said.
"On the contrary. Once a disciple makes the ultimate sacrifice, they have gained my absolute trust. They know that moment is the moment in which my love for them is most perfect and complete. They cannot know greater happiness than that love."
Lisbon shook her head. "You don't love them. They're like animals to you—like service dogs you've trained to do your bidding. You manipulate them into giving you mastery over them, and then you exploit their loyalty until they've outlived their usefulness to you."
"Yes, you use hypnotism to induce feelings of euphoria, bordering on ecstasy, and plant images and sensations in their heads that connect those feelings of with a concept of love for you," Jane put in. "You addict them to that feeling like a drug, and they'll do anything for a fix. Even take their own lives, if they believe that to be your will."
"Hypnotism," Russo scoffed. "A child's trick. My methods of persuasion are far more subtle."
"Nope," Jane said. "It's hypnotism all right. You're damn good at it, I'll give you that. Even better than me. But it's definitely hypnotism. Where did you learn it?"
"I traveled in the East quite a bit when I was a young man," Russo said, seeming amused by Jane's interest. "I studied with several shamans who helped me learn the fine art of influence and suggestion."
"You also spent that time learning how to be a better killer," Jane observed. "After the mistakes you made killing that young woman when you were in the army and the debacle with Kellan Howard, you knew you needed to learn to reign in your instincts, to be more careful if you wanted to go on without getting caught."
Russo raised one shoulder in a careless shrug, but Lisbon could tell he was rattled by the mention of Kellan Howard. "You know what they say," he said, his voice carefully modulated. "Practice makes perfect."
Jane smiled wryly. "That is what they say." He made a show of looking around him, and changed the subject. "This is a nice place," he commented. "A bit run down, but I'm sure a man with your skills could shore up those rotten timbers, bring the place back to its former glory."
"I'm glad you appreciate it," Russo said, relaxing. "So many people these days are unwilling to look beyond the surface. They would rather tear a place like this down and build some hideous condo building. They have no appreciation for true beauty, no patience for the art of restoration."
Jane met his eyes. "Your mother brought you here, didn't she?"
Russo went still.
"She brought you here when you were a little boy," Jane continued. "It was her favorite place. She dreamed of being an actress. She was happier here than anywhere else, wasn't she? The one place in the world you knew she wouldn't sink into one of her terrible depressions."
"My mother is not to be spoken of by the likes of you, Mr. Jane," he said icily. "I'll thank you to show some respect."
Jane inclined his head. "My apologies," he said contritely, inwardly congratulating himself on managing to ruffle Russo's composure.
Russo inhaled deeply, then slowly exhaled. "I see your purpose," he said after a moment. "You are trying to upset me, in hopes that I will make a mistake that will allow you to escape with your lives. It will not work, Mr. Jane. I have you, and I will see my own purpose done."
"What purpose is that?" Lisbon said impatiently. "You still haven't told us why you've bothered with this whole elaborate charade. Why don't you just kill us and have done with it?"
"I have no intention of permitting Patrick to die just yet," Russo said coldly. "He has proven himself to be just as arrogant as always, and therefore must be taught humility. And you, dear Teresa, are going to help me make sure the lesson sticks."
"I'm not going to help you torture him any more than you already have," Lisbon said. "I've already watched him suffer enough at your hands."
"You will help me with whatever services I require as long as I have the boy," he said, assured of her cooperation at least as long as Rigsby's son was in his possession.
Lisbon cast a nervous glance at Ben, who had fallen asleep in Russo's arms, still clutching the rattle. "What is it that you want me to do?"
Russo smiled, calm once again. "Nothing quite so onerous as you are imagining, my dear. Merely this: the time has come for Patrick to know the true nature of your feelings for him. He must hear the words from your own lips, or I'm afraid he will not believe that all he hoped for could have been his all along."
"What?" Lisbon said, flabbergasted. "That'swhy you staged this whole ridiculous drama? To get me to tell Jane my feelings for him?"
"Act One, Scene One: The Lovers Unite," Russo said, twirling his index finger like a miniature conductor's baton.
"Jane and I aren't lovers," Lisbon said flatly. "I don't believe this. You want us to act out some crazy soap opera for your enjoyment? For the love of God, just upgrade to a better cable subscription."
"This isn't exactly the cooperative spirit I was envisioning, Teresa," Russo admonished her. "Now, are you going to play nicely? You did say you would read your lines as they were given to you."
"What is the point of this?" Lisbon huffed impatiently. "How does me 'reading my lines' benefit you in any way?"
"The rest of the story hinges on ensuring the setup is executed properly," Russo said. "How will the audience believe our hero's suffering is genuine in Act Two: The Hero Repents, if he has nothing to lose at the beginning of the story?"
"He has nothing to repent for," Lisbon said harshly. "What did he do to you that was so terrible? A long time ago, he called you names on television. Big deal. Get over it."
"He said vile things about me for his own personal gain."
"He called you an ugly, tormented little man, and a lonely, sad soul." She met his gaze levelly. "You know why I think you're so angry at him? Because every word he said was true."
"He presumed to make a mockery of me," Russo said. "I could not allow such disrespectful conduct to go unanswered."
"He's done nothing to you but speak the truth, and you've destroyed his life in repayment for those words uttered in less than a moment," Lisbon said dismissively. "You've done more than enough to him. Leave him alone."
"I will not," Russo said coolly. "I will have my satisfaction from him."
"I've called him a jackass, a son of a bitch, and the bane of my existence, and you know what? He's never once felt the need to hurt me for those words to feel better about himself. He's a thousand times the man you are," she said scornfully.
"Patrick has taught you well," Russo said with a cold smile. "It seems you have become nearly as practiced at sleight of hand and diversionary tactics as he is. However, I will not allow you to distract me from the task at hand. You shall pay for your insolence later. Happily, your punishment will coincide with Patrick's. For now, I have a service that I require of you. You know my request. Pease proceed."
Lisbon hesitated.
He waved his hand negligently in her direction, the other still holding onto the sleeping Ben. "Tell Patrick the secrets of your heart. Tell him that truth which you've been fighting so long you can barely acknowledge it to yourself."
"He already knows," Lisbon said sharply.
"Ah, I think you're wrong there, Teresa," Russo said, clearly enjoying himself. "Even the most perceptive man has his blind spot, after all. He's buried his hope deep, ruthlessly denying himself the luxury of permitting it to rise to the surface, to see the light of day. He knows he doesn't deserve to have his hopes answered, and so he has never allowed himself to see that what he so desperately desires is already within his grasp."
Lisbon followed his gaze to Jane, who was looking back at her in mingled hope and sadness.
Russo spoke again. "My patience wears thin."
His grip on Ben tightened. Ben whimpered and woke up. He looked up at Russo in surprise and consternation to find his once friendly playmate was hurting him, and began to cry in earnest.
"Ben!" Lisbon cried. "Russo, you sick bastard, leave him alone!"
"Stopping me is entirely within your power, Teresa," he responded calmly. "All you have to do is tell Patrick how you feel about him, and I will let the boy go."
"Fine," Lisbon said desperately. "I'm in love with him, okay?"
Her words hung in the air, echoing into the near empty expanse of the theater, the truth of them reverberating back so strongly she was half afraid it had the power to knock her down. She glanced at Jane, who looked stunned. He looked half sick, half amazed. She looked away, unable to bear facing him in that moment.
Russo relaxed his grip on Ben, who continued to cry piteously. "Very good," Russo said smoothly. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Lisbon shot him a look of loathing.
Russo set Ben down on the seat next to him. "Congratulations, Teresa. You have earned young Mr. Rigsby his freedom."
Thank God. Lisbon raised her eyes heavenward in a hasty prayer of thanks.
Russo stood. "Irene. Anton. Restrain Mr. Jane, if you please," he said lazily.
Gregson and Yager emerged from the wings and grabbed Jane by the arms, effectively immobilizing him between them as Russo strolled towards the aisle.
"This hardly seems necessary," Jane commented sourly. "I've been remarkably well-behaved so far."
Russo chuckled as he made his way towards the stage, relaxed and unhurried. "I'm afraid I can't count on that trend continuing once you see what I have planned next, Patrick."
Lisbon kept her eyes on Ben, alone in the center of the auditorium, now howling with rage at being abandoned on top of the mistreatment he'd suffered so far. "What about Ben?" she asked Russo anxiously.
"He is to remain where he is, for the moment," Russo responded.
"You can't just leave him there!" Lisbon said. "He could fall out of that chair and crack his skull!"
"He will not be there long," Russo said placidly. "Don't trouble yourself about him. It's yourself you ought to be worrying about at this stage."
Gregson squeezed Jane's arm harder in anticipation, and Jane looked around at her. "Hey," he said reproachfully. "What did I ever do to you?"
For this inquiry, he was rewarded with a savage elbow to the mouth from Gregson. His lip split and bled.
Lisbon instinctively moved to help him, but Russo's voice stopped her.
"You will stay where you are, Teresa," he said calmly as he ascended the steps to the stage. "I require your assistance for the next phase of this operation."
Lisbon froze, and held her place.
"I'm going to approach you now, Teresa," Russo advised her calmly. "You will not resist me or move away as I grow closer. If you do not agree to this, one of my comrades will retrieve the boy from his seat and slit his throat. If, on the other hand, you cooperate, Benjamin will be returned to his father unharmed. Do you understand?"
Lisbon swallowed. "Yes."
"Very good." He crossed the stage, moving with feline grace. "My, you do improve on one up close, Teresa," he said admiringly, looking her up and down through half-lidded eyes as he grew nearer to her. "I begin to see what Patrick finds so irresistible about you."
Lisbon bit her lip and forced herself to stay very still as he walked slowly around her, appraising her from all angles.
Meanwhile, Lisbon was conducting her own assessment. Russo was tall and lean, but his shoulders looked powerful, and she could tell by the way he moved that he could handle himself in a fight. Her eyes flicked to the back of the theater, where at least six sentries were visible in her line of sight. Then there were Gregson and Yager off to her right, holding Jane. It was conceivable that she could incapacitate Russo temporarily, if she acted fast enough and was able to take him by surprise, but then what? One of the sentries could gun her down before she'd taken two steps towards Ben, and Jane would still be stuck here with the goons on the stage. Besides, Russo was probably on his guard for the possibility of her pulling a move like that, and if she didn't have the edge of surprise on her side, she wasn't confident the battle would end well for her. She sighed inwardly, resigned to the fact that it would probably be best to wait it out until another opportunity presented itself.
As she thought this, Russo stepped closer to her, bringing himself within touching distance.
Naturally, this was when Jane lost all sense of reason and restraint. "Stay away from her!" he shouted, struggling in vain to free himself from the iron grip of his guards.
"Patrick," Russo said calmly, without taking his eyes off Lisbon. "I need you to be quiet right now. A beautiful woman is like a work of art, and I must be allowed to appreciate this masterpiece in silence, without interruption."
"Go to hell, you son of a bitch," Jane said savagely, writhing against the hands restraining him.
"Teresa, please tell Patrick that unless he wishes to hasten that child's death, he would do well to stop prattling in my ear at this moment," Russo said politely. Lisbon looked at him in alarm.
"But you said—" Jane began.
"Shut up, Jane," Lisbon snapped.
"Lisbon—"
She cut him off. "We agreed we would do whatever it takes to get Ben free, remember?"
"Yes, but—"
Her voice was steel. "Be. Quiet."
Jane shut up.
Then Russo touched her.
It took everything she had not to recoil. Mindful that Ben's life depended on her keeping her promise to keep still, she restrained her natural instincts to jerk away, or better yet, clock him in the jaw for the liberty.
"Such soft skin," Russo murmured, tracing his index finger along the line of her collarbone. "I'll think I'll start here, when the time comes."
At this, Jane let out a low moan from deep in the back of his throat, but he held his tongue, and Russo let the slip pass unremarked.
He stepped closer to her and brought his hand up to brush his knuckles against her cheek.
This time she couldn't help flinching ever so slightly. Those hands had killed Angela and Charlotte Jane, and so many others; she could not hide her revulsion at being touched by them.
"So brave," Russo said softly.
He slid his hand down her neck and pressed his thumb against the side of her neck. At first, Lisbon thought he had decided to crush her windpipe rather than let her blood drain from her body as he did with his other victims, but then she realized he was measuring her pulse, feeling the blood thrum through her veins. His hand was trembling slightly, and his eyes were dilated; Lisbon could see how excited he was. His fervor was almost akin to sexual excitement, but Lisbon knew it was not her body he lusted for, but her blood.
Well to hell with him. She may not have had a lot of options at the moment, but she'd be damned before she gave him the satisfaction of seeing her shrinking away from him. Determined not to cower, she lifted her chin and met his gaze defiantly.
This seemed to please him. "You've done very well, Teresa," he told her with a smile. "You've passed the first test."
He stepped behind her and she sucked in a sharp breath as he wrapped one arm around her from behind, holding her close to him. With his other hand, he produced the long silver knife and pressed it to her neck.
"Remember," he crooned in her ear. "Be very still."
She swallowed and nodded, ever so slightly.
He raised his voice. "Masouda," he called. "Kindly bring in Mr. Rigsby, Sr. so he can retrieve his son."
One of the men in the back of the back of the theater nodded curtly, and exited the theater to do as he was bidden.
A moment later, he reappeared, shepherding a shell-shocked Rigsby into the auditorium.
Ben's cries echoed in the nearly empty theater, and Rigsby, unable to see him from his vantage point near the back of the theater, looked around frantically. His eyes darted around the theater for a sign indicating Ben's whereabouts, but when his eyes landed on the scene on the stage, he stopped dead, horror-struck.
"Welcome, Wayne," Russo called to him. "So pleased you could join us today."
Rigsby locked eyes with Lisbon. "Boss?" he said, his voice thick with tension.
"Ben's all right, Rigsby," she said quickly. "He's in the center of the middle section of seats."
Russo kept Lisbon close to his body. "You may go to him," he said to Rigsby graciously. "You will move very slowly, and you will not make any effort to disarm my friend Masouda as he accompanies you. Do you agree to abide by these terms?"
Rigsby swallowed and nodded, keeping his eye on the knife pressed against Lisbon's flesh.
"Very good," Russo said. "Masouda, kindly escort Mr. Rigsby to his son."
The guard nodded and prodded Rigsby in the back with the barrel of his gun, indicating for him to precede him down the aisle.
Rigsby walked forward in slow, measured steps until he reached the row of seats where Russo had left Ben. Ben, still crying, looked around as Rigsby drew nearer, and started crying harder. He reached his arms towards his father, nearly toppling out of the chair, and Rigsby went to him. He picked up his son and cradled him close, murmuring soft words of comfort in his ear and stroking his back to soothe him.
"As you can see, he is quite unharmed," Russo said blandly.
Rigsby shot him an incredulous look, his jaw tight with fury. He carried Ben, kicking and squirming, back to the theater aisle, where their guard awaited them.
"Masouda," Russo continued. "Take Mr. Rigsby and his child to rejoin Agent Lisbon's team outside. Remember, none of them are to be harmed. However, they must not be permitted to leave the premises or to contact any reinforcements until we are well away from here."
Rigsby looked sharply at Lisbon, unable to believe that it had truly come to this. He had his son, but now that he had him, could he really walk away from his friends, knowing that he was leaving them to certain, painful death? "Lisbon-"
Russo cut him off. "I'm afraid we haven't time for fond farewells. You will leave now." He shifted his grip on his knife and tightened his hold on Lisbon to emphasize his point.
Rigsby didn't move. "Boss," he said in a tortured voice.
Lisbon licked her lips and tried not to think about the pressure of the knife on her skin. "It's all right, Rigsby. Do as he says."
Rigsby turned to Jane. "Jane?"
Jane appeared almost catatonic, his eyes fixed on the knife against Lisbon's neck, unblinking. He did not answer.
"I grow impatient," Russo said coldly, increasing the pressure of the knife ever so slightly. The skin broke and Lisbon felt a single drop of blood trickle down her neck.
Rigsby stopped, horrified. He stared at the blood on Lisbon's neck, his feet rooted to the spot.
"Rigsby, take Ben and go," Lisbon said desperately. If he didn't take Ben, then this whole, stupid thing would be for nothing. She could do this, for Ben. But she didn't know if she could bear it if it all came to nothing in the end.
Rigsby hesitated.
"That's an order!" she said harshly.
He met her eyes for a long moment, but at last he nodded with painful understanding, and tore his eyes away. Slowly, agonizingly, he turned his back to the stage. His head bowed, he trudged back up the aisle towards the exit with Ben in his arms, his guard following behind.
Then they were gone.
Russo shifted his hold on Lisbon, keeping her close, but tucking the knife into his belt for the time being. "Well done," he said in her ear. His breath, hot against her cheek, reminded her of the smell of sour apple candy. He swept her head to one side and bent his head towards her neck to inhale the scent of her warm skin.
Lisbon tensed, wondering if now was the moment she could make her move, but no sooner had the thought crossed her mind than his grip tightened on her once again. "Ah, ah, Teresa," he chided her. "I still have Patrick, remember?"
Lisbon glanced at Jane, who grimaced. She kept her voice steady. "Well? Are you going to kill us now?"
He stroked her hair. "Not just yet."
Lisbon jerked her head away from him. "What now, then?"
He smiled. "Now, we fly."
